Ache With Me

The sound of rain lashing against the wall of windows in my loft woke me up. It was another cold, gray Seattle day and rain was pouring down as usual. I padded to the kitchen, my thick socks muffling my footsteps. Curled up on top of the kitchen table was my cat, her pink nose hidden under her fluffy white tail.

“Now Chesh, what have I told you about sleeping in the kitchen?” I murmured as I scooped her up into my arms. She let out a muffled mew of protest and glared at me when I placed her on my vacated bed. “Oh you’ll get over it, you’ll be asleep in five seconds anyway.” Returning to my small kitchen, I set about making myself some breakfast. Within a few moments I’d prepared myself a veritable feast of coffee and a Nutella and banana sandwich. While I ate I read the news off my iPod. Even though I worked at a newspaper, I had little to no desire to have to read through the whole thing every day or even to buy the paper. I had no faith in some of my colleague’s ability to write coherent articles that were actually enjoyable, so I read the news online.

Once I’d finished my food, I set about tidying up the loft and putting things back in order. Every few weeks I had to clean up all the mugs and clothes lying around or I’d be buried alive in a mountain of laundry and dishes.

When the loft was tolerably clean, I flopped down on the bed next to Cheshire. I hated to be idle, but the rain was coming down so hard I couldn’t bring myself to venture outside. My hatred of boredom quickly won and I began digging through my closet. Grabbing my umbrella, I headed to the elevator and down to the lobby. I paused for a minute in front of the revolving doors to settle my hood over my hair and open the Velcro that held my umbrella closed before barreling through the doors and onto the sidewalk.

As I walked, I ran through a list of what I needed to do while I was out. I could use a stop at the grocery store, and I needed stamps from the post office, and a new pair of gloves since I’d left mine on the bus last week. I huddled next to the others waiting at the nearest bus stop, grateful for my umbrella. I saw a young man eying my umbrella, his blonde hair getting soaked quickly by the rain. I shuffled closer to him to protect him from the rain. He looked cold and miserable, and now his face broke into a smile like the sun peeking through the clouds.

“Thanks.” He said, grinning down at me. He was very cute, especially with that silver ring in his nose.

“No problem.” I replied. We waited in silence for the bus to come and found different seats. I thanked my lucky stars that Seattle had such a wonderful public transit system and settled in to wait for my stop. I looked out the window at my city as it went by, watching hunched over people hurrying down the sidewalks. I loved the rain, I just didn’t like getting wet. Needless to say I never went anywhere without an umbrella.

The bus finally reached my stop and I stepped out into what was quickly becoming torrential rain. I made my post office visit first, and then picked up a cheap pair of gloves from a drugstore. My logic was that if I lost cheap gloves, I wouldn’t be heartbroken. The last place I had to go was blessedly near another bus stop, so I wouldn’t have to hike all the way back to the one I’d gotten off at.

The floor of the grocery store was covered in puddles, so I picked my way down the aisles carefully. I knew I should find something to make for dinner, but I got distracted in the ice cream section and spent a good ten minutes debating flavors with myself. I ended up picking up a pint of Rocky Road, a bottle of wine, and a bag of frozen penne with pesto. The bored looking cashier scanned my items, then glanced up at me.

“I need to see your I.D., please.” He looked barely out of high school, but then, so did I.

“Oh, sure.” I fumbled with my wallet, my fingers too numb to open the clasp properly. I finally got it open and showed him that I was in fact 25 and old enough to purchase and ingest the bottle of Merlot. Assured of my legality, the cashier bagged up my purchases and told me in the deadest tone of voice I’d ever heard, “Have a nice day.” I stared at him for a moment, my mouth hanging open and wondering if I should tell him he sounded like he was about to slit his wrists with the next credit card handed to him.

I cradled the bag of groceries close to my chest with one arm and held the umbrella with the other, bolting into the rain. The wind was starting to pick up and I wanted to get home as fast as I possibly could and snuggle up with Cheshire. The bus took forever to get to this particular stop; not for the first time, I wished I had a car so I could have just driven home. Then I remembered how much I hated having to find a place to park and I practically kissed my bus pass.

By the time I got home, I was practically frozen solid and desperate for something hot. I put the kettle on to boil while I put away my groceries and stamped some envelopes that needed to go out the next day. Cheshire wound herself around my legs, bumping her head against the back of my knees.

“Hello little darling.” I said, scooping her up and cuddling her to my chest. “Did you miss your mama?” The kettle began to shriek and I set her back down, pouring myself a steaming cup of Earl Grey. As I sat down, cradling the hot ceramic mug in my hands, I inhaled the spicy scent of bergamot swirling around my face.

My evening passed in quiet contentment, just me, my cat, and the rain. I enjoyed being alone, probably more than I should have. Being around people was exhausting to me sometimes. My job forced me to interact with people constantly, so I craved weekends alone with only Cheshire. My mom called me a hermit and despaired over my lack of steady relationships, but I was happy as I was. I refilled my wine glass and sank back into the overstuffed velvet of my favorite armchair, watching the city lights of Seattle be blurred by the heavy rain.