Simple Enough

The rain was heavy today. It’s been pouring for a good five hours, and hasn’t let up at all. The flowers that lined the windows were wilting, drowning in the overload of water. Ever since Monday, when the rain started, the foliage has been suffering. It was a relief at first, but three days later, it was a burden.

I was drenched by now, but I didn’t mind it. It was a warm rain, the kind you get in late August, before it starts to get cold again. I’d been walking for a little over an hour. When I started, I didn’t know where I was going, but I had time enough to figure it out, so now I was heading in the direction of that old white house on Oak street, where I’d spent so many sweltering summer days and so many cold winter nights with the only girl I ever loved, and the only girl I would ever love.

She wouldn’t be there, that I knew, but I thought maybe, just maybe if I saw the house where it all happened, that I could find some solace, and sooth the aching that torn apart my heart at the very thought of her. Even now, after weeks without her, I could feel the hollow pit in my chest, like someone was standing on it and squeezing out all my air.

I shoved my hands deeper into the pocket of my dark blue pullover. I’d put it on in hopes that it might keep me at least a little bit dry, but my effort was stomped out, and I was still soaked to the core.

I’d brought it upon myself, this suffering. If I hadn’t left on tour, she wouldn’t have felt so abandoned, and maybe wouldn’t have felt like she had to bide her time and leave me with nothing to come home to in Joplin. As the thought spun in my head, I decided I was being a fool, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done.

She was an ambitious girl, with hopes and dreams of her own, and that’s part of why I loved her so unconditionally. She thought for herself, and did what she knew was best for her. For months, I tried to get her to try out vegetarianism, but she insisted that it was her choice, and she would eat all the meat she wanted. She promised that someday, she would try it for me, but not until she felt it was a good time.

I smiled at the memory, and the ache in my chest grew more pronounced, and I couldn’t ignore it now.

But it didn’t matter, because I was close now. I could see the dark green shingles of the roof, and the brick chimney that was hidden among the overhanging trees. The house was beautiful in it’s antiquity; the white paint was chipping a little, and the porch had a slight dip to it from many years of visitors climbing it’s stairs. I reached the driveway at last, a gravel path leading to the old garage that wasn’t trusty enough to shelter a car.

And as I approached, I took a long look at the house itself. It looked particularly lonesome, the only house on a long stretch of road. The lawn wasn’t quite freshly mowed, but it wasn’t a field yet either. The paint had faded more than I remembered, but it may have just been the deep purple clouds that gave it it’s ominous appearance. The swing on the porch rocked slowly, and for the first time, I noticed someone was sitting there.

Her back was to me, and her head was bowed, but I knew immediately who it was, without a second glance. And I knew she would be just as beautiful as always, her sky blue eyes sparkling with mischief like they had in summers passed when she danced around that old white house under the huge willow trees. It was like a dream instead of a memory; she twirled with her arms out in the lush green grass, brushing her fingertips along the drooping wisps of the willow tree we took shelter under to get away from the hot Missouri sun. I remember thinking in that moment that nothing would ever change the way I felt about this girl. It was the first time I really knew that she was the one I would love, until the day that I died.

I didn’t think twice as I approached, walking barefoot over the muddy gravel and the wet grass. I rolled the bottom of my pants up earlier, at least to save them from the mud, if not the rain. I was glad I had now, and once I reached the narrow path that led to the porch, I thought I knew what I would say to her. I had it planned out in my mind, the exact words that would spill from my lips, but when I climbed those warped wooden stairs and she lifted her head to look at me, I lost the ability to speak.

Her blond hair tumbled forward, framing her delicate face, and she looked about to fall apart. The way she sat there, on that swing in her pretty yellow sundress and little white cardigan, those sparkling eyes held a world of hurt. But when she looked at me, her expression changed. She went from looking like her world was falling apart, like she was drowning and there was no one to save her, to looking like I had offered her a hand to pull her from the swells that bore down on her.

In an instant, after whispering my name with that beautiful wind chime voice of hers, she was standing and shuffling toward me, seeking the shelter of my familiarity. Like me, she was barefoot, but unlike mine, her feet were clean and perfect. When her body pressed against mine, and my arms wound around her back like they were made for it, I felt that ache in my chest disappear. It was like whatever part of my that was missing when we were apart had just clicked back into place as soon as she was back in my arms.

She moved as close to me as she could get, pressing up onto her tip toes and gripping the back of my soaking wet hoodie. It felt desperate to me, and I wanted to fix all her problems, but I didn’t even know what was wrong. I was afraid to ask. I hadn’t seen her this way since her father left, when we were sixteen.

I held her close to me, and she shook now in my arms. I thought it might have been my wet clothes, but when I tried to move away, she cried out quietly and wordlessly, grasping me tighter.

We stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity. It was eating away at me, whatever was eating away at her, and I wanted to know, but I wouldn’t force it out of her. I couldn’t. So we stood, and listened to the rain, and I could hear her crying quietly into my sweatshirt. I smoothed down her hair, soft as silk, and gently rubbed her back to calm her. Every now and then, I would lightly press my lips to her hair, and smell the wonderful lavender of the shampoo and conditioner that she always used. It was a comforting smell, and I would have been content to stand here and bask in it with her in my arms until the end of time, but she lifted her head and raised her teary eyes to meet mine.

When she spoke, my heart torn in two, and I made a promise to myself, and to her, that if it was within my power, I would make damn sure that such pain would never consume her again.

“Chris…Sh-she’s gone…” her voice shook, and I wanted to make the world a better place for her. I wanted the sun to shine, and I wanted to return to when we were happy, so that I could fix everything. But I couldn’t.

Instead, I kissed away each tear as they spilled from her eyes until they stopped, placed kisses on each of her fluttering eyelids, her smooth forehead, and finally those perfect, quivering lips. She stopped shaking all together, let her hands slide up around my neck, and she kissed me back, making my insides warm.

If I wasn’t sure before, I was now. I would never leave her side again, if that’s what would make her happy. I would drop everything and take care of her until we were old and gray, tell her how beautiful she was and how she held my heart in her delicate hands, and that I would move mountains for her, if that’s what it would take to never see another tear slip from those brilliant blue eyes.