Page 98 of This I Know
I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me, but it’s true, it’s raining, and not only that, it’s raining hard.
Just like in my dream.
Is this real life?
I don’t have the luxury of time to think about it, so without any more hesitation, I push through the door. It shudders with my weight just as much as it did hers and it slams shut behind me.
The moment my feet hit the soaked asphalt, I’m wet through and through, covered with rain. It’s uncomfortable and I care, but I push past the caring in order to reach her.
She’s slowing. Her shoulders heave, telling me she’s having trouble breathing and running and crying at the same time.
“Avery, stop!”
She doesn’t want me to touch her, and she makes this clear by spinning around and jerking away when my hand grasps her arm. I don’t release her.
“Ethan!” she stops and yells. She instinctively digs her fingers into my hand. “Let me go.”
Her voice shockingly forceful, I release my grip.
“That was really stupid, you know?” she says. Her voice is hoarse and tight.
I didn’t mean to grab her. Thatwasstupid and I should have known better. I just needed her to stop, just like how I need her to listen to me.
“Look…” I say. I need her to listen so badly, and yet there’s not really anything more to say.
I take that back. There’severythingmore to say, at least according to me, but what could be the right thing for this moment?
At least I have her attention. That’s a start. I’ve prevented her from running away in the rain in a stressed out state and losing control of herself or somehow getting hurt yet again.
“You hurt me. Do you know that?” she says.
Oh God.
She gazes into my eyes with intensity and anger, but also with desperation for me to say something, anything, to explain myself.
What can I say?
She throws her hands into her hair and growls. “God,Ethan.” Her body bends in half and she rests her head between her knees. Her hands clutch the sides of her stomach. The rain runs off both sides of her downturned neck, some drops hitting her soaked back with a thud. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I reach both arms out to help her. If I can get her to my truck we’ll be out of the rain and we can talk about this. Screw school. “Are you okay?” I say.
She rights herself in order to push me away. And she means business: she shoves my chest with her hands and grits her teeth at me. I think she’s still crying, but it’s impossible to tell with her face so soaked with rain.
“Don’t touch me right now,” she says.
“Okay.” I talk through the rain running over my mouth. “Let’s go to the truck. Please.”
“No!” She pulls her hand over her face and laughs. “The last thing I need right now is to be in a damntruckthat reminds me of that night. Don’t you get it?”
I hold my hands up. I slowly say, “I get it.” I really don’t, because that must be a detail I’ve never heard about. I have no idea what role a truck played in this thing. But I want to get it.I want to, Avery.
“Do you want me to go?” My voice shakes. I’m not angry. I could never be angry with her. I’m just desperate to give her what she needs from me. “I’ll go.”
She doesn’t answer. She breathes deeply, occasionally licking at the rain running over her lips.
I turn away. And I continue walking until I can no longer feel her presence behind me.
Avery
