The Weight of Rain

“You aren’t breaking up with King, are you? I mean, I know he didn’t handle things right at di

I look to the side but keep my face mostly forward. “This has nothing to do with King.”

“Are you going to tell me about your brother?”

“There isn’t much to say,” I lie.

“Then why are we going on this walk?”

“Fresh air.”

Her eyes are slits of disbelief, but she doesn’t push me for any more. I’m grateful because I still don’t know how I’m going to tell her.

We pass by Robert’s house, and I note that all of his lights are off. I think Mercedes does too, as her attention seems to linger for long moments, searching for a definite conclusion.

When we arrive at the bus stop, I don’t have a destination in mind, so I ask Mercedes if there’s anything she’d like to see or do.

“Let’s get on whatever bus comes next.”

I raise an eyebrow in question, knowing that there are areas of Portland I would never willingly bring Mercedes to. I reserve the right to disagree until the bus comes and the lights inform me we’re headed to downtown. We find a shared seat near the middle. Mercedes sits tucked in beside the window, and we both stare out at the streets of Portland. It’s starting to drizzle, the skies darkening. It makes some people scurry, attempting to reach their destinations quicker, while others pull out a prepared umbrella or hat. Several, however, keep their pace. The rain is like an old friend to them, or perhaps they, like King, realize you truly can’t hide from it. Can you really hide from anything?

I know there are several reasons I have delayed telling Mercedes about going to Florence, the first being I know how much it will hurt her. She has been left by so many, and I hate choosing to be another that does the same. The second and selfishly more prominent reason is that each day that passes, I find more and more reasons tipping the scale to stay, but I still know I need to go. This is my dream.

“Didn’t you say Charleigh works at the greatest donut shop in Portland?”

I close my eyes to rid my thoughts and look to Mercedes. Small dark hairs are curling and sticking out near her temples. I’m sure mine are doing the same, and it makes me smile. “Yeah. You want to go get some?”

“I think we both need one.”

I suck in a deep breath through my nose. You have no idea.

Then again, this is Mercedes. She likely does.

Although it’s past four, there’s still a short line in front of us. Blue Star Donuts is never empty. Their lines attest to how truly delectable the elaborate yet simple concoctions are that fill the glass cases.

Mercedes wanders to the far end while I stand in line, her eyes growing as she looks over the platters and names of each donut.

We order an odd number of the confections, neither of us able to commit to any one, therefore selecting over a dozen. “We’re going to have to hide these. Parker doesn’t even taste his food. He just inhales it,” she tells me.

I smile, my mouth full of an apple fritter that is melting over my tongue, sending happy sugar shockwaves through my taste buds directly to my brain. It dulls the thoughts of leaving, of staying, of last weekend, and of breaking her heart.

“HOW DID it go?” Kash asks as Mercedes drags herself down the hall to change out of her damp clothes.

“I didn’t tell her.” I can’t look at him as I admit the words. He doesn’t reply, and his previous movements to unload the dishwasher stop.

“Are you second-guessing going?”

I shrug, still not able to look at him. “No. I just don’t know how to say it without making her hurt.”

“You’ll be back.”

“But I’m still leaving, and she’s going to have to get yet another new na

“I know my daughter.” Kash’s words are a warning, one I should likely follow.

“Obviously not as well as you think you do.”

Kash drops his chin, his eyes wide. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I’m picking a fight with him. I realize this, yet I can’t stop it. I need someone to yell at. I need someone to yell at me. Hopefully it will be loud enough to try to dim the screaming in my own head. “What’s your deal with Summer? You do know that Mercedes wants a mom, right? And I’m not suggesting you up and marry someone because of it, or marry her tomorrow, but—”

Kash shakes his head. “She’s a child. She receives more love than half of the kids on Earth. Last Christmas she asked for a chimp.” Kash’s eyes grow wider and he extends a hand palm up. “Should I have given her one?”

The irritation in his voice baits me to continue, but the sorrow in his brown eyes that are pleading with me to stop makes my tone softer. “You have to give her some credit. She’s ten, Kash. She loves you so much and is absolutely terrified of talking to you about her mom because she thinks it will make you sad. She loves Summer. Summer loves her, and Summer loves you.”

Kash’s gaze and shoulders fall toward the floor. “I can’t. I can’t go through the idea of losing someone again. It may not be death this time. Maybe it’s divorce, or another guy. How many couples stay together these days? Once I’m in, I am all in.”

“Summer hasn’t dated anyone in five years. Five. Years. Kash.” My head shakes with how obtuse he’s being. “It doesn’t get any more in than that. But if you don’t do something soon, you’re going to lose her. She’s eventually going to resent always being here for you, and you never appreciating it or noticing how much she’s giving, and just as importantly, what she’s trying to give to you.”

“What if—”

“There are an infinite number of what ifs but only one choice to make. You need to decide if you’re ever going to be ready to let someone in, or let her free.”

Silence stretches, hanging heavily in the air, beckoning me to break it. I swallow the desire as Kash’s gaze travels back to mine, his chin tilted and attention focused. “Are you going to break up with King?”

My attention drops faster than a blink.

“Lo, it’s just a summer.”

“My career has no direct ties. I could end up anywhere.”

“You’re being a coward!”

I look back to him but can’t keep his intense stare, so I move between over his shoulder and over his head. “I haven’t made a decision.”

Kash blinks heavily as his eyes grow wide once again. “You haven’t decided on what? On not going?”

“Almost anything,” I answer truthfully.

THE NEXT week goes by slowly. I’m no longer working to avoid only King. I’m working to avoid everyone and everything because the thought of saying goodbye is starting to threaten my certainty for going.

“Why are you ignoring everyone all of a sudden?” Kenzie’s arms are spread between both railings, her eyes wide, demanding a response. I’ve been so careful, yet I wasn’t even paying attention as I wandered up the stairs, trying to think positively about Italy for the first time all week.

“I’ve been avoiding you since September,” I reply honestly.

I note the way her eyes look away for a fleeting second before returning to me. “Not like this you haven’t.”

I shrug off her response and take another step forward to signal I’m done. She allows me to pass, following close behind as I unlock the door to our apartment. Kenzie drops her purse to the ground with a thud, closely followed by her coat.

“Is this because of the fashion show?”

Through narrowed eyes I watch her closely, trying to read what all she may know about the situation.