Page 43 of Rainstorm

We walk up toward a big guy at the entrance, who obviously knows Ariel pretty well, as he greets her with a hug and calls her ‘Little Mermaid’ as he grants us entrance.

“How do you know that guy?” I whisper as we walk in. Ariel seems to be very familiar with the bar, which surprisingly isn’t more than a hole in the wall, in one of the trendiest districts of the city.

“We were neighbors.” She shrugs.

“Really?” I don’t know why, but somehow I just can’t imagine them living next door to each other.

“When you live on the streets you meet a lot of people.”

Whoa. I didn’t expect that answer from her. Now I’m in shock and have no idea how to respond to her casual confession.

I knew there had to be something in Ariel’s past, but now I’m speechless. I can’t imagine how such a warm and happy person came to be living in such a terrible situation. Her previous words immediately come to mind, “I want to help you, not because I have a lot to share, but because I know how it feels not to have anything.” I definitely have a lot to learn and now life has given me a wonderful teacher.

Ariel is so young, but beneath that quirky persona there hides a girl who seems to have wandered the world barefoot and penniless, yet somehow she hasn’t lost her faith and joy in life.

“Come on, Rosie, hurry up! My friends are waiting for us, so don’t just stand there like a moron,” she urges.

I’m left speechless as we make a beeline across the room to the bar, where a couple of guys happily greet Ariel.

I squeeze myself into the furthest corner, trying to hide.

The girl behind the bar approaches asking for my order, but a skinny man shouting from the other side of the bar calls her back.

“Michelle,” he yells, “I haven’t finished with you.”

“But I have,” she replies and I swear I see her trying to dry a tear from her cheek.

“If you’re busy, I can wait,” I offer.

“Oh, ignore him, he’s just being a pain.”

“Men, they were put on this earth just to complicate our lives, eh?” I smile wanly.

“You have a complicated story too, huh?” she replies, getting close enough to murmur, “Well, guess we all have a story. Sadly, it’s more common than we care to admit.”

She turns swiftly to reach for a bottle from the top shelf, pouring two shots. One for her, one for me.

Michelle takes a sip of her drink, getting lost in her thoughts for a moment as she stares at the black wall behind me.

She says nothing more after that, only takes a long drink of her bourbon, before attending to someone on the other side of the long bar.

Then Ariel takes me by the arm, forcing me from my hidden spot, and sits me in the middle of her group of friends.

All of them are chatty, vibrant and eclectic. Just like her. And suddenly, I find myself laughing. And that laugh is like my first breath of fresh air. I don’t know if it is a side effect of the bourbon Michelle gave me or the tequila we had at home.

But I’m actually enjoying myself. Cracking up at silly jokes from people I barely know.

Feeling carefree.

You asked for solace? Here it is.

The people around me chat without judging me, without knowing my story.

Without a care in this world.

I look at Ariel for a moment and find her looking at me, eyes shining, smiling.

Here is your balm. Your respite from the pain.

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