Running in the Rain
MJ slammed her laptop shut. Why were people so blind? Couldn’t they see all the shit going down right now? She sighed and pushed her chair back from wooden desk. Piles of books and papers lined it like a fortress wall. Some books she had read, some she hadn’t.
Her laptop was halfway was in her backpack when there was a sharp knock on the apartment door.
Usually she would’ve let her mom get it, not interested in talking to strangers, but today it was just her in the apartment. Abandoning her bag, MJ walked to the door.
Before she could reach it, there was another loud knock.
“I’m coming. I’m coming. Jeez.”
MJ reaches for the worn handle and pulled open the door. In hindsight she probably should’ve looked through the peep hole, but it didn’t matter. I’m front of her was a soaking wet, grinning from ear to ear, Peter Parker.
“What the shit Parker?”
Peter just stood in front of her, and laughed, “MJ it’s raining.”
“Yeah I got that. Did you come all the way here to give me a weather report?” MJ stepped away from the door to allow Peter in but he didn’t move.
“No, you don’t understand. It’s raining, in New York.”
“Pretty sure I know where I live Parker.”
“It’s raining and you’re inside, sad and alone.”
MJ crosses her arms, “how did you know I was alone?”
Peter looked at her like she’d asked a stupid question.
“Well?”
“It’s Saturday at noon. Your parents are both volunteering at the dog rescue.”
“Ok,” MJ sounded skeptical,” but how would you know that?”
Peter had that look again, “you said that they did that once. We asked if you had plans and you said ‘no, my parents are gone in Saturday’s from 8-7.’”
“I’m not sure how you even remember that but whatever. Come on in I guess.” She motioned again for him to enter but he stayed rooted.
“No no no. We gotta go now.”
MJ’s posture straightened, “why? What’s wrong?
Peter’s eyes went wide, “Nothing.” He shook his head profusely before continuing, “ no we gotta go before the rain stops. We can’t play in sad puddles.”
“You want to play in the rain? Like five year olds?”
“No, like happy people. The rain is beautiful and fun ok? We can go to Central Park and get utterly wasted on happiness.”
MJ stared at him, considering the proposition. On one hand, it was incredibly stupid. On the other hand, it was incredibly sweet and damn he’s cute.
“Ok.”
Peter’s smile grew wider. MJ grabbed her phone and a plastic bag with fresh, dry socks for the way home.
Peter nodded to her bag, “ probably a good idea. Eventually you just settle into the squish though.”
She snorted and led the way down the apartment steps. She was on the fifth floor and the elevator was broken, so she just had to brave it.
By the end, MJ was exhausted and Peter hadn’t even stopped smiling. She looked around, expecting to see Ned there, waiting for them.
“Where’s loser number two?”
“Ned? Oh he doesn’t like the rain. I tried to drag him out one afternoon when we first met and he got a cold.” Peter laughed at the memory, realizing the true reason they only build legos.
“So what? You want me to get sick too?” She playfully nudged Peter, causing him to step into a puddle. She laughed as he let out a string of curse words. “You love the rain, huh?”
“Come on dude. I love the rain when I choose to get soaked in it. When I’m not wearing socks that are gonna squish.”
The pair continued, talking as they journeyed up and down the streets. Eventually Central Park appeared before them, the rain driving the majority of the population inside. They stopped in the middle of a large pathway, green trees lining either side.
“Ok so what now Peter? Do we just walk aestheticly down the brown brick road?” MJ stared at Peter, surveying his face. His brown eyes were wide with wonder as he started at the trees above them, the rain filtering through.
Peter smiled and replied,”No. First, we take our shoes off.”
She must have looked surprised because Peter just smiled again.
He slipped of each tennis shoe, securing them and his socks in a bag in his backpack. He wiggles his bare feet on the cold, damp brick.
Then he turned and look at her expectantly. She slowly mirrored his actions until they were both getting soaked down to their toes.
“Now, we run.” Peter took off like a bullet, feet hitting the ground making a splat sound each time he stepped. MJ stood in confusion, wondering why she was now alone.
Peter called after, stopping twenty feet away to wait. MJ rolled her eyes and tightened the strap on her backpack. She ran off after her best friend.
When she was only a couple feet away, Peter began to run again. He breathed in the wet air and felt the rain travel through his hair, down his face and drip off his chin. He started laughing and yelling to MJ behind him, “isn’t this amazing?”
She couldn’t hide the freedom she felt as New York faded behind her, leaving her laptop and the violent news behind. Right then it was just her, Peter, Central Park, and the rain. And it was perfect. The pooled water splashed at their feet, hair falling in their eyes. They seldom ran past anyone else but when they did, the strangers looked at the teens like they were insane. Maybe they were but all MJ could think about was the smell of the fresh plants and trying to soak in every detail of this memory. Trying to frame it and add it to a quiet corner of her mind, only accessed on rainy quiet days. Days like today.
MJ caught up to Peter as he slowed down, stopping to admire something in the grass. She stood beside him, catching her breath,” what are you looking at?” She doubled over, panting.
Peter stepped closer and pointed, “you see that puddle over there? The one where the tree branch is directly over it? Well the way water drains off the branch, it drips right into the center of the puddle. Then, all the ripples go out from the very center. It’s perfect.”
MJ smiled. She would never understand how he could find such beauty in the world.
“It shall now be known exclusively as the Aesthetic Puddle. It’s the only rightful title.”
“Whatever loser.”
Peter looked turned around and looked at her. She was dripping wet but a smile almost as big as his spread across her face. His plan had worked. Without any warning, Peter took her hand and began to run. She almost screamed when she was suddenly jolted forward. She held on tightly to his hand, not letting go for fear of falling but for fear of losing this moment. She squeezed his hand tighter as she closed the gap between them.
Eventually, after what felt like a hundred laps a round the park, MJ couldn’t run anymore and Peter even seemed a tiny bit winded. They wandered slowly, hand in hand, though they agreed it was to keep from slipping or getting lost, until they found a small café and sat under the awning, nursing their hot drinks.
“Vanilla steamer, huh? What’s in that?”
Peter clutched his chest dramatically and faked a look of hurt, “what’s a vanilla steamer? You don’t know what that is?”
“Stop assuming everyone knows what it is just because you do. I have never in my life, seen someone with that drink.”
Peter just shrugged,” well when I was a kid, I wanted to order coffee like my aunt did but I didn’t like coffee. We were trying to figure something out when the barista offered a drink called a Vanilla Steamer. I immediately loved it. It’s like a vanilla hot chocolate. If that makes sense.” Peter took another drink and a whip cream mustache formed above his lips.
MJ sighed and looked at the down pour in front of them and asked, “so why do you like the rain so much? Don’t get me wrong that was one of the funnest things I’ve done in my life but still.”
Peter stared into the street for a moment, silent. He formed his answer but was hesitant. How much could he say? “Sometimes, everything gets too loud. The city sounds are like a symphony but sometimes my ears hear it through a 2001 IPod. The rain is just one, constant sound. It dims everything else.”
MJ digested his answer, mulling the words over her own tongue. She mentally added another note to her conspiracy.
Peter broke the silence between them, “what about you? Why didn’t you like the rain?”
MJ smiled again and looked a Peter, “didn’t have a reason to like it.”
Peter chugged the rest of his drink and put it in the recycling bin a few feet away. He stood and once again held out his hand, “race you back?”