In the End, She Remembered the Rain

Cee Tee felt something crack quietly inside him. Watching his mother stand in the middle of the house she had lived in for years, looking as though she no longer truly belonged there, hurt him more than he could explain.

Still, as the old woman kept softly shaking her head, there was a change in her face that finally broke the heavy silence hanging over the room. Everyone had been trapped inside their own private worry, but now they looked at one another again. In a family that had always filled every room with laughter and conversation, the quiet had become unbearable.

An awkward kind of amusement spread across their faces.

Nonnie, the oldest, let out a startled little laugh.

“Well... have you ever heard anything like that?”

The others joined in with nervous chuckles, grateful for something to interrupt the sadness. Their mother gave them a faint smile, though her trembling head continued to nod and sway.

Jay Dee reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, making her flinch slightly.

“Mama,” he said gently, “why don’t you sit down for a while?”

“Oh, I’m all right,” she answered with a pale smile. “Need to get supper started before too long.”

From the recliner, Koot suddenly leaned forward with irritation.

“Mama,” he said firmly, “we’re taking you out tonight. Don’t you worry about cooking.”

Her eyes widened, almost offended.

“It ain’t any trouble!”

“Mama!” Nonnie snapped, her voice full of concern and frustration. “You are not fixing dinner tonight.”

But the old woman was no longer really listening to them.

Her thoughts had already drifted somewhere far away, somewhere soft and blurred by time. In her mind she could hear rain tapping against windows. She could see an open field wet with morning dew and scattered with flowers. The memory came to her in fragments, flickering in and out like an old film.

Then she saw them.

Her three oldest children stood together in the field, each of them holding white lilies. They were gathered around a shallow hole in the ground, looking down at the old dog lying inside it.

“Poor sweet dog,” she whispered.

But even as she said it, she felt something strange inside the memory, as though one piece of it was missing.

“Well,” Jay Dee said, clearing his throat, “if we’re going out, we probably better head on.”

The family slowly gathered their coats and moved toward the front door.

Then suddenly the memory sharpened.

She saw herself standing there in the rain with a baby in her arms. She saw her children gathered around the grave of the dog. She remembered their tear-streaked faces.

And she remembered who was missing.

“Wait,” she said softly, stopping them all. “Where’s Lassie Boy?”

The room froze.

Jay Dee lowered his head, his eyes turning red.

“Mama,” he answered quietly, “he died.”

She stared at him, completely stunned.

“Why didn’t somebody tell me?” she asked, her face twisting with hurt as tears filled her eyes.

Her children looked at one another helplessly, not knowing what to say.

Finally Jay Dee’s wife stepped closer.

“But Mother,” she said softly, “you were there this morning. You came to the funeral with us.”

The old woman shivered.

“Oh.”

She lifted her hand to her mouth as she tried to force the memory back. Slowly she saw the tiny casket again. She saw Lassie Boy’s pale face. She remembered leaning down to whisper goodbye.

The pain hit her all over again.

“I can’t call it,” she cried, and now her children’s eyes filled with tears too.

“I just can’t call it,” she whispered once more.

She stood in the doorway for a long moment before finally stepping outside. Every movement seemed painfully slow. The porch creaked beneath her feet. Somewhere in the dark, a katydid sang its rough, scraping song, almost as if it were mocking the pieces of memory she could no longer hold onto.

At last she climbed into Jay Dee’s car and shut the door behind her.

As they pulled away from the house and the tires rolled down the dark road, the old woman remembered the rain.