Playing in the Rain

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Oh my God!”

  “No, no, no! Ava, he was happy. You made him happy. I saw him early this morning when he came home—he was glowing. He said he’d had a perfect day, and that being 19 was better than he’d expected. We laughed, and I was so happy to see him like that, because the doctors had told him that it would be a miracle if he lived to 19, but he proved them wrong, didn’t he? He hugged me and told me that he loved me, and I think I knew then, but I didn’t want to believe it.” She paused, wiping her eyes. “When I woke up again, he was gone. He’d made his choice, Ava. His choice on his terms. He wrote you a letter.”

  I couldn’t even speak. I looked up at her, my eyes aching as I took the envelope, opening it with shaking hands.

  Hey Ava,

  I bet you’re pretty mad at me right now.

  I’m sorry. I know that’s kind of lame for what I’ve done, but I mean it. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was in deep before I realized what was happening.

  I know how selfish this is—not telling you, and for what I’ve done. But I just wanted to have one summer where I was normal. I didn’t want you to look at me the way everyone has looked at me since I was 13 years old. I could be myself with you—or at least the person I would have been without the Big C. This summer has been the best of my whole life. Because of you.

  I tried so hard not to fall in love with you, but that was impossible.

  And last night! What can I say? Except that I didn’t know it could be like that. Being with you—making love with you—I never thought I could have that. I never thought life could give me something so good. It was a perfect day, and the perfect end to a perfect day. No point trying to top perfection, right?

  And I got to be 19 after all. I never thought that would happen.

  It must seem like I’m quitting on you just when things are getting good. I hope you’ll forgive me for that. I know Mom will fill you in on everything. She’s pretty great. But what we had … what you gave me … I didn’t want you to be the person who sat around watching me die, and that’s what would have happened if I’d stayed any longer.

  You were the person who made me live. I’m going out of here with a smile on my face, and that makes me a winner.

  I never meant to hurt you and I know that I did. It’s the only thing I regret, leaving you with that pain.

  Ava, I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but I’m going to anyway: Don’t be sad for me, because I’m really happy right now. I’m going out on a high note, and not everyone can say that. Live for me, pretty girl, because you have so much life in you, so much love in you. Live the biggest life you can. A good life. Do it for me, but even more … do it for you.

  I love you, Ava Lawton. Best. Girl. Ever.

  Cody x

  The words blurred as tears filled my eyes again, but then I saw a second piece of paper in the envelope: our summer wish list.

  All the items had been checked off. All those crazy dreams that we worked our way through, one by one:

  1. Get a tattoo. ✓

  2. Swim with dolphins. ✓

  3. Get drunk and high in Tijuana. ✓

  4. Have a star named after me. ✓

  5. Ride through Monument Valley. ✓

  6. Sleep under the stars. ✓

  7. Jump out of an airplane. ✓

  8. Meet a Native American medicine man. ✓

  9. Help in a homeless shelter. ✓

  10. Have sex on the beach. ✓

  But then I noticed that another ‘wish’ had been added to the list. It had been checked off and had a large smiley face drawn next to it.

  11. Fall in love. ✓✓✓✓✓

  Over 100 people showed up for Cody’s funeral. Even though he’d only lived in San Diego for a few months, he’d made a big impact. It made me realize that it wasn’t the quantity of a life that matters, but the quality, and the way you live it

  There were dog walkers from the park, a bunch of people from the homeless shelter, neighbors, people he’d met in coffee shops and on the beach. Everyone seemed to want to remember a piece of the joy and love that he’d shared with them.

  He was loved…

  Which is why I’m standing with my boarding pass in my hand, waiting to fly 7,000 miles to Florence. I’m going to live my dream. I’m going to Italy, and I’m going to learn Italian, and I’ll be studying the History of Art in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’m going to do all the things that I was afraid to do before, because I’ve learned that life is precious, and each day matters. Each day, I’m going to choose to be happy.

  Cody crashed into my life, like an ocean wave out of a millpond sea. He changed everything. And I miss him so damn much.

  But then I see him. I think I see him. Across the crowds of people, swirling among the human river, a flash of blue eyes. That smile, that love of life, a shock of black hair. I see him and then he’s gone, somewhere in the sea of faces. Gone but never forgotten. Because life is a journey, not a destination.

  I rub the small tattoo on my wrist, and I smile.

  THE END

  Want to read more by Jane Harvey-Berrick?

  Turn the page for sample chapters.

  Lifers

  After eight years in prison, twenty-four year old Jordan Kane is the man everyone loves to hate.

  Forced to return to his hometown while on parole, Jordan soon learns that this small town hasn’t changed since he was sent away. He is the local pariah, shunned by everyone, including his own parents. But their hatred of him doesn’t even come close to the loathing he feels every time he looks in the mirror.

  Working odd jobs for the preacher lady, Jordan bides his time before he can leave this backwards town. But can time or distance erase the pain of living?

  Torrey Delaney is new in town, and certainly doesn’t behave in a way the locals believe a preacher’s daughter should. Her reputation for casual hook-ups and meaningless sex quickly spreads. And that’s on top of her budding friendship with the hardened ex-con handyman—the good Reverend is less than thrilled with her estranged daughter’s path.

  As friendship forms, can two damaged people who are afraid to love take their relationship to the next level? Can Torrey live with Jordan’s demons, and can Jordan break through Torrey’s walls? With the disapproval of a small town weighing heavily on them, they struggle to find their place in the world. Can they battle the odds, or will their world be viciously shattered?

  Is love a life sentence?

  SAMPLE CHAPTER – LIFERS

  Torrey

  The morning rush was nearly finished. I knew from my experience of two days at the Busy Bee Family Diner that it would be quiet until lunchtime.

  I stared out at the main road where not a single car or truck bothered to stop, and watched dust devils spin in the lazy summer breeze. That was about as exciting as it got. What a freakin’ dump.

  Waiting tables wasn’t exactly my dream job, and not where I thought I’d be at 24 years of age with an expensive college degree several years behind me. In fact, I was shocked to find myself back waitressing, the kind of work I’d done when I was a teenager. But I liked to eat, and I couldn’t face crawling back to my dad to ask for a donation to the Torrey Delaney Life Achievement Award (Pending). He’d only chew me out again for walking away from my own apartment and a good job.

  Yeah, well, when you’ve slept with your boss and then he dumps you and treats you like shit, no job is worth hanging onto, in my opinion. And I’d thought about it a lot.

  All of my friends were clambering up their career ladders; they all had a plan. Something. I couldn’t face sleeping on couches and seeing pity in their eyes, while they put on their business suits and pumps, and headed out to their well paid jobs.

  All I knew was that I had to leave Boston—start fresh somewhere else. Besides, Dad had just gotten remarried to a silicone-tit slut only a few years older than I was. Neither of them wanted me around. The feeling was mutual.

/>   So I’d ended up calling Mom for the first time in six years and taking up her offer of a room in Smallbutt, Nowheresville, on the gulf coast of Texas.

  Oh, she’d been happy to help, and thanked God that her prodigal daughter was returning to her at last. Yeah, well, some dreams are born to be shattered. Her idea of cozy nights reading Bible stories together and spending some quality mom/daughter time didn’t really match up with me going out drinking till all hours and being dropped off at the Rectory before dawn by a guy in a truck.

  Yup, I was the talk of the town. At least I thought I was.

  I’d been lucky that the Busy Bee’s owners were short-staffed, otherwise I’d have had to drive the 40 plus miles to Freeport, or 35 miles to Corpus Christi for a job. Of course, tip money would probably be better in the city, but that was a lot of gas money to lay out every day, never mind the time wasted driving back and forth. People sure weren’t overly generous here, unless it was with advice I didn’t want to hear.

  I pulled out my phone and started texting one of the hook ups that I thought might be worth a second go. He’d been an okay ride for a country boy, and was a halfway decent distraction.

  Doreen threw me an angry look. That was nothing new. My theory was that she’d been born with a broom handle up her ass. Or maybe just thirty years of waiting tables had left her as dried up and frustrated as a landed largemouth bass. Well, the expression was certainly the same.

  I’d just pressed ‘send’ on my text when the old fashioned bell jangled above the door, and I glanced up. Now that was a long, cold drink of water on a hot day. Tall, over six foot, ripped, and with sandy-blond hair that was just a bit too long, tats running down both arms to his elbows, cheekbones you could file your nails on, and lips that were just perfect for biting.

  I jutted out one hip, a move that I knew made my ass look great. The only problem was the guy seemed more interested in staring at his shoe than looking at me. Huh, maybe he wasn’t into girls. I didn’t think my gaydar was malfunctioning, but you never know.

  I suddenly realized that all conversation had stopped and that each one of the redneck customers was staring at the newcomer. Yeah, I thought he was cute, but I didn’t think that was why the Vardry brothers, Chuck and Mo, were staring daggers at him, or why the two teenagers in the corner looked like their eyeballs were about to explode.

  The hottie twitched uncomfortably, as if he could feel their glares bouncing off of his broad shoulders.

  It seemed weird that Mr. Fine and Fuckable, a guy with all that lickable muscle, was acting so shy.

  “What can I get for you, handsome?” I asked, ignoring Doreen’s hiss of annoyance.

  “Uh, could I get a black coffee to go?” he asked hesitantly, still not making eye contact with me or anyone else.

  I couldn’t see what color eyes he had, but his lashes were far too long and pretty for a guy. Life could be so unfair.

  “Sure! I’ll just get that for you, hon.”

  “No,” Doreen barked.

  My eyebrows rose as I stared at my coworker, her vinegar face purple with anger.

  The guy hunched his shoulders even more and didn’t argue the point. He ducked his head and left the shop.

  “What the hell was that?” I said, turning and staring in amazement.

  “Just putting out the garbage,” Doreen said nastily, and went into the kitchen to stir her cauldron some more.

  I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I wouldn’t have treated a stray dog like that. I poured some coffee into one of the paper cups we used for take-out, and headed after him.

  I was just in time to see the guy climbing into a battered pickup truck.

  “Hey!”

  He stared at me, and for a fraction of a second our eyes met—beautiful, soulful brown irises. They were so deep, I could have swam a few laps in those eyes.

  I realized I hadn’t spoken again and that he was still staring at me.

  “You left without your coffee.”

  I gave him my best smile, but he’d already dropped his gaze.

  I held out the paper cup to him, but for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to take it.

  Then his hand reached through the truck’s window. I noticed he had the word ‘love’ tattooed across the back of his wrist. I wondered if he had ‘hate’ on the other side.

  He took the coffee from me without a word, not even a thank you—I really hated that. Then he just started his truck and drove away

  “What a jerk!”

  I shook my head, more determined than ever to get out of this one-horse town where the horse had died.

  Doreen had built up quite a head of steam by the time I walked back in.

  “What on God’s green earth do you think you were doing, serving that boy coffee, running after him like a bitch in heat?”

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. I knew Doreen was a dried up old fatass, but she hadn’t been blatantly rude to me before.

  “What’s wrong with this town?” I shot back. “A guy comes in for a coffee, all shy and polite, and you just treat him like trash!”

  “Don’t you back sass me, Miss High-and-Mighty! Your momma might be the preacher-lady, but you’re no better than you ought to be!”

  “What does that even mean?” I yelled.

  “You just quit your job, young lady!” spluttered Doreen, red in the face.

  “Fine, whatever. I didn’t like stinking of bacon grease every day anyhow.”

  I dipped my hand into the tips jar and shoved the change into my pocket.

  “I’ll consider it severance pay,” I smirked at the old witch.

  “You put that back!”

  “And you really should remember to wash your hands after using the ladies’ room,” I called over my shoulder, throwing my apron onto the nearest table.

  The bell jangled cheerfully as I slammed the café door behind me.

  Seeing as I was currently unemployed—and probably unemployable as far as Buttfuck was concerned—I decided to spend the rest of the day working on my tan at the beach which was only a ten minute drive away.

  I climbed into my beloved Pontiac Firebird, stroking the paintwork as I buckled up. It was more than 20 years old, and one of the last third generation models to roll off of the production line at Van Nuys. Bright red, it reminded me of a fire engine, made 13 miles to the gallon on a good day, and I loved it.

  Maybe I gunned the engine more than a little, before I tore out of that small town in a cloud of dust.

  I drove a few miles along the shore before I found an empty sweep of beach at Matagorda Bay.

  The white sand stretched for miles in both directions, fringed by wiry grass. There was no one around and not even marks left by tires to show that anyone had been here.

  Abandoning the car at the side of the dirt road, I felt the sun hot overhead as the light fractured the deep blue of the ocean. I left the windows down, sure that no one was going to hotwire my car this far from nowhere. I hiked the short distance down to the shore, wishing I had more than a three-day old bottle of tap water in the car for refreshment. But wishing wasn’t having, so I dropped my ass onto the sand, pulled off my t-shirt and bra, then shimmied out of my jeans and panties.

  I hated tan lines.

  I must have been asleep for nearly two hours because the sun had shifted when I opened my eyes again. Somewhere in the pile of clothes, my phone had buzzed, shaking me out of a weird dream where Doreen was trying to make me go fishing for bass.

  I peered at the screen: I had two messages—wow, I must have really been out for a while because the first one was from an hour ago and I hadn’t heard it.

  The good news was that my hook up—Clancy—was free and eager. I’d suggested meeting at a bar in the next town over. It was more of a guys’ beer drinking joint than the kind of place I’d usually go, but I wasn’t planning on spending too much time there before taking Clancy for a ride in the back of his truck. I just hoped he was as good as I remembered. Although
, to be fair, the details were a little hazy.

  The bad news was that Mom had heard I’d been fired from the Busy Bee after a record two-and-a-half days. Guess good news traveled fast in a small town.

  I had no idea how she could stand it.

  My mom was a good person, I think. At least she tried to be. She wasn’t a huge hypocrite like some preachers I’d heard about, and she had as big an aversion to polyester suits as I did, but we still didn’t exactly see eye to eye either.

  I had a pretty average, middle class life for the first 13 years of my existence. Then Mom had found God, or maybe God had found Mom, I’m not quite sure. Because she decided that she had a calling—and it wasn’t being a wife and mother. She had a mission to spread the Word of God.

  Ironically, that ended up with Mom and Dad getting divorced. He didn’t much like playing second fiddle to a guy who was bigger than he was, so to speak. And I didn’t like being the child who was always waiting around for a mom who seemed to think that everyone else’s problems were more important than her own daughter’s.

  Looking back, maybe we were being selfish, but I thought my mom could have looked in the same mirror and seen that, too.

  Anyway, as soon as she finished her training at the Seminary, she got her first job down in the deep south. It was a world away from big city Boston, and I can only guess what the adjustment was like for her, being a woman and a liberal.

  Then she moved to Texas and from what she told me, her church had been all but empty for the first six months, people preferring to hear their preaching from a man, not a woman who was also a Yankee.

  In the end, her persistence paid off. I’d been here two, long, dreary weeks, and I had to admit I had a grudging respect for her. Hell, I’d never last in this state, let alone this town. And I didn’t intend to try.

  My mind wandered back to the hottie in the coffee shop. I wondered what crime he’d committed to be the local pariah. Maybe he’d fucked the sheriff’s daughter. Nah, I’d met her in the diner once. She must have fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Besides, she was so uptight, he’d have needed a crowbar to get those legs apart.