The River and the Rain

The River and the Rain

He sat on the wet bench with the worn notebook in his hand and watched the river thunder by. The rain was trickling down, but he didn’t notice it. For the first time since she had come into his life, he had felt less alone. It was almost as if she understood it. The secrets. The silence. The shame.

But now she had broken the agreement, broken everything. She had told her aunt, and now they would interfere. Take everything away. What he had cared for, the life he had carried on his shoulders, would be torn from him. He heard her footsteps on the gravel. She smiled, hesitant and shy.

“I only did it to help,” she said softly.

Something snapped inside him. The next thing happened quickly. A push. A fall. A splash. A gasp that disappeared in the roar of the rain. He stood still. Water ran from his forehead into his eyes, but he didn’t blink. He looked at the notebook, now open in the mud. The words on the page were blurred:
“You aren't alone.”

Well, that was true, he did have his father and the empty beer cans. And now she was with her parents too. He saw that the river continued to sail peacefully by, but the rain did not stop wreaking its wrath on the already broken earth.

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