"I'm singin' in the rain
Just singin' in the rain,
What a glorious feeling,
And I'm happy again.
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark, up above,
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love."
-Singing in the Rain, Frank Sinatra
*****
I have always loved walking in the rain. The feeling of the wetness flow through my hair, the torrents of cold water wash over my being and through my fingers. Nothing like it. Right from when I was a kid, I was probably the only guy in New York who actually looked forward to a rainy day, not just to skip school. I strolled down alleys and streets watching everybody struggle with their umbrellas or scurry to get some cover. It never made sense to me as I strode leisurely through the sleet, feeling cool and refreshed like never before.
My sister loved it as well. Jacqueline, Jackie for me, loved to prance with me. With no one else on the streets, it was like our city. Just for the two of us. The rain never bothered us in the least as we hopped from puddle to puddle and stuck out our tongues to taste the rain.
Being orphaned at a very young age, we were all the family we had. Our foster parents were nice enough but I was the only real confidante she had. Likewise for me. We laughed, we cried, we sang and danced and grew up inseparable, like two peas in a pod. There was this special connection between us that we could never quite define or describe in words, an intangible bond of nature which made us two halves of a puzzle. Incomplete without each other. Of course, I never ever looked at her with an iota of lust.
Kindergarten, junior school, middle school and high school rushed past us in a vivid blur of colour. Soon, it was time for us to move out of our adopted home. I bought a studio loft in Soho to pursue my dream as a graphic novelist while Jackie went to Fordham to become a lawyer. I let her stay with me whenever she wanted. After a while, she got a job as a junior associate at Larkin & Smith and got an apartment of her own. We got together every once in a while for a meal.
Of course, we never lost our love for the rain.
We were in my loft once when she saw the weather forecast for heavy rains later in the day. She gave me a knowing smile and I got up and picked up my car keys. We rushed through the traffic to Central Park. The weather was still bright and sunny, but it would change. We went to our favourite clearing between the dense foliage and waited patiently.
The skies gradually darkened as storm clouds hid the sun. The few people we saw left in a hurry, not wanting to be caught outdoors when the skies opened up. We waited expectantly staring up at Mother Nature's dark grey visage. The air was heavy with anticipation and then it happened.
The first fat droplet of water hit me squarely on my face. It felt cold. Then two more hit me at once. Soon, there were so many of them hitting me. I turned to see Jackie was enjoying herself as well. The clouds were bulging, bursting to the seams with their precious cargo. We stared upwards hungrily almost willing them to explode and drown us in a massive deluge of water. We got our wish.
Rains in New York get heavy ridiculously fast. Within five minutes, we were soaking wet as streams of water cascaded down from the sky and battered the green grass. This was nature at its most beautiful as she unfurled her entire bounty at us.
We laughed so hard that day. Holding each other's hands, we skipped through the park. The undulating green grass was soon heavy with moisture as more fell. I chased her through trees and she smiled at me- that perfect smile from that perfect soul which adorned that perfect face. Jackie was perfection personified.
That day we laughed harder than we ever laughed. We played, we ran, we had a ball- if only our relationship could have stayed that way forever, if only.
It was a chilly November evening when it happened. I was drawing a piece for my latest exhibition, when I heard a knock on my door. Curiously, I opened my door, expecting my editor or publisher or maybe a friend. I was not prepared for what I saw.
Jackie stood in the hallway. She seemed hurriedly dressed and her face looked so different from the last time I remembered it. Their were several wet streaks down her cheeks and her mascara was messed up beyond recognition. Her tousled hair hung around her face in a cluttered mess and her red eyes looked at me with earnest pleading. Something was grossly wrong.
I opened my arms and she literally lunged at my chest and clasped her hands firmly around me. The force behind her hug took me aback. I had never seen her this emotional. I put my arms around her and held on tightly as well. For the next minute or so that was all we did. She sobbed copiously into my chest, her words rendered incoherent by the tears. I just hugged her harder and told her everything was going to be okay in my most reassuring tone.