When She Cries

She crawled up onto her roof slowly and carefully. Making sure not to fall into the wet grass below. The night was dark and cold, but she didn't mind. She liked it.

As she reached her destination, there was rumble somewhere in the darkness and she whipped her head around in time to catch the flash of lightning in the distance. A few raindrops fell and she looked to the heavens as she was washed over. She loved the rain. They molded together well. It was always there for her, never turning away.

The lightening flashed again to her right and a clap of thunder followed on cue. She heard a voice in the night, calling for her.

"Mary-Beth! Mary-Beth where are you?" called a light voice, over the rain and thunder.

She sighed and slipped down onto her bedroom balcony again and saw Timothy there.

"I'm alright Tim." she said as he pulled her into a hug.

"I was worried. They called me and told me what happened." He rambled. "I was worried." he finished as he pulled away, taking in her bruises.

Tim was a good friend of hers. He might as well have been her brother. He was constantly there for her. He and her elderly neighbors, the Meyers.

"Nothing more than a few bruises, no major damage."

"One day, he could do more Mary. You've got to do something about this." he cautioned.

"You know why I can't."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know." He shook his head and kissed her cheek. "I have to go to work. They have me on the night shift now. But I'll be back in the morning to take you to breakfast, okay?"

She smile weakly. "Okay." He smiled and left quietly, wishing he could stay and talk to her, but reluctantly pulling out of the driveway and down the street.

Mary-Beth sighed and logged onto her computer, checking the few websites that she spent time on. A few minutes later, she felt the grumble of a hungry stomach and made her way quietly down the stairs to the kitchen, knowing her father was most-likely out partying.

She pulled a can of soup out of the pantry and poured it in a small glass bowl, Not in the mood to cook anything more than she needed. There was a rat-tat from somewhere behind her and she furrowed her eyebrows as she popped the bowl into the microwave. She walked over to the door and opened it, revealing a man wearing very wet raincoat.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

He smiled and took off the hood of his raincoat. Mary-Beth was a little taken back to see Nick Jonas standing before her.

"My car broke down as I was on my way to the 7-11 down the road and well, could I come in?" he asked timidly.

She hesitated, but nodded and closed the door behind him. The micro-wave beeped repeatedly, signaling that the soup was done. She brought it out and set it before him, taking his raincoat and throwing it in the dryer. Without saying a word, she threw some dry clothes to him and gave her a puzzled look.

"You'll catch pneumonia if you stay in those and my friend wouldn't mind if you wore these."

He shrugged and stood up from the couch he sat on.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked.

She directed him towards the room and went back into the kitchen to make she, herself, some more soup, considering she had given the boy what she had made for herself. As she took the second bowl out of the micro-wave and set it on the table, a door opened and he walked out in dry clothes, holding his wad of wet one's in his hands.

"What should I do with this?" he asked.

She quickly and quietly took them and threw them in the dryer with the rest of his clothes. He stood, not knowing what he should do, waiting for her to come back. He saw a picture of someone on an inn-table and picked it up. She walked in and he accidentally dropped it. The two saw it shatter on the floor and she rushed forward to pick up the glass.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just I saw it and pickled it up and then I accidentally dropped it and-" he rambled, but she cut him off.

"It's no problem."

"What?" he asked.

"It's okay, I'll just get a new frame. No big deal." she said, walking over to a corner to get a broom.

She swept a few bits of glass into a dust pan and threw them away, quietly. She bent down to join Nick in gathering the other larger pieces of glass and his finger brushed against hers.

A tingling sensation went up his arm and he pulled away, looking up at her, but she made no eye-contact. She merely went on about cleaning up the floor. He frowned and followed her to the trash bin, tossing in a few jagged pieces of glass.

"Eat." she said gesturing towards the soup on the table.

"What?" he asked.

"Eat. You're cold and you need to warm up. So, eat." he slowly nodded and sat down, picking up the spoon provided.

She had placed the frail picture on the table while she took the frame and pulled pieces of glass from the edges. One by one, being careful not to prick her fingers, she took them and threw them away.

Nick studied the picture laying on the table. It was a woman. She's beautiful, Nick thought. "Who's the picture of?" he asked and he heard her wince.

He looked to see that when he had spoken, her fingers had slipped and she had cut herself on a jutting piece of glass. He ran to her and took her finger, putting under the water-faucet and washing it clean of any blood.

She bit her lip and he wrapped it in a paper-towel and began to put alcohol on it. He glanced up at her when she winced again. After having it wrapped up in a band-aid, the two sat back down and ate their soup.

"It was my mother." she spoke suddenly.

"Huh?" He asked looking up at her.

"The picture. It's my mother."

"Oh." He said and took another spoonful of soup. "Where are your parents?"

"Um." she looked down at her bowl. "My mother passed away a few years back and my father is.. out."

He nodded, wishing he hadn't asked. He kept eating and occasionally glanced her way. This glance was not returned, but he wished it would be. When they finished she rinsed the bowls and spoons and placed them in the dish-washer, starting at a normal wash.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Mary-Beth." she said quietly and walked over to the television. "Um, I suppose you can stay here for the night and we'll call a mechanic in the morning." She glanced out the window and continued. "There's a guest bedroom upstairs and..." her voice trailed off as she turned around.

He laid sound asleep on the couch with his hands crossed over his chest. Mary-Beth draped a blanket over him and gently pushed a pillow under his head, careful not to wake him.

Glancing at her clock on the way upstairs, she noticed that it was midnight. She knew her father would be out for a couple of days and that she had nothing to worry about, so she walked quietly up to her bedroom and slipped into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt.

Pulling the blankets over herself, she closed her eyes and listened to the pitter-pat of the rain on her roof and hoped to fall asleep quickly.