Rain

Oh how sad, how relentless it is.

I wrote this sitting outside of my front porch, locked out of my own house. It was raining, it was cold, and I knew you were inside. You said you were out, somewhere far away, but I could hear the scuttling around you do in the kitchen. It was cold, so most probably you were boiling water in the kettle. I could see your face, staring blankly at your phone.

Where were you?

You were next to me.

It was raining that day too, heavily, the kind of rain that drown out thoughts and words. We were together, trying to piece the words back together. In front of us was two women, one was rather short, one was really tall, both was gorgeous.

- Take a look at the taller one. - I said to you. She let her long, black hair out, and would lean on her chair whenever she laughed.

- What should we call her? - You asked.

- Anything. A name is a sign. It doesn’t mean anything.

- I’ll call her X, and the other one Y.

- You know what, you understand nothing of him. You’re going to ruin yourself for him. I beg you, don’t fall in love with him. - Y said.

- I won’t. I’m not stupid… But he’s kind, and very smart. Maybe I’d learn something from him. - X answered, holding and smelling a flower.

- What could you ever learn from a man? All they ever want is to get you laid, whispering sweet nothings into your ears. We’re the ones deluding ourselves that it’s love. And poof, you’re ruined. - Y scowled.

- You didn’t have to be so mean. - X let out a sigh.

They were silent, and the rain could be heard lambasting the roof.

- He writes poems you know, and he read them with a voice so low, so sweet, it’s indescribable.

- Poems, poems, poems. Any man who’s ever lived wrote poems when they try to woo you. They’ve been writing them since they were apes, for thousands of years already.

- What’s wrong with you today? Let me ask you, were you happy when you got married? - X refuted.

- I… I guess. But my husband’s an arsehole anyway. I know he was lying to anyone he’s ever met. I’ve no idea what I saw in him.

X smiled, leaning once again on her chair.

- Can I have a cig? I can’t smoke when my husband’s around. He’d beat me if he knew I was still smoking. - Y pleaded

- You brought it upon yourself. I told you he was an arsehole. - X gloated.

- I hate him. I’ve never seen an honest word out of his mouth. But what can I do. I’m ruined. Soon I will bear his kids, and got cancer, and died alone. I accept that. But you, I beg you, don’t fall in love with him.

- I told you I won’t. I’m not stupid.

- Swear it. Swear you won’t fall in love with him. I beg you!

You were getting uncomfortable.

- Why is she so against love? - You asked.

- Don’t be hasty now. Such a woman like X won’t do something so preposterous as swearing not to fall in love with a man. - I answered.

Y lit her cigarette.

- I won’t be swearing anything, and you can’t make me. - X was laughing at her friend’s irrationality.

- Do you just not understand how horrible of a man he is? Whatever he wants, he gets. No matter the cost.

- I know.

- I KNOW him. He despised Man. A man like that won’t respect anyone.

- But he’s been so kind to me. And he’s quite handsome.

- He’s nice to everyone! He’s lying to you. A man that disrespects Life itself. Have you not seen how he spends his money? He could outspend a country in matter of minutes.

- But his poems are so interesting.

- Why is it always poems with you. That head of yours is going to stuck on the clouds if you don’t come down right now. I’ve seen him just sitting around, doing nothing for six hours Six hours! Imagine the things you could be doing in six hours!

- What’s wrong with doing nothing?

Silence. Rain.

- I beg you, please. Do you not understand how a relationship with such a man would go? - Y pleaded.

- No. How can I?

- He will ruin you. He will only do what he wants. He will bring you shame.

- Shame how?

- Do you live only for yourself? What about your parents, your friends, your coworkers. What will they think of him?

- My mom won’t like him one bit.

- Now you’re getting me! He care not for them, laugh at them even. I forbid you from falling in love with him!

- But his poems… They are so interesting, so strange.

They went on, as was the rain

- What is love? - You asked.

- No one knows. - I answered, honestly.

- Why would you write poems when you’re in love?

- Love sprouts talent.

- Talents are useless.

- Nothing is useless.

- Then talent is nothing. How sad is life.

- That’s why we love.

- Of the two, X and Y, who is happy?

- One of them lost happiness. The other is on the verge of losing happiness.

- Who is the man they were talking about?

- I don’t know.

- Is he a carpenter, a farmer, a tailor?

- I don’t know.

- Maybe he’s an artist. He writes poems.

- I can write poems, but I’m not an artist.

- But I want to know who he is.

- We’ll never know.

Rain. It was still raining. I could see your face, staring blankly at the kettle. You’re far a way from me now. It’s been six hours. I’ve been writing this for six hours, sitting out on the porch of my own flat for six hours. Six hours. The man was sitting around, doing nothing for six hours. That charlatan.

Where are you? When will you be back?