She Loved the Rain

Darkness cradles me as I drift through subconscious thoughts. It's not cold, yet neither is it comforting. It's like a threadbare blanket whose only purpose is to remind me that I exist.

I don't mind it. It suits me.

I float in it for eons—time has no purchase here. My body just breathes in the void, living, being, as numbness caresses my limbs. It's a nice feeling, despite the paradox of the statement.

That is, until jumbled images from the previous day weave in and out of my mind's eye like a janky projector. I curl in on myself to block it out, to not feel—

Clear sky, dark coffee, empty table.

—But it's too late. I blink, and I'm sucked into it. 

The void is gone, and in its place is a mundane scene. Morning noise drifts in through the window.

Looking down, I take a sip of the caffeine in my hands to warm me, not eager for its taste. I linger on its notes briefly though, since while I've never been one for the bitterness, today is an annual exception—the third one so far at that.

I briefly glimpse the seat across from me, harshly vacant, before withdrawing. Instead, I down the coffee to distract myself, and the world shifts around me.

I'm no longer sitting, but walking.

Grey street, cool breeze, dark hours.

My clothes are ruffled as I cross the divide of the road, heading for my floral destination. I only really visit three times a year, but the route is simple enough to remember from when I only visited twice.

Cars whiz past in shades of monochrome, and while the clouds are beginning to form overhead, I know there's enough time for me to visit from the humidity in the air. It was the same type of weather she always liked to stroll in despite her sunny demeanor.

However, the scene shifts again before I even have the time to appreciate it. My eyes shut close, hoping it'd stop, that I'd just have another moment.

It doesn't.

"…" The world shifts.

I feel the breeze fluster my skirt, and I can sense I'm somewhere else now. I don't want to acknowledge it, but I know I'll have to eventually. So, begrudgingly, I open my eyes, already knowing what I'll likely see.

Dark sky, white petunias, grey headstone.

"…" I was right.

The wind tussles my hair, and I turn the bouquet in my hand. It's rather pretty, although only a fraction of what she'd been. 

Not having anything else to do, I place her favorite flowers down, my soul shrinking. The cruel image of delicate petals on granite burns into my eyes until my heart can't take any more, and I have to acknowledge it.

It hurts.

Rain begins to fall, disguising my tears.

I try to stand tall for a minute—I was always the 'strong' one after all. However, it quickly becomes too much, and my heart becomes concrete.

I apologize to her and collapse to the ground, desperately running my fingers over the smooth stone as if it'd somehow bring her back.

"Why?"

Our first meeting on school grounds, our confession in the library, our fluttering dance in gowns across the stage. All of it flashes through me.

Moving in together despite our unreadiness, slowly sharing more and more of myself until even my heart is in her hands, and then, walking down the aisle, souls bound together under white.

Awkward laughter, cringy winks, hugs from behind, pats on forehead. The brown eyes and dimpled smile that offered all those to me appear once more, as if to say, 'Don't cry'.

…Yet Talia isn't here to stop me. Not anymore.

The rain soaks through my blouse, but I don't care. The wind chills me, but I don't care. Her phantom hugs me, but I DON'T CARE.

I claw out at the void, desperately wanting this to end—EVERYTHING to end.

I sob into the earth, asking why I'd never get to see her face again, to hear her voice.

"WHY?!"

***

*BZZT, BZZT!* *BZZT, BZZT!*

*♫ 'Over hill, and under tree. Through lands where never light has shone…'♫*

"…"

"Nng."

My damp eyelids struggle to lift themselves to view the soft beige of my room, but eventually, I manage. They're still sore from my crying yesterday, so I try not to irritate them too much as I wipe wetness and sleep from them.

Light is streaming in from the bedroom window. It's quiet, save for the phone.

It's morning already, huh?

A part of me wants to go back to sleep—to forget the ache in my chest and go back to numbness until another year has gone by, but my other hand is vibrating, and that's not something I can just ignore.

I groan, then sit up in the sheets, scanning the lit-up screen of the device.

>───⇌••⇋───<

| 'UNKNOWN CALLER' |

>───⇌••⇋───<

"Stupid scam calls."

My finger moves to end it, but I hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon as the situation clears itself.

Hold on, this isn't my phone.

Confused, I turn it over in my hand to check the case. It's clear with a pink bevel around the border, and a photo of me lifting Talia secured to the inside.

I sigh.

That's right, I fell asleep looking through her phone last night, didn't I?

Who the heck is calling her though?

The feisty metal box shakes me as it continues, screaming urgency despite the calmness of the ringtone.

I resign myself, turning it back over to accept the call, cursing myself for being too sentimental to end our shared cell contract together. It better not be a waste of my time.

"Hello, who's this?" I mutter, ready to end things at the first sign of phishing.

"…Mandy, is that you?"

"!" My brows drop in anger at the feminine voice, hands ready to snap the phone if it didn't mean so much to me. It feels unearned, sacrilegious! NOBODY alive uses that name anymore!

"Who the hell is this?! And why are you calling Talia's phone?"

I get no response at first, but a few moments later, the voice resumes a little shaky but still somehow cheery.

"Erm, I guess you could say we're acquainted? S-sorry, I didn’t mean to make you grumpy. I was just trying to relay a message."

My emotions simmer down a notch on hearing that. For some reason, the way she talks is calming, although I suppose it makes sense if she and Talia were acquainted. With the exception of me, Talia always surrounded herself with those kinds of people.

I grip the phone to my chest to calm down even more, remembering the breathing exercises she taught me. Then, I respond back.

"Sorry, just got a bit heated. Haven't heard the name in a while and… it's special. So please, I ask if you don't use it for me."

"Apologies, didn't think that through, erm, Amanda. I'll try not to use it if I can help it."

My shoulders slump as I plop myself down back on the mattress, already feeling exhausted. It was good that it probably wasn't a scam, but now I'm curious again.

"Thanks. Anyway, why are you calling? You said you had a message?"

"Yes, although I'd say it's more of a request." A pause. "Do you… still have some of her coffee and popcorn?"

I blink in confusion.

"Erm, sort of? I have some of her coffee, but… I ate the last of her popcorn stash yesterday. Why? Did you want to know the brand or something?"

I try to rationalize it in my head. Some of her friends had taken to partaking in my annual ritual with me as a way to honor her as well, although they already knew what she liked. If this girl was her friend, then why'd she have to ask?

She responds as I think. "I was more going to ask if you could, uh, bring some to her grave. I know it's a weird request, but could you humor me, please?"

I squint at the phone. She obviously knew Talia enough to know about her two vices, and the request was harmless enough, but there was something off with it.

I play along for now. "Eh, maybe? I wish you'd called yesterday though. It would've been more fitting for her birthday."

I think I can make out a giggle of sorts in response, and it's strangely… warming?

"Fair enough. In any case, if you can, would you also be able to do it today? I can't really tell you why, but it's pretty important to me that you do so… please?"

"…" I'd like to be just like Talia and immediately accept the request, but I couldn't—still way too cynical for that. I needed to at least know who was asking, especially with the abruptness of the ask.

"Sorry, but uh, who is this again?"

"…" Another pause, this time much longer, as if the woman on the other end was thinking hard about the answer.

I frown, briefly tossing around the idea of just ending the call since she's hesitating, but before it gets any more purchase, she responds.

"Please do this… for me, Amanda."

The call ends before I can say anything. It didn't feel one-sided though, like when you hang up the phone. Rather, it was like a conversation had run its course and another topic had popped up to replace it.

"…" I stare at the phone in my hand, looking at the empty screen—

*plop*

A droplet lands on the glass, having trailed down from my cheek.

"…"

When did I start crying again?