Rain

by Paul Sunn

  “Truer words were never spoken.” Marianne smiled and sat down at her desk. “I figured you’d want something worth eating if you were having lunch in the cafeteria.”

  “I didn’t even get that far,” I admitted.

  “No?” She lifted her eyebrows. “What’ve you been doing, then?”

  Should I tell her? I wanted to… maybe sharing some of the chaos I was imagining would get it out of my head, so I wouldn’t have to dwell on it so much. But I didn’t want to get Philip or even Mr. Bryans in trouble. Maybe everything was above board? Accusing them of something would slap me in the face like the water in the bathroom downstairs. So long promotion. So long job. So long Philip.

  “Oh nothing, I just stayed here and worked,” I managed a feeble smile back at Marianne.

  “Girl, you work too much, and you start to make me look bad. Plus, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm, and at your age it won’t be pretty,” she joshed, before she tilted her head at a funny angle, her wide set eyes pulling closer together. “What’s up? Why is your face blotchy?” Her inquisitive tone made me feel like I was in court.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I asked bringing my hands to my cheeks.

  “You look all blotchy. Were you crying?”

  “Me? Crying? Why cry?” I continued with the pretense of being clueless, avoid looking straight at her.

  “Okay, fess up girl. What happened?” It was hard fooling Marianne.

  But I couldn’t tell her the truth because I wasn’t sure what the truth was, and I didn’t want to get anybody into trouble.

  “Well…, I had a freak accident in the bathroom and water shot in my face with force. It stung my eyes,” I said mustering all the innocence of a baby. Besides, it was the truth. Just not the whole truth.

  “Are you okay now? Do you need to take a break?” The concern in her voice warmed my soul.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. No worries. Let’s get back to work. The bad guys won’t catch themselves,” I joked trying to lighten the mood.

  Marianne nodded and went back to her work. She wasn’t quite fooled by my answer and she kept shooting worrying glances at me throughout the rest of the day. I hated to have to lie to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. First, I had to figure out what exactly happened. My brain was stuck in a loop. What if they were getting involved in shady dealings that would threaten Paulson, Bryans & Sunn? What if the firm wasn’t on the up-and-up like I’d always thought they were? My throat tightened, halting the true breadsticks mid swallow. You shall not pass. Coughing and sputtering, I caught the outline of Marianne at my side rubbing my back.

  What if Philip was a criminal?

  I wanted to spit the question out of my mind like I had just found half a bug in my California roll. Of course, it was nonsense. I knew Philip. He was a good man, a law-abiding citizen. He volunteered on weekends at the local soup kitchen and bought season passes to the warm Street theater downtown. A few our dates had even been productions of Kiss Me Kate and White Christmas put on by a theater troupe of mostly high school students because he knew their parents. He didn’t do anything that wasn’t motivated by his good heart; and I loved him.

  But the question was there now, screaming in my head. Stark and unavoidable like a naked man at church forcing its way into my thoughts.

  Was Philip – my Philip – a criminal?

  8

  Chapter 8

  The afternoon passed in agonizing slowness. I tried to focus on the work in front of me, but my thoughts kept leading me astray. The work was too dull to hold my focus and the events of the day kept replaying in my mind like a scratched Blue-Ray. Every possible scenario that could justify the meeting of the three men earlier today at Sofia’s was playing over and over in my head. Some more sinister than others. Obviously, my imagination ran wild with me. Jack came by a little after 2 o’clock to collect the papers Marianne and I had finally finished. I kept my head down like an ostrich, avoiding his gaze, and he quickly gave up trying to catch my attention, contented to chat for a minute with Marianne instead.

  Once he left, Marianne turned to me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her tone making it clear that she’d been putting off asking the question for a while and finally couldn’t stand whatever it was I was doing to make her think I wasn’t purposely doing or avoiding. I think.

  I shrugged.

  “Rayne. Seriously. What’s wrong?”

  I didn’t want to tell her. Saying the words out loud would make them real, and maybe if I ignored them, they still had a chance of going away.

  But my doubts were festering inside of me, fetid and expanding. Pushing with a need to come out before they turned gangrenous. Plus, I trusted Marianne. If I asked to keep things strictly between us, then she would.

  So, I forced myself to expel some of the words. “I’m worried that things might not be what we think.”

  Marianne frowned, clearly not understanding.

  “It’s…” I hesitated, uncertain of my decision to share. Marianne hadn’t had the terrible day I’d been privy to, clearly. Maybe I shouldn’t be dumping this monkey on her. Who was I kidding, this was an eight-hundred-pound gorilla dressed in a polka dot tuxedo playing the drums Red Hot Chili Peppers style. Putting this on her was unfair of me. I shook my head. “You know what, it’s nothing. Nothing important, anyway,” I added when she opened her mouth to argue. “Home stuff. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

  “Are you and the great Philip Glaser, he who walks on clouds of air and expensive cologne made purely from the essence of babies, puppies and church farts having trouble?” She wasn’t exactly a fan of Philip’s and had never suppressed a chance to voice her opinion on the matter.

  “No!” I answered automatically, realizing that the sharpness in my voice absolutely made that sound like a lie. I corrected myself before she could pick up on that. “I don’t know. Not that I would’ve thought, but…” I let out a breath. I needed to say it, or it would explode inside me. “I saw him at lunch today. Not on purpose — by accident. I saw him with someone he shouldn’t have any reason to be with, and now I’m worried he might be involved with something…bad.”

  Marianne frowned again, this time thoughtfully.

  “I haven’t had a chance to say anything to him yet, so I don’t know what it was about today. Please don’t say anything to anyone?”

  “Of course,” she added softly but with conviction.

  I let out a breath and smiled a little, ready to change the subject. “I’ve also successfully managed to break everything I’ve touched today.”

  “Really?” Her left eyebrow rose up, sounding not quite convinced.

  “Yeah. Did you see the first-floor bathroom when you came in?”

  “I saw maintenance scrambling around with wrenches and mops.”

  “That was me,” I sighed releasing all the oxygen from my lungs, shoulders drooping. “Remember earlier when I told you water shot in my face?” I pointed on my blotchy face.

  “Yup,” her eyebrow rose again in curiosity this time.

  “I think I broke something in the faucets.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Marianne’s lips. “How?”

  “I dunno. Things just keep happening to me today, right from the moment I missed my bus this morning. It’s been a weird day.”

  She stood up, walked around her desk and wrapped her arms around me, easing some of the tension in my soul.

  “It’ll be okay, darling,” she soothed giving me a motherly squeeze.

  “Thank you, Marianne, I needed this,” I admitted, returning the hug.

  I did feel better having gotten some of it out in the open – a little better, anyway. It wasn’t going to make facing Philip any easier when I got home, but at least I could go back to focusing on my work knowing someone had my back.

  There was nothing I could do about what I saw at Sofia’s until after 5 o’clock. According to Mr. Bryans’ secretary, he wouldn’t b
e back until Wednesday, so talking to him was on hold too. I pushed the rest of the worries aside for now enough to focus and was able to get some work done. Before long I was lost in a sea of tiny print that seemed to grace all law books and deposition transcripts with only the tiniest fear of falling overboard.

  9

  Chapter 9

  At 5:03, Marianne snapped closed the book she was reading. Some thick tome of prior cases. The loud pop of the book snapping shut pulled me out of my work-induced reverie. Marianne grinned. “Let’s blow this joint.”

  I stood and stretched the muscles in my arms and low back. “We should get standing desks around here.”

  “Ooh, standing all day in high heels, sounds like fun.”

  “I’d start coming in sneakers.”

  We laughed. Marianne knew I would flaunt the female dress code at the office the same day the sun turned blue and fell into a hole. After all, I still wore the mandated, accursed medieval full pantyhose, even though I knew Marianne had switched to knee-highs months ago and tried to explain to me how there was no difference except for the fact that she wasn’t walking around with a wedgy all day. It’s not like they could check.

  Once in college, buzzing from a bad sugar high, me and a couple of friends snuck into the bell tower of the campus chapel. I found out later that if we’d been caught, it would’ve been an automatic three-week suspension. That was the riskiest rule-flaunting I’ve ever done, and I wasn’t going down that road any further.

  We left together, passing a hand-scrawled “Out of Order” sign taped on the door of the first-floor women’s bathroom as we went.

  “You never said what happened with that,” Marianne said, jerking her thumb toward the door.

  “Cause I don’t know what happened. I broke something, and the faucets started spraying me.” I ran my hand down the front of my dry shirt. Of course, the water had long since dried.

  Roddy waved to us as we passed his desk. “Night, ladies.”

  “Oh, hey, Roddy, did you happen to hear what maintenance said about the bathroom?” Marianna asked, ready for the juicy details.

  “Ugh. Could you not?” I hissed at her.

  Marianne smiled apologetically. “All right, I’m sorry. Never mind, Roddy. I guess I’ll just have to go home and be tormented by my curiosity all night.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder and with all the kindness I could muster shoved her out the revolving door before Roddy had the chance to answer her. “Night!” I called to him over my shoulder.

  He waved.

  Once we were out of the building, I let my hand drop. The rain, which had quieted to a drizzle mid-afternoon, had finally stopped, and the clouds were breaking up just in time to give the first hints of a purple sunset.

  The days were noticeably shortening again as October ended. It would be far more painful when Daylight Savings Time started, and we got out of work after dark.

  Marianne walked with me to the bus stop. This time for the correct bus, which stopped just past the office building and waited with me for a minute.

  “You need a ride?” I asked as though I had the power to offer her a seat on a SEPTA bus.

  She laughed. “No, thanks. Tom should be here any minute.”

  “You’re going to wait here? Why?”

  “No, dingbat. I’m being nice and keeping you company.”

  Tom’s blue Lexus SUV pulled up to the bus stop. He rolled down a window as Marianne climbed in. “Hi, Rayne.”

  “Hey, Tom,” I said.

  “Tell Philip I got the parts he wanted.” Then, as an afterthought he added, “we should double date this weekend. How’s that sound?”

  “I’ll talk to Philip.” Tom gave me a little wave at that. I knew for a fact he wasn’t a huge fan of Philip either, but he would go anywhere Marianne wanted to.

  “You going to be okay?” Marianne squeezed my hand through the open window, ignoring a clueless Tom.

  “We should double this weekend,” Marianne suggested.

  I smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

  “G’night.” Marianne waved, and the Lexus pulled away from the curb.

  I sighed and sat on the rickety bus stop bench. Maybe it would be doable. Maybe I could keep the conversation to small talk, things about the parts Tom ordered from his hardware store for Philip’s remodeling of the downstairs bath and how to politely decline Marianne’s offer of a double date that Philip would find a reason for us to be busy. Maybe I could fill the whole evening up with the stories about how I was late to work or how I didn’t get that promotion and then somehow broke every faucet in an office bathroom. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to face the real problem that loomed overhead like an out of control and burning 747.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to find out that my fiancé, the man I loved more than anyone or anything in this world, was involved in back room dealings with a shady character like Devlin Blake.

  But I knew Philip. He must have seen me seen me in Sofia’s earlier. He would want to talk about today, and when he settled on a topic of conversation, there wasn’t much I could do to derail it. He hated it when I tried, called me evasive and too passive when he caught me doing it to someone else. “Some conflicts need to be faced,” he’d said, so often that his words would occasionally rival my mother’s in my head.

  Some conflicts need to be faced.

  You aren’t going to win this argument, so don’t try.

  Was it possible for other people to drive someone into actual insanity? At what point did hearing other people’s voices in your head qualify you as insane?

  “Did you have a nice day, dear?”

  That wasn’t one of the voices in my head, but one from the outside world. I turned toward it and saw an old lady settling down onto the bench beside me. I smiled faintly at her, not sure if she had been talking to me. She smiled back her pristine pearly whites, and I bit my lip to hold down the gasp.

  It was the old lady from this morning, the one in the sunshine-yellow slicker and the perfect dentures. She had swapped the clear plastic hood for a transparent blue one so that she looked kind of like a cloudless midday sky, almost too bright to see.

  “Well?” she pressed. Her voice was creaky as an old hardwood floor. “How was your day?”

  What was she doing here? I wasn’t even waiting for the same bus we’d taken this morning. “Um…fine. It was okay.”

  “Good, good.” She smiled, showing off those perfect dentures. “Anything unusual happen?”

  I shook my head. It was easier than speaking the lie.

  She lifted one puffy white eyebrow. The wrinkles on her forehead multiplied. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  Oh, did she mean other than my fiancé possibly being a criminal, my boss fraternizing with the defendant of his own case, and me causing several thousands of dollars in unexplainable damage? I pinned my lips together, so nothing slipped out, choosing instead to shake my head in the negative.

  “Hm. Well, all right, then. That’s fine.”

  My bus pulled up to the stop. I jumped to my feet. “This one’s mine,” I said, trying to excuse myself politely from the woman’s attention.

  “Yes, I see.” She gestured toward the bus’s open door. “Go on, then, dear, and have a long and fulfilling life.”

  “Uh…thanks?” My voice turned up at the end of the word, making it sound like a question. I scurried up the bus steps and into the farthest-back seat I could find. As the bus pulled away from the curb and merged back into traffic, I glanced over at the bus stop bench.

  The old woman in the yellow slicker was gone.

  10

  Chapter 10

  Now

  The bath water cooled a degree from nearly-blistering to comfortably warm. My worries that plagued me all afternoon had finally started draining out of me. Everything was going to be all right. The damage done by the last ten hours wasn’t permanent — a few wet clothes, a few broken faucets, a missed opportunity to ask my boss for a promo
tion. No one was injured, no priceless artifacts were ruined, no relationships were damaged beyond repair.

  Philip was right once again: I needed a soak in a hot bath before we had whatever conversation we needed to have. It helped to put the day in perspective. Everything would be all right.

  There was only one thing left that bothered me, and that was the dinner he was preparing downstairs. Doubtless I was just overthinking it, just like I’d done everything else, but he’d pulled out the fine china, the dishes we didn’t use except on Christmas and birthdays. What would motivate him to do that?

  The answer struck me almost the same moment the question came to mind. My promotion. He wanted to celebrate my promotion. The one I didn’t get today. I huffed some bubbles.

  Shit.

  I’d been so worried all afternoon about confronting him over his lunch with Devlin Blake that I’d spaced out on how to tell him that I didn’t get the promotion. Now here he was making me a celebratory dinner I didn’t deserve. I never did what I’d set out to do today.

  It wasn’t entirely my fault, today had really gone off the rails more than once, but he shouldn’t be spending all this time and energy for something I didn’t earn.

  My first instinct was to run down to the kitchen and tell him to stop. However, when I leaned forward the air in the room gave me shivers. I sunk back down, the warmth of the water calling to me. Darn it, I was going to finish enjoying my bath. Whether or not I’d earned a celebratory dinner of chicken Alfredo on the fine china, I had definitely earned a relaxing bath.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the little blue inflatable pillow suction-cupped to the back of the tub. Eucalyptus bath salts and mint scented candles filled my nose. I drifted into that pleasant twilight that existed someplace just before falling fully asleep.