Nobody, Not Even the Rain Has Such Small Hands

I can't sleep. My mind is weighing heavy and I'd rather be any where than in between these sheets in my quiet room. It's been months, but they still smell like that unforgettable shampoo she'd shower with right before bed each night. It's forever imprinted itself into my mind. I throw the stack of pillows to the floor where they land with a dull thud and turn away from them, my head resting against the mattress.
This is more uncomfortable than the bus, I decide before tossing back my blankets and my bare feet meet the cold bedroom floor.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my warm forehead.
My eyes catch the picture of her in that stupid frame she gave me once. It's a nice picture, her hair is all done up and she's smiling brightly, perfect white teeth and all. It makes me want to shatter the glass instead of wasting time with opening the back, rip the photo out of it's place and do whatever it's going to take to make sure I'll never have to see it again. Maybe that's what is haunting me; the reason why I can't sleep at night because of the feeling someone's watching me.
Maybe I just need to get rid of any traces she left behind.
Without thinking, I'm crossing the room to that silver photo frame I can practically see my own reflection in. I drop it on the wooden floor of my bedroom over and over until the surface shatters into several different size pieces. I pick through the broken glass, cutting the tip of my right index finger, and pry out the photo. Before I know it, I'm out in the early morning air with the photo crumpled into a ball in my fist, breathing heavy. I tear the picture into a million different pieces and watch as the fall onto the ground one after the other at my feet. The mix in with the dew covered grass, but I don't care. When I'm done, I walk back into my house and sit on the sofa staring at the blank TV screen while I catch my breath.
I don't know how much later it is. Time seems to pass so slowly. My body aches as I move to pull my cell phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. I don't realize I'm still in my clothes until now. I must have fallen asleep in them.
My fingers dial the number automatically, like they're so used to this early morning phone call by now. As usual, like so many times before, a groggy Jaime breaks off the single, monotone note meaning the phone is formulating the call.
"Hello?" He sounds so tired. I'm so selfish.
"Hey, man." I sound tired, used.
I hear him move, probably to sit up in his bed. "What's going on?"
"The usual."
He sighs. "Vic, why are you letting her do this to you?"
I lean forward and rest the heel of my palm against my forehead, the other hand holding the phone too hard against my ear. "I don't know. I just can't sleep, that's all. Do you want to come over later?"
"Yeah, I'll come over later." There's a pause, but not long enough for me to speak further excuses. After what seems like a long silence, he says, "just don't let her eat you up anymore."
Like it's that easy. Like that face could be easily replaced. He's wrong, dead wrong. I close my eyes and that's a mistake, because I can see her on the other side of my lids.
"Where's Maddy?" he asks when I don't respond.
"She hasn't come back from Tony's yet."
"Don't forget you promised to show her around San Diego," he reminds me.
"Jaime," I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes and allowing my head to fall back. "She probably doesn't even want to go with me. You should have seen the way she looked when I was telling her what I want to show her."
"Vic..." I hear him inhale. "If she didn't want to be around you then she wouldn't have come out here."
"The only reason why she moved out here is to get away from her mom."
Jaime's silent again, probably thinking over what I just said. My mom and dad were always great growing up, so I can't imagine what it's like for Maddy to come out here as a method of getting away from her own parent. I can understand wanting to get away, that I get perfectly, but I'll never know what it's like to have no one looking out for you. This hadn't even come to my attention until after that phone call with her mom. I was too blind to even realize.
"All you can do is be there for her. I doubt she's using you. She never seemed the type."
"I'm not saying she's using me, I'm saying that she doesn't want to be around me."
Who would?
"Then give her some space. When she comes back from Tone's, don't ask her why she never came home or anything. Just tell her that you're ready to show her around the city when she wants to go."
I can feel the conversation coming to an end and it scares me. My mind runs a thousand miles to search for something to keep him on longer, but I'm being selfish again. I sigh. Thank God Mike is a ridiculously heavy sleeper.
"Thanks," I say, realizing I've left him in a dragged out silence.
"No problem. Go back to sleep."
"I will. Bye."
He tells me good-bye and I wait for the regretted sound of him hanging up. I sit with the phone in my limp hand for a while, too tired to really move. The sun's coming up and I know that I have to move back to my bedroom if I want to dodge questions from Mike when he wakes up to find me passed out sitting upright in the living room.

I'm not sure where I am when I wake up. The floor is hard beneath my head and my back hurts. I sit up on an elbow, digging into the carpet painfully. My back cracks when I sit up and stretch, making me feel a little better. Turning to my side, my eyes catch Tony's sleeping form facing away from me.
I stand to my feet, careful not to accidentally nudge him or wake him as I tiptoe down the hallway to find the bathroom in order to relieve my aching bladder. I find it, the second door after a close on the left.
Once I'm finished, I run my fingers through my hair and put it up in a bun nearly at the top of my head. Vic's probably up and wondering where I am by now. I should have at least called.
I leave the bathroom and go back to the living room where I see Tony's awake and seated on the couch. He looks up when I come back into the room.
"Good morning," he says in a sleepy voice.
"Good morning," I repeat, and then join him on the sofa.
"Are you hungry?"
I shake my head. "I should get going. Vic probably thinks I really did wreck Mike's car."
Tony laughs to himself. "Thanks for coming over."
"Thanks for having me," I tell him, standing.
My guitar's still up against the couch and I grab it before Tony follows me into the kitchen. I clumsily put it back in it's case before latching it shut and taking it up in my hand.
"I'll see you later, then."
He nods. "See ya." I pick my jacket up from where it's hanging on the back of the chair at the table.
I walk outside and to my car, holding my jacket against my stomach. I manage to dig the keys out of my pocket without putting my case down. The radio comes on too loud once I've got the thing started up and I immediately turn it down.
It takes less time to get back to the house then cautiously driving in the dark with a car I was terrified of to a place I've never been. The front door is unlocked, saving me from having to dig the keys out again. I walk right in and drop my guitar case in the front hall where it won't be in the way. Turning towards the living room, I see Vic sitting on the sofa staring out the window.
"Vic?"
He snaps his head towards me and smiles. Something's up, but I don't want to push it.
"What's going on?" I ask, walking to where he's seated. "I hope you didn't stay up waiting for me."
He shook his head. "No, I trust you. I usually wake up early."
I know this isn't true but I don't ask questions.
"Want some breakfast?" I ask, standing up again and placing my hands in the pockets of my jacket. "I'm starving."
"He didn't feed you?" he asks, also coming to his feet.
I shake my head and smile. "He did, I just figured it was time to get going."
He follows me into the kitchen where I get a glass of water. "So, what will it be?"
He's looking at me with tired eyes, heavy blueish bags beneath them like he got little to no sleep last night. I'm about to suggest he just go back to bed when he speaks up.
"How about you pick out what you want while I make the coffee."
I nod and head to the cabinets. Confessing to be hungry was a bit of an exaggeration. My eyes catch some brown sugar oatmeal and I pull the box out, putting the water on just as Vic finishes making two cups of coffee. He places one before one of the stools at the island and sits across from it. I grab the cream from the fridge before going to join him.
"So what about showing me around the city?" I ask to fill the silence.
He puts his mug down even though his lips were just about to meet the rim, and looks at me with widened eyes.
"You really want to go?"
I nod. "Of course. I don't know where anything is," I admit with a laugh. "Besides, I owe you."
"No you don't," he says, shaking his head slightly before picking his mug back up and taking a sip.
"What if I go and get dressed and then we can go?" I'm hoping that a day out will lessen whatever is weighing Vic down like hanging out with Tony last night lifted me back up.
When he just looks at me, hands clasped around his mug, I slid off of the stool and tuck some stray hair away from my cheek. "I'll be ready in a little while." I start heading towards the hall, but turn back and add, "don't eat all the oatmeal."

Hours later Vic and I are walking out of the zoo with the matching stuffed elephants he bought us as memorabilia. I imagined that, growing up here, Vic and Mike went to the zoo at least once in their childhood with Auntie Vivienne and Uncle Vic. Their dad was a painter and I knew money had been tight for them, so maybe I was wrong.
We reached the car and Vic's phone was ringing rapidly from his back pocket. He waited until we both got inside the car, still holding that fresh new scent even though I have no idea how long he's had it, to answer.
"Hey, man. What's going on?" There is a pause where he nodded and stuck his key into the ignition with his free hand. I look down at the elephant in my lap and begin to feel it's soft velvet ear. "Yeah, that sounds good. What time were you thinking?" Another pause. He turned down the radio with his left hand and then puts his seat belt on, I follow. "Alright, man, we'll see you at eight." He taps the end button with his thumb and places the device into the cup holder on his side on the console between us.
"That was Tone," he mentions as he pulls out of our parking space and faces the setting California sun. "He wants to go out to eat tonight with us all."
I nod, remembering how easily a friendship between us was budding. "Sounds good to me."
The prep for dinner was a lot like my party. Mike called Hannah up to see if she wanted to come along, of course, and she couldn't turn down an opportunity to practice her make-up skills. It isn't like I mind, it's nice having someone do my make-up and not have to deal with hand cramps due to holding an iron for long amounts of time. So I sit in the chair and play a good head model.
It takes only fifteen minutes this time to do my make up while my hair is drying. I'm thankful she went with a lighter look for dinner, but keeping the traditional dark colors for a night out. She hadn't brought an outfit for me this time, but suggested I wear something kind of warm because it was a little chilly now that it's just about dark. I settle for a large maroon colored sweater I picked up at a concert last year, matched with black leggings and Toms. We left my hair hanging down my back in a French braid. Hannah touches up her makeup, changes into a blue button down shirt and black skirt.
"Am I under dressed?" I whisper to her as we head down the hallway to where the boys are sitting at the island in the kitchen laughing with beers in front of them. She smiles at me and shakes her head. Mike makes eye contact with her immediately and she's gone. Soon they're whispering to each other and Mike's got his hands on either of her small hips.
"Let's go, I'm starving," Jaime says, standing and heading over to me. Just like before, he offers me his arm and leads me to the front hall and out the door. The others follow behind.
We took the only vehicle that would hold all of us, Jaime's truck. He claims driving and offers me the passengers seat. I hadn't seen Tony since the night before, but it honestly felt like it'd been weeks. I declined, offering it to Vic instead, and I hop into the back seat beside Tony. Mike and Hannah sit in the very back, whispering and giggling with each other the entire way to the restaurant. There is no conversation between Tony and I, instead we only exchange small smiles.
The restaurant is a lively place in the section of the city that attracted a lot of tourists. People are walking down the streets, in and out of the patio section out front where it is clear they serve alcohol. No children are in sight. Jaime has some problems finding a space, but gets one not too far from the restaurant with our help.
Hannah's heels clack down the sidewalk behind Tony and I as we walk back up the street to eat. We find a table easily when the hostess sees the boys, addressing them like they were old friends. We even got the best seats in the entire place, where things weren't too loud but we were still apart of all the fun. She takes our drink orders immediately and brings them back just as fast. I'm taking the white paper wrapping off of my straw when Jaime, who is sitting on my right, leans over and whispers something to me.
I can't hear him over the noise of the restaurant and Mike, who's rapping loudly from where he's sitting at the head of the table. Hannah's clapping and dancing in her seat along with the rhythm.
"What was that?" I ask him, turning to see he's looking down at me intently.
"Can we talk outside?" he asks, motioning a hand towards the front of the restaurant.
We slip off with only Vic and Tony noticing, the other two too wrapped up in each other to even look up. We dodge busy waitresses and waiters carrying heavy trays and make our way back onto the much quieter outdoor world. We stand on the sidewalk facing each other for a few brief seconds before Jaime begins walking and I'm only left with the option to follow.
"Where are we going?" I'm glad I turned down Hannah's suggestion to wear heels. Jaime's walking fairly quickly in his red Vans and it would have been difficult to keep up without twisting an ankle.
"Just away from all the noise," he tells me as we continue down the sidewalk.
"Well, what do you have to talk to me about?"
He suddenly stops and turns toward me. I have to crane my neck slightly to look him in the eye. The expression on his face isn't something that is typical of Jaime, who is known for being happy and energetic.
"Vic," he answers simply. "He's having a hard time lately."
I can feel my eyebrows coming together, forming a knot between them. I'm not sure what he means and I'm terrified of asking. I'm not good with these types of things. I can barely keep myself together, never mind having to worry about others. It's a selfish way of thinking but straight panic is my very first reaction. Instinctively I brush it off with a shrug and a shake of my head as if a chill came over me.
"I don't know what you're talking about." It breaks my heart to picture Vic 'having a hard time', especially because I went to him with my own troubles. Just another example of why it was unfair of me to come here and interfere with the way things ran so smoothly.
The corners of Jaime's lips turn downward and he runs a hand over the top of his spiky hair. I can tell he's keeping details from me and I'm almost happy. I don't want to picture Vic as broken, I want him to continue on in my mind as the happy front-man of the band he's always dreamed of having. The only picture my mother had of him was one of when he was a toddler, playing with a small guitar Uncle Vic gave him for Christmas one year before I was born. I don't want the small smiling boy in the footy pajamas to feel pain.
"I'm not going to tell you exactly what's going on because I'm going to leave that for Vic," he says, "but can you just keep an eye on him for me, I mean, when I'm not around? I know he's equally as concerned about you but you guys have to look out for each other."
I nod, trying to understand what the favor is Jaime's asking of me. "Sure," I tell him accompanied with a small nod, "I've got his back."
"Thanks," he says, pulling an arm around me and bringing me into his side. It's comforting and Jaime's warm and smells like cologne. I have to resist the urge to bury my nose into his side of his black shirt and stay there.
"Thanks for telling me he's been kind of down," I tell him as we begin to walk back to the restaurant, Jaime's arm still around my shoulders. We bump into each other a bit with each step, my hips being a bit too big for my own good. "I wouldn't have ever known."
"Vic plays off well," Jaime admits. "That's the kind you have to watch out for."