Like Rainbows

It was the Friday evening before Memorial Day weekend. The day’s heavy rain was slowing to a light drizzle. A few rays of sun begged to make an appearance before drifting westward and out of sight. The gray horizon was beginning to brighten, but the sky seemed unable to make up it's mind. Carla’s Ford Bronco trudged up the wet pavement, tires splashing through the puddles left behind by the storm. On the radio, the traffic reporter warned drivers of a jam up on the Garden State Parkway. Hundreds of travelers were heading “down the shore” for the holiday weekend, including her sons who had hit the road with their friends 20 minutes ago.

Carla was on her way to have a solo dinner in the town where Brayden lived. It was hard to imagine a year had come and gone since their stolen night in Asbury, when they stayed up until dawn and watched the sunrise from their hotel window. Carla made a mental note to text him later. She wondered if he was in a relationship now, sitting in beach traffic; his young girlfriend driving while he carefully curated a playlist to suit whatever his current mood happened to be. Hopefully he was selecting happy songs. Hopefully he was clean.

She shut off the radio and continued driving up the steep hill toward the intersection that bordered her town and Brayden’s. Through the windshield, a double rainbow materialized as the sun continued to fight against the haze. The colors grew more vibrant as her Bronco approached the intersection. At the red light on the corner, she pulled into a gas station and got out of her car to take pictures of the two arched prisms glowing in the sky that stretched out before her. Moments later, they would fade into oblivion.

After dinner Carla scrolled through her photos. She tapped the best one and uploaded it with a text to Brayden that said “was thinking of you and these rainbows magically appeared.” She was certain the sentiment would make him smile. Brayden had wished Carla well on Mother’s Day two weeks prior but she hadn’t gotten around to writing more than a "thank you". For both their sakes, Carla had kept her distance from him since their getaway. She took a few moments to recollect why.

“Let’s go for a walk by the ocean and sleep on the beach”, Carla suggested. Brayden was sitting on the bed with his guitar, strumming Friend of the Devil and singing along. He was being witty, mocking the ugly truths Carla revealed when she performed a tarot reading for him a few hours earlier. The devil card had been the first to fall from the deck she had been shuffling on and off throughout the night.

“Whoa. That’s not good.” Brayden scratched his chin and tilted his head with curiosity.

“Not great. But let’s pull some more cards. That way we can see the whole picture.”

A few additional cards fell onto the carpet where Brayden and Carla sat face to face. Each one added to the alarming narrative Carla didn't need the cards to verify.

“My love, you have to change your ways,” her tone was gentle but serious. “Look at this 8 of swords next to the devil. You’re staying up all night, you're drinking, doing god knows what....”

“Only cocaine - sometimes.”

Carla gazed at him and shook her head disapprovingly. She didn’t belong there with Brayden - in this room, receiving intermittent kisses that took her breath away. This sweet, sensitive man before her was toxic and lacking in all direction. In her soul she could not resist his vulnerability, but in reality, she had to release him.

“You’re 30 years old Brayden. You need to sort your life out.”

“That’s life." He said, smiling and shaking jazz hands in her face.

“I’m serious!” she choked back a laugh, but it was exactly these little charming quirks that made it impossible for her not to adore him. “I worry about you - all the time.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, even if you’re old enough to be my dead mother.” His comment didn't land well.

Carla stood up. She went into the bathroom and locked the door. She splashed water on her face and stared in the mirror. She wanted to scream. He wasn't wrong. She left her teenage sons to fend for themselves for the night. They were the ones she should be worrying about. She had no business carving out time for Brayden.

A few minutes later, Brayden knocked on the door.

“C’mon Carla. Let me in.”

Carla opened the door a crack.

“Can I please come in?” he asked.

“Yes," she replied reluctantly. Brayden stood behind Carla who was still staring at herself in the mirror. She looked young for her age but older than she did when she first met Brayden a couple of years back. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother her. Brayden read Carla’s mind.

“Look how beautiful you are. I’m a disappointment. I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

Carla turned around to face him and swept her hands through his moppy, black hair. “You deserve everything and more, but you have to believe it.” She pressed her pointer finger into his heart.

Brayden grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. He led her to the bed and removed her nightshirt. He took off his sweatpants and laid down on top of her. For the next few hours they touched every part of one another, pausing now and again to change the music on Spotify or to share a random thought that came into their heads. They tried to sleep but were both restless. Carla introduced a breathing technique to calm their anxious energy and they relaxed for a while listening to one another’s deep inhales and exhales.

At sunrise, they stood by the window, his arms around her waist, chin upon her shoulder, wishing they could hit the pause button, knowing they could not. A day by the sea was all they could ever have.

On the drive home, neither spoke much. Carla focused on the road. She stressed about the students she would be teaching the next day and if her kids left a mess in the kitchen sink. Brayden played the same two songs on repeat. After about the eighth time hearing a song about an emergency contact who slams the phone down on her ex-boyfriend following his drunk driving arrest, Carla finally chimed in. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”

“I know.” And the rest of the ride fell silent.

When they reached Brayden’s house it was clear they wouldn't be seeing one another for a while. Brayden got out of the Bronco and walked over to the driver’s side. He opened Carla’s door and placed both of her hands in his. Kneeling down he looked deep within her eyes. “You mean the world to me. I need you to know that. You’re an amazing woman, teacher, lover, human - you should be so proud of yourself. I do love you. I’ll always love you. ” He finished his soliloquy, closed the door and waved goodbye. A week later, he texted Carla to announce he was going to rehab.

Summer came and Carla prepared to send her oldest son off to college. It was exciting but also draining, both mentally and physically. As she took her son to pick out bedding and towels and toiletries, she caught herself wondering if Brayden’s life would be different had his mother been around to usher him into adulthood, instead of dying when he was 11 years old. She thought about what she would do if her sons became alcoholics or drug addicts or led directionless lives. She would, of course, find every way possible to support them. But Brayden had been her lover, not her child. And though nothing could stop her from worrying about him, Brayden had to find his own way.

Every couple of months, in the middle of the night, Carla’s phone would tweet and she’d awaken to find a message from Brayden, short and sweet. She never replied. She imagined he didn't necessarily want a text back. The messages were sent more as proof of life than anything else. It brought a sense of relief. Perhaps in time they could find a way to be friends.

When Brayden's message arrived on Mother’s Day, Carla decided enough time had passed and a little light hearted banter couldn't hurt. She waited for just the right moment to send him a pair of rainbows and waited again for a response that never came.

Carla was cooking breakfast on the morning of Memorial Day when the phone rang. Brayden’s name popped up on her screen. Hesitating to answer, she took a deep breath to ready herself for what she thought could turn into a slightly awkward conversation. “Hey you!” Carla said in a cheery voice to conceal her nerves. She expected a silly retort from the other end.

“Is this Carla?” An unfamiliar female voice asked.

“This is she.”

“I’m so sorry to call like this. We’ve never met. This is Brayden’s sister, Sara."

"Oh. Hi." Carla's body began shaking instinctively.

"I’m calling because Brayden passed away on Friday afternoon.”

“I see." Carla put her phone down for a few seconds, not entirely aware of what she just heard. “Wait. What happened? Are you ok?”

“Not really. He overdosed- on something. Listen, I have so many calls to make. I’ll text you the funeral arrangements when I have them.”

“Ok. Thanks for calling. Let me know if there’s anything I can do…..”

Carla stepped out onto her patio and looked up at the sky. It was a sunny morning but the air felt cool as it brushed across her tear covered cheeks. She thought about the duality of the universe, the delicate balance between the yin and yang in all things, and how from two seemingly opposing forces, the most beautiful sight can appear. She thought about Brayden, who, like a sky that produces rainbows, could never quite make up his mind. His heart had spoken so beautifully to hers in spite of his struggle to find balance between joy and pain. He was no different from a rainbow, she thought - colorful, unpredictable, bright and vibrant one moment and gone the next. And while it didn’t escape her that thousands of people probably witnessed the same colorful bridges of light she photographed three days ago, this synchronicity, she believed, was more than just coincidence.