Chapter 10 - Rain On The Tall Windows
That evening it rained again and the tall windows went gray.
I sat on the rug with my back against the couch and my bunny in my lap. My sisters were there too. The one in pink had her legs tucked under her and was picking at a loose thread on her sock. The one in lavender lay on her stomach with her chin on her hands, watching the rain run down the glass. The piano lid was closed. The kitchen lights were on but nobody was cooking. It was quiet except for the rain hitting the windows and the hum from the refrigerator.
My name is Lucia. I was the middle one in the floral dress. That night I kept thinking about another night it rained like that.
It had been after bedtime. I knew that because the hallway light was off and the house was dark except for the living area. I had gotten up because I was thirsty. I remember the tile cold under my feet. I didn't make it all the way to the kitchen.
I stopped by the side of the couch when I heard them.
My dad's voice came first. Low and fast. Then my mom's voice over it, higher. I couldn't hear the words, just the way they kept cutting each other off. I crouched down and held my bunny tight against my chest. The rain was loud on the windows then too. I remember watching a drop slide down and split into two.
Then there was a thud. Not loud like in a movie. Just a heavy sound from the kitchen, like a chair pushed too hard or something dropped. I flinched. My bunny's ear bent under my thumb.
After that my mom was crying. I could hear it even with the rain. It wasn't the loud kind. It was the kind where you try not to. I pressed my face into the side of the couch and breathed through my mouth so I wouldn't make noise.
My sister in pink came out into the hallway then. I saw her bare feet stop on the tile. She didn't say anything. She just stood there and listened with me. I reached out and she came and sat down next to me behind the couch. She put her hand on my arm. Neither of us moved.
Then it went quiet.
I waited for someone to get water or turn on a light or say sorry like they did sometimes after they fought. Nothing happened for a long time. The rain kept hitting the glass.
Then I heard keys. That little metal sound my dad's keys made when he picked them up off the island. Footsteps across the tile toward the front. A door opened and closed. I heard his car start outside even through the rain. The sound got fainter down the driveway.
My mom didn't call after him. She didn't come find us.
After a minute my sister in pink whispered, "Go back to bed."
"Is Mom okay?" I whispered back.
She didn't answer right away. She looked toward the kitchen where it was dark. "She's just tired," she said. Her voice sounded thin.
We went back down the hall on our tiptoes. The sister in lavender was asleep in our room with the covers pulled up over her ears. I climbed into bed and kept my bunny under my chin. I listened for my mom's footsteps. I listened for the front door again. I fell asleep waiting.
In the morning Mom wasn't there.
That was what I kept turning over on the rug while the rain ran down the tall windows. I had told everyone Daddy killed Mommy like I had seen something. But I hadn't. I had heard shouting and a thud and crying and then silence and keys. I had never seen anyone fall. I had never seen blood or a body. I had only seen the empty space the next day where she should have been.
The sister in lavender rolled onto her side and looked at me. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"That rainy night," I said. "When they were yelling."
She frowned. "I don't remember."
"You were asleep," my sister in pink said from the other end of the rug. She wasn't picking at her sock anymore. She was watching me.
"Did you see Mom after?" I asked her. "That night. After Dad left."
She shook her head slowly. "I went back to bed. I thought she'd be there in the morning."
"She wasn't," I said.
"I know," she said.
We all looked at the windows for a while. The rain made the backyard blurry. The piano reflected the kitchen light. The marble island was empty except for the fruit bowl. It looked normal, like nothing had ever happened there.
"Maybe killed doesn't mean what I said," I said quietly. My throat felt tight. "Maybe I just made it sound worse."
My sister in pink pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "You heard what I heard," she said. "Don't take it back just because you're scared."
"I'm not taking it back," I said. "I'm just — I didn't see it. I only heard it. Doesn't that matter?"
She didn't answer. The sister in lavender reached over and touched my bunny's ear with one finger, then pulled her hand back.
May you like
Outside the rain kept coming down. Inside it was warm and quiet and my dad was somewhere else in the house and my mom was still gone. Doubting the word didn't make the fear go away. It just made it heavier, because if I was wrong about what I saw, I didn't know what I was right about anymore.
I held my bunny tighter and kept watching the windows.
