It was one of those late spring afternoons that slapped you upside the head and told you summer was on its way. The heat was almost unbearable, and only the canopy of the broad oak we sat under offered any comfort.
"Ryan? Are you ok?" Melissa asked.
"Yeah. It's just really hot out here," I responded.
"Its all that blonde hair. Makes all the peroxide in the world jealous. It can't bleach your hair so it escapes into the air and messes with the ozone and boils your brain in retribution. So, it's all your fault." Through it all my sister wore a wry smile. It was comfortable on her mouth, spent a lot of time there, after all. It might time share with a frown, but it was the definite usual tenant.
"You're just jealous." I tended toward being morose. Dry humor doesn't work as well if you're grinning from ear to ear.
She had grabbed her blue braid from behind her head and waggled the end of it at me, saying, "I, at least, have the good sense to hide my natural color from other people. Good thing for you, too. No one would believe you're my brother if I didn't cover up my dull brown color!"
A smile slipped past my defenses. To cover, I leaned back, slightly, on the picnic table we sat across from each other at, and put my feet up on the opposite seat. We'd been coming to this park for years, across from our dad's house. Where our dad moved after the divorce. Our childhood had been a two weekends a month, two months a summer, extravaganza of daddiness. Dad had a good bit of money. He liked spending it on us. I never thought he was actually wanting to shower Mel and I with goodies, more like he wanted mom to know exactly what she was missing.
"I thought Dad was going to forbid you entrance to the house. You know how stuffy he can be."
"I'm an adult, Ryan. So are you, now!"
"I only just graduated high school, Mel."
"Yeah, well, I just graduated college and it only took me five years."
"It was that year in Ireland."
Melissa smiled. "Not my fault the credits didn't transfer. Professor Advisor told me they would."
This time I actually did laugh, a barking sort thing that attracted much attention from a small band of miniature excavators in the sandbox nearby. Shovels in hand, they peered at me with thoughtful stares until the apparent foreman, with her pig tails tied up in little pink bows, thwapped her plastic shovel on the construction sight and said something that had her co-workers digging furiously.
"Wait until they figure out what the pay scale is. Then they'll stop moving so fast," I said aloud softly.
"Ryan? Dear? I love you, but you know you've got to either let your sister in on the joke or keep it to yourself."
I shook my head clearing my thoughts. I looked at her and picked up the conversation where I'd left it, "The only reason you called him that is because his English was lousy and his name so foreign you couldn't pronounce it. How could you expect him to know what a credit was, let alone that they would transfer?"
"Good grief, Ryan! Ok, try this. Say after me: Ireland."
"Ireland." I relished it, my body sang and my tongue danced a Meposian dance of happiness. A far away look that took me far away from the picnic table.
"Yes. Exactly, brother." Glancing at her watch, she suddenly jumped up. "I need to get going. Stanley's performing down at the pub and I've got to get a shower."
Stanley was Melissa's Fuck of the Month. She went through men like some people went through changes of underwear. Really smelly hippie type people who lived in the woods for months at a time, all alone, but still. The longest physical relationship she'd ever had was with Mr. Pointy, her vibrator. That I knew that much about my own sister told you what kind of a free-spirit my sister and mother were. How our father ended up having any kids, let alone two, was sort of a mystery to all of us. He didn't have relationships so much as business arrangements with live-in financial partners.
"So I'm alone again tonight, Mel?"
"You'll have Dad and what's-her-face here."
"So I'm alone again tonight, Mel?" I repeated, smiling slightly.
"If you don't want to be alone, find a friend, silly." She stuck her tongue out at me and ran towards the street. The light green hippie skirt she wore flowed behind her like water. When she reached the street she paused, waiting for some cars to pass, looked around, then lifted up her skirt and mooned me. She wore a thong bikini under her skirt, but she waggled her butt at me a for a few shakes, and then pretended she was just hiking them up for a run, and rushed across the three way intersection.
I watched people bob up and down in the public swimming pool, laughing and spraying each other, and could not help but feel a sudden stab of loneliness. A little sparrow flew onto the table in front of me, surprising me slightly. I watched as it pecked at a gap between two boards, looking for something. A sudden breeze made me look up, and the sudden movement caused the bird to fly away.
That day was probably the first where I discovered that lightning really doesn't require the sky to be filled with clouds. Its sudden closeness forced screams from the people in the pool, and a mass exodus for cover. Everyone looked around waiting for the crash. The air hung heavy, we knew we'd seen the light, we felt the hairs stand on the end of our arms, and just when we thought it must have been our imagination, a thunderous CRACK shook us to the bone. A couple of people fell over with the sudden force of it. A dark cloud seemed to almost materialize overhead, and it seemed everyone was rushing for their cars.
I admit my indecisiveness. Scanning the park, I tried to decide what to do. Should I run for the large picnic shelter or chance heading to the house twice as far away? Then I saw the sheet of water heading for me. It was like a curtain of heavy, sparkling Niagara Falls heading straight for me. I ran for the picnic shelter, reaching it just in time to only get slightly wet. Oddly enough, everyone else was headed for other shelters, even passing the one I was under completely. I couldn't see much of the park at all, and could barely make out the street, where the torrential downpour had forced traffic to a standstill.
Already, the streets were flooding, and water was running in small rivers in the park, quickly turning dry earth to a soupy mud. I marveled at it. It wasn't every day you saw a sight like this. I watched the direction it had come from, looking for a break in Mother Nature's faucet, and saw someone actually walking through the rain. Not just walking. Strolling. Not a care in the world. In fact, as she got closer, I realized she was singing. I couldn't make out the words until she had almost reached the shelter, but I realized it was the song, "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head". She smiled at me as she calmly stepped out of the rain.
She was beautiful, her long dark hair shimmering in the light, like a raven in flight. The smile rode her round face from cheek to dimpled cheek without effort. Eyes like little jade gems floating in little bowl of milk occasionally hid behind half-closed lids. I drank in her body like a drowning man gasping for air. I was done for. I just didn't know it yet.
She was barefoot, and wore a sleeveless tie-dyed t-shirt that was cut off just below her breasts. Over that was a set of overalls that had their legs hacked off with something sharp. Or maybe a dull river rock. This girl seemed like the type to get something done once she set her mind to it. She shook her hair out, and that's when I realized that she was barely damp.
Her eyebrows raised slightly, "Are you ok?" That beautiful face moved toward me slightly as she paused, watching me carefully.
I nodded awkwardly. A smell hit my nose, a damp musty rain dampened scent mixed with lilacs and stuff that left my brain slightly fuzzy.
"Good. You ever dance in a rainstorm?" The smile was back.
I shook my head.
"People used to worship rain like this." She seemed to getting excited, her words rushing past her lips. "They'd baptize themselves in it, marking the start of something glorious and new. It's magical. Rhiannon. Call me Rhia." She grabbed my wrist. "Your turn."
"Ryan. I'm Ryan."
"You're Ryan, I'm dying." She laughed at that, and tugged on my wrist. "Come on. Let's dance."