Memories of Rain

I stared into the mirror with intense concentration. I knew I shouldn’t show too much emotion, not yet. I shook my hands out nervously and squinted harder. Three deep breaths. Foundation. Blush. A little mascara. And lipstick. Deep maroon lipstick. Unlike everyone else in my life, you love that color. My mom hates it. My dad hates it. My brother hates it. I think my cat even hates it. She hisses at me every time I wear it. But you love it. I think you love it because you know I love it.

I took another deep breath. I almost couldn’t control my shaking. I marched to my closet with purpose. I know you love the color scarlet. Specifically, that color. You’ve made so many comments about it over time, so I simply HAD to find a scarlet dress to wear on our first date. I thought of how you’ll just melt when you see it. I smiled to myself as I sorted through my clothing racks. I had three different scarlet dresses to choose from.

The first one was really shiny. Far too shiny for your taste, I think. Far too shiny for mine too, actually. Why did I even have that one? I chuckled and made a mental note to tell you about the shiny dress.

The next dress draped all the way to the ground. It was very formal. I think you’ll love that one, but I’ll save it for a more formal occasion. A picnic in the park isn’t exactly the red carpet.

The third dress was tea length. It flared out from the waist and looked like something you’d wear to a wonderful brunch with some woodland creatures. The top was fitted and had a little lace-up detail. It was perfect! I chose some practical little Mary Jane style shoes with no heels, so that I wouldn’t sink into the ground at the park. I started to shake again as I put the outfit together. I gulped and tried to push the nerves down.

I grabbed the picnic basket and raced downstairs. It was almost time. I still had to pack!

I hummed softly, but with a bit of anxiety behind my voice. I was having such a difficult time containing my emotions. I pictured your handsome smile and your freckled cheeks chuckling at me for being late for our first date. I shouldn’t have done that. My butterflies became frantic.

Despite feeling a rainbow of emotions, I found myself smiling involuntarily as I packed sandwiches, cheese, grapes, crackers, pie, a bottle of my favorite brand of Merlot, and two little glistening wine glasses. I wanted everything to be perfect.

Perfect like you. Perfect like when we were paired together for that science project in high school. Perfect like when we realized that we shared a love for obscure British literature and an obsession with identifying plant species. Perfect like when we both got scholarships to the same college. And perfect like when we bumped into each other and you fell in a puddle. Instead of being angry, you asked me on a date. It was pouring outside. You smiled. It was perfect.

I was filled with warm thoughts. I examined the bottle of Merlot. You’ll love it. It will be perfect.

I added silver wear, napkins, and some plates. Next, I skipped to the living room with giddiness, my dress swooshing majestically as I did so. I grabbed the heavy embroidered quilt from the couch and danced about the room as I folded it. I grabbed two circular floor cushions. It would be so perfect. Should I grab candles too? I wondered. No, that would be too much. Maybe for our second date.

I thought back to the time we’d both ended up at the same party. There were candles everywhere then. You and I had wandered to the punchbowl about the same time. Our eyes met and we began to reminisce about one of our high school field trips. We talked about how Benji Simmons smuggled vodka on the bus and got expelled and how funny it was when he came back to school before he was allowed to, dressed as another guy in our grade, while that guy stayed home. You confessed that the whole prank was your idea. We laughed for hours, which ended up leading to us walking outside to look at the stars. I think you would have kissed me that night, but it began to rain after about five minutes outside. We giggled as some of the outdoor candles were extinguished. It was still perfect.

It was three months until the next time I saw you. That’s when “I pushed you” into the puddle, as you called it. We laughed for so long. I thought about all of the smiles and laughs we’d share during our picnic.

With shaky excitement, I loaded up my little red car. The Merlot. The basket. The quilt. The cushions. It was perfect.

I drove to the park, just before the sun began to turn to a dusky orange. The clouds in the distance had begun to darken a bit by the time I parked my car. I checked my face in the mirror, making sure my makeup was still perfect.

But there it was, the tear. In the corner of my eye, trying to fall. Trying to ruin our perfect date. I took a deep breath and wiped it away. My hands were shaking harder now. I dabbed my makeup one more time.

“There. Perfect,” I whispered.

I got out of the car and gathered up all of the picnic supplies. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. I glanced at the clouds, shaking my head.

“No, not yet. You can’t yet,” I told them, urging them to allow us our perfect date.

As I closed the door behind me, I felt as if I was moving in slow motion. My heart pounded. Faster and faster.

I stumbled to the beautiful meadow that we had agreed upon for our picnic spot. It was full of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. The sky was orange, decorated with purple clouds that were growing darker. The grass was a lush, Spring green. The park was such a plethora of gorgeous colors. And here I was to add scarlet to the mix.

I was starting to shake more as I set up the quilt. My nerves were truly getting the better of me. It will be worth it though.

I placed the cushions perfectly along the quilt, set up the plates, complete with sandwiches and snacks. I poured a glass of Merlot for me and then one for you. When I looked up from my preparations, there you were.

Your smile was the biggest I’d ever seen. Your hair was wild and tousled, blonde as ever. Your green eyes sparkled with happiness. You were adorned in your uniform, proud as ever. A strong, brave soldier. You’re so handsome! The most beautiful man I’d ever seen with a heart even more beautiful. You danced your way across the meadow, and I laughed. You picked me up and twirled me around through the flowers, little petals flying up from beneath your feet.

“You look beautiful!” You said to me. “That’s my favorite color. I thought I liked it before, but now its even better.” You grinned. Toothy and cheesy. It made me so happy.

We sat on the quilt. You told me of your travels, your adventures, of the dangers you’d seen and of the people you'd saved. I told you stories about my job, my friends, my sassy cat, Taffy, and my goofy dog, Rex. We talked about the flowers and literature and my choice of Merlot. We drank and ate and laughed.

You leaned in close and whispered how nervous you were and I whispered the same. A tear secretly escaped from my left eye. You noticed and wiped it away. A rain drop fell.

“Oh, its raining,” you said and smiled, questioning yourself if the first drop was really rain or a tear.

“So it is,” I said, as several more drops fell onto my forehead.

Thunder roared in the valley behind us. It began to pour.

“It’s perfect,” you said.

You gently caressed my face, pulled me close, and kissed my lips ever so gently.

The rain washed over us.

I closed my eyes. Tears fell. Thunder boomed.

When I awoke, a bluebonnet was tickling my nose. Rain was steadily pouring down my cheek. My face was in the grass. My glass of Merlot lay sideways, with only a few drops enduring. Your glass sat across from me on the saturated quilt, still full, now overflowing as rain filled it.

I wiped my face, now covered with a mix of tears, rain, and mascara. I looked up at you, longingly, as the storm trudged on.

It was the perfect date, wasn’t it?

I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the cold, grey stone that stood stoically in your spot.

I miss you, every day. I’ll drink your glass of Merlot for you. I hope you like my scarlet dress. I know it was your favorite, ever since I wore it that day. I remember you joking that I should have worn it to our wedding. I smiled through more tears as I placed my forehead on the top of the stone, eye level with engraved letters.

“In loving memory of Thomas Earl Stevenson. A caring son. An amazing brother. A brave soldier. The perfect husband.”

The thunder rolled slowly through the sky and the rain continued. I’ll sit with you a while longer.