The Negotiation

1:30am

It’s raining. Not the kind that feels cozy and comforting. It’s a storm. No one in Los Angeles knows how to handle it. People cancel plans. The city grinds to a halt. Forcing you to grind to a halt, too. I typically like to keep moving. To be on the go. Keeps me from thinking. Tonight I don’t have a choice.

Luke kisses my forehead and says goodnight. Turns over. I'm not tired yet, but I know he has an early morning. I understand he has a demanding work life, so I try not to demand much myself. I’m thirty-three, which means I have broken hearts, and I've had mine broken, too. You’d think you grow more certain with each break, but that isn’t the case for me.

I roll onto my back. My mind wanders. I’m transported back to Derek’s cramped apartment, with water stains forming on the ceiling above his bed. The worst storm we’ve had in years. I’m 18. He’s 21. Derek’s just promised me we’ll be together forever. I didn’t care about water stains on the ceiling. I just wanted him. After my freshman year of college, I never saw him again. According to Derek, I could never match his ambition. Sometimes I stalk his Facebook page. He’s unemployed. I’m a top criminal defense lawyer. To be fair, my major was undeclared when we met.

I toss and turn. Rain hits our roof. No ceiling stains in sight.

I moved into Luke’s place a year ago. Somehow, it was easier to fold my life into his. Easier than starting fresh. Or asking him to fold his life into mine.

2am

To be a lawyer, you need to be convincing. I can talk anyone into anything. Sometimes I worry I’m too good at it. The lines blur between the stories I tell others and the stories I tell myself.

I stand up and go to the bathroom. I whisper, “Stop thinking so loudly.” My law school boyfriend, Jordan, used to always say he could hear my thoughts. He was charming. I broke up with him because it turns out he was pretty good at convincing people to do things, too. Especially me. Like turning down a job interview at a top law firm because he was also in the running, and I’d probably get chosen over him because they “have to hire a certain number of women.” The question rattles around in my brain. “Why did I stay with him another six months after that?”

2:10am

I climb back in bed and close my eyes. Luke’s never tried to convince me of anything. But he’s never asked me much about myself either. I have flashes of the lavish dinners and parties we attended together this summer. He’s an actor. Someone always wants a photo when we're out in public, and he never says no to a fan. I don't mind. He should feel good about that success. On the brink of having everything he’s ever wanted. Including me. I found an engagement ring tucked under the bed yesterday.

I think back to earlier this evening. Luke stares out the window and tells me how much he loves the rain. “You love it too, right?” When he asks that, my brain feels itchy. I don’t know how to scratch an itch that deep inside of my skull.

I thought he knew I don’t like rain. I refuse to drive in it. Always cancel plans. He’s been there when I grimace at getting rain water on my hair and clothes. So does he see something that I can’t?

I’m not afraid to change for him. I’m afraid he’ll never even notice I changed.

2:27am

I shoot up in a sweat. Luke snores. I creep over to the key bowl and slip out with an umbrella and tennis shoes.

I get off the elevator and exit into the lobby. I usually stop to chat with our doorman, Maurice. He’s fatherly and in his 60s. He watches, concerned, as I step out into the street without a word.

Water bounces off my red umbrella like a shield. I remain dry underneath. Protected. A flash of thunder and lightning. The umbrella fights to go free as the wind picks up, but I hold on tightly. Finally, I have no choice but to release. The umbrella goes flying. I’m drenched. I don’t duck for cover even though fierce raindrops pelt me. I jump up and down in a massive puddle, hoping to shake off all that I’m feeling. Water explodes up into my face.

I’m transported back to being 12 years old. My first kiss in the rain with the coolest 13-year-old in school, Brian Jenkins. The rain was unexpected that day. We’re in front of my house, standing in a giant puddle. My mom peers out the window. She doesn’t stop us. Nothing could. When I come back inside, she asks me if Brian is a nice kid. “Will he treat you well?” “I’m certain of it,” I say happily. The next day at school, he pretends the kiss never happened. That was the last time I ever liked the rain.

2:36am

Maurice grabs my shoulder. He holds an umbrella above our heads. We lock eyes, and it scares me to be seen like this. “Ms. Elodie, what are you doing out here?” Before I can answer, he adds, “I thought you hated the rain!” I’m taken aback. I realize he’s seen me come and go every day for the last year. He encourages me to go inside. “Soon,” I assure him. He returns inside, but gently presses the umbrella into my hand. I stand in place. Frozen. I know the second I move, I have to make a choice.

A different concerned voice calls my name. I turn to see Luke staring at me from his window on the third floor. I look up at him. Exposed and vulnerable. To the elements. To him. To myself.

For the second time in my life, I feel certain.

I hate the rain.

Luke doesn’t remember.

My Doorman does.

And one day, someone else will too.