Rain

The colors melted together on the asphalt, the bright reds and whites of taillights mingling with the yellows of the divider lines and the greens of the stoplights. There was a small café, tucked in between two apartment buildings, that sold decent coffee and cheap, fresh pastries. It had a long bench that ran under the window along the street and a mix and match of tables and chairs that didn’t, in theory, go together but in the tiny shop somehow created their own eclectic theme. Regular customers referred to it as a gem, some sort of refuge away from the fast pace of the city and harrowing stresses of life.
They went there every day, for at least fifteen minutes after work. Two teas, sweetened passion tea for him, earl grey with a splash of milk for her. And they would sit in the window, talk about their days, laugh at the stupid thing his boss said or her co-worker did. On most days they left when the tea was gone, to walk the two short blocks to their home, but on that occasional, blissful day when there was no reason to dash off, they would turn in their tea cups, and sit in the window, watching the world go by. She would tuck her feet under her and lay her head on his shoulder, and he would put his arm around her and lay his head atop hers. Sometimes they would bring books, and settle comfortably in their own worlds, reading until all the other customers that left and the cashier would gently nudge one of their shoulders and regrettably send them on their way.
It was one such afternoon, rainy and grey, that this couple hurried to the café from their respective places of work, huddled under their umbrellas. They met at the door at the exact same time, as they always did, exchanged a quick peck, and entered the shop, closing the umbrellas and grabbing their normal spot in the window. He went to order their teas and she sat in the window seat, staring out the window at the rain. When he came back with the teas, she turned to him and grinned.
“Don’t you love the rain? Just look at it, isn’t it gorgeous?” She took her tea with both hands and received a kiss on the forehead.
“It’s pretty.” He agreed as he sat down beside her.
“Pretty? It’s beautiful, you know it is.” She nudged him playfully with her shoulder and took a sip of piping hot tea. “Come on, tell me you love the rain as much as I do.”
He took a sip of his own tea and set it down on the table nearest him, with a small shake of his head. “Don’t you think that the rain is a little… depressing?” He asked, as he pulled out the emergency packet of sugar that he kept in his pocket at all times and emptied it into his teacup. “There’s a new guy. Hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the sweetener yet.” He said to her inquiring look. She shrugged and returned to looking out the window.
“Why do you think it’s depressing?” She asked suddenly.
“Hmm?” His response was no more than a buzz, for his mouth was preoccupied with swishing around the new mixture of tea and sugar, gauging it’s sweetness to see if more sweetener was needed.
“The rain. Why do you think it’s depressing?” She took the cup of tea from his hands and held it out of his reach with a stern look. “Come on, I want to know.” He stared at her for a few moments, the loud swish-swish-swish keeping time, until finally he swallowed and looked out the window, long and hard, at the drizzle outside. His brow creased in concentration, as if the answer to her question might be found in the puddles on the sidewalk.
“I don’t know.” He said after a few minutes. “I guess… when I was a kid, I always thought that rain meant someone had died. It’s silly, but I guess it stuck with me.” At this, she gently set both tea cups down, and leaned over into his face, studying it with some intensity. He quirked an eyebrow.
“Why would you think that?” She asked slowly, analyzing his features. “I mean, I know everyone and his brother thinks that rain symbolizes sorrow, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t at all.” She wrinkled her nose and looked away, as she did when she was thinking about something far away.
“I don’t know, I’ve always-” but before he could finish, she held a finger up to his lips and smiled again.
“You are missing out. I am going to enlighten you.” She stood up suddenly and grabbed his hand, pulling him off of the window seat and almost falling into a table. “Whoops. Well, let’s go!” And with that she pulled him, rather unwillingly, out of the cozy café and onto the wet, dismal sidewalk with a huge grin, coming to a stop just before the awning ended.
“Close your eyes and listen.” She said quietly. He obeyed, as he had learned to do long ago when she requested something that did not make sense the moment she asked. Inspiration and spontaneity was a part of her, and he had come to accept it over the years. So, he listened. There was an increase in rainfall, it was pouring now when it had only been sprinkling minutes before. It was coming down pretty hard on the awning overhead. He could hear cars driving by, splashing through the big puddles and fighting their way through the downpour which, by his standards, was not yet torrential but still stormy by anyone’s account. There were muted conversations from inside the café, and someone nearby was trying to navigate the puddles in stilettos.
“When can I open my eyes?” He asked, raising his voice a bit to make sure she heard him over the rain.
“Have you listened?” Her voice was far away now.
“Yes!” He called back. There was a moment’s pause before she answered.
“Then open your eyes.” He turned to the sound of her voice and opened his eyes. There she was, twenty or so feet away, standing on the sidewalk with a huge grin on her face and absolutely soaked to the bone. Her hair was plastered to her face and her mascara was running but the only thought he really had was that her enormous smile was beautiful. She really did love the rain.
“You,” she began, taking a small step towards him with her hands clasped behind her back, “associate rain with death for whatever reason. Painful memories, stereotypes of literature and film, what have you. I associate it with life, lived to the fullest. Abundance. Happiness. You get the idea.” Slowly she advanced. “I have a theory, that we can change your association by creating new memories.” She stopped ten feet away. Close, but still out of the overarching reach of the awning.
“Oh?” He responded, allowing himself to walk to the edge of the awning, where the rain fell in a curtain. There was no way he was stepping through that.
“Yes. But you have to trust me.”
“I trust you…” He said slowly. She threw back her head and laughed, and he wondered how on earth she could do so without drowning in rain water.
“Then come here.” The curtain of rain between them was not letting up, and he looked doubtfully at the puddles.
“But it’s so… wet.” He said lamely.
“Do you trust me?” She asked, taking a step backwards. The step in the opposite direction could only mean one thing: he would not get out of this without getting soaked and if he did somehow manage it, he would pay for it dearly.
“I do.” He said simply. Then, bracing himself, he charged through the water, through the rain, until he was standing in front of her with the heavens dumping buckets on his person. She rewarded him with only a smile.
“Good. Now, here is my theory. We can rid your bad association with rain by replacing it with a good memory.” She spread her arms wide as if this was the most genius plan to ever be conceived by mankind.
“A good memory? But how is this-”
“Oh you’re such an idiot sometimes.” Grabbing him by the lapel of his coat, she pulled his face close to hers and kissed him soundly, not minding the rain, not minding the irritated woman who pushed by them with an indignant snort… not really minding much of anything. When she was finished she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. “You snarkiness is not appreciated you know.”
“Oh? My snarkiness?” One hand slipped around her waist while the other clasped her left hand, and with a practiced flourish he dipped her, pulled her back up, and spun her around. “My snarkiness is what made you fall in love.”
“Shut up. “ She laughed. “So what do you think about the rain now?”
“What do you think?” He pulled her in for another long, slow kiss in the rain. “I think maybe if you love it so much it might not be so bad.”