Building 11 “When it Rains”

It is going to rain today. I can feel it like a whisper or a caress on the cheek, the way the leafs go belly up like they are submitting. Supposedly, people from the boondocks can tell there will be rain based on the smell, but there is a lot out here that masks the smell of the storm, so I end up relying on a feeling in my gut to remind myself to tell my dad to bring an umbrella, or to wear different shoes.

The city smells in certain ways, but it doesn't smell in others if that makes sense. The sewer and puddles of sticky liquid smell something fierce while the stone and the trees don't smell much at all unless you are right up next to them. It is like they are muted somehow, while the unpleasant bits stand out. The discarded rags and the puddles smell almost sweet, but with an acrid edge, like decomposition.

But not when it rains.

When it rains it generally smells the same way regardless of where you live, and though I can't smell the storm coming where I am, I can certainly smell it once it starts coming down. There is the smell of the worms coming to the surface. For some reason that it the smell I pick up on the most, but there is also the smell of rainwater and of mud.

When I was little I used to play in the rain all the time. My mum had a lovely little yellow raincoat for me and it would cause my skin to feel sticky from the moisture. I would play a lot by the storm drains, and more than once I lost a doll or bucket or whatever else I had with me. Back then I would play with Tracy, but more often then not she would be inside on rainy days since it tended to affect her breathing.

I guess I was thinking about all this in a roundabout sort of way. I really wanted to think of anything but her, but I don't think it is possible. I finally called her to see how she was doing, but her mom was the one who picked up. She said Tracy got sick about a month ago and has been in a coma for the last couple of weeks.

Part of me is really angry that they didn't just tell me that she was in trouble. We haven't been close in some time, so I get it I guess. But her parents didn't even recognize my number. It has been a little while, but it hasn't been that long. They didn't think that maybe her oldest friend would want to fucking know about something like that?

I can't visit her since there are still restrictions at the hospitals, but her brother told me he would keep me updated on her condition. He apparently found out they didn't tell me and flipped out on them.

The rain just started, and my dad isn't home yet.

He is going to be really upset when he finds out. Tracy and him always got along really well, and my dad always seemed to have more in common with her than he does with me. I always took after my mother, which I think is why we have our rainy day rituals and why we get lunch together whenever we can. It is our way of filling the gap between us.

I know normally it's the mother and the daughter who have difficulties, but for some reason that was never the way with us.

I just feel sick today, and I can't seem to shake the feeling. Normally rainy days leave me feeling elated, but finding out that Tracy is so ill...there isn't enough rain in the world to make me feel better from that. I just know I should of just contacted her earlier, or just checked in on her in some way.

Now I don't know what is going to happen, and I don't think I can forgive myself if things get worse for her and I am not able to see her.

Things get like that I guess, but it doesn't make it any easier. I've tried distracting myself as much as I can, but it is really hard to stay focused on anything for very long. I've been reading a lot of Steven King's short stories. I have actually read a lot this year. But, Tracy is my book buddy. I have no idea why I thought I could use books to avoid focusing on it.

When we were younger, Tracy told me about a recurring nightmare she had, and since I was on medication and didn't really dream anymore it was kinda fun listening to her talk about whatever it was she dreamed about. I know dreams can make little sense when you try to share it with others, but she always has had a literary mind, and her dreams more often than not were more like stories.

The dream would always start the same way. She would find herself close to an elevated rail line, and for some reason she would feel compelled to climb up onto the tracks. It would be bright and sunny, not the sort of thing you would attribute to a nightmare.

She would get onto the tracks, and there would be a power station nearby. She would wander close to it, and would be drawn to it. The gate was always unlocked, and she would head inside, feeling the hum of the relays on her skin. Then, as she stood there, she would notice a thing skulking in close to her. It had short white fur and eyes with swirling pools of blue. Its face was elongated, with rows upon rows of teeth.

Small stalks of eyes were positioned on top of its head, and she told me that she always understood them to be like that so that it could check behind it.

It would stalk her, shrieking in pain as it would come in contact with the electrical lines. She would run, and it would always catch her, shrieking over and over as it pined her to the ground and took chunks out of her chest and neck.

She would manage to escape, tearing off in the direction of a sewage tunnel nearby. She would enter into the dark, and she would hear the shrieking of the creature coming up behind her.

Then the dream would end.

She had this dream over and over again, and we were never able to figure out where it came from.

I just hope she isn't dreaming right now, that she isn't scared.

She shouldn't have to be scared. It is all just a dream after all, but right now she can't wake up.

I just want her to wake up.