doing?”
Trace stared straight ahead with rigid shoulders. “I hate rain,” he responded, which wasn’t much of an explanation.
I wasn’t going to push him into giving me normal answers. He could walk next to me, for all I cared. The white haze of rain was as good as any wall between us. Maybe even better than our shared wall, because the rain washed out most noises.
We came to a busier street and the cars zipped past. I felt the deep urge to shower in the splashes from their wheels. I'd pretend I was still wearing bright red gumboots and a rain coat that was too big for me.
Trace mumbled something beside me, then suddenly he had a stealth grip on my elbow and yanked me into a small corner shop. My toes caught on a sharp step but Trace easily kept me pulled up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I cried, as the warmth of the supermarket washed over me.
“I really, really hate the bloody rain.”
“You didn't have to follow me. I can find my way back to the pub. I love rain.”
“Why?” I jumped away from his gruff and loud voice. “It's terrible. Couldn't you just stay inside?”
I glanced around at the people watching Trace. Among them the wary-eyed cashier and a small girl with big blue eyes. I had to calm Trace down if I didn't want him to throw over shelves and get us both arrested.
He is easily triggered, Tony.
I hated that I was about to admit the truth to him. I hated the truth. “Because it's one of the only things I remember about my mom,” I said and heard my voice cracking. I didn't want his pity, but it was going to be better than his rage. “The weather in Tucson was one of the things she hated about home. She loved it when it rained.” I pressed my words onward, even as the memories flooded my mind. “She'd take me outside and play with me until the rain was over or it was time for bed, whichever came first, and she'd tell me that one day she was going to take me to London and we'd play in the rain for days. She didn't keep that promise, but I liked the way she laughed and the way her perfume would smell sweeter when the rain hit her skin. But she left me in Tucson and I never got to spend a single London rainstorm with her. So if you could just leave me the hell alone and let me enjoy the rain, that would be great. This actually means something to me. It’s not just water.”
When I looked up at him, he looked at me differently. I hadn't even noticed that it was any other way before, but now it was as if for the first time he looked at an actual person, and I hated the extra weight it put on my shoulders.
I quickly ducked into the candy isle and grabbed a chocolate bar and a bag of Skittles, only to come to the realization that I hadn't brought my stupid bag with the stupid money in it. I patted my pockets, but the denim jacket had been in my suitcase until this morning. Of course they only held a button, a piece of thread and a drenched slip of chewing gum.
“Dammit,” I hissed and punched the candy back onto the shelves. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Great. Now, I was the one freaking out in public. I pressed my hands over my eyes and pushed the memories away. I opened a box in my head and stowed the betrayal in it. Mom just didn't take me with her because Dad's an ass and he would have done anything to make sure Mom had a hard time abandoning the sinking ship. She just took the easy way out to save herself. She didn't have the strength to fight Dad. She didn't betray me. She didn't want to leave me. I pushed all my doubts into that big, big box and locked it away in the furthest corner of my mind.
It was all good. I'd find her. I'd open the shoebox and I'd find her, and it would be new and awkward at first but she wouldn't know about all the messed up shit from home and she'd have a good daughter. One she would be willing to fight for.
“Did you want the sour or the normal Skittles?”
“Hm?” My hands fell from my face.
Trace held up the bright green and
Trace stared straight ahead with rigid shoulders. “I hate rain,” he responded, which wasn’t much of an explanation.
I wasn’t going to push him into giving me normal answers. He could walk next to me, for all I cared. The white haze of rain was as good as any wall between us. Maybe even better than our shared wall, because the rain washed out most noises.
We came to a busier street and the cars zipped past. I felt the deep urge to shower in the splashes from their wheels. I'd pretend I was still wearing bright red gumboots and a rain coat that was too big for me.
Trace mumbled something beside me, then suddenly he had a stealth grip on my elbow and yanked me into a small corner shop. My toes caught on a sharp step but Trace easily kept me pulled up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I cried, as the warmth of the supermarket washed over me.
“I really, really hate the bloody rain.”
“You didn't have to follow me. I can find my way back to the pub. I love rain.”
“Why?” I jumped away from his gruff and loud voice. “It's terrible. Couldn't you just stay inside?”
I glanced around at the people watching Trace. Among them the wary-eyed cashier and a small girl with big blue eyes. I had to calm Trace down if I didn't want him to throw over shelves and get us both arrested.
He is easily triggered, Tony.
I hated that I was about to admit the truth to him. I hated the truth. “Because it's one of the only things I remember about my mom,” I said and heard my voice cracking. I didn't want his pity, but it was going to be better than his rage. “The weather in Tucson was one of the things she hated about home. She loved it when it rained.” I pressed my words onward, even as the memories flooded my mind. “She'd take me outside and play with me until the rain was over or it was time for bed, whichever came first, and she'd tell me that one day she was going to take me to London and we'd play in the rain for days. She didn't keep that promise, but I liked the way she laughed and the way her perfume would smell sweeter when the rain hit her skin. But she left me in Tucson and I never got to spend a single London rainstorm with her. So if you could just leave me the hell alone and let me enjoy the rain, that would be great. This actually means something to me. It’s not just water.”
When I looked up at him, he looked at me differently. I hadn't even noticed that it was any other way before, but now it was as if for the first time he looked at an actual person, and I hated the extra weight it put on my shoulders.
I quickly ducked into the candy isle and grabbed a chocolate bar and a bag of Skittles, only to come to the realization that I hadn't brought my stupid bag with the stupid money in it. I patted my pockets, but the denim jacket had been in my suitcase until this morning. Of course they only held a button, a piece of thread and a drenched slip of chewing gum.
“Dammit,” I hissed and punched the candy back onto the shelves. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Great. Now, I was the one freaking out in public. I pressed my hands over my eyes and pushed the memories away. I opened a box in my head and stowed the betrayal in it. Mom just didn't take me with her because Dad's an ass and he would have done anything to make sure Mom had a hard time abandoning the sinking ship. She just took the easy way out to save herself. She didn't have the strength to fight Dad. She didn't betray me. She didn't want to leave me. I pushed all my doubts into that big, big box and locked it away in the furthest corner of my mind.
It was all good. I'd find her. I'd open the shoebox and I'd find her, and it would be new and awkward at first but she wouldn't know about all the messed up shit from home and she'd have a good daughter. One she would be willing to fight for.
“Did you want the sour or the normal Skittles?”
“Hm?” My hands fell from my face.
Trace held up the bright green and
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