Free Rain and Revelation by Therese Pautz

nightstand casts a glow in the sparse room. Only one wall has something on it: a crucifix. Heavy drapes cover the small window on the far wall. Ryan touches my forehead with his cool hand. Then, his slender fingers comb my hair away from my face. I close my eyes. I can’t help it. Then I reopen them. He doesn’t stop. Softly, he starts humming. It’s a familiar tune that I can’t place. The pain ebbs. My body sinks into the soft mattress. My eyes flutter. I try to keep them open, but they are heavy. My breath rises from my belly and escapes from my half opened mouth as he strokes my hair and hums.
    I pretend I’m in my own bed and that it’s my mother’s hand stroking my hair. I let my lids close and drift into dreamless sleep.
    Pain wakes me. The light remains on, but there’s no sound in the other room. My pills are on the table along with a note from Ryan: “You needed the sleep so we didn’t wake you for dinner. Holler when you wake up and I can help.” He wrote out the schedule for the medication and left his running watch next to a full glass of water. It’s three o’clock in the morning, past the time to take the pills.
    After taking the medicine, I lie back and stare at the walls and wish I were in my own bed.
    I replay everything that has happened in the last weeks. I’m here with people that I don’t know, and I can’t even get up to use the bathroom by myself.
    Time passes. I keep looking through the slit in the drapes for a sign that the sun is coming up.
    I cry soundless tears.
    Looking around, I don’t see any tissue. I reach over and open the drawer of the nightstand to see if there are any in there. There are none. In the drawer are several black, hard-covered books and a large manila envelope fastened with a string. It feels like it has papers in it. I pull out a couple of the books. School yearbooks. I wipe my tears with my shirt.
    I flip through the pages of one. My yearbook was similar except for the hairstyles. There are no inscriptions, like mine has. I don’t recognize anyone. I grab another and peruse the pages.
    Finally, light is filtering through the closed drapes, but there’s no noise in the other room. I grab another book and try to get comfortable.
    As I’m skimming the pages, a picture catches my attention. I turn the page back and stare. It’s Ma. Rather than looking at the camera directly, she’s looking off to the side. Ma’s hair is parted in the middle and falls straight to her shoulders.
    There are pictures of Da and Paddy in their rugby uniforms. In all the pictures, they are smiling with arms linked or slung around each other and their mates.
    There is a picture of the theater group. Ma’s sitting on the couch with the others. Seated next to her is Mr. Walters on one side and a girl on the other. Mr. Walters’s arm lies across the top of the couch directly behind Ma’s head. His body is shifted toward Ma, rather than toward the arm of the couch, like he’s leaning in to talk to her or get her to smile. He’s wearing heavy black glasses and has hair the color of copper and a bushy mustache.
    In another picture, Ma is leaning over a table while Mr. Walters appears to be talking to a group of students on the opposite end of the table. It’s the group working on the school newspaper. Everyone is laughing, including Mr. Walters. Everyone but Ma.
    I close the book and put it back. I’m cold, but I can’t get myself under the covers, so I pull the afghan up to my chin. Not only did I not know Ma sang, I never knew she was in theater or worked on the newspaper. Her eyes seemed sad even then. Yet it looked like she had friends.
    Where are those friends now?
    Other questions plague me. How did she and Da, an unlikely couple, get together? Why did he have an affair? Who did he have an affair with? How did I not see it? Why did Ma need to see Da now? Why didn’t she want to see me? What am I going to do without her?
    There’s movement in the other room. Then Ryan