Iris wakes to a start in the stillness of her bedroom. Keeping her eyes closed, she listens to the rhythm of the rain against the window and roof. It’s a steady downpour now, up from the drizzle she’d been stuck in while on her way home from work, and it’s loud. Somewhere a few apartments down, she can hear the rattle of a drain pipe as it gulps down water.
Back on the East Coast, in the year after college, she’d learned to hate the rain. Every other day had been a mess of overcoats and umbrellas, of wet boots tracking puddles and mud into her home, of skies painted gray like ash. She’d avoided the outdoors as much as she could, but even inside the weather drove her mad. The air was always damp, like a soaked towel pressed against her face, and moisture seeped into drywall to leave sticky patches of mold. The constant rain pattered against the walls of her cheap apartment like some water torture cell, and when she could take no more she would dive under her covers, headphones pressed against her ears, blasting music as if it could drive away the clouds.
But her partner, Alara, loves the rain. She’d been as sad to move to California as Iris had been eager, and the perfect weather of Los Angeles left her longing for overcast days. Early in the summer mornings, clouds would roll in from the ocean onto land, and Alara would stare out the window during breakfast with hope that the gray would linger. It never did. By noon, the clouds would clear up into a vibrant blue sky, and both Alara and Iris would heave sighs—one of disappointment, one of relief.
The sound of the rain brings back bad memories, but the hate isn’t as strong now. Diluted, as if lessened by the water. Iris tells herself that the storm will be gone by tomorrow.
Before she dozes back off, she slides a hand through the sheet to squeeze Alara’s. Her hand isn’t there. She stretches it out further, then frowns. Her fingers find nothing but cold sheets.
She opens her eyes and lets them adjust. The bed is empty beside her. She squints through the dark and sees the door to the room hanging slightly ajar, stopped just before the part where the hinges squeak. Wide enough for someone to slip through.
Iris can’t help but smile. Of course she wouldn’t miss the rain. Iris climbs out of bed and puts one foot on the ground, then another. The floor is freezing. She makes her way across the room and through the door into the living room. At the other end is their sofa, angled slightly to face the window. And there she is.
Alara watches out the window in rapt fascination. The world outside is illuminated by the single glow of a street light. It casts a rippling sheen across the torrents of water that spill from flooded drains and across the road. The rain falls so hard that the scene looks smeared, like an oil painting.
She doesn’t look over as Iris sits beside her, but relaxes slightly, as if brought back from her thoughts.
“This is incredible,” Alara says. “I haven’t seen this much rain since we moved here.”
“Aren’t you cold?” Iris asks. “You’re in a T-shirt and shorts.”
Alara nods. “Yeah. It’s freezing.”
“I can go grab a bathrobe.”
“I’m fine.” She shivers and takes a deep breath. “It’s part of the experience, you know?”
“The… experience of what, exactly?” Iris says. “Catching a cold?”
“It rains so little in California, I almost forgot.” Alara puts a pale hand up to the window. ”The rain here feels so raw. Like it’s been enduring all these sunny days for months and months, and finally it can’t take anymore. It just lets everything out at once, stripping away at the world until there’s nothing left. Like some kind of catharsis.”
Iris takes it in for a moment. She says, “Is that how you feel?”
Alara laughs. “No, Iris, not me. I’m talking about the rain.”
“The rain, which has real feelings and is definitely alive.”
“You only view the rain as an inconvenience, Iris. An annoying sound you have to deal with through the night. But it’s more than that. It’s alive in its own way.”
Alara finally turns and looks at her, the profile of her face lit up by the light of the window. Her eyes are wide and Iris can see the excitement there. She was always full of these ideas of hers, bright and electric, her own way of exploring the world and making sense of it. She had a creativity that Iris could only marvel at.
But underneath the excitement, there’s a melancholy too.
“Think about our own emotions. Sadness and anger and regret, the thoughts we hide away on happier, sunnier days, eventually they all come out and we have to face them. Just like the rain. Our emotions aren’t just our own; they’re connected with the world, too, in ways we don’t fully understand. They help us find our own peace.” Her voice is subdued by the end.
Iris asks softly, “Is there something you regret?”
The shadows across Alara’s face deepen, but just for a moment. Then she gives a wistful smile and kisses Iris.
“Plenty of storms have passed through my life,” she says. “Now I’m just happy to be here with you.”
Some time passes in silence. Alara returns to looking out the window, lost in thought. Iris stays by her side. The noise of the rain doesn’t bother her as much anymore. She’s on the precipice of nodding off when Alara speaks suddenly.
“There’s something I’ve never told you about.”
Iris jerks her head up. “Huh?”
“Nothing bad. It’s just a stupid thing I would do back in college. You won’t get mad if I tell you?”
“I’m not your mother, Alara.” Iris says. “Just tell me.”
“Okay, here goes.” Alara takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t having a great time my last semester of college. Sometimes, when classes got too overwhelming, I couldn’t sleep at night. I’d just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and fill my head with thoughts about my next assignment or midterm grade.”
“You told me about this, once.” Iris looks down. “I should’ve been there more for you.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You had your new job to worry about. I couldn’t ask you to drive two hours over every time I needed a bedtime story.”
Iris frowns. “Don’t be so flippant about it.” Alara had never had a great time in college. It had only gotten worse after Iris had graduated, but it was a period of her life they didn’t talk much about.
“Well, one night it was really bad. I was lying there until four in the morning and every time I closed my eyes I’d feel this dread rising in me. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore, and I didn’t want to call you that late. So I got out of bed and went outside. It was raining hard—almost as hard as this one. Then for no reason, I walked out from under the building and into the rain.
“I got soaked. It was cold and heavy and water kept blinding my eyes. But despite the craziness, I felt so calm. For a while it was just me standing there alone, the downpour so loud I couldn’t hear anything else, and all the anxiety and fear that had been balled up in me just slipped away. Gone from my mind like the rain had dragged it out of me. It felt like everything was going to be alright.”
“So that’s why you love the rain.” Iris absently pulls at her hair. “I wish I knew what you’d been going through.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” Alara’s eyes meet hers, and that sadness is still there. “But a part of me wishes that I had.”
Something in Iris makes a decision. She stands up.
“Then let’s go.”
Alara seems surprised by the resolution on her face. “Go where?”
“You know where.” Iris points out the window. “Into the rain. Let’s find you some new peace.”
The front door swings open and slams against the wall. The two of them stand there at the doorway, shielding their eyes against the spray of water.
Iris stares at the scene in disbelief. “Maybe I was acting a little hasty.”
“Just don’t think too hard about it.” Alara hasn’t even put on a jacket. “Didn’t you jump in puddles as a kid?”
“I usually had a raincoat. And an umbrella. And this is more than a puddle. Are you seriously going out in those clothes?”
“Your coat won’t do much good out there, trust me.”
Iris looks at the woman standing next to her, hair flying near sideways from the wind that blows in, skin already streaked with moisture. There’s a look on her face that she hasn’t seen in a while. Slowly Iris unzips her jacket and lets it fall to the ground.
“If I blow away in this weather, it’s your fault.”
“I’ll grab you if you do, don’t worry. Now—” Alara grasps Iris’ shoulders from behind and pushes her forward. “What are you waiting for?”
With a yelp, Iris stumbles through the doorway and into the elements. The rain smacks her in the face and she nearly falls back, managing to grab the railing just in time. In seconds her pajamas are wet, beyond wet, soaked clumps sticking to her skin; then Alara is next to her, laughing, and their slick hands grasp each other. They make their way to the staircase, step by step, shouting and spitting out rainwater and wiping their eyes to no effect.
Then they’re on the sidewalk, standing next to the street light, enveloped by the storm. All she can hear is a single thunderous drone, far louder than they could have imagined from the inside. Iris looks straight up and watches the droplets shoot past her from the great California sky. She feels like she’s flying through space, and the sudden realization makes her dizzy. She stumbles from the vertigo, but Alara’s hand is there to keep her upright. Alara has her eyes closed, the expression on her face relaxed, long hair plastered on her like seaweed. She squeezes Iris’ hand as if telling her to do the same.
So Iris does. Her sight fades to black and the rest of her senses sharpen, trying to detect the world in the utter confusion around her. Countless sensations flood her. She feels the cold of her wet clothes as it eats away at the warmth of her body and the exhilarated hammering of Alara’s heartbeat through their gripped palms. She tastes the earthy tint of the rain and hears the vibration of each droplet as it pings off her head and neck and shoulders. She feels like her body is floating, unburdened from thought and emotion. She feels free, and the rain keeps falling and falling.
Iris doesn’t know how long it’s been when she opens her eyes again. Her body is numb from the cold and barely responds to her movements. She and Alara stagger back up the stairs and into the apartment, shutting the rain back away with a click. They collapse in a confused pile and hold each other, alternating between laughter and chattering teeth.
“That was the dumbest idea we’ve had in a while,” says Iris.
“I told you it was stupid,” Alara says. “But don’t tell me it wasn’t fun.”
Iris pulls her close, puts her head against Alara’s and smiles. “I think I understand what you were saying a little better,” Iris says. “And I think I understand what the rain means to you.”
Alara returns the smile, and that’s all the response that Iris needs.
Hello to the few of you that know this blog even exists! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything here—I started my new job at the end of last August, so I’ll just put the blame on having too much work. I haven’t given up on writing, though, and lately I’ve been more motivated than ever. My goal for this year is to at least upload a post a month, with a focus on longer pieces like this (and maybe, just maybe, a full story one day).
The scene took about five days to fully write; I should’ve spent another day on revision, but I wanted to wrap it up before the start of the week. I was also nervous about sharing this since I think it’s the first time I’m posting something vulnerable, in the sense that there’s so much that could be written better. It’s easier to write a few paragraphs and tinker with them until they’re “perfect,” but lately I’ve been wanting to write scenes that feel more complete, even at the cost of some quality. Characters are hard to write—they never seem to follow a conversation the way you want them to—and I can never tell if my dialogue sounds natural or like stilted lines from a sitcom. These are all aspects that I need to improve upon, so expect a lot more exercises like this in the future. With practice comes progress…
Iris and Alara are two characters I’ve developed for a while, in a story idea that is very different from the narrative presented here. The story itself seemed like something I couldn’t write quite yet, but I liked the pair enough that I wanted to try writing about them. This scene was all about establishing their relationship and figuring out how they might support each other. My only complaint is that I didn’t get to develop any real conflict outside of Alara’s own feelings, which might have been more interesting to explore. They get a happy ending for now, at least.
Any feedback on the story is appreciated. Stay tuned for next month.
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