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April 25, 2008 9:39am

delirious rain ch 3	Views: 237
Delirious Rain Chapter three Written by Ethan Woods Song: sister christen Friday morning came that day with a thud on my door and Amanda’s voice telling me that she has made breakfast. A very rare affair. My sister, as mature and nonchalant as she always has been, lives on lean pockets and soups to go. I hungrily shambled down the stairs, black clothes, black eye liner, hair messy the way I like it. Whenever she makes breakfast, she makes lunch instead. Today it was enchiladas topped with kick ass hot sauce and rice. Delicious. She had the kitchen TV on, a small thing with a broken antenna. Half the time the picture came in with color, the other half it came in black and white. “Here you go.” She said handing me a heaping plate. “thank you.” I dug into it hungrily, as if I had never eaten before in my life. “Who is that kid I always see you with?” she asked sitting next to me. “Wombat.” I said. She raised an eyebrow. “is he from Australia?” See, she thinks a little like me. “he just likes to go there.” “I think hes weird.” “he’s cool.” I said, feeling the pain of the hot sauce radiate through my entire body. She smiled in that way she did before. I stole one of her enchiladas as punishment. I poured and drank strawberry punch just as w heard a knock on the door. We exchanged a glance. Sometimes the abusive fucks call us or come to crash when our landlord isn’t around. They had been calling lately. They wanted money. I opened the door to see Wombat standing there in one of his plain black shirts with a little pocket in the front. He wore faded cargo pants and a headband as if he had been running. It was orange. I thought it looked cute and then blushed underneath my hair. “morning.” I said. “hi,” he said nevously “school is canceled.” “really?” I said. Wombat never joked. “I made you this,” he said holding out a tape “for your car.” “thank you.” I said reading the title. It read “amour de wombat.” I was unsure of what it meant, but I knew that it was French. Amanda freaked him out by standing behind me like a stalker. “why is school canceled?” she asked. “mercury was found in the laboratory.” “huh.” She said and went back into the kitchen. I took him up to my room, a dark and chilly dungeon that held a computer, a stereo, a bed with a window, a dresser, and a mini bathroom. Few clothes littered the floor, but cds and tapes surrounded my musical device, and papers shrouded my apple computer. A cool autumn breeze melted through my window with the comforting smell of dying leaves. He stood there, looking around. I took his hand and led him to sit on my bed, like I had done at his place. “sorry about the dungeony feel.” “no, I like it.” I threw him a bag of cool ranch Doritos. “This is what I usually eat for breakfast.” He put his face near mine so that our lips were almost touching. “you smell like Mexican food.” For a moment I couldn’t breathe, and neither could he. “would you like some?” He shook his head. He leaned in a bit more, when Amanda knocked on the door. “I’m going to work. See you, bye.” “bye.” I said. Wombat seemed shy as I smiled at him. I popped a chip in my mouth and then handed the bag to him. Taking his hand, I took him outside and into my van. My hand lingered on his before I hit the gas and popped the tape in. with a rumble, we were off. Very few cars were on the road. Everyone took buses because they were afraid of the freaking rain. I asked wombat if he was. “no,” he said “why should I be afraid of you?” He said this so straight faced that I didn’t press the question. I didn’t really know where we were driving. I just liked him sitting next to me eating Doritos, the rain thrashing down on us. I loved the tape. It was just magical, every song was as haunting as the last. Somehow we ended up laying on a deserted hill facing a cemetery. He smelled like Doritos. He asked me what my most fathomable memory was. I don’t know why he asked. So I told him. I was about ten, and mark was fixing the plumbing in our house. We lived in an old house, something was always breaking. We had two bathrooms. I obviously was in the bathroom that he wasn’t fixing. I had just finished using the bathroom when I heard him coming up the stairs and closer to where I was. He opened the door (he had never fixed the lock.) and closed it behind us. He hurt me when he touched me this time, it was if he was trying to hurt me. No one was home, and he hit me if I screamed. That was the day that it had really started to get bad. Before he had just done stuff like grab my ass or pull my hair. He showed me his privates, something that grown ups are never supposed to do, according to my teachers. I screamed as he took off my clothes and raped me. He hit me until I stopped. Wombat stared at me, in a worried manor. He put his arm around me and we were silent for a long while. He drove the van home to his house where we laid down in his bed. We talked about everything, school, pain, being sixteen, not understanding. Everything about him was beautiful, his calmness, his understanding, his quiet way of being and existing. We fell asleep, until I awoke at three in the morning. I kissed his neck and left through the window.
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