It's raining darling

"It's raining, darling," I say, turning to Laure. She smiles at me and nods, "You'll have to hurry or you'll get to your training session soaking wet," I say. She nods too. Laure was born mute, and although her parents thought she was deaf at first, in reality she hears very well, her hearing is above average.

It's raining really hard, so I hand Laure my umbrella with an encouraging smile. "Take it, I'll be back later. You can't afford to be late for your training session," I tell her. We're both in the town library. I've come to get some inspiration for my novel and Laure wanted to come with me.

As she walks away, I wave at her. We've been together for three weeks now and I still can't believe she agreed. I was so afraid of jeopardising our friendship by confessing my feelings to her. 

I glance out of the window and see that the rain has finally eased off. Then I glance at the clock in front of me and realise that I've been lost in thought for longer than I thought - it's already 6pm and Laure's training session finishes in thirty minutes. So I decide to buy some takeaway food for her and myself, as I have done every Saturday for the last three years. At the moment, Laure is stressed because of her upcoming dance competition, which could be decisive for her professional future. Although I understand her stress, I'm concerned about the pressure she's under from her coach and herself.It's starting to rain again, but luckily I soon arrive at the flat. I struggle to unlock the door with the boxes of sushi and rice in my arms; I should have accepted the 20-cent bag the cashier offered me. Finally, I put them down on the living room table and settle down in front of the television, waiting for Laure to come back.

I flicked through the channels until I came across an episode of a children's series. I must have fallen asleep in front of it, because I don't hear Laure come in, I just feel the sofa sag a little to my right. I open my eyes and see Laure smiling at me. I blush and ask her why she's smiling like that; she tells me she thinks I'm cute when I'm asleep. I blush even more and turn towards the table. I clutch our sushi and look up at the TV, the content has changed, it's now showing a programme about brain comas. It's very interesting, apparently a person in a coma can hear us, but very few people can say whether what they heard was real or a dream. Comas can also lead to amnesia, which may or may not be permanent. I'm distracted from the TV by Laure, who rests her head on my shoulder. Her pale skin contrasts with mine. I look at her and see that she has fallen asleep. I lift her gently, trying not to wake her. The ease with which I can carry her worries me. 

I tuck her in and go back into the living room to get rid of her. I noticed on the table that Laure's plate had barely been eaten. So I put the food in the fridge and go to bed, promising myself I'll come back the next morning.

When I wake up, I notice that the seat next to me is cold. Yet I'm usually the first one up. I made my way to the kitchen, but couldn't find Laure. I searched the whole flat for her and finally found her on the balcony. 

The rain had stopped during the night and Laure was looking out over the sleeping city. I slowly approach her. "Can't you sleep?" I ask her. She nods without even looking at me. I sit down beside her and ask her what's wrong. She finally turns her head and quickly signs "It's nothing, I'm just a bit stressed about the competition coming up." Then I remember the day before, her unfinished plate and her worrying weight. I say to her gently: "You know, even if you are stressed, you shouldn't ignore your vital needs." She turns to me with a quizzical look on her face. "I've noticed you're not eating much any more, and I can see by the tired look on your face that you've been awake for a long time," I explain. She bows her head. "We don't have to eat sushi, if you want to watch what you eat, I can cook healthy dishes, you know I've got the time. But please, I beg you, don't skip meals. It won't help you in the competition. On the contrary, you risk fainting from hunger and/or fatigue", I continue. She looks at me and after a moment promises to eat properly. I can see that she's doing it to please me, but I take it as a step forward, however small.
I get up and offer her my hand, she takes it and we go inside. I can feel her shivering with cold, because although it's still September, the weather is beginning to cool and the air is still damp from the rain that fell the day before.
I make myself a coffee while Laure has her tea. The front doorbell rings and I signal to Laure that I'll take care of it. I open the door and see a delivery man, who hands me a parcel with Laure's name on it and leaves. I go back into the kitchen, complaining that he hasn't said hello or goodbye. Laure laughs. I smile when I see that her mood has improved and hand her the parcel. She opens it and takes out the leotard she's ordered to wear the following week for her competition.
While Laure retires to the bedroom to try on her outfit, I get out my computer and open my manuscript. I try to find inspiration, but nothing comes. I go back to the Pinterest board I'd created for the book, I listen to the playlists I've made for the characters, but nothing helps. My patient is starting to get fed up, it's been 6 months since I've made any progress with my story. Just as I was thinking of giving up and deleting my manuscript, I felt Laure's hand rest on my shoulder to comfort me. I turned my head and saw her nodding negatively, as if to tell me not to give up. I stand up, thank her and kiss her. Then I see that she's wearing a leotard. I pulled her back so I could admire her. She does a few dance moves for me. She looks magnificent. I let her know and she blushed.
For the rest of the day, Laure showed me the different choreographies she knew. We didn't talk about food all day, but now that we're having dinner, I'm trying to make sure she eats well. During the night, I hear the sound of crying in the toilet. I go to see what's going on and see Laure standing over the toilet, crying and trying to make herself vomit. I gently approach her from behind and give her a hug. I try to comfort her. "Shh... It's all right, you're fine. It's perfectly normal not to succeed the first time. Relapse is part of recovery. It's like when you're riding a bike, you can fall off, but the most important thing is to get back on. "I whisper in her ear as I guide her into bed.
For the next week, the days are all the same, during the day I go to work in the café down the road while she spends her days training. In the evening, I check on her diet and watch over her until she falls asleep. It doesn't take long, given the state she's in after training.
The competition is on Sunday, so on Saturday, before she leaves for her last training session, I sit her down and ask her: "I know you want to eat healthier. Tonight it's sushi. Which would you prefer: I cook something healthy for us? Or do we just do what we always do? I can see the hesitation in her eyes. After a while, she agrees to continue the sushi tradition. I smile, kiss her, and off we go to the library so that she can read and I can get some inspiration to continue my novel.
Once we arrive, we settle down at our usual table. Laure fetches a book and rests her head on my lap while I open my computer. After 45 minutes, I close my computer and say, "I give up! I'm fed up, I've been writing for over a year, including 6 months without any progress!" Laure shifts in my lap, I lower my head. "Don't look at me like that, it won't change anything", I tell her. Laure straightens up and starts telling me not to give up, that I can't do this and that it would be a big mistake. I know she's right, but I don't feel like arguing right now. I get up, tell her I'll see her tonight and leave.
I walk straight back to the flat without making any detours. Later that evening I get up and go and buy some sushi for tonight. After all, maybe she'll forgive me for reacting the way I did. Like last week, I turn on the TV. I fell asleep at one point.