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Rain again. Tears again.
I'm disappointed in myself, really. I should be used to the rain by now. It has showered all day, every day for the past week, a nonstop torrential downpour. Just as things begin to dry out, just as the fragile rose petals begin to cautiously, hesitantly unfurl, the heavens open again. It seems cruel, I think as I watch a pitiful tulip petal wilt under the unforgiving torrents. To see such a helpless life form be bombarded, again and again, without mercy, just as it begins to adjust once more. How strange that, in such a violent act, the rain is helping the flower grow.
How I wish the rain would help me. However, all it does is produce unwanted salty tears in my eyes, my face mimicking the weather outside. For every time there's a storm, I remember how we met.
It seems cliché, but I do remember the day just like it was yesterday, though it was almost two years ago now. We were so young, so naïve, so oblivious to the cruelties of the outside world. It was a stormy day like this one, don't you remember? You were working at Starbucks; I came in for a grande Caramel Latte. You would think that the first thing that would have struck me about you would have been your luminous blue eyes, the strawberry blonde curls that flopped just so over your forehead, the toned muscles of your arms. I did notice those things, yes – who wouldn't? - but that wasn't what made me fall for you from the start. What made me fall for you was the way you talked to me, talked to everyone in the cafe, like they were the most important people in your life right then and deserved your full attention. You had that charm, that way of making everyone feel so great with just a few words and your infectious smile.
We found out we went to the same high school. After that we spent all the time we could together. We shared a love for old literature, and we'd spend hours in the library discussing Dickens and Poe. You had a way of looking at me, gazing into my brown eyes with your piercing blue ones, that seemed as though you were seeing straight through to my soul. We had no secrets. If I was having the worst day I'd had in weeks, your arms would be there for me to cry in. Sometimes we wouldn't say anything at all, just lie in the grass under the stars, holding hands, thinking about life, love, death. Your kisses were the sweetest of any boy I've ever met; gentle, loving, your lips soft and warm.
You were so special to me. For two years, we were in love. You were kind, caring, understanding. You made me feel wanted; you made me feel loved. You were everything to me.
So what happens when everything is lost? What do you have then?
Oh, why did we have to fight? You were angry; I could tell by the flash of your eyes, the sharp angle of your jaw as you clenched your teeth. The way you walked down the street, your pace stiff and measured. I wished then that I could reach out and pull back the hateful words, bitter and stinging with poisoned barbs, and destroy them forever. But words are funny things. Even a sentence can change everything. One word can change your world. And then you can't do anything to turn back the hands of time.
It was raining that day too, I realize as I remember. Not so heavy; just a thin fog. But it was enough to partly blind the driver that lost control of his car. The driver of the car that swerved and hit the curb. The driver of the car that hit you.
I can still taste that word, unwelcome and painful, on my tongue. After all this time, I'm still shouting it. Not physically, of course. Mentally. For that word was not just in protest of what was happening, not trying to stop it, though I would have if I could – it was denial. Trying to convince myself otherwise, trying to tell myself that it was only a horrid nightmare, not wanting to believe what was plainly in front of me. I still don't want to believe it. It still hurts like a physical blow to the heart. There are so many things I needed to tell you, a hundred sorry's, a thousand I-love-you's. But it's over now. It's all over.
I remember once, as we were lying outside looking at the stars, you pointed to two especially bright ones, side-by-side, and whispered in my ear, your breath tickling my skin: “See those stars, Jess? Those are us. Well, not yet. But when we die, that's where we'll be. We'll be together even then.”
I remember you, as tears stream down my face, mirroring the view outside my window. I remember, and I know I will never forget.