Rainy Days and Mondays

I started a new story, because I lost inspiration for the other. So here is my story! Its going much better than the first I tried to do.


Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain.

I was sitting on the couch in my small living room, wearing my Snoopy pajama pants, a tank-top, and a black jacket that was slipping loosely down my shoulder. A blanket was draped over my bent legs, and a container of orange sherbet ice cream was nestled in my lap, a spoon protruding from its open top. In front of me, scampering across the television screen, was a happy couple who had just barely survived a run-in with a serial killer.

How people could come up with this kind of story, I’ll never know. It just seemed a little unrealistic that this pair should kiss and laugh as the dead murderer lay bleeding at their feet.

Look, Mark! We just killed someone! Isn’t that great?!

I switched the channels, but the story was the same no matter what I watched. People always got happy endings; they always ended up with a significant other.

Flicking the television set off in annoyance, I flung the remote control to the coffee table and watched as it skidded across the surface and knocked into the pot of a small plant that ornamented the table. For several moments, I just stared at the thing as if it was the reason for my unhappiness. Fumbling blindly for my spoon, I glanced toward my laptop that sat on the other side of the couch, glowing fondly up at me. When I finally found the spoon, I scooped up a bit of the frozen treat and stuck it into my mouth, savoring the taste as it melted, spread across my tongue and gratefully spilled down my throat. Shifting the container of ice cream to the coffee table, I gathered the computer into my lap and looked at my Buddy List for my instant messenger. Everyone was away; their messages boasted lives full of dates and movies, school work and jobs, and sleeping.
It was not uncommon for me to be sitting here like this: basically alone and without a way to entertain myself. The rain added to the overall feeling of gloom, but I mostly liked the rain. If it had not been midnight I would have gladly pulled on my clothes and rushed out to dance and run about under the sprinkling rain, but it was midnight and I was alone. I had always wanted a dog, but my parents had never allowed pets in their house and when I had moved out, I just never got around to getting one. I would have never thought I’d turn out like this when I was younger, but then a lot of things were different then.

When I was a teenager, I always had people on the internet to talk to; I would get online and stay there for hours chatting and weaving stories with my friends. Role-playing was, and still is, my favorite pass-time. However, as I got older, so did my friends, and they began to loose interest in made up worlds and online conversations. They went off to college and met friends, and those friends became boyfriends and girlfriends, and I was left in the background to wave as their ships carried them away to broader horizons.

I was still in college, getting my master’s degree in library sciences. I was almost done, too, and about to launch into a career of books and late fees.

I ran my fingertip idly over the touchpad on my computer and watched my cursor swirl about like a kite caught in a heavy wind. After staring several moments at the screen, I opened my media player and cut on some music. The first song that began to play was a sappy, Celine Dion song, which I quickly switched with a grunt of anger.

It seemed like my whole world loved to remind me that I was indeed alone. I rose to my feet, setting down my laptop on the couch, and grabbed the container of ice cream. Crossing over my soft, carpet, I stepped onto the cool tiles of my kitchen floor and went to the refrigerator. After I had pushed the now closed ice cream into the freezer, I licked my spoon clean and tossed it into the sink. Frowning at the soft clang it made against the other dishes I had not yet washed, I hurriedly rushed from the kitchen and stood for a moment just inside of the living room to stare at the couch where my blanket and laptop laid.

I felt like crying as I started toward it. Was I doomed to live my life like this? To come home from work to an empty house without anyone to talk to, without anything to do. I glanced back vaguely at the hallway that led to the bedroom and bath before I sank down onto the cushions and released a soft sigh. Tears gathered in my eyes, and I blinked them away. I couldn’t believe how childish I was acting; I had known this day would eventually come. Time killed all happiness, I was convinced of this.

I sat there for a moment, thinking about my life so far, and I let the tears fall.

I have perhaps the most strict parents on the face of the planet.

I was not allowed to date or even talk about boys until I was seventeen; my father hated the idea, which was normal, but he would go so far as to get downright furious whenever I brought up the subject. He would dodge my questions or ignore them completely. My mother wasn’t much help either. She didn’t want to talk about anything, but always insisted that I would find someone at some point.

I was home-schooled for nearly my entire school career, and so, my parents sheltered me from the big, bad world. When I reached high school, I was flung into a public school, and I was immediately shown that the world was anything but the innocent place I had thought it to be.

In ninth grade, I got the talk from a pair of teenage boys, who, as they told me proceeded to laugh in my face at my ignorance. I came home from school that day crying and furious at my parents. The day before I had bluntly asked my mother to tell me about sex, and she had bluntly refused. She seemed sorry she had when I got home from school that day bawling my eyes out, but the damage had been done. She asked me if there was something I wanted to know about, but I just cried more and told her that it didn’t matter now.

People at the school picked on me a great deal, but more in a friendly way than a cruel one. Still, their words struck me. I felt naïve and out of place in their world, especially when I didn’t understand their crude jokes. They would look at me with a patient smile and explain while their friends laughed and giggled at my horrified expressions. It didn’t take long for me to get used to it, though, and I did learn. I was able to play along, and by the time I was a senior, I had a wide circle of friends that branched into all of the grades at the school. For the first time in my life, I felt popular. I still was struggling with some problems relating and interacting, however, because not only was I a sheltered child, I was a Christian.

This meant I didn’t join in the cussing with my friends, I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t lie to my parents, and I was altogether a strange teenager to them.

I got my first boyfriend at that high school when I was in twelfth grade. His name was Robert, and we had been childhood friends. He had lived across the street from me until I was eleven and had abruptly moved without any sort of good-bye. I had thought about him a great deal, and I have to admit, I had had the biggest crush on him when I was younger. I just never had the chance to tell him before he left.

It was a normal morning at the school, and I was sitting in the cafeteria waiting for the first bell to ring when this tall, handsome boy sat down across from me, smiling. He laced his fingers together and chuckled a little as he looked me over. “Hello, Leslie.”

Hi?

“Don’t you remember me?”

No, I’m sorry. I don’t.

“Its me, Leslie. Its Robert.”

I know my mouth must have dropped then because he laughed and nodded, again looking me over and giving a little shake of his head. “Wow, Lee.” He murmured, using my old nickname. “Lee, you look amazing.”

I sat there in shock for a long moment before I lifted a hand to cover my lips, and I gave a soft laugh myself.

Robert, I don’t believe it. You look so different.

“Is that a good thing?”

Oh, of course!

I stammered then glanced up and looked around a little as the bell rang, and the students around me began to rise to their feet.