Does the Rain Still Make You Smile?

One thing you should know about Jack Barakat is that he loved the rain.

I don't know what it is about those droplets that fall from darkened, overcast skies that made his face split into a wide grin, but they did. I find it strange how I have always associated the rain with misery and a whole range of negative emotions, like in the movies where the girl leaves the guy and he is left standing in the pouring rain. Yet Jack had found joy in watching raindrops splash on a concrete sidewalk as dark clouds rolled above him.

Among many things, the rain made Jack smile.

After our friendship blossomed all those years ago, we were in high school and the final bell had rung. Chairs had been scraped across the floor and a mass of footsteps sounded, creating a sound similar to that of a stampede of wild animals as a horde of teenagers vacated the room, in a rush to get home or wherever they planned to go. It didn't matter where, they just wanted to get there fast. Jack and I, however, were in no particular rush that day. So once the herd of teenagers had thinned out, disappeared almost, we calmly made our way out of the bland classroom and out the front of the school. We had chatted. If I recall correctly, on that particular day we were talking about what a bitch the geometry homework looked. As we had stepped outside and escaped the confines of school, we simply stood on the steps and I stared wide eyed at the scene before us. It was raining. It wasn't just a light rain though, it was raining pretty fucking hard. I had groaned and turned towards Jack to moan, but the look on his face had stopped me. He wore the largest grin, and I remember thinking that I didn't think it was possible to grin that much. His eyes had sparkled and without hesitation, Jack ran out into the rain.

At first I had though he was insane, a mad man, a lunatic. As I watched him twirl around though, dancing as water fell to the ground and shouting blink-182 lyrics at the top of his lungs, I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. He seemed so happy. People stared, pointed, and laughed at Jack, not with him. He didn't give a damn though, he had simply continued although with a slight change to his dance routine as he jumped around whilst holding up both middle fingers. He was happy, nothing else mattered.

It was when we had finally started walking home five minutes later, the rain still falling, that I asked:

"Jack, does the rain make you smile?"

And to that he simply turned to face me, smiling as he told me that yes, the rain made him smile and it was one of his favourite things.

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Skip ahead a couple of years to the finals week of our last year of high school. The two of us were making a swift exit from the school, desperate to get home to relax for a moment before studying for the onslaught of tests we still had to do. By the looks of things, Jack was about ready to tear his fucking hair out. He had never been good with handling finals week. I remember that during that week he had called me every night at half two in the morning, crying and panicking about the tests. By the third night I kind of expected the call so I was awake whenever he called me the rest of the week, and I would always calm him down and wait until I heard him snoring before I ended the calls.

Exiting the hell hole that was school, we walked side by side on our journey home. Jack had seemed super stressed, as if he were about to break apart. My reassurances that everything would be fine were all in vain, as he started to panic about the calculus test he took that day that he was sure he had failed. As we walked, I felt the familiar sensation of water lightly falling onto my skin. As I looked up at the sky, I had noticed how dark it was and within seconds light rain turned to heavy rain, instantly soaking the two of us. Sighing, I turned to look at Jack and saw that he was smiling. It was as if the water washed away his stress, even if it was only for a moment. He stared at the sky in glee, a sparkle in his eyes and a spring in his step.

With a half smile, I asked him:

"Jack, does the rain still make you smile?"

My smile only grew with his reply of 'fuck yeah'.

--------------------

Then things started going down hill. Jack started acting less and less like himself. The majority of the time he was just...sad. He confided in me at one point that he just felt hopeless, that his life wasn't really going anywhere and there was nothing he could do about it. I think he just didn't feel as if he was in control of what happened in his life anymore. Numerous nights I had spent at his, trying my best to cheer him up and eventually succeeding, but it never lasted long and soon he would just be sad again. One night he was sat crying on his bed, and I had one arm around his shoulders and another resting on his knee. About an hour I had spent trying to calm him down, but to no avail. I don't think I even knew at that point what was actually wrong, all I wanted was to see my best friend smile again.

More time passed and I sighed, finding no way to cheer up my friend this time. No matter how much I tried, it all seemed useless. Looking out of the window through a gap in the curtains and into the night, I noticed something. Squinting my eyes, I still wasn't sure if I was right. Getting up from Jack's bed, I made my way over to the window and fully opened the curtains. My suspicions had been correct: it was raining. I had turned to Jack with a small smile, alerting him that it was raining. In a flash his head snapped up and looked at me, a little sparkle in his eyes. Jumping from the bed, he sprinted to the window and pressed his face against the glass. He looked on in awe as rain fell from the black, starless sky. He watched the rain fall, the street lamps making the rain clearer. As he looked on in wonder, I saw a hint of a smile on his face.

It was then that I asked him:

"Jack, does the rain still make you smile?"

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, and as soon as it was gone I saw Jack smiling. To my question he replied with a simple yes, soon followed by a rumble of thunder from outside.

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A few months later and things had gotten a lot worse for Jack. He started to suffer from insomnia. He just couldn't fall asleep as much as he tried, and when he did he would either wake up way too early for him to get a decent amount of sleep or he would just wake up in the night. He would spend his days tired and sad, never a good combination at the best of times. As well as this, he began to lose his appetite and he started to lose some weight. At this point I was terrified of what was becoming of my best friend. Jack had never been like that before, and it broke my heart to see him in such a state. It still does to this day. I tried to help him, to get back the happy-go-lucky Jack. It was as if he wasn't really there anymore, but I knew that deep down the happy Jack Barakat was still there, I just had to find him and drag him out again.

The two of us were at the park, seated on the grass beneath the overcast sky. It was silent for the most part, Jack didn't have anything to say and I didn't know what to say. What was I meant to say? Looking back on it now, I should have talked to him about it, about how he was feeling. I guess at the time I wasn't thinking clearly, and I just didn't know what to do. I had panicked. Maybe if I had kept a cool head, things would have gotten better.

Anyway, there sat the two of us. The rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, but neither of us were phased by it. In my mind I had thought 'yes! Thunder means rain, maybe Jack will smile again...I haven't seen him smile in a while now.' Out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed Jack lying back on the grass with his arms folded behind his head. His brown, sunken eyes with dark bags beneath them looked up at the sky. Watching. Waiting. I had spotted a slight look of anticipation in his gaze, as he watched the darkened sky. Slowly, I too lay back on the grass beside him, and watched the sky with him. Sure enough, it quickly began to rain. Fat droplets falling on our faces, splashing against the sidewalk, and dampening our clothes to the point where they began to stick to our skin. Closing my eyes I simply reveled in the feeling of cold rain falling on my face. As I took a deep breath, the damp scent caused by the rain filling my nostrils, I turned my head to the side and opened my eyes to look at Jack. He appeared to be incredibly peaceful, and he let out a cross between a content and relieved sigh. I swear that I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but it was hard to see through the heavy rain.

After looking at him for a while and trying to figure out if he was actually okay, I asked him:

"Jack, does the rain still make you smile?"

He opened his eyes and looked to at the sky above him for a moment, before answering in a monotone voice:

"Yes."

Alarm bells should have been ringing and going insane at this point, because he had hesitated before answering which he had never done before. At the time, I just brushed it off as him being tired. Besides, he had told me that he hadn't slept properly for a few days.

Why didn't I do something then?

----------

Jack stopped dancing, his lanky limbs no longer flailing as he attempted to 'bust some moves' as he had put it numerous time. He stopped singing blink-182 at the top of his lungs, his snort worthy Tom Delonge impression no longer gracing the ears of those lucky enough to be around at the time. He stopped walking with his head held high, his gaze fixated on the ground as he dragged his feet where ever he went. The confidence that once shone from him had just gone. By this point nearly everyone was at least worried about Jack, even a few teachers had asked if he was alright. Every single time he was approached by someone and they asked if he was okay, he would reply with a short 'yes' and leave it at that. I knew that he was lying, but I never said anything to him. In hindsight I should have sat him down and made him talk to me.

I never did though, and I think that is the thing I regret most in my life.

During the lunch of that day, we were both sat under a tree at the front of the school. We watched as cars and various other vehicles passed by, elderly couples enjoying their afternoon strolls, and young children with one of their parents enjoying the time they have before they start the seemingly never ending hell that is school. We sat in silence, no words were exchanged and we simply stared straight ahead. Thankfully, it hadn't been an uncomfortable silence. No one else had gone out that lunch seeing as near black clouds filled the sky with the promise of rainfall. As I sat there, I ate my lunch and polished it all off in minutes. The details of my lunch are vague, but I can still clearly remember what Jack had. He had a peanut butter sandwich that he idly picked at, not really eating it. He also had an unopened packet of Cheetos, a Hershey's bar that he gave to me, and an untouched satsuma. When I had inquired about him not eating his lunch, he told me that he didn't feel hungry. He hadn't had an appetite for some time by this point and it was starting to show.

I didn't attempt to force conversation, that would just make things awkward. Besides, I had been perfectly fine with the quiet and I don't think Jack had any objections either.

Then it began to rain. Not too lightly and not too heavily either. The two of us didn't get too wet as the large tree had shielded us pretty well, only a few drops made contact with my skin every now and then when the wind carried the droplets in our direction. Out of the corner of my eye I had looked at Jack to see that he had rested his head on the tree trunk, his eyes closed as his face was turned upwards. His posture was relaxed and it was as if whatever was on his mind melted away for just a moment.

Finally, after watching the rain as he sat back in silence, I turned to him and asked:

"Jack, does the rain still make you smile?"

"I like the rain." He murmured quietly in reply.

He never saw the sadness and panic on my face as his reply had processed in my brain. Jack didn't exactly give me a straight answer, and he had said that he liked the rain.

Jack loved the rain...

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When I finally decided to talk to him about it, I invited Jack round on a rather gloomy afternoon. The two of us had gone to my room and sat on my bed, neither of us speaking. As I struggled to find the right words to say, Jack had fiddled with the cuffs of his hoodie which had been quite badly frayed.

"Jack?" I asked quietly, and I remember hoping that that terrible conversation starter would lead to the heart to heart I so desperately wanted to have. All I received in reply was a nod. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He told me, not taking his eyes off of his sleeves.

"Do you remember that promise you made all those years ago?"

"What promise?" He responded.

"You promised that you would never lie to me." I noticed that he had tensed and he didn't say anything. "Are you keeping that promise?"

It was a moment before he finally looked up and told me "no".

"You promised you would never lie, so tell me the truth. Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Not really?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I just...I don't know."

"Jack-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Alex."

"Jack, please talk to me."

"Alex, I don't want to talk about it!" He yelled which had taken me completely off guard. Thunder rumbled as I looked at Jack with a mix of hurt and shock.

With a hurried mumble of "I should go", Jack had gotten up and grabbed his bag, casting a look over at the window where we could see the rain. His expression nor body language changed as he looked away and started walking towards my bedroom door.

"Wait." I exclaimed as I stood up from my bed. He stopped and turned his head to look at me, hand on the door handle ready to make his exit. I had quickly looked from him, to the falling rain outside, and then back to him.

"Jack, does the rain still make you smile?"

He didn't say anything as he continued to look at me. It was as if his facial expression was carved in stone, it didn't change one bit. His mouth had stayed in a straight line and the sadness never left his eyes. Then he left.

I decided to try and talk to him about what was going on too late.

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It was 9:02 on a Sunday morning when I got the call. I had been lying in bed half asleep when my phone started ringing at an obnoxiously loud volume. Slightly irritated, I sloppily grabbed my phone and had answered the call with a hoarse "hello" as I rubbed my eyes to try and wake myself up. When answering, I hadn't looked at the caller ID. The sobbing caller on the other end of the phone had me jumping up in seconds and made my heart race so fast I had thought at the time that I would have a heart attack.

It was Jack's mum.

She told me how she had gone upstairs to see if Jack was awake. He wasn't in his bed though. Instead he was hanging from a rope tied to his curtain pole, the other end of the rope forming a noose which hugged his neck. As she sobbed, she had told me how she had called an ambulance in seconds and Jack's dad removed the noose and tried to resuscitate Jack. When the paramedics arrived, it was too late. As she continued to sob, I stared at the wall with tears streaming down my cheeks and sobs caught in my throat and choking me. Then it had sank in.

Jack was dead.

The sobs shook my entire body. Hideous noises of distress and grief that didn't sound like they were caused by a person escaped my throat and echoed around my room.

The sky then began to cry with me.

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It was four days later when the letter arrived.

The post had come through the letter box just as I was leaving the kitchen with a piece of toast. I told mum that I would get it to save her from having to get up. When I collected the assortment of letters with out so much as a glance at what they were, I continued to eat my toast as I strolled into the living room and handed the post to mum and she began to sift through them. As I was making my exit, the rustling stopped and mum told me that there was a letter for me. Obviously I was confused, because no one ever sent me letters and at the time I had no bills to pay. When I turned back to get the letter, mum had this look on her face that was sort of a mixture of confusion and sadness. I didn't understand why until I actually took the letter. To this day I would still be able to recognise the handwriting of the person who put my name and address on that envelope.

It was from Jack.

I had almost choked on my toast and without a single word I went to the kitchen, placed the toast on the table and took a seat. Mum had followed me and stood in the doorway, giving me enough space but close enough to deliver any comfort if necessary. Even now my hands have never shaken as much as they did when I opened that letter. It is difficult to open a letter with care when your hands feel as if they are about to spontaneously combust or fall off, but some how I had managed. When I pulled the piece of paper from the envelope, it was folded neatly and written on proper writing paper. Upon unfolding it, I had already been on the verge of tears before I even began to read Jack's messy handwriting scrawled across the paper.

"Alex,
By the time you get this I will most likely be gone, unless I chicken out but I highly doubt that.
I can't do this anymore. Days never get better and they are always worse than the previous. When your life becomes this, the idea that it gets better makes you angry and laugh with no emotion or humour. I did have hope, right at the very start I had hope that everything would just blow over. I hoped that things would go back to the way they were. They never did though, and then I just stopped hoping.
Nothing really matters anymore, but I still care deeply about those close to me. I just don't feel anything anymore, and I hate feeling so numb.
That's why I'm doing this. I'm desperate.
When the rain stopped making me smile and no longer brought me joy, that's what made me reach this decision.
I didn't want to fall out of love with the rain, but it happened anyway. If I can stop loving the rain, then what else can I stop loving? I don't want to stop loving my family. I don't want to stop loving music. I don't want to stop loving you, my best friend.
If you think this is your fault for some reason, it isn't. You are not to blame for my actions, no one is apart from me.
I'm sorry, Alex.
I am so so so so so so so so so sorry.
-Jack"

I had read it again. And a third time. And again. In total, I had read the letter eight times whilst sat in that chair. The tears were ready to fall from my eyes, but I didn't want mum to have to see me in that state after having to deal with it for three days already by that point. So I placed the letter on the table, got up and abandoned the toast, grabbed my zip-up hoodie and walked out of the front door. When I got outside, there was a rumble of thunder before it started to rain. It was only a matter of seconds before I dropped down onto the porch steps and started sobbing, face turned skyward and blurry gaze on the rain that soaked through my hoodie and chilled me to the bone. It wasn't long before mum was outside and coaxing back inside, hugging me tightly as I continued to sob. I have no idea how long we both stood in the doorway of the house with me breaking down once again.

The icy burn of the rain on my skin was nothing compared to the pain of losing Jack.

----------

Jack's funeral was held six days after he died, and that was probably in my top five for 'worst days'.

I wore a black suit with a thin tie. Mum and dad attended, as well as all of Jack's family and a large number of our friends. It was strange. My best friend was in the room with everyone, but his heart stopped beating days before. From where I had sat, I could kind of see Jack in his coffin because his family had decided to have an open casket.

I was so distracted, that I almost missed the call of my name to go up and say something. With a pat on the shoulder from mum, I had gotten up on shaking legs and made my way to the lectern. When I grabbed the piece of paper with all I wanted to say from my blazer pocket, my hands were visibly shaking and wouldn't stop. As I unfolded the paper, I looked at Jack's parents and siblings. Joyce had a tissue clutched tightly in her hand, and Bassam had an arm around her with watery eyes as well. Then I had looked down at Jack, and he looked so incredibly peaceful. It was then that I thought that the words I had spent hours preparing were not enough, that they didn't manage to say everything I wanted to. So, I folded up the piece of paper and stared at my hands for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose myself.

"I remember hearing in the media that life can do terrible things." I had started, the tears already welling in my eyes. "Never did I think that I would have to experience one of those terrible things. Jack has always been like my other half, and whenever you asked for one of us you would get both.
When we were little we would terrorise our families and get up to all sorts of mischief. One time we emptied an entire tub of Lego bricks outside Joe's bedroom door, and when Joe stepped on them we thought it was the funniest thing. Simple things like that when I was on my own would make me giggle, but when I was with Jack I would laugh even louder because I had him by my side.
We grew up together, and passed many milestones by each other's sides. I looked out for him, and he looked out for me. We shared everything and laughed at everything. Jack had a huge heart and time spent with him was time well spent in my eyes. He shone brighter than anyone else I knew. Things that I would consider miserable, he would find the beauty in it. Like the rain. Jack absolutely loved the rain.
Now it feels like a piece of me is missing, and that's going to stick with me for the rest of my life because no one could ever replace Jack. He was one of a kind. I don't blame him though; I could never blame him. There are times where I ask myself whether I could have done something, but I guess things like that cross your mind when you want nothing but someone close to you back.
So here's to Jack Barakat, and his beautiful life that I feel privileged to have been a part of." It was at that point that I looked back at the coffin with Jack lying in it.
"I miss you Jack, and I'm so sorry."

It was then that I broke. I became inconsolable. Sobs tore through my throat and I furiously wiped at my tears with the sleeve of my blazer. Joyce got up, sobbing just as much as I was, and wrapped me in the tightest hug I had ever gotten from her. My mum came up as well, joining in the hug as well as Jack's sister.

At the time I found it strange how it had rained all day. That day, with tears still in my eyes, I decided that I hated the rain.

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It has been three years since Jack died.

Now when it rains I find myself smiling. It isn't the rain that makes me smile, though. Whenever it rains I think of Jack. How whenever it rained he would run outside in excitement without grabbing a jacket to go over his T-shirt, tripping over his own feet as he would hurriedly stumble out of the front door. How he would sprint onto the sidewalk and turn his head up to the sky, closing his eyes as he held out his bare arms as if he were trying to catch the small droplets. How the rain would dampen his hair so it was sticking to his forehead, hanging behind his head as the rain would weigh it down. How the fat droplets of moisture would hit his face and roll down his immaculate features. How the corners of his eyes would crinkle as he would grin in glee. How he would occasionally let a joyful giggle pass his lips.

That's what makes me smile.