Bring the Rain

by Lizzy Charles

  “Hi, thanks for having me.”

  He shrugs, nudging me with a tease. “I kind of had to. Zek won’t stop talking about you.”

  Zek shrugs.

  “Yeah, kind of like that… but with words.” Jason rolls his eyes at Zek. “Come on in.”

  Three girls and two other guys sit on Jason’s red couch. All French and all way more interested in the card game than me, which is totally fine. It gives me an excuse to observe and time to get used to Zek’s arm around my waist.

  We take a seat on the carpet and Zek keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, he pulls me onto his lap and gives my neck a casual kiss, then another. Goosebumps fly down my spice and my eyes flash around the room. I’m not normally into PDA, but no one even seems to notice us. Jason walks in, sitting down next to Zek.

  “You missed the sushi,” he says, handing Zek a bowl of nuts, which forces Zek to stop tending to my neck.

  “But you said eight.”

  “No, eight for the movie. Six for the sushi.”

  “Well,” Zek wraps his arms around me, “seems like after our movie we’ll need to find a late night dinner.”

  “That sounds fantastic.”

  He brushes my hair away from just below my ear and plants another kiss. My gut turns but I don’t care. I need to move on. Colt never said goodbye. It’s over. I want it that way. I live here now.

  Jason slides in the Blu-ray disc and a sepia toned menu pops up. Zek’s mouth has moved to the base of my neck. There’s another guy in the corner doing the same thing to the girl next to him. Lots of whispering too. So much PDA. But, really, no one seems to even notice. Weird.

  The screen crackles to life and the credits for Red River scroll down to cliché’ American pioneer music. The movie opens with cowboys and horse-drawn buggies on a trail. When John Wayne appears, everyone cheers.

  “I thought you might like this, a little bit of America, ya know?” Zek says in an exaggerated American accent.

  My heart twists as I force a grin out. The orchestral score swells at the right time, making me look grateful instead of homesick. Then John Wayne’s saying goodbye to the woman he loves, and the night makes a swift punch in my gut.

  Will I ever be free of him?

  I’ve got to get out of here if I want a chance with Zek, a chance at a new beginning and adventure. That’s what life is about. Keeping things exciting so life never gets stale. Colt and I grew stale fast. It’s time to move on. I know exactly what I need to do.

  I turn around and whisper in my best sultry voice to Zek. “Want to get out of here?” Zek doesn’t say a word, just pulls me up.

  “Already? Dude! It’s only like five minutes in. They’re about to go all major cliché cowboys and Indians. You’ve got to stay,” Jason says. Some of the other guys on the couch yell something at him in French.

  Zek smiles. His teeth are perfect against his tanned skin.

  Jason scowls back. “Damn you, Zek. You always have all the luck.”

  I thank Jason on the way out. He seems nice. Hopefully, we can hang out next time. He sounds like he’s from Portland or Seattle.

  “Would you like to eat?” Zek says.

  “Sure.”

  “I know the perfect place.” He takes my hand in his again and leads me down the stairs. When we get down the flight, I turn to go down another but he pulls me back. “No, can I cook for you?”

  I raise my eyebrow as he nods to apartment deux. My heart races and my gut turns. Okay, this will be easier than I thought. He wraps his arms around my waist again.

  “I’m a good cook. I swear,” he whispers.

  My heart thunks against my ribcage. He wraps me in front of him as he fumbles with the latch, always touching my hair. His hands are never still.

  My gut turns again, and my skin screams. Calm down, Autumn. This is no big deal. You’ve done this before.

  We move into the apartment but he keeps the lights off, the moonlight pours in through the windows, giving the room a steady glow. Zek’s arms swoop under my knees, carrying me to a modern, blue couch. He puts me down gently before crawling on top of me, finally putting his lips to my mouth.

  His kiss is long and slow. I try to stay with it, and find a rhythm but every time he tries to use his tongue, it’s like a bullet to my heart.

  Autumn. Just have fun. Come on. No big deal. It’s Paris. A freakin’ Calvin Klein model is on top of you. This is a once in a lifetime experience.

  His mouth moves down my jaw to my collarbone, kissing every inch. I react as I should but I want to scream. This isn’t right. This feels so… thin? It’s not that he’s not good at it. It feels amazing it’s just…

  He’s not Colt.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasp as he’s pulling my sleeve down.

  “Oh no, does it hurt?” he asks, looking down at my purple scar.

  “No,” I sigh, sliding myself up, into a sitting position. “I can’t do this.”

  Zek sits next to me and nods.

  “Ut-omn, now, please don’t get upset,” he finals says. “But it’s just sex. I want you to relax tonight.” He kisses my palm. “You are wound up tight. I can help with that.”

  He’s right, every muscle in my body is tense. I’ve had a constant kink in my neck since the first night where stars no longer blanketed the sky. Everything smells like wormy rain here. His hand moves again to Colt’s place on my back. My skin prickles with his touch. My body knows that it doesn’t belong there.

  “It’ll be all right.” He rubs my spine, kneading a muscle that’s balled up.

  He’s right. It will be. I don’t need to do this. It’s time I listened to my own body. This isn’t right.

  “I’ve got to go Zek.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Please know this has nothing to do with you, everything to do with me.”

  “You’re really going?” his face pales.

  I smile at the door, “You’ve never had a girl say no before?”

  He shakes his head as he stands to see me out. “This makes you special, you know?”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes because now I just want you more.”

  “Goodnight, Zek,” I say with another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he calls behind me.

  “Making me happy.” I start down the stairs.

  “Well, happiness happens in my bed, but you’re welcome?” he shouts with a laugh behind me.

  I pull open the door feeling light, my head buzzing with endorphins. It’s like something clicked. I’m such an idiot. My body’s been sending messages since we arrived—the headaches, the stress. I refused to listen. It was easier to escape into my old pattern with Mom, but Zek’s kiss woke me up. Paris is fantastic, but it doesn't have what I love and need to be happy.

  It’s time for me to go home.

  To Oklahoma.

  How do I break the news? I spent the entire summer imagining having this conversation with Dad, not Mom.

  I open our front door an inch. She’s sitting on the floor eating chocolates, drinking wine and glaring at her laptop. Magazines blanket the couch next to her. I gulp. The image speaks for itself. There’s no room for me and her business. Heck, there’s barely even room for her.

  I take a deep breath and step through the door, clunking my hobo bag on the floor.

  “Autumn.” Her eyes peek over her reading glasses. “Bad date?”

  “No. Zek was really nice.” I walk into our living room, quaint compared to Oklahoma but mammoth compared to Manhattan.

  She kneels, reaching over her laptop to grab a stack of magazines off the couch. “Have a seat. So what happened? Did those headaches come back again? I’ll grab you some Ibuprofen.”

  “I feel fine. Great, actually.”

  “So you’re just back?”

  “Yup.”

  There’s a bar of chocolate on the end table next to me. She unwraps it, handing me a chunk. “What’s going on, baby? You never come home this early.”

&
nbsp; I move a magazine stuck under my hip. Okay, I need to plunge in. There’s no other way to get these words out, and they need to be said if I will ever get home.

  “I know about the custody agreement, Mom.”

  Mom’s mouth parts, and she simply stares.

  For a long time.

  “He told you?” her jaw tightens.

  “Well, he kind of had to considering it’s written in a legal document that I choose where I end up living.”

  The way she looks, with her nose all scrunched up, is like taking a whisk to my soul. I suddenly hate that the truth came from him. Why couldn’t she have been brave enough to tell me? All these years we’ve lived together and not once did she take the time to share the truth.

  “I see.” Her hand rests on my knee. “I assumed he’d think it was too much.”

  “Too much?”

  “Raising a teenage girl is hard, honey.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. That’s why I work so hard to keep us on an even level. I don’t want you to hate me.”

  “I could never hate you, but I can’t hate him either. I just want a chance to get to know him better, an opportunity to reconnect.” I take her hand in mine. “Mom, I want to go back to the ranch. It’s the perfect time.” I pick up a magazine off the floor. “You’re so busy. I can get to know Dad while you explore Paris, build your relationship with Ambrose, and go on business trips.”

  “This is about Ambrose, isn’t it? Honey, I’m sorry I have been spending so much time with him.”

  “No, Mom. I want you to be with him. He’s nice and makes you the happiest I’ve seen you in years. I like him a lot. He treats you so well.” I yawn and my chest aches for the squeak of my air mattress. “I want to go back to Oklahoma. The air is fresher, I can ride horses, and I feel so calm… so right. Dad’s a good guy. I wish you would have let him visit me more.” My eyes well with tears. She didn’t give him the chance to be my father, or me to be his daughter. It wasn’t fair.

  “Honey,” she sighs, “I hate to tell you this but your father isn’t as great as he seems. I was protecting you, and I still want to.”

  I turn to her. “He told me how he cheated on you.” My words suck all the oxygen out of the air. The mini refrigerator buzzes in the other room. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I can’t even imagine how much that hurt.” She doesn’t respond. I let go of her hand, entwining my fingers in my lap. “Please don’t hate me because I still want to know him.”

  She sniffs a little and straightens up. I recognize her position. This is as deep as we’re going with this. “So when do you plan on leaving?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  She picks up her computer and walks to the other side of the room. I’m gutted. She totally hates me.

  “Mom, please understand. I love you so much but I love him, too. And Oklahoma? Oh man, it’s home.”

  The light from her laptop makes her teeth glow blue when she forces out a feeble smile. “There’s a flight tomorrow evening. Honey,” she sighs. “I’ve always known you’re a country girl.”

  My nose stings and I fling myself across the room, landing in her lap. She’s letting me go.

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  She wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my hair. “Will you visit?”

  “How about in January? For a few weeks?”

  “Perfect. I’m buying those tickets, too. I can’t send you away without knowing you have a ticket back soon.” She pulls out of the hug and kisses my forehead, then lets me go.

  “Don’t tell Dad, okay? I’ll have Gina pick me up from the airport. I want to give Dad the surprise of his life.”

  ***

  Cow manure is one of my most favorite, disgusting smells on earth. Rolling down the window, I take a big whiff.

  “Gross, Autumn! Who does that?” Gina rolls my window up, pretending to gag over the steering wheel.

  “A homesick, country girl.” I take another deep breath. My head finally feels clear, that band of constant pressure around the base of my skull gone for good. I love it here. The fresh air and endless horizon give me the best high.

  I’m home.

  She laughs, “I’m sorry. You’ll always be a city girl to me. Look at you, wearing all those gorgeous French things.”

  “All right, fine. I’m a hybrid. How’s that?” My heart dances as she turns down my gravel road.

  “Does Colt know you’re coming?”

  “No. We still haven’t spoken. I don’t know what will happen with us.”

  “Do you know what you want?”

  “Right now, I want to talk. I’ll figure out how I feel once I hear his side of the story.”

  My heart leaps at the site of our new barn. Shadow prances around in the new corral, hind-quarters kicking up dust. We drive around it, and the view of the house shocks me. This doesn’t look like our old home at all. A two-story, Victorian inspired farmhouse stands where our old rambler once stood. The siding’s a bright white which contrasts with the lush, dark green shutters. There’s even a wrap-around porch and turret. It’s like a dream home. “Wow.”

  “I know. Your Dad went all out. Ready?” she asks as she pops the trunk.

  I hop out of the car and a loud air compressor noise roars from inside. Hopefully, it’s Dad.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the ride, Gina. When do you finish class tomorrow?” I heave my suitcase onto the ground.

  “Bell rings at three o’clock and then I work at the shop until five thirty.”

  “Want to hang out Friday night?”

  “I can’t. It’s date night.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “With Peter.” She grins. “Autumn, he’s so nice. Like, I can barely handle how sweet he is.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “He is!”

  “Well, how about Saturday then? Breakfast for details?”

  “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

  “For breakfast?” I say as I haul my suitcase up the stairs.

  “Eat a protein bar. You’ll survive.” She says before she ducks back into her little red car. She waves goodbye through the window before peeling out of the driveway.

  I take a deep breath and peer through the window. Fresh sheetrock hugs the walls, but the floors are still plywood. I’m tickled to find Dad with his back to the front door. He’s leaning a ladder up against the wall near the air compressor. Quietly, I open the front door. The air compressor vibrates the floor boards as I walk across the room.

  “Todd, give me one more minute. I need to get one more window trimmed,” he shouts over the air compressor’s hum.

  “Dad,” I say but it’s not loud enough. I tap him again, “Dad!”

  He jumps, knocking over the ladder while trying to turn around. The ladder falls forward, and I jump out of the way.

  “Autumn!” His cheekbones pop out in the largest smile I’ve ever seen. He reaches out, ever so slightly brushing my arm. “Autumn?"

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “You came back?”

  “I came home.”

  “Home?” His eyes brighten. “As in?”

  “I’m here to stay. Paris is totally lame compared to a drought, wildfire, and cow manure.”

  He steps forward, and I run into his arms. He coughs, patting my back to cover his choked up cry. I wait until he collects himself before I pull away.

  “Want to see your room?” he asks, his eyes still glossy.

  “I'd love that.” I wipe away my own tear. “This place is incredible. I had no idea you were building something like this.”

  “Yup. Plan B.”

  “What was plan A?” I follow him up a stairway tucked near the kitchen.

  “I’ll show you.” He opens the first door on the right. The ceiling’s massive, with dark beams. This must be the turret room. He points to a pink notebook on the window well. “Take a look.”

  Wait. Is that my old dream
notebook? I flip through the pages. “Didn’t I throw this away?”

  He shrugs. “I thought it was worth saving.”

  “It was only filled with horse photos and my drawings.”

  “Early artwork to save for when you make it big in the art world.” He leans against the wall with a chuckle.

  I turn over a horrid sketch of Howdy and find a page labeled Dream Homes. The page has two pasted on photos, one of a circle house with a pool and water slide and the other a Victorian turreted house, white with dark green shutters, next to an apple orchard. My sketch of each house follows.

  Everything in me glows. He built my dream home.

  “Dad,” I squeak. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “This is your room.” He ignores my squeak and for once I don’t cry. He crossed the room, opening a door with a huge grin. “Your bathroom. You won't have to share again.”

  I bop my head in, and there’s a simple sink and shower with a dark gray slate floor. It’s nothing fancy, but I love it. I’ve never had my own bathroom before.

  “The house should be ready for us in one month. Do you mind staying at Todd’s again?”

  “No problem. I’ve missed my nights there.” My nights in Paris ached for the comforting chirp of crickets.

  We walk down the stairs and he shows me the rest of the house. The main floor is an open floor plan, making a huge great room. His own bedroom is off the back end of the house. With three bathrooms, this place seems like a mansion.

  “There’s not a lot of square feet but it’s maximized, ya know?” he says, leaning against some plain kitchen cabinets that still need to be mounted. A white Formica countertop leans against the wall. I wish he could have his old kitchen back. It wasn’t only for me. It was for both of us. I could tell it made him so proud of our old house, but he’s smiling more than he ever did before. The kitchen doesn’t seem to matter to him much anymore.

  Over his head, I notice cattle spotting the horizon through the kitchen window.

  “How’s the ranch?” I dare to ask. I need to know the truth. “Is it even ours anymore?”

  “Sort of. I had to take on a team of investors.” He stretches his neck. “I’m not thrilled about it and it could get complicated depending on how things shake out, but I’m hopeful it’ll be all right. It’s better than losing the ranch.”