HYMN OF THE RAIN

Growling Matineé

There are only 3 slices of pies left. The ice tea in our glasses is nearly empty.

Jo is finally out of Harry's room, announcing that the little boy is sleeping soundly.

"How did you put him to sleep?"

"I read him some books." Jo glances at me and sends a thankful smile.
Mary seems to catch it because she soon thanks me.

"The next time you come, I hope you don't bring anything," she pats my shoulder, "Next time I'll cook you something."

"You don't have to, Mary, really."

"I insist." she grins, before turning to look at Jo, "I hope you'll give me further notice before she comes next time," then Mary looks at me again, "He didn't even tell me there'd be a guest until when he's going out to get you."

"Okay, Mom. You have your point." Jo sheepishly attempts to silence her from telling more details, "It's getting late, I should get her home."

"Alright," his mother stands up, dusting herself off, "I hope you'll come to visit again next time, Sasha."

"I'd love to."

She gladly ushers us to the door, before bidding us goodbye.

The sky is getting darker every minute. As I get on Jo's bike, I cast one last look at the building.

The cars are pouring into the main streets and thankfully Jo is free to swerve through each obstacle swiftly.

"Your mom is lovely."

"Yeah?"

"Harry too. Thanks for letting me visit them."

He looks at me from his shoulder for a second with a smile, "Thanks for the pie and the books. Harry loves them."

"No problem. I hope it helps so he's not too bored."

"The guy loves to sleep. All he does is eat, sleep, and read every day."

I sigh, "Perks of still being a little kid. You don't have to think anything else."

"Agreed. If I can have that just for a day, I would do it."

"I can't imagine you lounging on bed for a whole day, hardworking Joseph."

"Then you don't know me good enough yet, Blue. I used to do nothing but play games all the time."

"You've grown out of it?"

"Yeah, and since my Dad left then I'm the main man to support the family. He doesn't leave us with a lot of money to survive from even if he occasionally sends us some."

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he shrugs, "I'm used to it now. At least he still has the heart to send something to us even when he doesn't come home anymore."

"Where did he go?"

"He got the wrong friends, I guess. All he does is gamble and drink. Even when he still lives with us he isn't home often."

"Then one day he just left?"

"Yep. I think he's a bit guilty about the whole thing - that's why he still sends money. It's rare, though, it probably only happens when he's sober."

I bite my lip, confused as to what to respond to that. A few seconds later I speak up, "I hope he can come home one day."

"That'd be a miracle," I hear a hint of sadness in his voice despite not seeing his eyes, "How about your Dad? I didn't see him often."

"He's gone."

"Ah, oh. Shoot, I'm sorry."

I laugh, "No worries. It's fine."

"I didn't mean to come off like that..."

"I know," I keep the tiniest hint of a smile as if that'll be enough to prevent sadness from creeping into my chest, "It's been a long time so I'm a bit used to it now I guess."

"What happened?"

"Traffic accident. He was cycling then he got hit by a car."

"I'm so sorry." silence falls for a few moments, "How old were you?"

"I was still little. Got the news when I was at school so yeah... it sucks."

We fall silent. A lot of things regarding what happened claw my mind again and I bet it's the same for Jo.

Losing a parent to no matter what reason it is can never be easy. And even when we say it's fine, it's been years, it's never alright.

We're just accustomed to the fact that we've lost them. Or sometimes even not at all - but we can't parade our sadness, can we?

"Well, at least we still have the others." I pull a smile, throwing away the grief which has been lingering onto me for a while. If not, I know we'd be spending the rest of the ride home in silence.

And I don't really want that to happen.

"Yeah," he thoughtfully agrees, "I'm thankful for them."

Silence falls again and this time he's the one breaking it.

"Do you want to eat something?"

"Ice cream?"

He chuckles, "That's not exactly a proper dinner."

"Then what do you want? You're the one who knows the good food around town."

"You think so?" he smiles in amusement as he glances at me, "I'm thinking pasta."

"That's a great idea."

"Your mom won't mind if you skip dinner at home again?"

"She adores you," I roll my eyes at the thought of mom persisting Jo to have dinner with us, "It doesn't matter if I do."

He laughs, "I should drop by and say hi then."

"Please don't. You'll regret it."

"Why not?"

He takes it to a quieter street than the main roads. People are walking on the sidewalks, while occasionally some cars and some motorcycles will drive through.

We're finally here at the food district in our town.

Our senses are being attacked by different smells of food from all around the corner.

"I can't say the details, but trust me on this one. I'm trying to help you out here."

He finally stops his bike in front of an Italian diner.

From the outside, I thought there wouldn't be as many people inside. But instead, the small place is almost full of hungry customers while the waiters and the waitresses are busy assisting one table to the other.

"How long?"

Jo is talking to one of the waiters and he is told we should wait for a few moments.

"15 minutes."

He turns to look at me, "You good with that?"

"I don't mind."

And so the waiting game begins.