Raining On Heaven

by Amanda Foote

  Cadence frowned sheepishly. “That might be true.”

  “And,” Marlene continued, “you and I both know that Bliss could probably use some quality time with her Aunt Heaven.”

  Cadence bit her fingernail again. “Also true.” She sighed. “Alright. I concede. She can go.”

  “Yes!” Liberty Bell fist-pumped the air.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Cadence. We’ll take good care of her. We’ll only be an hour away.”

  I carried Bliss out of her high chair to the car, Liberty Bell following, and started strapping her into her carseat, which we had placed in Bobby’s truck. Dillard and Bobby were smacking bags of ice on the cement driveway, competing to see who could get the ice broken up and into the cooler fastest. I turned to Liberty Bell as I buckled a giggling Bliss in and asked her, “Would you really trust me with your life?”

  She grinned and shrugged. “You know. To a degree.”

  “Well, I would,” Bobby said as he dumped a bag of ice into the closest cooler. We were only going to be gone two days but Liberty Bell and Bobby assured me that we needed two coolers, and they needed to be filled with soda, water, and sandwich makings. Liberty Bell had even brought a carton of eggs to nest on top of the ice. Bobby shoved sodas and waters into the ice then gingerly rested the eggs above it all, digging out a small space so he could still close the lid. Dillard was doing the same with the sodas in the other cooler. They placed both coolers in the bed of Bobby’s truck, then began shoving our camping gear, suitcases and bags around them. They then jammed all of our bedding (and they had brought a lot of bedding) into the backseat, on the floorboards and around Bliss’s car seat in the middle.

  “Good girl, Ellie, you’re gonna do just fine.” Bobby patted the hood of his white Chevy Silverado affectionately and cooed to it. “Don’t you let us down girl.”

  “You named your truck?” I asked.

  Bobby looked at me incredulously. “Of course I did. If you had a car you’d probably name it too.” Liberty Bell rolled her eyes.

  Dillard laughed and said to me, “It’s probably a guy thing. We like to name stuff.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say.”

  “Everyone ready?” Bobby asked as he climbed into his seat behind the wheel. Cadence came out to say one last goodbye to Bliss, and Marlene gave everyone a quick hug.

  “Have fun!” she said. “Stay safe! No drinking.”

  It seemed an odd statement coming from her but I assured her, “We didn’t even bring any alcohol. We can have fun without it.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling. She gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead and said, “You guys be careful, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, and climbed into the backseat. I sat next to Bliss’s car seat and Dillard sat on the other side. Liberty Bell sat in the front and our box of snacks and music sat in the front middle seat.

  “Let’s get this show on the road!” Bobby shouted, turning the radio up to reveal a Tim McGraw song slipping through the speakers. He drove away and Cadence was still waving behind us when we turned off the street.

  The drive was not that long but it seemed so with Liberty Bell and Bobby singing very off-key to country music in the front seat. Every time one of them would sing a flat note or the wrong words, Dillard and I would share a glance and a smirk. I did my best to keep my attention on the book I was reading, but I was struggling. Bliss had fallen asleep within the first ten minutes of the drive and was snoring lightly. Dillard was dozing off himself on her other side. Her tiny hand was wrapped tightly around his finger, and he left his hand rested on the arm of her car seat so she could hold it even as she slept.

  About an hour later, Liberty Bell shouted, “We’re here!!”

  The town was called Sulphur. And the locals often called the park “Little Niagra” because there was a set of small waterfalls a little way up the river that campers liked to jump off of into the river.

  We drove very slowly around in what seemed like circles, but were really just very twisty roads beneath dense trees. Along the way we passed many watering holes where groups of people were swimming and picnicking and screaming with laughter. Bliss woke up and began to fuss because her diaper was wet. “We’re almost to our campsite,” Bobby comforted her with his low, soft voice, and she settled for a minute. We pulled into a round-ish camping area with a short “driveway” for the truck, plenty of space to set up the tent, and a cement picnic table. It was a short walk from one of the watering holes along the river.

  I pulled Bliss out of her carseat and changed her diaper on the picnic table. “Doesn’t that feel better, Bliss?” I smiled at her and she laughed and screamed “No!” then giggled some more. “Silly girl,” I said, laughing.

  Dillard and Bobby were already halfway done unloading the truck when I finished with Bliss. I picked her up off the table and let her walk, or I should say stumble, around the campsite, keeping an eye on her while she giggled at every bug that jumped across her feet. Bobby pulled the last cooler off the truck and unfolded the camping chairs. We all sat down. Bliss had picked up a leaf and was inspecting it. “Tree,” she said.

  “Yes, baby girl, that’s a leaf from a tree,” Liberty Bell encouraged her.

  “So,” Bobby started, “the tent has enough room to fit all of us a little tightly, but I think I’m just gonna pile some blankets in the back of my truck and sleep there.”

  “Hey, that sounds cool,” Dillard said from his purple camping chair.

  “Dude, there’s plenty of room back there if you want to give the girls the tent.”

  “That sounds great,” Liberty Bell said. “We sure wouldn’t mind having the tent to ourselves.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  So it was decided. The guys set the tent up for us, then we all changed into our bathing suits (Liberty Bell, Bliss and I changing in the privacy of the tent), locked up the truck and headed for the water.

  Liberty Bell and Bobby had forgotten to warn us newcomers that the water in Sulfur was freakishly cold. I shrieked a little just walking in up to my knees, but Dillard jumped straight in off the rocks and when he came up for air, he was screaming like a wounded animal. “So c-c-c-cold!” he shouted.

  I sat on a rock near the water and dipped my toes in. “Why does it feel like melted ice in here?” I demanded. Bliss began to whimper a bit as Bobby waded into the water with her in his arms.

  Liberty Bell sat down next to me in her purple floral tankini and said, “It’s a spring that comes down from off the Arbuckle mountains.” I myself wore a one piece that showed off just a little bit of my non-existent cleavage, that was a dark maroon that I hoped complemented my tan skin but I’m pretty sure just washed me out, though Liberty Bell disagreed.

  Bliss began to cry with full force and Bobby came up out of the water.

  “Here, I’ll take her,” I said, and he handed her to me. Her big green eyes were red and puffy and when he handed her to me, she reached her arms out and clutched onto my neck tightly. I patted her back. “Hey, it’s okay,” I tried to console her. She stopped crying and smiled a gap tooth smile at me.

  “Hey baby,” she babbled.

  “Hey baby,” I grinned.

  It was a game she would play with Cadence at home, they would say “Hey baby” back and forth to each other, getting louder each time. I felt kind of honored that she chose to play it with me.

  We took turns shouting “hey baby!” so loudly at each other that people had begun to look over and stare at us. I laughed. “Okay. Shhhh baby, now.” She just giggled and farted, her little pink bathing suit blowing up a little around her bum. I laughed again, said “gross,” and carried her over to the table. She and I played a tickle game for a while until it was dinner time and we all returned to the campsite to make some grub.

  It was starting to get dark so Liberty Bell and I carried Bliss up to the restrooms and made an attempt at taking showers in the tiny, low-water-pressure stalls. When we returned, the boys were already out in the back of
the truck so us girls snuggled into the tent and cuddled up close. I counted ten, twenty, thirty times as Liberty Bell and Bliss’ chests rose and fell while the crickets chirped outside in the night, and soon they were in my dreams.

  ✽✽✽

  I woke up later that night. I needed to pee. I tried to make myself ignore it and go back to sleep, but my bladder was persistent. So I groaned and sat up. Bliss was sleeping peacefully between me and Liberty Bell on the air mattress. I got up as carefully as I could so I wouldn’t jostle them. They didn’t even stir. I pulled my flip flops on and zipped open the tent flap as quickly as possible so it would make noise for the least amount of time I could manage.

  I had started to head toward the bathroom using my phone as a flashlight, which was about ten or eleven campsites away, when a voice whispered, “Couldn’t sleep?”

  I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. I searched the darkness to find that Dillard was now sitting up in the truck bed, staring at me.

  “Heaven?” he said, when I didn’t answer.

  “Sorry,” I responded. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I had to pee. I was just going to the bathroom,” I told him.

  “Oh,” he said, standing up carefully in the truck bed and climbing out. Bobby snored lightly beside him. “I need to go too. I’ll walk you over there.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  “Sure it is. It’s for protection.”

  “I don’t need protectio-”

  “For me. Protection for me,” he laughed softly, coming to stand close to me. “These creepy woods freak me out.”

  His pale skin almost glowed under the moon, and his blue eyes were like pools of light. I couldn’t even keep myself from smiling at him if I’d wanted to try.

  “Alright then, come on.”

  We walked in silence for a few minutes. Every couple of steps his arm would bump into my shoulder. “Dillard,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you know how to walk in a straight line?”

  He laughed. “Listen, Heaven, I’m sleepy. I’m not used to such… noise. I mean, it’s a weird kind of noise. No cars, no planes, no loud music. Just the river and the cicadas. It’s… strange.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. Quite unexpectedly, he wrapped his arm around my arm. I glanced at him.

  “Protection,” he repeated, grinning.

  I leaned against him slightly and let him guide me along while I looked up at the moon. It was nearly full. I took a deep breath and sighed.

  “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

  I looked away from the moon toward his face. “Pretend to what?”

  “To be happy,” he replied. “I get it. Trust me, I really get it.” I didn’t respond.

  A few steps later, we had reached the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute,” I said. I left him outside and went in. It was dirty and there were dead bugs lining the corners where the floors met the walls. A few cobwebs hung from dusty unopened windows. I found the cleanest stall I could.

  When I came out to wash my hands, I caught a glimpse of myself in the stained mirror. My dark cheeks were rosy and plump, my eyes shining. I’d put on a few pounds recently, thanks to Cadence and her contagious eating habits. My long, dark brown hair fell in its natural wavy state around my elbows. I took a moment to frown at my thin lips. I’d always hated them. My mother had the most beautiful full lips, like the rest of the Hispanic women in our family had for generations. She would always smile at me and say, “You got your father’s lips, mija. But that’s okay, because I love his lips. Somebody someday is going to love yours, too.” Then she’d kiss my cheek and laugh.

  I gripped the sink and clamped my eyes shut, cutting off the tears that were trying to force their way out. I opened them again a few moments later.

  There was some mascara residue underneath my eyes because I hadn’t bothered to wash my face before I went to sleep earlier. I blinked slowly. Nothing changed, and I sighed.

  Dillard waited patiently for me outside the door. “Everything go as planned?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Yes, although I was abducted briefly by some passerby aliens. You didn’t notice?”

  “Sorry, nope. I was too busy thinking about you.” He smiled.

  I could feel my cheeks getting hot. “Well, they did,” I said. “But I guess I wasn’t what they were looking for because they brought me right back.”

  “Good thing, too,” he grinned, “I’d have had to come fight them for you.”

  He started to head toward the right. “You know our campsite is the other way, right?” I asked him.

  “I know,” he said. “I thought I might go sit by the river for a while. I’m too awake. Do you want to come?”

  I smiled. “Sure.”

  The water seemed to rush by faster by moonlight than it did by the sun. It must feel the pull of the moon like we often do, I thought. Led by a longing we can’t understand or even begin to comprehend, the moon is who the river sings its song for. The river gives the moon its song, and we give it our dreams.

  It sang to us as well as we climbed down to the rocks skirting its banks. I slipped my flip flops off and sank my feet in. It felt like ice, but I relished in it.

  “So,” I said. “Tell me more about your dad.”

  Dillard gave me a look that intrigued me, it was almost like a half smile, half frown. “Why? What are you trying to find out about me?”

  “Where you come from.”

  “White suburban California.”

  I laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I’m Mexican and I grew up in white suburban California too. That means nothing.” I nudged his arm. “What’s your family like?”

  He sat for a moment, gently kicking his feet in the water and causing small splashes to crash against the rock. “My mom was from Indiana. She was a wedding photographer. She passed away when I was fourteen.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, smiling weakly. “I mean, I’m accustomed to it now, that she’s gone, but I still miss her a lot.”

  “What was she like?”

  He rested his hands on the ground behind him and leaned into them. He stared up at the moon, like I had earlier, and he was grinning. “She was… magical. She read books about dragons and dwarves and daring princesses. She decorated the whole house in bright colors and she was always playing Celtic music. Always. I never saw her frown, not once in my life. Not even in the hospital before she died. She smiled at me and my brothers and said, ‘This isn’t even the end, so don’t be sad.’”

  I smiled at him. “She sounds wonderful. I wish I could have met her.”

  “I wish you could have too,” he said, glancing at me. “She would have loved you.”

  “How so?”

  He smiled. “I can just tell. You’re sweet and articulate and so pretty. And really, really smart.” He grinned wider. “And she really loved people who try to be funny but don’t quite reach the bar.”

  I frowned. “Yeah, it’s not one of my better qualities.”

  He was still smiling. “But I like it.”

  I could feel myself blushing again.

  “Well, what about your dad?” I asked quickly. “How did they meet?”

  He laughed. “Asking all the big questions, are we?” He sat up again. “They met in a coffee shop. He says he was mesmerized by her bewitching blue eyes and he was so distracted by them he almost didn’t notice when she spilled her entire cup of hot coffee all over his suit. He was in college at the time and was on his way to a mock trial. He missed it because they spent the next three hours talking at a table in that very coffee shop.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never understood it, but somehow they worked well together. She was creative and passionate, he was rigid and driven by order. But they loved each other, there’s no ques
tion.” He sighed, turning to me again. “What about yours?”

  “Mine?”

  “Your family. Your parents.”

  I frowned. “A lot like yours. My mother was the wild, colorful one. She met my father in French class their junior year of high school.” I laughed. “They were a match made in Hell. They shouldn’t have worked. But they did.” He smiled at me. I lay down and let my hair brush the grass growing at the edge of the rocks. “My mom was the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. She had these deep brown eyes that saw everything and this gorgeous long hair that I could only hope to have inherited. And the most amazing smile. She could say so many things with that smile. ‘You’re in trouble, Heaven,’ or ‘I’m gonna hug you, Heaven,’ she didn’t even have to say it, because you could read it in her lips.” I ran a hand across my stomach, snagging my fingernail on a stray fiber of my red cotton tank top. Dillard turned on his side and rested his cheek in his palm, staring at me. “My dad liked to read the newspaper and watch Golden Girls in his underwear. He was quirky, to say the least,” I laughed.

  “Golden Girls?” Dillard laughed.

  Hearing him repeat it made me laugh even harder. “Yes,” I said between giggles. “It made him laugh so hard he would get coughing fits. ‘Now those are women,’ he would say to me. ‘Funny and independent.’” I fell silent. “Those are the kinds of things I remember most about them. The little stuff.”

  He nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  I looked at him. “Do you miss him? Dale?”

  “All the time.” He glanced down. “He was stupid and selfish, but he was my best friend. We grew up together.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He placed his hand over mine. “You should stop saying sorry for things you didn’t do and had no control over, Heaven.”

  I sighed. “Somebody should apologize for all the awful things that happen to us,” I said. “Might as well be me.”

  Before I knew it, Dillard had leaned down and kissed me. Something in my stomach took flight. His lips were so soft and he tasted like tomatoes and pepper. He ran his hand down my arm and I shivered. He sat up again and he was smiling.