Winter Rain, part 10

Her sweater is a bit small for me, but I pull it on and settle down beside her. She puts her arm around me for warmth. Hers and mine. She rests her head against my shoulder.

The darkness is comforting—despite the cold, still air. The smell of damp earth, the hint of must—it’s not at all like the den at home, but it’s deeply, instinctively familiar, nonetheless. And there are old memories here, too. Of childhood. And simpler times.

I look down at her out of the corner of my eye. She smiles. “I’m glad you called,” she says. “I’ve missed you.” She says it without reproach, but it makes my heart sink anyway. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Though I guess I knew I would. It’s just . . . I couldn’t be around her while . . . . She knows me too well. She’d have found out what I was up to, and then she’d have talked me out of it.

But it’s safe now. The deed is done.

“I’m glad you came.” I lean into her a little. “To be honest, I didn’t think you would.”

“And why would you think that?“

“No reason,” I lie. I grin and try to cover: “Just, you know, clothes, shoes, running in heels . . . .”

She punches me in the ribs with her free hand. “You try running on gravel in heels!”

I laugh. “See, that’s exactly my point!”

She snuggles back into me and I put my arm around her and pull her close.

“I was a little worried . . . that you’d be angry with me.”

She looks up at me and smirks. “Why, because you’ve been avoiding me?”

Hah! “I’m that transparent, am I?”

She sighs. “You are to me.”

Hmmm. And I always have been, haven’t I.

“You aren’t angry?”

“Eh,” she says, and shrugs. “Not any more. Maybe at first. But I know how you get.

“I try not to take it personally.”

I don’t know how she can be so easy-going. So forgiving. But I’ve always envied that about her. And I hate it that I’ve relied on it so much.

“You know,” I say, and meet her eyes, “I’ve really missed you.”

“I know,” she says, without hesitation—like it’s the most obvious thing I could have said. “But maybe you could remember, next time, that I like having you around, too, okay?”

Skewered, I look away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Uh huh. So, can I assume whatever stupid idea you’ve been avoiding me to do is done?”

Transparent indeed.

But I guess I’ve avoided the topic long enough.

“She’s gone, Tara. And she won’t be back.”

5 Responses to “Winter Rain, part 10”

  1. srsuleski says:

    This is irrevocably boring and I will never read anything you write, ever again.

  2. I suspected as much.  Oh well.  There’s always RCC to fall back on.

  3. srsuleski says:

    I have crushed the delicate fronds of a newly flowering fern.  With my big black boots and an old suitcase.


  4. srsuleski says:

    Okay, serious comment (which will be hard with my donut addled brain, but)

    Yeah, not much happens.  But then, it’s quite short, so you can’t have great balls of plot every installment at your average wordcount per update.  I like Tara so far, and the insight into her and Tiergan’s relationship.  Cuddly little puppies, they are.  She strikes me as rather motherly.  I’m picturing Tiergan nuzzling into her ample bosom.  (But don’t mind that, that’s probably just the sugar talking).

    I don’t think the writing that’s there is bad, or banal . . . but one thing that does occur to me is that it’s missing the sort of grounding that was in some other installment.  Like in the first one; the ugly modern painting, the tea cup . . . the background objects in the setting seemed to give it that splash of color.  This is mostly dialogue with a little framing at the beginning.

    But that’s only when I’m analyzing it based on what you were saying . . . normally I’d probably just read it over, digest the character dynamic, and wait for more.  So it’s not a biggie.  Don’t have to be immersed in color like a painting every minute, esp. when you’re trying to keep the story moving on a daily basis.

    “She’s gone, Tara. And she won’t be back.”

    Ah but it would seem Faolan wants to marry her (or something) so won’t she “be back” in the sense that she’ll still be in his life?  That is going to be awfully awkward.

  5. Hmmm, I think it is the lack of action and setting that has been bugging me.  Too much of them sitting quietly in a dark, empty room.  This isn’t the first time I’ve had this problem in my writing, either.  I’ll see if I can fix that with the next ep.

    As for awfully awkward, I think that’s an understatement.  I haven’t yet decided exactly how all of that will resolve, but it is certainly core to the plot.

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