Kids

It was pouring, and Andrew’s dark, curly hair was soaked as he climbed into the cab. The driver leaned on the horn in the New York traffic, rain crashing down onto the hood of the car. “Where to?” the driver asked, a grimace on his face. He removed his cap and rubbed his bald head. “God, I hate rain. Makes the traffic even slower than usual.”

"Brooklyn," Andrew said quietly.

The driver honked again, and a woman climbed into the cab, quickly closing her black umbrella. “Sorry,” she said, brushing the water off her sapphire raincoat. "Manhattan, please."

“It’s fine,” Andrew replied, feeling the rain drip from his hair and onto his plaid blazer. “It’s good to get out of the rain.”

She nodded. “Came out of the office?”

“Leaving from an interview.” Andrew glanced over at the woman, the hem of her jade dress peaking out from under her coat. “Leaving work?”

“My second job,” she said, her auburn hair voluminous and dry. Andrew was jealous. He felt the rain leak down his cream dress shirt. The driver glanced back at them and leaned his elbow on the horn again. The cab had hardly moved. The sound of shouts and honks resonated in the streets.

“There’s something oddly beautiful about rain,” she said, looking out at the street. New Yorkers were huddled together under umbrellas, whistling for stalling taxis to wave them inside. Large puddles of water formed on the dirty sidewalk. Children stomped into black holes, splashing dark filth everywhere.

Andrew looked up into the black sky. There was nothing beautiful about it.

“I think rain washes away our worries and gives us a new start,” she said, grinning. The driver cursed under his breath, throwing obscene gestures at the cars in front of him. “It may look terrible now, but when the rain stops and the sun comes out, everything looks more beautiful than it did before.”

Andrew nodded, a wave of rain shattering on the hood of the Crown Victoria. The beads of water skewered in his hair slipped down onto his khaki pants. “I think the lights look more powerful when it rains outside. Maybe it’s the reflections...” His voice trailed off.

“People take things for granted,” she said, facing him. Her eyes were light brown; they seemed to brighten the dim taxi. “Things are only miserable if you make them miserable.”

“That’s true.” Andrew glanced out the window. “But how could you turn this into something not miserable?”

She laughed and pointed at the kids. They leaped into the puddles, giggling and spraying black muck onto the cab’s window.

Crimson bloomed on Andrew’s cheeks. “But kids are always like that.”

“That’s what makes them so amazing,” she replied. “The imagination of a child is something that we should all keep a piece of, but when we grow up, we think that it’s stupid to think in that sort of way. It’s a shame. A real shame.”

“Kids are also selfish,” Andrew said.

“They don’t know any better.” She waved to the kids in neon raincoats. They waved back. “As they grow older, they learn to become less selfish. Or, at least, we hope they do.” She furrowed her brow. “So far, we’ve moved about an inch.”

“Should we just...walk?” Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded.

Andrew and the woman paid the cab driver and stepped back out into the rain. She opened her umbrella and motioned for Andrew to join her. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said. The clouds changed from threatening black to slate gray.

“Andrew,” he said, watching her quiver.

“I’m Ainsley,” she replied as Andrew placed his blazer on her shoulders. “I’m all right...”

“You’re cold.” Andrew reached for the umbrella. “Your lips are purple.”

The kids plunged into the puddles, dousing car windows with dark filth. They laughed, their raincoats drenched in black liquid. Andrew and Ainsley watched them from under their black umbrella, knowing they were too old to jump in puddles.

But they smiled anyway.