AFTER THE RAIN by Luna Veluti (top novels TXT) 📖

and regret.  The only memories from that era that exist in rich, and treasured, detail are the ones surrounding the birth of her little boy; but then, that was well after Len had gone for good.  Exactly five months after she had found out she was pregnant, he had picked a huge fight over her lovingly, dutifully, reminding him not to scratch his eczema while they were in bed, throwing up the sheets in a rage, stomping out of the bedroom and eventually into the car, never to be seen or heard from again.  Just like that.  Some months later, just before Casey's birth, when the news about her tumor had made her desperately want to find Len, mutual friends had told her that he had gone back to Vegas and settled down there with some showgirl they'd heard mention of when he'd first come back those seven years ago. They were having a baby too.  
 
While she is ordering the drinks, she can see Chris coming into the cafe from the corner of her eye; but she doesn't react yet, just to give herself some time to pull it together.  He's two or three customers behind her now and she can feel his eyes burning through her frame.  When she's done at the counter, she casually turns herself and Casey around and lets her eyes meet his. This way, she thinks, her initial smile won't look too crazy.  Her heart is racing so fast she feels a hum instead of a beat.  Despite the conscious delay, she can feel her whole being light up as soon as she sees the the beam of recognition on his face. It's an awkward hug instead of a deep embrace; but that's only to be expected, she justifies to herself.  He wears crow's feet and a little grey, footprints of the last ten years; but otherwise he looks just the same, except he wears glasses.  No more contact lenses.  If the shoe doesn't fit, do not wear it.  It must be because of the glasses, she keeps telling herself, that she can't quite get a good picture of his eyes, a good view, as it were, into his soul.  They seem to keep wandering away into some distance he knows he cannot possibly reach, frustrating her search for a place to anchor.  It strikes her with some poignancy, that the last time they met, it was he who was struggling to pinpoint her restless eyes. She, trying to ply him (and herself) with reasons for going back to her husband, he trying desperately to dissuade her. Then her soul sinks.  For the first time, she fathoms the extent of the hurt she must have caused him; she can now plainly see it as some ghost in the engine behind his fluttering gaze.  But her damages are only half of his ten year story.  Why would any woman - any woman in her right mind - leave him? She is sure that whatever intangible quality she senses missing from his old charm is just varnish eaten off by the acidity of heartbreak.  She is sure that he would have been a model husband and father. And yet left him his wife did, just announcing, one day out of the blue, that she was going to change her life by moving to Turkey; to take advantage of 'opportunities' which, as it turned out, amounted to her chasing the undoubtedly empty promises of some rich old Internet sugar daddy she had never even met.  Chris paints a much more charitable picture than this; but the pain in his face tells an infinitely fouler version choking back screams and profanities.  She listens carefully to word and body, to how the love and the hatred, each and both together, struggle to heal.  She loves him even more than ever before; and partly, because they share a most basic mode of survival.  "But for the sake of my son..."  They laugh at how often the phrase has come up in the last hour and joke about how it is their version of "but for the grace of God..." It is both the most profound theme of their recent existence and a most natural segue to the burning matter of their most certainly destined future.  She can hardly wait to delve into the topic of their children's identical names.  She proceeds cautiously, terrified that he might not share her ardour; but then, thinks, is there really any need?  the coincidence is too uncanny, too serendipitous. He cannot possibly feel differently. She has never felt so confident in her life. She begins to wax on. A half-smile lifts his face.  He agrees. It is an amazing coincidence.  No, No it's not just some weird coincidence.  It's fate. It has to be. 
 
Do you remember when we met it was the beginning of September.  And it had been a long glorious Summer; particularly hot and dry for these parts and everyone was just amazed at how it was lasting into the Fall. And then it just kept going like that, still like Summer, well into mid-November.  Do you remember how on the first day that it rained after that long dry-spell...it was on your birthday -  November sixteenth - remember?  - outside the library - we had our very first kiss.  Remember, we were both wearing summer clothes like everybody else but seemed to be the only ones out there to have missed the downpour and were joking about how everyone had got caught in the rain but us and that we had missed the chance to be caught up in the passion of the moment with some unlucky soul?  You said, well maybe not, maybe we can pretend it's still raining and grabbed me and kissed me so long I thought my head would spin off its axis? I remember looking up from that kiss and the first thing I saw were the words 'Casey James Memorial Library' going in and out of focus. Like my mind was trying to take a picture of where I was when I ...felt that way. I never missed one of your birthdays in the all the years I lost contact with you; and did you notice how it rained on every single one of them?  I remember that where ever I was I would take a moment to look outside and watch the rain as I secretly wished you a happy birthday. When my son was born, I didn't have much trouble coming up with the fondest memory of my life to name him after. After you. And now, now you are telling me that your son has the exact same first and second name as my son, and it just can't be a mere coincidence. It's just too strange; too perfect...
 
His eyes never stop shifting.  Until now.  It takes him some time to gather up what it takes to tell her what he needs to say.  He says her name twice, just to make sure that he has her full attention. He pauses to see if he has it.  He has it.  "It was her. She picked the names. Casey - Casey is her grandmother's maiden name; and Rayne, I don't know, I really don't know where she got that. I think she just, must have just made it up.. but it was her. It was her.  My ex. My wife." 
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Publication Date: 10-13-2009

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