Dania Tamendarova of Kazakstan and Indianapolis, Indiana is a recent graduate of Decatur Central High School. She's won three literary awards; one for this story and two more for Autumn and 2097.
AND THE RAIN WILL TELL...
by
Dania Tamendarova(copyright 1997 All Rights Reserved)
A quiet gray day. The wet line of the road. Rhythmical
sound of cold drops. Rain. He looked at his watch. The town
would appear in 30 minutes. But until then, just him, empty
highway, and memories. Rain always did it to him, all visions
came back just as once, a long time ago... It was raining then.
Everything in his life started and ended in rain.
**********
Her sweater, bright yellow and so thin for the
weather, looked strange in the grayness of the wet street. Red
umbrella with black dots, a disobedient strand of hair falling
on her forehead. He grimaced. He just had to run into somebody
from class. But she'd already seen him, too late to hide.
"Why weren't you at school today," she asked as black
strands flew off her face.
"I was...sick."
What do you care anyway? She smiled. For a moment it
seemed to him that she was really sorry... What a strange look
in her eyes, he'd never noticed it before...
"Get well, " and she walked away.
"Yeah."
Well, go ahead, tell the teacher you saw me. So what?
He stopped, tying up his shoe. I wonder how you'll cross that
huge puddle on the corner. The splash was loud and delightfully
wet. He smiled with vindictive satisfaction.
**********
Nothing was the same since then. Her yellow sweater,
red umbrella with black dots, the strands of hair on her face,
strange look and smile...
He turned on the radio. But it didn't take him away
from the past. Did he really want it to?
**********
Passing period. The classroom is full of people.
"Gorgeous queens" of the school stand in the corner laughing
about the new victim.
He, managing a bold confident smirk, "What are you
writing?"
She stopped, fixing her hair, "Homework," and walked
on.
Fine then. So he flirted with each and every female
around, just to see her reaction. Acting stupid even to himself.
No response. She seemed not to care.
"Hey, girls! Who loves me here," flitting around, not
looking at her, "do you love me, Anna," her neighbour. Anna
blushed but did not answer. Several more names, and then, "Do
you love me, the Always-Writing One?"
"Madly, " a strange look in her eyes. The one he felt
but could not translate into words. Dead end.
She always did it to him.
**********
What is it? The radio is not working. Oh, what's the
difference? It wouldn't save him anyway. He knew what would come
next.
**********
Rain. Walking along the streets, not looking, not
seeing anything...anyone. Maybe he was crying. Or was it just
the cold drops of fall weather? It was so painful. He never felt
such pain, never since he was a kid. The pain when tears don't
make any difference, they are inside.
He couldn't ever tell her how much he missed her, how
much he needed her. . .
Rain, wet pavement, naked trees. . .
He winced. There, near the road... She? All of a
sudden he was cold and hot at the same time. He could not be
mistaken--not in this. Millions of thoughts rushed through his
mind, but there was one... And he did it--for the first time in
his life he called out her name, aloud, for the entire world to
hear. She stopped. Her face--a bit different, but the same hair
falling on the forehead, the same smile. That strange look. . .
And suddenly he understood it--the voice of her eyes.
. .
Loud sound of stopping cars and a short, weak cry that
died at the moment of its birth. People. People ( it turned out
there were so many of them near) gathered around something tiny
lying on the ground. Somebody picked up the bent red umbrella
with black dots...
He did not move, pale, speechless. Everything
disappeared. And a loud, painful scream broke somewhere deep
inside him. Silent and fearful it never passed through his
whitened lips..
**********
He squeezed the steering wheel, trying somehow to stop
the falling tears. He had never lived since then. And her
look... He never understood it again. No matter where or when,
her face at that last moment, smiling... He closed his eyes.
Smile, her smile, her face, her eyes... Her name. Suddenly he
understood, again.
A loud sound forced him to open his eyes. Sharp,
overwhelming pain, crashing metal and a pale face in the front
window... Then there was nothing.
He was right--everything in his life started and ended
in rain...
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