Rain Boy

*RB // one

Jem Wall

I had never liked the rain. Similarly, I had never really liked my family.

A 'selfish' thought, most people would say, but it couldn't be helped. My mother had a way of showing me how much she wanted to take back my existence, my father cared to cherish nothing apart from money and my other relatives knew better than to associate themselves with people like us - a broken family.

Everyone else was so unfathomably perfect and happy. Why was it just me? Rina, the only cousin of mine that I'd met, had three little brothers she took care of dearly and parents that loved each other enough to actually smile at the sight of the other's face.

It would be nice if my parents greeted me in the mornings and blessed me with a home-made breakfast everyday. It would be nice if they cared whether I got home safe or not after a day of school and classes.

My 'friends' would rant about their parents never letting them stay out late or eat McDonald's, but they wouldn't know what it's like to live off of takeout and return to an empty house after a journey in a car with only a shady driver to keep you company. They wouldn't know what it's like to be sent away because their parents couldn't stand looking at each other anymore.

They would never know what it's like to be me.

Everything was very systematic and predictable at the start - a small (practically empty) suitcase sitting at my feet and a long, uncomfortable journey to a faraway relative's home (I wasn't told which).

Three hours on a car-ride, unsurprisngly, left me buried in thoughts about the rejection I suffered from my own mother and father. And the reason I was even on this three-hour journey was undoubtedly because no other relative, close or distant, had any desire to pick up a call with our number on the other end. I knew that for a fact.

When we arrived at my aunt's at mid-afternoon, there was no welcoming warmth in the atmosphere like in the movies where the Sun would be shining down on the kid whilst he ran up to the aunt he'd supposedly missed so much.

It was no more than emotionless as I greeted my aunt with an empty, incomplete hug that felt more foreign than my parents patting me on the shoulder. I didn't even know her - we had never met before. She told me she knew my father, but that was it. We never talked again.

I found then that I had to sleep in the attic where all the cockroaches and insects hung out. I eventually came to gain their acceptance and got used to the crawling or squeaking sounds.

The bed creaked a lot, too - I could never tell if the screeching was an animal or the bed or both.

I felt kind of like Cinderella, sitting up there with the rodents and watching through the roof's window as the moon shone its light into the attic air. But it didn't feel like I was destined for the same happily-ever-after.

Two days passed by uneventfully and I became sadder and sadder. My parents hadn't called at all to check on me. My classmates probably weren't worried about my absence - no one ever noticed me when I was actually present.

On the third day, it rained. Heavily.

The drops came down like bullets and the sky had gone very dark, the muffled pitters and patters filling the air, drowning out the dead-silence for a while.

That same rainy morning, I walked out into the rain. It was odd since I really did hate the rain, but something about feeling the rainwater run down my cheeks that day made me feel stronger so I could hold back the tears.

I had cried the nights before, weeping all alone in that dark, dusty attic under an old rag of a blanket. The rain took the place of my tears and calmed my mind whilst I sat on the front steps of my aunt's house. It was like having a shower, but much more peaceful and natural. The streets were empty and the atmosphere was the best I'd ever had - no people and nothing to disturb my mind.