By It’s only after you step away from under the falling rain, that you come to realize just how cold and wet you really are. It oftenest leaves you feeling awkward and clumsy, becoming self-aware of your every step even when well inside a familiar building, and challenges your best judgment, replacing it with a state of uneasiness and self-doubt. Although, that could very well be an overstatement of a personal nature. The worst you can expect out of this rain however, is but a runny nose and a mild flu shot to go along with it, that’s not too bad I guess, considering the aftermath, it could be worse. Hell, I might even get some sick leave if I play my cards right.
It’s these damn walls which make everything seem colder than it actually is, and shit, I swear it’s even louder in here than out there on the street. Yet, it never fails to remind me of an old and crappy television set I used to have when I was a boy. Every turn of the dial gave off different varieties of soothing background noise, I admit it wasn’t much in the way of entertainment, but it soon became as enjoyable as that Glamour magazine I use to keep under my bed, and sooner than later I found that I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep without it. Channel 13 was by far my favorite, it was about two shade brighter than the rest, and sounded just about what imagined the ocean sound like, and I became rather fond of it in just a matter of weeks.
You see, my parents used to yell at each other after I went to bed. It wasn’t as loud as the folk you see in those reality television shows where police officers are involved, but it was still loud enough to keep you awake at nights. I liked to imagine that every couple had similar issues, petty arguments about mortgage payments and such, and that infidelity was a popular topic in every household as much as it was in mine. That was about as loud it got around my house, when “Infidelity” and all its synonyms was dropped in a as period at the end of each sentence, and it only got worse as the years rolled by. They weren’t bad people by any standards, but I can’t really recall a time before the yelling began, and I’m not too sure if there ever was one, though, I like to think that there was.
I was awakened to the sounds of my crying mother one night, and without a moment’s thought I was out of bed and looking at both my parents from the top of the staircase. It was as I reach the banister that I saw my father bent on one knee, he was cleaning up what seemed to be the remains of the green vase that used to sit on a table at the end of the hall that led from the kitchen to the living room. I never liked the vase anyway, nor where it used to sit, I didn’t care for the fact that I had to keep mind of it while playing indoors. I watched them fight for the better half of the hour before my father found me out, and when our eyes met I found myself frozen as a deer would upon the headlights of on oncoming truck. There was no need for words in order for me to understand him at that precise moment, and without contestation I walked back from whence I came. It was raining loudly that night, and a storm was said to be brewing and would be hitting my hometown later that evening, it would still not be loud enough to block out the yelling now brewing inside my own living room. Before jumping back on my bed, and deciding to hide once again under my sheets, I first turned on the television, and searched for the loudest channel I could find. It was strangely peaceful at that moment, to hear nothing but static coming from the television filter through my fingers as I pressed my hands against my ears, and I swear I can hear the same rainfall each and every day, even in a clear skied sunny afternoon.
“Do not dwell for too long above the clouds” my father used to say “lest you forget the sounds of falling rain”. I first heard him say it when I changed career paths after my first year of college, that is, after I decided that I wasn’t meant for Social sciences, it really struck me for some odd reason, and made me follow up throughout most convictions I had set for myself from that moment on. I took him to be a really wise man at that time, but then he told me the exact same thing after I crashed my bike for the first time, which in led me to believe that he had probably gotten that line from a book somewhere, or had probably heard it from a wiser man than he was. Regardless, I do think of him to be a wise man, just not as wise as he would wish himself to be. No man is as dumb as he thinks, nor is he as wise as he would preach.
The neon lights across the street are flickering faster than usual tonight, and even one of the letters on the sign seems to have died out, must be an exposed wire or something. I really hope the bar doesn’t burn down over night, I rather enjoy sitting down for a cold beer prior to my shift every once in a while. The floor beneath my feet feels awkward and damp, and I’m soaking wet from head to toe, these god damn boots aren’t even worth the box they came in. I can still hear the sound of falling rain as if were just outside my bedroom window, even though the doors are tightly shut behind me as I walk to my office, I can hear it slowly scratching away at the glass, and keeping me awake on cold winter nights such as these. I hear the rain all the way from across the hall, hitting the cracked sidewalk just outside the main entrance. It’s pouring out there, and my jacket’s dripping cold, I should have brought a spare. I punched in an hour early in hopes of seeing Julia tonight, but she was long gone by the time I got here. Julia had left earlier that afternoon with no chance of me being able to say good bye. I knew she was soon to leave, that is, I knew of her pending transfer upstate, but we were to have at least this final weekend together. I knew we weren’t going to be together that for that long to begin with, but I grew fond of her in the little time we got to share. It’s a shame, I really liked Julia.
Christian Padilla
