I was
completely soaked.
My mom had
sent me to buy some things at the store but a few minutes before I arrived at
the place, it started raining. When I left home the sky was clear, but it seems
that my bad luck made the clouds agree to start crying. At the beginning there
were a few drops of rain and cold wind, but in a matter of minutes my clothes
were stuck to my body because of the water.
It was too
late to cover, but I still put on the hood of my sweatshirt and ran to one of
the clothing stores closest to the supermarket. The place was closed, but it
had a roof sticking out, so if I stuck to the glass, I would not get completely
wet.
Sundays were usually quiet days
where people from my town did not leave their homes and most public places were
not open; and much less so at nine o'clock at night. Mom had insisted that she
could buy the things tomorrow morning, but I didn’t listen to her and went out
before she said anything else.
And here I
am, wet to the core.
I knew that
for now the rain would not stop. It was getting stronger than before. I had
never been afraid of the rain, in fact, I adored the smell of damp and the
soothing sound of the drops against the window of my room, but I did worry a
little that with this climate I could not go back home for now and be able to
shelter from the cold. My lips were probably already purple, and even if I
wanted to, I could not move most of my fingers with agility. They were frozen.
Surrendered,
I slid my back through the tent window until I sat on the floor, hugging
myself. It did not matter if it was summer, spring, fall or winter, you would
always find my beloved little town with damp everywhere, wind and rain. The
only month you could enjoy the heat of the sun was June.
My senses sharpened the moment I
heard footsteps. They were man steps, I was sure. That person’s shoes splashed
in the puddles of water on the floor. I turned my head towards the direction
the sound was coming, and I could see a silhouette a few meters away from me,
also soaking in the storm. I did not see his face, but I could tell he wasn’t
old; actually, his figure and height gave me a hint of his age. He seemed my
age.
I looked at
that person with curiosity, but at the same time with caution. I could not
trust him that much. Inches from where I was, there was a pot with rocks for
decoration, so in case of emergency I could grab one and hurt him as I ran
away.
The
stranger approached me, and I could see his face better. I was not wrong: he
was close to my age and that calmed me a bit, but not completely. Without
saying a single word, he extended his hand to me. I hesitated, but I ended up
taking it and getting up off the floor.
“Thank
you,” I said, a little confused, but still with caution.
“What’s
your name?” he asked, and his voice sounded somewhat off because of the drops
falling hard on the asphalt.
“I’m Mya,”
I replied. “I shouldn’t be talking to a stranger, so I’ll get going.”
I passed by
him intending to return home, but he took my wrist, preventing it. My defense
mechanism and reflexes made me let go and raise my fist in the air, ready to
hit him and run. But his scared face made me stop.
“Wow!
Chill, girl!” he exclaimed and covered his face with his arms, “I just wanted
to warn you that it is dangerous for you to walk alone while it rains; there is
a good chance that you will be kidnapped, robbed, or have an accident. You can
get hit by a car that didn’t see you because of the storm or you can slip and
hurt yourself. It is better to wait for it to stop and the odds of something
bad happening will be lower.”
Well, he is
insane.
And right.
I thought
about it, but after a few seconds, I agreed. Where were we supposed to take
shelter? Everything around us was closed and all we had was a small roof.
“Okay, what
do you suggest, stranger?”
“Two blocks
from here there is an open ice cream shop, we can go and wait there for it to
stop raining,” he said, and I had no choice but to nod.
When we
started walking, my curious side started to create a lot of questions about
this unknown guy in my head. Where does he come from? It was obvious that he
was not born here. Maybe he was visiting a family member’s house this summer.
How old was he? Why was he outside alone? But more importantly, what was his
name? I did not like to ask people all about their lives because we all
deserved to have at least a little privacy, but I couldn’t help but notice that
my interest and curiosity increased.
“I’m Matt,”
he said as if he was reading my mind.
I gave him
a closed-mouth smile and me with my head inside my hood and him hugging himself
cold, we walked a bit hurried the two blocks he had mentioned. And he was
right. There was a small place with a light sign with the name of the business
and its logo. The tables outside were completely wet and the lights inside were
on, illuminating the lonely and dark streets of the town.
Without
hesitation, we went in. The heat was on and I felt wonderful as soon as I set
foot inside. The walls were pastel yellow and decorated with pictures of bands
that were famous several years ago and a clock on the wall behind the counter.
The bell at the door rang and a woman in her seventies gasped at us.
“Oh, dear
Lord, you must be freezing. I will get you some towels. You can stay while it
stops raining if you wish,” the sweet lady spoke, and we thanked her. After she
brought us the towels, we sat at one of the tables.
I took off
my wet sweatshirt so I would not be in so much danger of getting sick
afterwards, being left in a simple T-shirt. I hung it on the back of one of the
chairs and turned back to the stranger I now knew was Matt. Thanks to the
lighting I could see him better; his hair and eyes were brown, and his skin was
white, almost pale. He had nothing extravagant, but his simplicity made him
look very handsome. I was only fifteen, but my eyes knew what they saw. His
build was thin, and he did not have a lot of muscle mass, but he was still
cute.
“So…” he
talked, “why were you out so late?”
“My mom had
to buy some things and I offered to do it; I did not notice the weather and...
here I am,” I replied “What about you? You don’t look like you’re from around
here, I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m new in
town. My mother and I moved in yesterday,” he said. “I went out to see the town
and stuff and when I was coming back, I got lost. I spent an hour trying to
figure out where my home address was until it started to rain.”
“Interesting
story,” I laughed. “If you want you can give me your address and I help you get
there. It is not a big town, so it is easy to locate.”
He nodded
his head.
We waited
patiently in the ice cream shop for the rain to stop; meanwhile, we took the
opportunity to get to know each other more.
He is 15
years old, just like me. Tomorrow is his first day in high school, his favorite
color is green, he likes to watch basketball games, he lives only with his
mother, his favorite food is Mexican, and his favorite movie is White Chicks. I
also knew what his personality was like because of how he expressed himself by
talking and his movements. He was somewhat outgoing, but at the same time shy.
He seemed to have confidence with me when he spoke about himself, but I noticed
in his face that if there was a large crowd, he would be uncomfortable. I had
also noticed that he was incredibly good at listening and that when he smiled,
I could only see the dimple on his left cheek.
When the rain stopped, it was
already half past ten at night. I had school tomorrow and had to sleep if I
wanted to have energy on my first day. Worst of all, I had left my phone on the
living room couch and my mother must have been worried sick.
After thanking
the owner of the ice cream shop for the “lodging”, we set off for the boy’s
house. He had given me his address with some difficulty, but I could understand
him. In fact, it was the first house on my block, so we were minutes apart
walking. I didn’t mention it.
“We’re
here,” I said, and he started breathing again. Getting lost in a city you don’t
know must be scary, “Good luck, new guy.”
He smiled
and said goodbye to me with a wave.
“Thank you
for helping me. I hope to see you again, Mya.”
I turned on
my own axis and walked on the sidewalk of my neighborhood.
As I
arrived at my dear house, I rang the doorbell. The door opened five seconds
later, and my mother’s worried face was the first thing I saw.
“I told you
not to go out! I was too worried, Mya!” she exclaimed and threw herself into my
arms, hugging me.
“I’m
sorry.”
We walked
into the house and she told me to take off my wet clothes and take a shower. I
went up to my room and did everything she told me. At eleven o'clock at night I
was already buried in my bed with the cold making me tremble. The heating was
on, but I was sure I was starting to get sick, as being cold was not very
normal for me.
But,
despite my conditions, I fell asleep, dreaming about Matt: the guy from the
rain.
