Rules of Rain

by Leah Scheier

  “No, that isn’t it at all. I love Hope,” I say quickly.

  “So do I. She’s a good girl. She’s thoughtful. Responsible. Somewhat naive.” My mom has a way of passing swift judgment on everyone and boiling them down to three adjectives. Hope has come out of her evaluation with fantastic marks. Most people don’t fare so well. (Marcus was pronounced self-absorbed, finicky, and melodramatic. Kathy was vain, talkative, and immature. I’m glad she hasn’t met Liam yet; I’m not ready for that verdict.)

  “It’s just… Hope has lots of other options,” I begin slowly, testing out my thoughts. “She can date anyone. She dated Grayson for six months, and he’s the hottest guy in school. But Ethan—Ethan is so alone. What if he falls for her? And then screws it up? You know he’s going to screw it up. Or what if Hope just gets tired of the novelty and stops coming around? For her it’s just another adventure. But for him it might become everything. And when it ends it will just crush him.”

  She nods solemnly and seems to consider what I’ve said. I wonder how I would fare in her three-adjective evaluation. If I asked her, how would she describe me? Reliable, stable, loyal? That’s what I hope she’d say. But I have no idea what she thinks. It’s not the kind of thing you ask.

  “What makes you so sure that they will ever date in the first place?” she inquires after a moment. “They could be just friends.”

  I can’t tell her, of course. I can’t reveal what Hope has told me in confidence. Even pointing out that Hope’s face lights up like a cherries jubilee flambé every time my brother enters the room seems like a betrayal. So I just shrug. “I’m scared he’s going to get hurt,” I repeat mournfully.

  “Well, if he does, he’ll be just like other sixteen-year-old boys,” she remarks. “It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? Getting your heart stomped on by a girl. No reason that Ethan shouldn’t experience that part of life just like everybody else.”

  Well, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. My mother is inviting her own son to get his heart broken—and she’s saying I should stand by and let it happen. I was pretty sure a cure for Ethan’s heartbreak didn’t exist in the natural world.

  “You need a distraction, Rain,” she says after a moment. I get the bug-in-a-jar feeling again as her eyes focus on me. “Maybe leave Ethan alone a bit and concentrate on yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what are your plans for college? This is the year to strengthen your resume, you know. I’m not sure you’re doing enough to stand out.”

  This again? I think irritably. Like I haven’t already told her my plan for managing college while caring for Ethan. “What are you talking about? I’m getting good grades. And I’m memorizing the psychology book just like you recommended. I’m even trying to apply what I’ve learned! My friends are actually pretty sick of my attempts at psychoanalysis.”

  “You probably don’t want to put that on an application.”

  “And there’s my cooking blog—”

  She dismisses me with a wave. “Nobody cares about your experiments with lemongrass and kale. You need extracurriculars that will look good on your resume. What about volunteering at MCC? Take your experience with Ethan and use it to help others. They have a program that teaches high school students how to interact and work with kids with autism—”

  “That sounds great, Mom. But I don’t need extra experience. And we’ve already talked about this. I’m going to U of M so that I can be close to home. For Ethan.”

  She sighs and takes another drag of tea. “Of course you’ll have to stay close to home. But that doesn’t mean you can skate through high school—”

  We’re interrupted by the sound of a door slamming on the second floor and the hurried dash of feet on stairs. A moment later Hope appears in the kitchen and waves hastily to my mother and me. Her face is flushed and her lips widen into a large fake smile. “I gotta go now, guys. See you later. Bye,” she calls out and is gone before I can stop her.

  I blink at the closing porch door and turn to gape at my mom.

  “What happened?” Her face wears the same blank question as the one I ask.

  I head to Ethan’s room, my mother trailing behind me. The door is open, and I knock gently and peer inside. My brother is sitting on the floor, his anatomy textbook open across his knees; the carpet around him is littered with drawings of body parts. He’s clicking away on his laptop and staring at a large projection in front of him. The television and the computer screen are facing him, so I can’t see what he’s looking at, but based on the intensity of his concentration, I guess that he’s absorbed in his favorite subject again.

  “Hello, Rain,” he says. “Hello, Mom.”

  Nothing seems wrong here; everything is just like it always is. Why was Hope in such a frantic hurry to go then? She’d seemed eager enough to hang out with him just a few minutes earlier.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask him tentatively. He frowns in my direction, then turns back to his computer.

  “No, it isn’t,” he grumbles. “I got everything wrong.”

  I advance slowly into the room and settle down on the rug next to him. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” I tell him earnestly. I really am sorry for him. As much as I’d been against the two of them becoming a couple, a part of me had hoped it would miraculously work out—at least for a little while. I certainly didn’t want him to fail on the very first try.

  He focuses on my face and his eyes widen hopefully. “Secret Rule?” he inquires.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I need it.”

  “Okay,” I answer automatically. “What can I do?”

  “Would you talk to Hope for me?”

  “Of course. What do you want me to say?”

  “I need you to tell her to come back. I made a mistake.”

  “What mistake?”

  “The fetus can implant on the cervix in rare cases,” he replies. “Not just in the fallopian tube.”

  “Excuse me?” Next to me I hear my mother make a choking noise, and I glance back to find her gesturing mutely at the television screen. I turn to look at the still projection and freeze, openmouthed, and all thoughts of calling Hope evaporate as quickly as they came.

  “Efan, was that picture up when Hope was here earlier?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and taps quickly on the mouse. “No, this one was. And this.”

  “Oh my God!” my mother and I exclaim in unison.

  It’s a series of dissection slides, and the photos are close-ups of a cut-up uterus. With everything—everything—clearly labeled. And on one of them there’s a bloody bit of—well, let’s just say I won’t be able to get that image out of my head for a long, long time.

  “Why would you show those to Hope?”

  He seems perplexed by the question. “Why not?” he asks innocently. “She said she wanted to talk about what I was interested in. So I said I’d show her.”

  “Why didn’t you just show her a picture of a lung or something then? Why did you choose that…that…”

  “Ectopic fetus,” he finishes helpfully.

  “Why?”

  “Hope’s a female,” he replies simply. “I was trying to show her things that might affect her. She may need this one day.”

  My mother gives him a tight and patient smile. “Ethan, do you think that Hope enjoyed going through those slides with you?” she asks him in a voice that’s straining to be gentle.

  “She said she did,” he responds, clicking through his slide show again. “But I got some of the facts wrong when I explained them to her. It’s not my fault, though. This lecture was incomplete.”

  “I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” I murmur without conviction.

  “Just call her and explain, okay? She left before I realized my mistake.”

  She sure did, I think, as we turn t
o leave the room. It seems cruel to tell him he really had gotten everything wrong but not at all in the way he thought. Better let him think his error was anatomy-related.

  My mother shakes her head. “I’m going to let you cover this one, Rain,” she says. “Maybe go over the basic rules of dating with him? And do it before he scares anyone else.”

  There’s a subtle sting of criticism beneath her mild suggestion, and I hang my head. She’s right, of course. I should have given Ethan rules for talking to girls. We had rules for everything else. But somehow, showing graphic anatomy slides had never come up before. How could I have anticipated that? My mother takes one last look at the screen, shudders, and then quickly crosses the hall, shutting her bedroom door behind her. It’s up to me now. But isn’t it too late to speak to him? Hope has already fled the scene, probably forever. If I tell him why she left, won’t it just make him feel bad? I’m considering the question when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “I’m coming back,” Hope declares before I have a chance to say hello. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I slip out of Ethan’s room and shut the door. “You don’t have to apologize,” I assure her. “I saw what he showed you—”

  “No, there’s no excuse. I can’t believe I ran off like that. I have to come back and explain—”

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “I’m on my way—”

  “It’s seriously not a big deal—”

  “I’m outside.”

  “Oh.”

  I hang up.

  I come downstairs to find her standing by the kitchen door, jiggling back and forth like a kid waiting to use the bathroom. The blushing confidence of her first visit has vanished; she’s a portrait of indecision and embarrassment now. “God, I’m so ashamed of myself,” she blurts out when she sees me.

  “Hope, I just talked to Ethan—”

  “He must hate me—”

  “Not even close.”

  She pauses and glances anxiously toward the stairs. “Are you sure?”

  I walk up to her and place a hand over hers. “You’re freezing cold. Doesn’t your car have heat?”

  She hesitates, and a little color creeps back into her face. “I didn’t make it to the car. I’ve been walking in circles around your house for the last few minutes.”

  I can’t help smiling at her anxiety. “You know Ethan has no idea that he offended you, right?”

  Her eyes grow large, and she squeezes my fingers eagerly. “He doesn’t?”

  “Nope. But he is very worried that he made a medical mistake when he was telling you all about—”

  She waves her hand to stop me. “I wasn’t offended,” she insists. “I was just freaked out for a second. But then when I got outside I realized that he hadn’t meant to shock me or anything. He really believed that he was making interesting conversation, didn’t he? And then I felt just awful.”

  I’m not sure what to say to her. I knew this would happen sooner or later. But I’m also sorry for her—for both of them. It’s like watching two people who don’t speak the same language try to communicate. Still, I can’t tell her that. I’ve already hurt my brother by suggesting their relationship wasn’t going to work. The only decent thing to do is step aside and let her figure this out for herself.

  “You didn’t hurt him,” I say. “Ethan generally believes whatever you tell him as long as it’s reasonable. So he probably bought whatever excuse you blurted out.”

  She shakes her head and covers her face with her hands. “I’m a little out of my depth here,” she admits after a brief silence. “I think I need a guidebook.”

  There’s something so lost and vulnerable about her; I reach out and wrap my arms around her. She falls against my shoulder and buries her face in my sweater. “I should have warned you that I was coming over to hang out with him,” she admits. “But I knew what you would say if I told you. So I figured I’d just show you that there was nothing to worry about. Now I just proved the opposite, didn’t I?”

  “Not at all,” I say. “But if you’d told me, I could have written you a little guidebook. Just to get you started.”

  I don’t know why I suggest it. It’s the last thing I wanted to do, really. But Hope is my best friend. She’s going down this path whether I like it or not. Even if I’m sure she’s making a mistake, I can at least try to be supportive. And writing rules for her is way easier than the detailed dos and don’ts of dating I’ll have to submit to my brother. I have no idea how to even begin that task. Instead, I can start by helping Hope understand Ethan. And while she learns, I’ll have to watch over Ethan even more carefully than I already do. Maybe if I get involved, instead of just shouting warnings from the sidelines, I can minimize the damage.

  “I’ll do it now, if you want.”

  She pulls back and gives me a funny look. “I was just joking, Rain.”

  I head over to the counter and open one of the drawers. “Well, I’m serious.” I grab a notebook and tear out a page. “This may actually be helpful to you,” I add as I start to scribble.

  “I’ve been watching YouTube videos,” she muses as I write. “But they haven’t been so useful, really. Each person is so different—”

  “Trying to understand autism by watching videos is like trying to understand boys by reading Cosmo quizzes on dating,” I point out.

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to realize that. I watched a couple of movies too—”

  “Let me guess. Rain Man.”

  She nods, grinning. “Oh my god, that is so not Ethan.”

  I scrawl down her instructions and push the paper toward her. “No, but this is.”

  “The Rules of Ethan,” she reads out loud.

  “It’s just the basics that I’ve learned over the years,” I tell her as she scans the page. “Every time Ethan tries to interact with others he has to stick to rules that are hard for him—that make him feel different. It’s only fair that we should get a set of rules too.”

  “Which one of these is the Secret Rule?” she inquires.

  “The Secret Rule’s not on there,” I reply, shortly. “That rule isn’t relevant to you.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She looks down, disappointed.

  “I can give you more details if you need,” I continue. “There are plenty more minor ones—” But she’s not listening to me. Her eyes have frozen at the bottom, on the last rule. Ethan doesn’t like to be touched, especially without warning.

  She looks back at me, her brow furrowing. “I was wondering about the touching thing,” she says, hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I knew it would be painful for her to read, but I wrote it down anyway. She needs to hear the truth.

  “Not at all?” she inquires in a small voice.

  I suppose I should give her some kind of encouragement. But wouldn’t that be lying?

  “Sorry,” I reply.

  She nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

  I wonder if she’s questioning their future together already. Or does she think she’ll become the exception to Ethan’s rules? She doesn’t look nearly as dismayed as I thought she might. In fact, if I have to be completely honest, she actually seems a bit…relieved. My theories about her motives are looking doubtful. The whole Sleeping Beauty adventure idea doesn’t make sense to me anymore. I have no idea what to make of that quiet smile on her face.

  Well, whatever her motivation, as long as she sticks to the rules I’ve written out, I can’t exactly object to her trying to get closer to him.

  “You told Ethan you were leaving,” I point out, indicating rule number five with my finger. “He’ll be upset if he finds you hanging out in the kitchen.”

  “I know, I was about to go. But I wanted to tell you something first.”

  My phone buzzes while she’s speaking, and I frown at the unfamiliar numbe
r on the screen. “I don’t know who this is.” I begin to push it back into my pocket, but she puts out her hand to stop me.

  “Answer it,” she commands. Her face is beaming with suppressed excitement. “Answer it, answer it.”

  I’m suddenly extremely wary of her abrupt change in mood. “What are you up to, Hope? What’s going on?”

  “Answer it!” she squeals, banging her hand on the counter.

  “Who’s on the phone?” I demand. We’re on the fourth ring already, and she looks like she’s going to explode.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she huffs and grabs it from my hand. “Hello?”

  “What are you doing?” I ask quietly.

  “No, this is Hope,” she purrs into the phone, ignoring me. “Can I take a message?”

  “Who are you talking to?” But she’s not even looking at me now.

  “Hi, Liam,” she murmurs pleasantly. “No, that’s fine. I’ll go get her.” And she shoves the phone back into my hand. “Speak,” she growls in a menacing whisper. “Now.”

  I stare at the cell in my hand for a moment and then slowly bring it up to my ear.

  Thirty seconds and about five hundred heartbeats later, I hang up and hold my phone out in front of me. “He wants to get together after school tomorrow.”

  “You’re welcome,” she trills and waves at me as she heads toward the door. “My work here is done.”

  “Hope, what did you do?”

  “Wear your green sweater,” she calls out over her shoulder. “And don’t forget to call me after!”

  I still have a thousand questions to ask her, but she disappears into her car and begins to back out of the driveway before I’m even on the lawn. “It’s only a study date,” I shout after her. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything—”

  “Just don’t overanalyze this too, and you’ll be fine!” She throws the suggestion out of the window and flees before I can protest.

  Not overanalyze it? What is she talking about? What am I supposed to do until tomorrow evening? Turn my head off?

  Cooking with Rain

  SERENITY THROUGH YOUR GUT