Nobody, Not Even the Rain Has Such Small Hands

I shut my trunk and walk around to the driver’s side before climbing in. I don’t look back at my house sitting there on top of the miniature hill. I don’t take time to admire the woods my, or what used to be mine, house faces spanning the opposite side of the street. I don’t even look at my neighbor’s houses as I drive past them, instead I drive even faster as memories of them uncontrollably flood my mind.
Happy 18th birthday to me.
Before pulling out onto the main street, I reach across to the glove compartment and pull out one of my favorite CD’s, shoving it into the player a little too roughly. I’m relieved when the first track comes on, reassuring me that I hadn’t broken it. I turn the volume up loud as I pull onto the main strip, then roll down my window as my other hand returns to the wheel. It’s a chilly spring morning, but I don’t care. Soon my bare arms are covered in goosebumps and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold air or the lyrics of my favorite song practically blowing out my speakers.
For a split second I look up at my plane ticket lodged in between the sun shield and the roof of my small car. It would have been completely embarrassing if I had forgotten my most treasured item. Although, it wasn’t like anyone was back in that house anyway. So I guess it really wouldn’t have mattered.
“Happy 18th birthday,” I say out loud. My voice is drowned out by the beginning of track two and I don’t really care.
A women outside her house hanging up a sign for fresh fruits and vegetables turns and screams something at me as I fly past her. I slow down, just because I don’t feel like killing myself today. As soon as my car is brought down to the speed limit, the thoughts I’ve been trying to prevent come flooding into my mind.
What if he’s changed?
What if the other guys don’t like me and I don’t fit in?
My hands begin to tremble on the steering wheel and I try desperately to steady myself. Driving and panic attacks don’t make for good experiences. I know first hand. My stomach twists and makes me feel like I’ll probably throw up before I get onto the plane to San Diego. I know that feeling first hand, too. Without looking, I grab the container of mints in the cup holder beside me and pop a couple into my mouth. They’re strong and numb my tongue, but it helps the nauseas feeling in my stomach subside. I turn down the volume on my radio because the bass shaking my body doesn’t help. I tuck my extra foot up onto the seat beside me and let my knee rest against the side of the door as I try to steady my breathing and remember how excited Vic sounded when I called him about this a few months back.

“Maddy!” he exclaimed when he answered the phone.
“Hey, Vic,” I said in a shaky voice. No matter how many times we talk on the phone, I always begin with the same thing. The same safe statements I automatically produce. “I hope you’re not busy.”
“Hey!” I hear him yell. “Shut up, guys, I’m on the phone with Maddy!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, he must be at band practice or recording.
“Sorry about that,” he said when he came back onto the line. I hear a door close and it’s silent.
“It’s okay.” I began to play with the small trinkets on my dresser, things I don’t even remember how I came across. The next day I’d begin to drop them all off at second hand stores or I’d give all the things I didn’t need away.
“So what’s up?”
I sighed and cleared my dry throat. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about something.”
There was a silence before he spoke. “Okay. What’s going on?” he prodded me.
“I’m going to be eighteen in a few months and I really want to move out. Um… my mom’s new boyfriend is moving in and they need my room for storage,” I lied. “Do you think it’d be okay if I came to live with you for a little while? Just until I get a job over there and can pay for my own apartment and stuff. I’ll buy my own food and whatever while I’m there, I’ll even cook for you and the guys. I mean-”
My cousin’s laughter cuts me off. “Of course you can stay here!” he says, excitement evident in his voice. “I’m not going to make you buy your own food while you don’t even have a job. Jeeze, Maddy, don’t be ridiculous.”
Half of my worries were lifted off my shoulders. He’d let me stay with him. I’d get a job, save up some money, and then I’d be out of his hair. I don’t know San Diego well, or at all really, but that didn’t matter.
“Thank you so much,” I breath. “You don’t know how much this means.” I tripped over my words due to my own enthusiasm and we laughed together.
“When do you think you’ll be coming out?” I heard someone call his name in the background and he shoo’s them off.
“I was thinking maybe as soon as I turn eighteen. He’s supposed to be moving in soon,” I added to play off of my made-up story.
“Yeah, that’d be fine. So not until mid-March then?”
I felt a smile come over my face, hurting my cheeks, all because he remembered when my birthday was.
“Yup. I’ll buy a plane ticket for March 25. So I’ll come out then if that’s okay.”
“Perfect,” he told me. “Don’t be a stranger. Call me once in a while!”
I laughed, “I will, Vic. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” He paused. “Hey, I have to get going though. We’re working on some vocals for the new record.”
“Okay.” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice. It was too good to hear his voice for it to be over this soon.
“Bye, Maddy. Love you,” he added.
“Bye.” I paused, not used to saying it. “I love you, too.”