A Little Rain

by Dee Winter

  11

  Monday Night

  It has turned much colder outside. Darkness has fully fallen. The air is damp and icy. I push my hands deep in my pockets. I walk towards the flat feeling fine, much better than I did earlier. I feel at my most awake now, more than I have the whole day. The worry about my phone lies low, like lead fishing weights stuck in my belly. It just won’t go away. I start to jog the rest of the way home. It’s not long before I’m halfway up the road. I can see the always open gate. Then my heart suddenly stops and my stomach feels like it’s fallen out of my body. I stand stock still. Benny’s blue Fiesta is parked right outside. Benny is nowhere to be seen. I don’t want to think about it but I have to. I brace myself in case he is hiding somewhere, about to jump out. I look around in all directions, both hoping to and hoping not to see him. I don’t. My already on the floor belly then feels like it has slid down the drain. As I walk over to the front door I see the key dangling out of the letterbox. The door is open just a little bit. Oh God. He’s in there, and of course, so is Rob. I quickly, quietly push the key back through the door and then pull it shut behind me.

  I already knew, so I shouldn’t be shocked, but I still jump seeing Benny sitting there on the big brown couch, his dirty white trainers on the coffee table, smoking one of my cigarettes and drinking one of Rob’s beers. I can’t even shout. Rob I guess must be still asleep. I am exploding with rage inside, nuclear bombs going off, but too afraid to make a sound. If Rob wasn’t here I would be kicking off like World War Three. I whisper aggressively, “What the hell are you doing in here? You know Rob’s asleep next door!”

  “Yeah, I know. I can hear him snoring,” he snorts, sipping his beer.

  “Why are you here?” and I realise it’s a stupid question while I’m asking it. Benny’s eyes flicker with fury. I sense the calm is now before the Force 12 storm.

  “This…” He rises suddenly, pulling my phone sharply off the table and yanking so hard the charger cable pops out onto the floor and wriggles away like a scared skinny snake. Then phone in hand, he gets up and gets right in my face. “What’s this?” He hisses. Now he’s asking the idiot question.

  “It’s my phone!” I spit back, hatefully. “I left it behind ok! I’m sorry!” I go to snatch it out of his hand but as my fingers touch his, he springs away and pushes me back with his other hand. I don’t move. I want to kick him. I take a breath, slow down. My phone is not important. I just have to get him out before Rob murders him. Part of me thinks, Sod it! Let him die or at least get a kicking. I turn my back on him and walk away, towards the front door, thinking maybe if I lead he will follow. He follows alright. He follows through by hurling my phone at the back of my head. It hits bang on target, right at the top of my neck. I cannot help but cry out, more from shock than pain, but not for long, maybe a second. I grab back all of the pain and hold the rest of the scream inside. It hurts like hell, like someone taking a blunt axe to chop off my head. I can’t stop my eyes from watering but I don’t make another sound. A split second later the phone bounces off the wall then clatters and skids on the floor noisily.

  I know Rob is awake now but that’s the last thing on my mind. Revenge only is and I’m in the kitchenette, standing at the drawer and my hand is on a steak knife. I turn, holding it at waist level, both fists clenched, knifepoint aimed at Benny. Reality bites as a hooded figure emerges from a now open bedroom door coming up close behind Benny who hasn’t figured out he’s there. When my eyes move up, only then does he realise I must be looking at something, someone else. He turns round slowly and it’s his turn to jump out of his skin. I remember at that second, only briefly, feeling hungry for another blueberry muffin, and then Rob has Benny in a headlock and I didn’t even hear the ref blow the whistle for kick-off. Here it goes! SMASH-BOOM-BANG-CRASH! The ridiculous pair tumble around the room sending cushions flying and knocking into furniture, shoving the sofas out of their place. I just stand there hopelessly, still holding the knife. Something ceramic smashes on the floor. My heart feels like it has dropped to my knees. A cold hand closes around my throat. It’s hard to breathe. I hear the sound of skin hitting skin. I start to shake. I shut my eyes and hear shouts and noises of pain.

  I feel helpless like I cannot do anything, powerless and frozen and sick but then I hear myself shouting. “Rob! Leave him! Benny! Just get out! Don’t be stupid!” I am ignored and they are intent on wrecking the place as they leave black marks on the walls. I sidestep around them and pull open the front door. “GET HIM OUT!” I am shouting like I have no remorse for my vocal chords. The grappling duo seem to go in every other direction apart from towards the door. Fury rises in me as I see red spots start appearing on the walls, never mind the trail of devastation they leave in their wake.

  Rob then gives Benny such a shove he’s almost thrown to the other side of the room, but with this force exerted, Rob loses his footing and slips over, sliding on a cushion on the floor. Benny leaps to his feet and runs towards him and goes to kick him while he’s down but Rob’s half way up to stand and Benny’s foot connects with air. Enraged, Benny swings wildly at Rob who just steps back, dare I say, amused. I’m not finding this funny. I can smell their blood and sweat. Then I’m running straight for Benny, arm raised, knife in hand and Rob’s not smiling anymore either. “Ella!” I hear him shout darkly, deeply.

  “Aaahhhhhiiiiiiiii!!!” I hear Benny scream, squawking, high pitched, like a child.

  “ELLA!” Rob shouts so gruff and deep and loud that I stop dead in my tracks, only a little distance from Benny, nine inches maybe. “Ella put the knife down…” My brother never calls me Ella and this in itself has spooked me.

  I stop and hear a clock ticking in the silence. The voice in my head whispers quietly, Yes Ella, he’s right, put the knife down. You don’t want to do yourself or anyone else any real injury. Really you don’t want to hurt Benny as much as you hate him right now. Knife down on the floor. Now.

  Ok... I put the knife down. I don’t want to kill him.

  But then I just flip. He breaks into my house, fights with my brother, wrecks the place. I freak out again and I am flying for him. Fists and feet connect with his body over and over. I hit and kick arms, chest, head, legs, any surface will do. Benny doesn’t fight back. It’s obviously not hurting him which just enrages me more. I punch harder and harder and then kick really hard too. When I do this and Benny starts to shout, Rob steps in. “Enough of this!” Rob roars. “Benny, get the hell out of here. Don’t ever come here again!” He shouts as he is holding me with both arms from behind, hugging me hard round my shoulders, lifting my feet off the floor. I struggle like mad and my legs don’t stop kicking. I’m a long long way from being calm. Benny looks different, like a different person. He looks at me differently too. He looks worried. Like maybe I am crazy. Right this second I know I am a madwoman but I don’t care what people think.

  Rob’s still holding me. I’m still wild and Rob’s arms don’t loosen until we both hear the front door slam but I am still not calm. In fact, I am more wound up than ever, a wild crocodile with its jaw held shut. When Rob lets go and my feet touch the floor, I’m ready to fly. I don’t even think I’m thinking. I know we look hard at each other for maybe half a second, not even that. Rob looks like he’s about to speak but before any words come, I’m gone.

  I run as fast as I ever have to the front door and throw it open. Benny’s still there outside, about to get in his car. I don’t stop running. I feel Rob right behind me but I’m only looking ahead. He can’t get away. This time he’s dead. Benny sees me coming and I see fear pulse in his fiery eyes. So quick, he gets in his car. The door slams shut, the engine roars and I’m in road with him. I move to face him. My hands are on the bonnet. The blue metal feels warm. I can smell heat and car exhaust. The car has started moving and above the engine’s roar I can vaguely hear Rob shouting my name again. Benny’s eyes and mine are locked together, a red electrical force burning between them.

  The car moves
suddenly beneath my hands, and then I hear a strange, peculiar crunch. I feel a hot, searing pain in my toes. Suddenly I snap back to now. Benny is gone, off driving up the road fast and now I can hear screaming. It’s me. Rob is at my side, hand on my shoulder looking down, holding his forehead with his other hand. “What are we going to do with you, Skit? Come here...” he says. He pulls me into a hug and I start sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

  12

  Hospital

  “Come on,” he says gently, “come out of the road.” I don’t want to even try walking because I know I can’t. It feels like the car is still on my foot. I cannot move.

  I say, “I can’t walk. He just run over my foot!” which now feels like it is being tortured in a horror film, with bolt cutters. I don’t think Rob believes me as he takes my arm and tries to make me move. I shout, “I cannot fucking walk. OK!” and I start crying again unashamedly, partly for pain, part embarrassment and I’m full of anger too.

  I had not realised until now, we have created quite a scene. I can see people looking out of their windows, net curtains moving, and a few neighbours have gathered on the street outside their houses. I can see out of the corner of my eye at least one passer-by has stopped in their tracks. Then I see that Heather is there. She’s wearing flared green jeans and a big pink and purple knitted shawl that appears to have no holes for arms.

  “Is everything ok?” She says, stupidly.

  Splashing great tears, I glare at her and say, “Does it fucking look like it?” Then I think maybe I’ve been rude and say, “Sorry. Just it really hurts. I just had a fight with my boyfriend and he ran over my foot.”

  Rob is looking at the floor, he looks at my foot and then at me. “We gotta get you to hospital,” he says.

  Heather says, “I’ll come with you.” I look at her, horrified, but grateful for her kindness.

  “No.” Rob says. “Thank you.” He adds quickly. I scowl at him but know he’s probably right.

  “Thanks for asking.” I say through salty tears. Rob’s already gone back into the flat to get his car keys. I’m still in the road and a car is coming. Heather puts my arm round her shoulder and helps me slowly hop over to the kerb. We wait perching on the wall for Rob to come out again. My foot is killing, but there’s so much more now buzzing around in my head. Benny. Rob. The wrecked house. Will I walk again? Will my toes fall off? Will my foot fall off? I think maybe in fact I now might die. I make another wailing noise and the tears keep coming. I feel Heather’s arm tighten round my shoulder.

  Heather looks me in the eye. I look back and she keeps staring. I don’t blink. She moves towards me. I’m not expecting anything so it’s lovely when she hugs me. She smells heady and warm like incense, maybe sandalwood. It’s just impossible to hold back. I just cry more, though I try not to make a noise as my chin bounces gently on her shoulder. I try to hold my lips tight together but still taste salt in my mouth. I don’t want to draw in any more prying eyes. I’m comforted more when I hear from a distance the familiar roar of Rob’s car engine. I hear it louder as he draws up close to the kerb next to me and this makes me feel a little better. I gently pull back from Heather and she lets me go. I smile at her. I can’t help it. She’s looking so softly, so caringly at me. Her kind eyes are full of hearts, so reassuring.

  “It will be ok,” she says. “When you get back, if you need anything, just call me.”

  “Ok, I will. Thank you.” I say quickly, now the pain is coursing fiercely up to the top of my leg. Rob has got out of the car to help me hobble into the front seat. I get in, thinking I would probably be more comfy stretched out in the back but it’s too late now, the car’s moving. I wave goodbye to Heather and almost stick my fingers up at the other people stopped still staring, but I don’t instead I squeal in pain again as the pulsating agony in my toes flares making me double up. I put my head down in the foot well. It smells like rubber. I can see muddy footprints and bits of grit.

  “Breathe deep. Try to think of something else. We’ll be there soon,” Rob says. Him being next to me helps me hold it together and helps me stay sane. Otherwise I think I probably would have lost it completely. I stop crying now and it now takes a lot of concentration to hold back the tears and keep quiet. When Rob speaks again he says, “Be brave, hold it in your heart,” and it’s all I need to keep me still and silent, for now.

  There’s a fair amount of traffic on the road at this time of day. It takes longer than it should to get to the hospital but instead of moaning, “Are we there yet?” I just practice my deep breathing and try to separate myself from the pain. I concentrate hard, really hard. When we do eventually get there, Rob stops by the entrance and helps me out of the car. He drives off to park. I stand still and continue with my breathing and counting. Breathe in deep, one, two, three, four. Breathe out slow, two, two, three, four. I don’t know how many minutes go by as I stare at the beige slab of concrete I stand on. By the time Rob comes back he is pulling a porter’s chair. My pain is now a dull persisting throb, like maybe there’s a pile of bricks on my foot. I take the seat gratefully and it feels like some of the bricks have been taken off. Pride won’t make me walk. My foot feels like it’s in the process of dying. I don’t want to kill it off completely by walking the last few steps. He pulls me along in the chair with squeaky wheels. For few seconds I feel like a princess on a portable throne but the further we go down the corridor, it gets darker and there is no more natural light. I can hear the wheels rolling on the lino and the sound of Rob’s rubber soles sticking to the floor with each step.

  We check in at the high desk and things look bleak. It is very busy. There are a lot of people having accidents and emergencies right now it seems. There are young children crying, sitting on the laps of their anxious mums. Some people are just sitting looking ok to me. I wonder what is wrong with them. Then, there are some where it is obvious. There are people with bloodied noses, split lips, cuts and bruises. I just can’t help but stare. Rob tells me to shut my mouth at one point, and pushes my jaw closed with his hand, but there are a lot of people to stare at and a lot that stare back with dismal indifference. This is definitely not a cheery place. I think I would prefer the company of the dead in a morgue. Rob sees a single seat at the end of a row and so I stay in the chair. He pushes me in front of him and I prop my bad foot up on his knee.

  At the Reception desk they say I will be waiting for two hours at least, a nurse will come to see me first and take details, but as my injury is not life threatening and my war wounds invisible, I am not a priority. I am quite disappointed it has not even drawn blood but at least the pain has now settled slightly. It is more like a slow unrelenting pulse. The bricks are still there and I would definitely still call it pain, but maybe a bloke would call it unbearable agony, like a man-flu is to the common cold.

  While we sit and wait there’s not a lot to do, so we do what we do best and talk. This is unexpected. He opens up a little. Instead of picking up a magazine or falling asleep he starts talking about the weekend out of the blue. He says how awful he felt Friday and how he put on a brave face, and how Saturday had been even worse for him, seeing Marcia. He says they’re not getting back together. I press him for more detail but he does not answer. It seems a lot has happened. But it’s all been about me since Friday. I haven’t stopped to think about Rob and I now feel bad. Really bad. And whatever it is that’s bothering him now, he won’t tell me. I want to know it all, but Rob is not forthcoming. It’s a game of twenty questions. I ask, “Are you ok?” He shrugs. “Did you see Ruby on Saturday? At all?”

  “No. She was with Mrs. D.”

  “What about Sunday?”

  “No, I was with you.”

  “After I left?”

  “I saw Marcia again.”

  “Why?”

  “Just to talk, and I wanted to try and see Ruby.”

  “Did you see her?”

  “She was in bed.”

  “At her Nan’s?”

  “Yes
.”

  “What’s going on with Marcia?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re hiding something from me. I know it.” He doesn’t even bother with a response. I feel like I’m at the bottom of a hill again standing by a giant boulder. We just sit in silence for a while. “Please tell me what’s going on Rob, I’m so confused. You’re not getting back with Marcia are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me what’s wrong? What’s happening?” He just shrugs. We sit silent for a while more.

  He sighs, “I think we should just concentrate on getting your foot better first, hadn’t we?”

  “Yes. I suppose so. But, please tell me what’s going on. I can’t take much more...” I can tell he’s tired now of my relentless asking, but I just want to know. It’s obvious that underneath it all he’s in pieces. He looks fine on the surface, if a little bruised. His lip is cut ever so slightly and a little bloodied from fighting earlier but Benny was a more of a mess. There was a lot more blood on him. Cut eye. Mashed hands. Bloodied nose. He’s the one who should be in A&E. In fact, I’m half expecting to hear his name called out and see him spring up from a seat somewhere, with cap on, hood up.

  Rob breaks the silence. “So, what’s up with you?” I might as well tell the truth now. We’ve come this far.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Benny.” He hardly flinches, just raises his eyebrows slightly and blinks a few times. I detect the slightest hint of another shrug.

  “Tell me it’s over!” he says almost laughing. I’m glad he can see the funny side. It could be a whole lot worse.