Nobody, Not Even the Rain Has Such Small Hands

I head for the stairs because it's the closest thing to me. When I reach them, I stumble upwards in an attempt to climb them faster than is humanly possible. I fall onto my stomach and she flips me around so my back is pressed against the ugly rug covering the white painted wood. She braces her hands against my shoulders, moving them in a way they aren't meant to be moved.
"You're a little bitch, you know that Maddy?" my mother spits into my face. "Don't think you're going to be running back to your father just because he decided to call you for once."
I attempt to pull her arms away from me, but it's no use. She's much stronger than I am. I've learned plenty of times before that there is no reasoning with her, so I keep my mouth shut even though my mind is screaming at me to do something to get away.
She looks down at me with a blank expression, wrinkles by her lips defined by the way the overhead light is hitting her face. She presses her hands against my shoulders hard before standing up straight and walking out of sight without another word.
I rise to my shaky feet and head up the stairs, straight for my bedroom. I close the door behind me and take a deep breath to try and calm that feeling which won't go away. My bed remains unmade from this morning in the corner, looking uninviting and cold for once. I know there is no chance of getting sleep tonight, that my mom will make sure I'm up all night arguing with her if I stay. My puffy winter coat is hanging on the hook just beyond the door above a pair of black boots. I slip them on over my high socks and then zip and snap the buttons up on the jacket. Almost immediately, I begin sweating as I cross the room in small, careful steps as to not raise suspicion. My fingers pry at the cold plastic edge of my frosted over window. Once I slid my body out, I lay my body flat on the small sectioning of roof and close the window as best as I can from the outside. The cold nips at my vulnerable cheeks and nose, causing the insides of my nostrils to dry up and ache. I slid myself down carefully until my feet find the porch railing, giving me some footing. I turn to look behind me in order to plan out my escape when my hands are pried away by an unseen force and I fall backwards, cold wind rushing past me.

My eyes snap open and my legs are wound around my sheets making it difficult to move. I’m forced to sit up and take a look around the room. It takes me a moment before I realize where I am, that I'm not falling off of my roof while trying to sneak out. Memories of last night return slowly as I rub the remains of sleep from my eyes and calm my breathing. I locate my phone, which is buzzing, on the bedside table and consider it a possibility that it woke me up just in time. Sitting up and squinting at the screen, I see that it's my mom that's calling. My dream comes back to me full force and I can practically feel where her hands were on my shoulders. I’ve already got four voice-mails from last night, but then I the party to use as an excuse. Now it was just me laying in my new bed, in my new bedroom in a house I had entered for the first time yesterday. I want to take advantage of not waking up in a house alone, got to Vic's room and tell him what's going on - not necessarily about the dream, but about my mom's obsessive phone calls. I push the thought aside and tell myself to act like an adult.
My phone stops ringing and my answering machine picks up, creating voice-mail number five. I wonder if I'll ever get around to listening to them for reasons other than to remove that annoying reminder that pops up every few minutes. I turn my phone off to avoid that as well, and the thought of just 'accidentally' misplacing the thing crossing my mind for the briefest of seconds. I stretch, laying back against the mattress. It's bigger than the twin with no head or foot board that I had at home. I flip on the light switch that's positioned on the wall just behind the bed in arm's reach. It adds to the bit of light already coming in through the crack between the curtains. The boys really did a nice job putting this together for me. I have no clue how I will ever repay them.
I get out of bed and walk to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. My dark brown hair is sticking up in different places, stiff from the spray Hannah applied last night to keep it in place. I can see traces of eyeliner and mascara that I’ve failed to remove in the corner of my blue eyes. I rub my index finger beneath them and feel something wet. When I pull my hand away, I realize that I've been crying and wipe away any remaining evidence. I tip-toe to the door in my socks, just in case the others are still asleep. From what I've seen of Vic and Mike on holidays, they most likely did some pretty heavy drinking at the party and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot by waking them up. Peaking my head out, the hallway to the left is dark and the kitchen towards the right is only lit up by a small lamp on a stand in the corner by the table.
I step out into the hall as quietly as I can and make my way into the kitchen. I’m not even completely sure what time it is, but the sun is coming in through the screen door leading out to the porch. I’m surprised to see Mike standing in front of the coffee pot shirtless and wearing loose pajama pants. I’m a little embarrassed by my appearance, but Mike's already giving me a sleepy-eyed smile.
“’Morning. I’m making coffee, do you want some?”
"That'd be nice," I say, and make my way beside him at the coffee machine.
He steps in front of me before I can reach it, practically towering over me. "I want to make it," he says, a large smile forming on his lips. "I'll make the best coffee you've ever tasted."
I smile up at him and step out of the way while he grabs two spoons out of a nearby drawer and closes it with a hip before proceeding to make us coffee, causing me to laugh and forget about my messy hair and tired eyes. He stirs it with a content smile on his face, watching the liquid swirl as he moves the spoon in small circles. There’s a miniature twister in my cup by the time he’s done and moved onto his own.
“Thanks, Mike,” I say before taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid.
We both take seats at the large island in the very center of the kitchen. I hop up onto the tall wooden stool, the runs cold beneath my feet.
“You’re welcome. How’d you sleep?” he asks. For a while, I talk about the party and avoid the topic of sleep to prevent my mind going back to my dream. He doesn’t say anything about me leaving the party early; which means he either didn’t notice, Tony said something and mentioned I was concerned he’d be upset I left, or he noticed and didn’t bother bringing it up.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” I add once I finish telling him how Jaime had spent a good portion of the party with me.
“For what?” He sets his square shaped mug down in front of him and I notice it has a green pot leaf painted against the black background.
“For setting my room up for me, for throwing me a party and for letting me come here.” I look down into my cup and think of where I would be if it weren't for he and Vic.
He makes a gesture with his hand that suggests it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t mention it. You’re family, we’d do anything for you.” He rubs the hair coming in on his jaw line. “You’ve still got presents to open.”
Vic comes down the hall and into the kitchen then, turning our attention to him in his black and green checkered pajama pants. He squints his brown eyes as he looks up to see Mike and I sitting at the table already. His long hair is curling towards the ends.
“Good morning, guys." He shuffles to the cabinet and takes out a mug and packet of hot chocolate mix. A few moments later he joins us at the table. His mug is a strange shade of blue and looks like it was part of the same set as mine.
“Was Mike telling you about your presents?” He asks, eyeing his brother after taking a sip of his hot drink.
I'm shaking my head as Jaime enters the room and comes over to where we're all sitting. There's traces of lack of sleep beneath his dark eyes. He helps himself to the coffee and then proceeds to give me an energetic good-morning for someone who has clearly just rolled out of bed. His once carefully styled hair sits flops over to one side and he’s wearing the same black t-shirt as last night accompanied by some borrowed pajama pants that look like the ones Mike is wearing. He catches me looking and a smile spreads across his face.
“Before you ask,” he says, holding up a defensive hand towards me, “I was really hammered last night. I couldn't drive home, and Tony disappeared."
We all laugh and Mike makes a face like he’s in pain.
“Sorry, man,” Vic gently slaps a hand onto his brother's shoulder. “I told you not to drink so much.”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” he says, resting the heels of his palms on either side of his head and looking down into his steaming drink.
Vic shakes his head and turns to me. "You didn't get to open your presents. Do you want to do it now?"
I nod and they all get up off their seats and go to take their presents from the closet diagonal from the table. They then lead me into the living room and onto the cream colored leather loveseat. The guys sit on the full sized couch as Vic hands me his gift first.
“I wanted to get you something useful," he tells me as I take the soft, large package onto my lap. I tear at the paper and reveal a violet colored down comforter for my bed. I undo the zipper to the clear plastic bag it’s in and feel the soft texture against my cheek.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and he gives me a one-armed hug.
He hands me a card, the flap of the envelope tucked in. I open it and read the Happy Birthday wishes he's written on the inside blank space.
Jaime gestures for Mike to go next. Vic moves off the couch and lets his brother sit beside me, handing me his own gift while Vic throws away the torn wrapping paper. I put the comforter in the bag and onto the floor by my feet with the card. I reach into the small bag Mike has handed me and pull out perfume decorated with a small black ribbon tied around the neck of the bottle. I remove the cap and smell the sweet and sophisticated fragrance. The name on it is some French word I can’t pronounce.
"I was wondering if you'd let me take you for you first tattoo," he says, brushing some of his hair away from his face. "It's the other half of your gift."
I hug him and tell him that I'd love to get my first tattoo with him. I've known exactly what I want since my Junior year of high school.
We pull apart and I thank him just as Tony catches the corner of my eye. I look down at the perfume bottle in my lap, aware that the long day I had yesterday and poor sleep due to my dream are evident in my appearance. Tony’s already has a cup of water in his hand and is heading towards us, meaning he's been looking on for a while now. He takes a seat on the couch beside Jaime with his own gift in his hands.
"I'm hungry," Mike complains from where he sits in between Jaime and Vic on the other couch. The remote is in his hand and he's flipping through the stations on the large TV diagonally across from me.
“Why don’t you make breakfast, man?” Vic asks his brother as I work on the wrapping paper covering the box Tony’s just handed me. “You’re the waffle master.”
“Why don’t we go out for breakfast? Then Maddy can see more of San Diego," Tony suggests. He watches as I work on the paper, taking it from me as I pull it off of the small, square box. “What do you think, Maddy?” he asks me. Everyone turns to look at me.
I look down at the home-made CD's in my hands and pretend to analyze what he's written on the back. “That sounds like fun,” I tell them in a quiet voice. I’ve always wanted to see San Diego and I know that's not going to happen until I get a car again, or the guys take me.
Mike gets up from his spot in between Vic and Jaime. "I'm taking a shower."
Jaime and Vic's attention wander to the TV as Mike leaves the room to go down the hall to the bathroom. Moments later, we hear the water hitting the linoleum bathtub. My eyes scan the names of bands, artists and the songs he's burned onto the two disc CD set. It’s evident he’s spent a lot of time putting this together for me. He’s still turned towards me, hands in his lap.
“Thanks, Tony. I’m going to listen to these tonight.”
He smiles down at me and the couch shifts as he comes to his feet and makes room for Jaime, who's appeared behind him with his own gift. I fit the CD's into the bag with Mike's perfume and Tony goes to throw away the wrapping paper.
Jaime got me three necklaces. One’s a long bronze chain with an owl at the end broken into three orange, green and yellow beaded sections so it moves. The second necklace is bronze, like the last one, and has an old fashioned looking clock at the end. The last one is a small silver chain with a simple cross. I thank him and look up to meet the other's gazes.
We decide to watch Star Wars while we wait for Mike to finish in the shower. Tony gets up off of the couch to dig out the discs from a shelf on the TV stand.
Jaime and Vic move over on the couch and Vic motions for me to sit beside him. It's nice to sit in between him and Jaime, and even better when Tony joins us with a huge smile on his face during the opening credits. It's been a long time since I've watched anything with anyone, and any lingering feelings my dream left behind are abandoned.

We’re sitting squished into some booth at a diner Vic picked out. The air smells like fried breakfast foods and pastries. The waitress is eyeing Vic, and I wonder if maybe they know each other or if she recognizes him and is just too nervous to ask for an autograph or whatever. We’ve all ordered practically the same thing, but Jaime and Mike continue to pick things off of each other’s plates. Tony just likes to pick on Vic, followed by a laugh, smile and going back to his own food.I hadn’t realized until now how mature Vic’s really become. Tony laughs each time Vic swats his hand away, enhancing the dimples in his cheeks. He’s been talking to me a lot about guitars and I’m impressed by how much he knows.
“So maybe we can write a song together sometime,” he says after swallowing a sip of his orange juice.
I pick at my waffle with my fork. “I’m really not that good. I’ve only done covers before.”
I can feel his eyes on me, so I look up and he shrugs. “We’ve all been there. We can write your first song together.” He gives me a smile I can’t refuse.
The waitress comes to take away our empty plates and asks if we need anything else. Vic asks for a box to put his left overs in. They launch back into easy conversation after the waitress turns on her heel and saunters away, rolling her hips too much to remain unnoticed. I tell the guys I’ll be right back, slide out of the booth and head for the ladies room. It’s a small room to the back left of the restaurant, a black plastic sign with ‘Women’s’ across it labeling the door. There are only two stalls, both painted in a shade of blue-green that’s chipping. A lot of small features this place has, like the bathroom, screams that it has a lot of history. By the time I’m washing my hands, another waitress is adjusting her hair in the mirror and takes a moment to smile at me as I get enough paper towels to dry my hands.
I look a lot less tired than I did this morning with the help of make up. The guys energize me just by being around. As I head back to our table I see Vic on the phone, a confused expression taking over his features and the rest of the guys are leaning in towards him as if they’re intrigued by the conversation. When I slid back down into my seat, Jaime and Tony look at me with confused expressions before turning back to Vic. Mike seems to be the only one with the slightest idea of what's happening other than Vic. I can feel my gut twisting and I wish I had stayed in the bathroom where it was safe.
“I’ll let her know," Vic says to who ever is on the other end. He hit’s the end button without saying good-bye and puts the phone down on the table in front of him. Everyone is silent for a long time, and I play with my fingers as I wait to hear what I know is coming. The waitress comes over with change, but everyone ignores her. After moments of no one speaking, I work up the courage to ask.
“Was that my mom?”
Vic nods, the distressed look never leaving his face.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
He exhales and his eyes move down to examine his hands in his lap beneath the table's surface. "Can we talk later?" he asks. I drop the subject.
We drive home in silence. Jaime and Mike talk here and there to try and lighten the mood, but my mind is preoccupied by whatever Vic knows. When we get back to the house, Vic puts his styrofoam box in the fridge and motions with his head for me to follow him into the living room.
"We have to practice," Mike says to Jaime and Tony before leading them down the hallway into his bedroom. The entire house is submerged in silence, and I know there's no practicing going on. Vic and I sit beside each other on the couch for what seems like a long time in silence.
Suddenly, he turns to me as if he was waiting to see if the other's where really going to practice or not.
"Well, your mom called."
I can't help but silently laugh to myself. "I gathered that much." I look up at my cousin, who gives me a small smile.
"What did she say?” I sound much more confident than I feel, and I’m thankful for that. I feel sorry for dragging him into this.
“She told me about the letter and then she read it to me.”
I tense up and look at him, wondering what he’s thinking of it. I'm sure that the version of the letter my mom gave him was one that was tainted by things she added as she went along just to make me look bad in his eyes - but maybe Vic would understand. He knows bits and pieces just by growing up with my mother's brother as his father. Besides, he writes songs - songs about other people and experiences. I cross my arms and wait for him to elaborate on his conversation with my mother, but he doesn't. I want to ask if Jaime and Tony heard anything, but I look up at him and catch an expression that I can’t place.
“I probably shouldn’t have written that,” I say but don’t truly believe it.
He shrugs as if he’s read my mind. “I don’t think that. I write lyrics all the time about people, and they hear them and sometimes they don’t like what they hear. But I get my point across and they know more than they did before.” A few silent seconds go by where we both avoid looking at each other. "As long as you feel better. I think it was bad ass of you to stick up to her."
Our eyes meet and I smile at him. “Thanks, Vic…” My mind goes to all the things I wrote in that letter; examples of things she’s called me, said to me, and done to me. Reasons why I feel towards her the way that I do. I wonder if they were edited out while she read to Vic, or if she left them in followed by defensive reasoning. He stands, so I don't bother asking.

There's a surprising knock on my door. This is something that will quickly grow on me, since I'm used to people walking freely in and out of my bedroom. I get up from the soft comforter Vic gave me earlier and walk to the door. Tony's standing on the other side, hands in the front pockets of his gray sweatshirt. I can hear the TV playing quietly from the living room and my heart sinks as I realize they're most likely having a movie night without me.
"Can I come in?" he asks, breaking me from my thoughts. I drag my eyes away from their unsuccessful attempt at seeing what everyone's doing in the living room. Tony's taller than me by a few inches, causing me to look up at him as I nod and turn back to my bedroom. He closes the door behind him and lingers towards the center of the room as I stand before my bed, wondering whether he'd sit if I made the first move.
"What's going on?" I ask, trying to make conversation. "Are you guys watching movies without me?" I only half joke.
He looks up from the floor. "Vic said you looked tired during dinner and he didn't want to risk waking you up if you were asleep."
I nod slowly. Vic's done so much to look out for me ever since I got here. Tony walks to my bed then and takes a seat at the very end. I follow, sitting towards the headboard with my pillows supporting my back.
"You're more than welcome to come out and watch Star Wars with us, though," Tony says.
I somehow think he didn't come back here to see if I wanted to watch Star Wars. A few awkward seconds tick by, only filled by the sound of a car driving past outside.
"I actually wanted to talk to you about something," he says suddenly, and my assumptions are confirmed.
I turn my attention from the draw string of my sweat pants to him. The only light I've got on is the lap perched on the teetering bedside table to my right. His brown eyes and hair look even darker in the lack of light. I go back to picking at the loose string on my pants to avoid my eyes from wandering to the tattoos on his neck and arms. I tuck a stray piece of hair that's falling out of my bun behind my ear, where it hooks onto the back of one of my earrings uncomfortably.
"What about?"
He shifts from where he's sitting about two feet away from me, causing the rest of the mattress to shift with him. A curtain of his brown hair shades his face from my view.
"I heard a bit of the conversation Vic had with your mom in the diner," he paused for a moment, "and I wanted you to know that you can talk to me about it when ever you want. I know it must be hard moving out here and only really knowing Vic and Mike."
Tony and Jaime never had the opportunity to see my mom in full force. When the band was touring, she never had any interest in going to see them play if it meant dealing with crowds of passionate teenagers. I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to ruin any chance there is of he and I becoming friends by bringing him into this as well.
"Thanks," I tell him anyway followed by a half-hearted smile. He returns the gesture and gets up off my bed, extending a hand towards me.
"Do you want to come watch Star Wars or would you rather stay here by yourself?" His smile widens, so I take his hand and follow him out to the living room.
Jaime, Vic and Mike look up as we enter, me following Tony's lead. He takes a seat at the end of the long couch, near a lamp sitting upon the glass surface of a small table littered with coasters and beer cans. Part of me is surprised Vic and Mike even own coasters. They all push down to make room for me beside Mike, in between Tony and Jaime.
"Ugh! I missed my favorite part!" Tony exclaims after a few moments of watching the film. We all laugh and Tony takes the opportunity to lean down into my hair and whisper, "it was worth it."