Unrequited

Chapter. 2

I’ve finished my sandwich and Gale finished---more like devoured---hers too. We were on our way to school---walking because Gale likes to walk----me holding her bag, because I’d like to be considered a gentleman.

It’s raining and Gale, she’s holding the umbrella---she always wants to hold the umbrella, something about feeling comfortable, I don’t know for sure, she never delves into details----and I crotch down a little, I’m crouching the whole time, even as we walk, I don’t complain though. With Gale, I never do.

It’s funny how the rain always reminds people of something, someone. And I’m no different.

I stare at the ground, at how my feet are stumping the puddles beneath. It’s amazing how all these rain, the rain I’m stumping, I’m squashing, they all….They’re all just little tiny droplets that formed together to be this big puddle choking, enwrapping, making a cocoon around my feet. I look up at the sky, at how they fall fast and kind of….Kind of sad, hurried, in a way. I look at the ground again, at the collection of droplets of water and realize that maybe it isn’t the rain itself that makes people remember, but it’s more of what rain symbolizes, mostly it symbolizes

gloom

But not really, it symbolizes happiness too and I guess it’s quite a wonder how rain, is just really tiny droplets, pellets, make up a big part of people’s lives. Like how, maybe some people had their first kiss in the rain, or maybe someone’s mum got cured of cancer and it was raining then and it was the reminder of that miraculous day, but people always associate rain with gloom.

 Just like tears they’re also just pellets, small drops, but these small drops, like tears, are big things, are so much more.

People often see rain as something well….Something to remember car accidents by, or deaths, or break ups and yeah, that happens too, but I think it’s so unfair to see only that.

In people also, there’ll always be something bad about them, something mean and manipulative and impure, and most of the time, that’s what we see, but we shouldn’t. We should see how some people can be caring and nice in small ways, like how some people smile at us, or ask us about our day and I don’t know why we always take these things for granted.

Because well, they’re important…How do you expect to live in a world where people didn’t smile at you? Didn’t ask you how you were? Or how your day was? Or maybe didn’t reminded you that, ‘hey, your shoelaces are untied’?

“Flynn, watcha thinking about?” Gale asked, touching, maybe even creasing, my hand a bit. She touched my hand, but I don’t….I mean, I….I don’t feel a spark. I love Gale and she completes me, but it is beyond me why I don’t feel a spark, maybe…..Maybe because sparks are fictitious, fictional thinks created by hopeless-romantic-sigh-I-want fairytale-love people. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason.

But a part of me is not quite convinced.

“Oh you know….How it’s raining and um stuff.” I say, wanting to slap myself on the forehead and vomit at the same time. Why can’t I ever know what to say?

Gale is so bubbly and all sunshine and she’s such a morning person that sometimes…Well actually all the time, I feel nervous, insecure even. I guess people always take for granted that we guys too experience these two emotions and yeah we do want to be tough, but no one….No one’s always tough, even guys.

I don’t say much and most of the time I don’t know what to do and I don’t know the right things to say. I never know the right things to say.

I feel like…I don’t have to ask, I shouldn’t ask, because If people wanted me to know something, they’ll tell me, but I’m also caught up with the fact that sometimes….Sometimes people want you to ask, because that makes it feel like you care. People are so confusing and sometimes I think I know people, sometimes I think I don’t and I just…I don’t know what to do, I’m not a people person, never was, but Gale….Gale knows, always, always knows what to do and what to say and people like her…A lot. Me? Well, maybe people like me just fine, but a part of me is paranoid everyone doesn’t…I mean, what’s to like?

“Oh.” Gale says, “Well, I don’t like the rain. Rain is so sad, you know?”

“Right,” I say, because what could I have said? I didn’t want to sound weird and even more awkward than I already am by making a big speech about the rain.

I’m also kind of upset, maybe even—in the deep, dark recess of my mind---angry because Gale finds rain sad, but it was raining when we first met.

It was raining and she was rushing home, she was running, but not really---I now know that Gale thinks running makes you seem less graceful---she didn’t want to be late for supper---that’s just how she is, how perfect and amazing and awesome she is---and she well….She slipped and she was on the verge of tears and she felt embarrassed and so I…

I intentionally slipped because I thought she was so beautiful and I didn’t want to see her cry---even if I didn’t know her then---and me being a big guy, well people noticed me instead of noticing that she slipped and they laughed at me and some even said, ‘dude, you’re too old to wet your pants.’ And then they laughed some more. Gale laughed too, but not because she thought the joke was funny or because she was laughing at me, but because she knew I did it intentionally, that I slipped for her.

She helped me stand up and since that day on we’ve been inseparable.