Playing in the Rain

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  His fingers squeezed mine tightly, then he rolled onto his hip to stare into my eyes.

  “There’s nothing boring about you, pretty girl.”

  I snorted loudly and the sound made me giggle.

  “Oh come on! Being a CPA is not exactly exciting.”

  Cody didn’t laugh. He continued to stare at me, his expression too serious.

  “If you decide to do that, well fine, but you shouldn’t give up on you dreams, Ava. Life is too short to live with regrets. You should go to Italy, live your dream. You can always come back and be an accountant. But suppose Italy is just as great as you think it could be?”

  I sat up and took a long drink of beer, suddenly feeling very thirsty.

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” I snapped, then regretted my harsh words. My voice softened as I gazed down at my beautiful boy. “Tell me about Cody Richards. What’s he really like under there?”

  I poked him in his firm chest, and he captured my hand, laying it over his heart.

  “He’s just a regular guy.”

  “You glow. You’re all glowy.”

  He laughed softly. “I think that’s the loco weed talking.”

  “No, it’s you. That’s what you’re like. You glow and you’re all light. Everyone sees it. You’re like sunshine—with a great ass.”

  Oh wow, the weed really was kicking in.

  He laughed happily. “So basically you’re saying the sun shines out of my ass?”

  “Yes,” I said, pleased that he understood.

  He took a final drag before stubbing out the smoke and tucking the butt into his jeans’ pocket.

  “I’ve never been on an airplane,” he said, his voice quiet.

  “Really?” My voice was much louder, and I had to concentrate to adjust my volume. “Really? You’ve never flown anywhere? Not even when you came to San Diego?”

  “Nope. We had a U-haul with all our shit in it, so we drove from Junction City in my truck.”

  “Well, if you’ve never been in a plane, why do you want to jump out of one?”

  My voice sounded like I was complaining, and I could see from the curve of his cheek that he was smiling.

  “I want to experience it. It must be cool to be flying above the ground so you’re not attached to anything, just traveling through space, like you’re completely weightless, like you’ve got wings.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” I insisted. “Traveling by plane means being shoved in a cigar tube with stinky people and praying that you walk away without being dead at the end.”

  He laughed.

  “No way! It’s awesome. You start off in one place and you end up somewhere completely different—in a different time zone or an ocean away. It’s like magic.”

  “I love the way you see things,” I sighed. “I wish I could be like that.”

  I snuggled closer to him, so my head was resting on his shoulder, and his arm was wrapped around me.

  “You’ve gotta practice looking for that silver lining, pretty girl.”

  “It’s easier with you,” I admitted.

  There was a long silence, then he simply said, “Good.”

  We lay together, talking lazily, finishing the beer, until I realized that the pressure on my bladder was becoming unbearable.

  “I have to pee!”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I sat up, a wave of dizziness making my head spin. Boy, I was hammered. This was going to be interesting.

  Cody stood up unsteadily, then staggered off into the gloom, returning a couple of minutes later with a satisfied look on his face.

  “I’m not doing that!” I hissed. “There could be creepy crawlies and … and jaguars.”

  He stifled a laugh.

  “I’ll watch your back.”

  “You’re not watching anything, mister!”

  It was a tough call whether to walk into the forest’s sliding shadows, or stagger crab-wise with my legs crossed all the way back into town.

  “Okay, I’m going to do it … but you have to sing to me so I know where you are.”

  “You want me to what?”

  “Just do it, okay! I’m freaked out enough about this.”

  “Fine. What do you want me to sing? And just so’s you know, I don’t do show tunes.”

  “Stop teasing me!”

  “How about if I whistle?”

  “Whatever.”

  As I tottered into the trees, I heard his clear, tenor voice singing the Johnny Cash number Song for the Life. I paused to listen, the notes rising upward into the twilight, and something tugged at me deep inside. A little warning voice rang in my head, I could fall for this boy.

  The thought was unnerving, but not as scary as I thought it might be.

  He was still singing when I walked back, his voice softer now, almost introspective, and I didn’t know if he was singing for me or himself.

  “I’m back.”

  He turned and smiled at me.

  “Better now?”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  His eyes widened, and he took a deep, stuttering breath.

  “I thought you wanted to be friends?”

  I took a step closer to him, so close I could feel the heat from his body.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Ava, I’m not sure this is a good idea…”

  “No, it’s not; it’s a great idea.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, stroking the silky hair at the nape of his neck, gently pulling his head toward mine.

  He was hesitant, but not unwilling. I saw desire flaring in his eyes, and his large hands locked around my waist.

  Our lips touched, a soft brush, and I felt his body quiver. He kissed me again, more firmly this time, and a strangled growl erupted from his throat. His hands slid to my hips, tightening almost painfully as he pulled my body flush against him.

  “Ava,” he whispered, but whatever words he was going to say were silenced when my tongue flicked across his lower lip.

  He moaned softly, and my tongue slipped into his mouth.

  His body trembled, then he kissed me back, his tongue stroking against mine, teasing, tasting, whispering across my lips.

  His hands began to move, one sliding down to cup the curve of my butt, one moving up my spine, leaving a burning trail of want.

  Desire like I’d never known surged through my body. I’d never kissed my best friend before either, but this was the gold standard of kisses; everything else would be measured against it.

  His mouth kissed along the line of my jaw, sucking gently at the pulse point on my neck, before moving lower, the cool fire of his touch igniting my body.

  My own hands were roaming over his body, under his t-shirt, stroking the warm, silky skin, dipping down to the low waistband of his jeans, my thumbs grazing over his hipbones.

  His confident kisses stuttered, and he groaned deeply.

  The erection that had been hinted at this morning was now pressing into my stomach, promising insane pleasure to come. By now, his body was trembling uncontrollably, and I could tell he was within a few seconds of losing it.

  Then he clamped his hands around my wrists, halting their inquisitive journey.

  “Ava, we can’t,” he breathed. “I don’t have anything … I didn’t think…”

  “There are other things we can do,” I said, pushing up his t-shirt and laying wet kisses across his chest.

  “I want to, believe me I want to,” he gasped, “but not when you’re drunk, not when you’re high.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me to take a chance?”

  “Yes, but…”

  We heard the sound of voices at the same time.

  It seemed we weren’t the only people who’d sought out the seclusion of the most remote part of the public park.

  At least four men, all talking rapidly in Spanish.

  I suddenl
y felt unnerved and vulnerable in the listening forest.

  Cody lowered his lips to my ear and spoke softly.

  “We’re going to walk away quietly. It’ll be okay.”

  He took my hand, and we moved silently through the trees, until the open space of the park spread out in front of us.

  Near panic turned to breathless giggling, and Cody grinned as he pulled me across a gravel path in a slow jog, my flip-flops tripping me several times.

  Back on Avenida Revolucion, we felt safer, despite the raucous nightlife that was beginning to emerge.

  “I definitely need a drink after that,” I said, slightly breathless.

  “Take your pick,” said Cody, sweeping his arm toward the street full of bars.

  We strolled hand-in-hand, ignoring the places that were too packed or too noisy, finally stopping at a small, trendy-looking bar called Mandra.

  A waiter was serving a table of American girls with colorful cocktails, piled high with fruit and those cute little umbrellas.

  Which gave me an idea.

  I pushed Cody into an empty table and marched up to the bar, returning a minute later with two ridiculous, comedy cocktails.

  “What did you do?” he laughed, poking at a piece of fresh pineapple.

  “Don’t mock,” I said, solemnly. “I got this for you specially.”

  His laughter softened to a beautiful smile.

  “I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said, “but you’ll have to tell me what the hell is in it.”

  I gave him a superior smile.

  “Vodka, peach schnapps, creme de cassis, and orange and cranberry juice. It’s called ‘Sex on the Beach’.”

  Cody laughed again, until I put the straw between my lips and sucked hard. His gaze darkened, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed several times, before gulping down his drink in one go.

  The taste was sharp and too sweet but delicious … and potent as I stood on tottering legs to go to the bathroom an hour later.

  When I returned, I could tell Cody was well on his way to being hammered too, because he spent a pleasant half-hour kissing and sucking my neck, and playing with my hair. I didn’t stop him.

  Too soon it was time to go if we wanted to catch the last bus back to San Diego. Grabbing some tacos from a street vendor, we headed to the bus station, and back to our real lives.

  During the long wait at the border, my buzz began to fade away, leaving me mellow and sleepy. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that our evening had been interrupted, but there was no awkwardness between us. I leaned against Cody’s firm shoulder, our fingers twined together.

  “You have leaves in your hair, pretty girl.”

  I opened my eyes to look at him, secretly loving that he called me ‘pretty’.

  “And we crossed two things off the list.”

  His lips moved, then turned into a warm smile, but he didn’t reply.

  I wanted to ask him to come back to my place and spend the night, but I bit back the words and said something else entirely.

  “Thank you for today, Cody. It’s been another first for me.”

  He smiled. “Me, too.”

  It was only later that I wondered what he meant by that.

  Two days later, Cody called me at an ungodly hour, ordering me to be ready in 20 minutes. He didn’t tell me what we were doing, just that I should wear jeans and comfortable shoes.

  He’d interrupted a particularly good dream where his lips were doing more than they’d done in Mexico, so I wasn’t very happy. But then again, real Cody was preferable to dream Cody, even if dream Cody was taking liberties with my body that the real one seemed reluctant to explore.

  Damn, this was getting confusing.

  I wobbled sleepily down the stairs and out of the apartment as soon as I heard his truck.

  He kissed me quickly and quirked an eyebrow when I muttered something about “Dream Cody being a better kisser.”

  “Are you actually awake, pretty girl?” he asked.

  I grunted something and leaned back in my seat, wondering who’d glued lead weights to my eyelids.

  I was surprised that Cody didn’t stop at Muffin Heaven, instead heading to a part of town that was unfamiliar. He finally pulled up outside a rundown building decorated with a cheerful sign announcing we’d arrived at ‘The Bridge’.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging on my hand. “We’ve got to help set up breakfast.”

  “What is this place?”

  “It’s a homeless shelter where I’ve been volunteering,” he said, nonchalantly.

  I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

  “Really? Wow! How long have you been coming here?”

  “A few weeks,” he said. “Two days after we wrote our wish list.”

  “You didn’t say anything!”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I needed to make sure you’d be safe here first. Some of the shelters are men only, and I wasn’t going to risk my pretty girl around a bunch of guys.”

  I smiled when he called me his pretty girl. I didn’t mind that at all.

  “But this place,” he continued, “it helps families that are in transition. After breakfast, there’s a food and clothing distribution—all stuff that’s been donated.”

  I leaned over and kissed him firmly.

  “You are so good,” I said.

  He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I can be bad, too.”

  God, I hoped that was true, but I was very aware that we were in public, and getting more than our share of curious stares from a line of people waiting outside for breakfast to be served.

  “Hold that thought, mister, we’ve got work to do.”

  Cody took me inside and introduced me to some of the other volunteers. At least I think he did—the introduction was all one way as everyone seemed to recognize my name, and smiled knowingly.

  There wasn’t time to make small talk because we were whisked into the kitchen, and I was put to work making a stack of pancakes.

  Cody was a blur of activity: filling beakers with juice, cutting up slices of melon, and grilling dozens and dozens of pieces of bacon.

  People started lining up as soon as the doors opened at 7AM sharp. Cody was at the serving window, a smile and a word for everybody. I watched him from the corner of my eye, impressed by how at ease he seemed. Then I began to sweat as my stack of pancakes reduced rapidly and I quickly whisked some more flour, milk and eggs.

  When the line finally began to shrink, the volunteers were allowed to take a plate of food and sit at the long benches to eat with the customers.

  I filled up two plates for us, and Cody carried the juice in plastic cups, leading us to a seat where a dad was sitting with his two sons.

  They’d been chatting to Cody earlier, but with me they were shy. Eventually, he got the kids to relax by promising to play a game of basketball after, and then there was no shutting them up. They asked him about living in Kansas, and why he’d come to San Diego, and what he thought of the ocean, and a hundred more questions that I’d been longing to ask. He answered everything, but there were times when he deliberately turned the conversation away from topics he found uncomfortable. For someone who seemed so open, he was still an enigma.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” Kevin asked, pointing at me with his spoon.

  Cody looked at me and winked.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?”

  Kevin scowled and stuffed his mouth with more melon.

  “Girls suck,” he mumbled.

  Cody leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Is that true?”

  If my face flushed any redder, they could have used me as a traffic light.

  I punched his arm as he laughed.

  I only realized later that he hadn’t answered Kevin’s question. I guess that meant I wasn’t his girlfriend; just a friend who was a girl. A girl he’d kissed in Mexico. When he was high. And drunk.

  I had to remember that, because seeing him here had made me fall a
little bit in love with him. Or a lot.

  After we’d helped clear away the breakfast things, I was put on dish-washing duty. Cody was at the front, helping with the food and clothes distribution. I was amazed and humbled by the number of people coming to the old building for help.

  Some looked like they were street people, but most just looked ordinary, the Recession having hit everywhere. Each one had a heart-breaking story of lost jobs that led to debt, or bad choices that led to them losing their homes.

  There were also a number of vets, the youngest being just 24 years old. His name was Jason and he hadn’t been able to settle after he’d finished two tours in Afghanistan. His parents hadn’t wanted him back either, and he’d ended up living in various shelters across the city.

  He introduced me to his friends, Wayne and Arthur, who were grizzled Vietnam veterans, and flirted with me shamelessly.

  Their stories were similar and equally sad: changed by what they’d seen, changed by war, unable to cope with their old lives, broken marriages, children who didn’t want to know them anymore.

  Jason was still optimistic that there was more out there for him, if he could just get himself back on his feet. Wayne and Arthur had the resigned weariness of the long-term homeless, living with the tedium of each day being the same: a hunt for food and somewhere to sleep, basic things that I’d always taken for granted.

  I could see why Cody had wanted to add this to our wish list, although I wondered if it was more for my benefit than his; he already seemed to know that each day was precious, and that each new day was the road untaken.

  After the food distribution, Jason joined Cody in starting a game of pickup basketball for the kids.

  Alli, one of the organizers came to bring me a cup of coffee while we watched the guys running around and yelling happily.

  “It’s been so wonderful having Cody here; he’s such a breath of fresh air. We’re all going to miss him when he leaves at the end of August.”