Dancing In the Rain

When I was little, I had a huge imagination.

One of the products of said imagination was a Chocolate Milk monster. Big, brown, and gloppy, this monster was exactly what his name implies. 

And yes, let’s be honest. Even though I’m 17 now, the Chocolate Milk monster still holds a special place in my heart.

—

Outside, a gentle rain is falling.
I run out to meet the cloudy sky, the grass rustling beneath my bare feet. Ryan stands in the dim shelter of the porch, arms folded, a sullen expression on his face. Teardrops start to splatter my hair, my eyelashes, and I love it.
“Come on, Ryan,” I yell. “A little rain never hurt anybody.”
“I’m afraid I might melt.”
“I can’t say I’d regret it if you did.”
He doesn’t respond. So I do the natural thing. I start to dance.
The rain intensifies as I whirl around in my front yard, holding an invisible partner close. The raindrops crash upon the ground, denting the earth.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing!” Raindrops blur my vision and I’m completely soaked.
“What?!” Clearly, he can’t hear me.
“I’m dancing! Come on, it’s fun!”
“I don’t dance.”
“You have to be lying!” This entire conversation has been screamed at the top of our lungs to be heard over the rain.
“I hate it!”
“So? Have some bravery for once.”
He doesn’t respond. But he does take two steps forward.
“I dare you, Ryan!”
The silence is almost louder than the thunder. He just continues to stare at me. I ignore him and continue my waltz.
When I look over, he’s on the first step, looking up at our leaky drainpipe and wincing as raindrops fall into his face.
“This is good. I didn’t know you had the guts.”
“I have the guts. Whether I have the stupidity is another matter.”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Might as well go all the way. And being stupid is only fun when you’re with someone else.”
“You’re calling me stupid?”
“More or less.”
Ryan descends the rest of the staircase, and kneels to pick up some of the earth, which has now turned into a sloppy, yucky mud.
“I didn’t know you made mud pies,” I comment. Right before he slings a handful of mud in my face.
I close my eyes as mud runs into my mouth and ears and nose. It’s everywhere.
And Ryan’s going to pay.
I brush enough mud out of my eyes to where I can see, and then kneel. Mud squeezes through my fingers into a ball. I wind my arm back and… take too long to aim. Ryan’s ready for me, and he takes off running across the yard. He knows it’s even harder to hit a moving target. Smart man.
And then I hear something, beyond the rain, beyond the thunder. Laughter.
Ryan’s laughing.
Naturally, this provokes a joyous reaction in me because I’ve never heard him laugh before. And the fact that he’s even capable of such a thing cheers me up more than I can say.
So now Ryan and I are chasing each other around the yard, laughing.
This is fun.
I still have the ball of mud in my hand, so I easily catch up to him and then smush the mud into his shoulder.
“Avary!” His tone is a mixture of surprise and irritation. “This is a new shirt.”
“Oh.” We both pause, standing about five feet away from each other. “I’m not really that sorry for you.”
“I’m glad you have such sympathy for a fellow human being.” He bends down and seizes more mud. Then, either because I let him or I didn’t have enough time to react, he throws it. At me. Point blank.
More mud splashes into my face, making my eyes burn. A gritty taste fills my mouth.
He stands there, watching me react, chuckling as he does so.
“Nice, Ryan. Real nice.” I bring my hand from behind my back, and throw some mud into his face. “Right back at’cha, bro.”
“Maybe we should call a truce?” He blinks, his face coated in slime.
“No way. I don’t surrender that easily.” I take off running. “It’s your move now!”
What Ryan doesn’t know is that I have an arsenal. Recently my dad has been trying to landscape our yard. This results in a giant pile of dirt in our backyard. A pile of dirt which should now be a pile of mud. A giant, glorious pile of mud.
In other words: ammunition.
I run back and crouch behind the pile, waiting for Ryan to make his appearance. But he doesn’t show. I use the time while I’m waiting, muscles poised and heart beating, to make a pile of mud balls. When he does show up, I’ll be ready.
“Avary?” Ryan waltzes into the center of the yard, coming to a stop after a staggering run. “Did you give up already?”
I press my fist over my mouth to stifle a giggle. The laughter burns inside my lungs.
“Come on, are you really that weak? Hiding away like a coward.”
Oh, that’s just low.
He paces forward a few feet. Almost within range. “Are you too scared to finish what you start?”
Oh, if only he knew.
I bite my lip, silently urging him to move forward as if I can influence his actions by my thoughts. Come on… just a little bit closer…
“Well, I guess I’ll go back inside then and clean up. Might as well end this petty war—since I’ve obviously won it.”
This provokes me into action, and I leap from behind my hiding place without taking the time to consider my actions. I have two handfuls of mud at the ready, and countless more within reach. “I’m right here, Ryan. And this is far from over.”
“Oh. So Avary Townsend isn’t a coward after all.” He tosses me a cocky grin as he squats near the ground, molding the mud into another missile. “I thought not.”
“I’m glad you didn’t underestimate me. From what you were saying, I was afraid you had.” It occurs to me that I should have used the element of surprise and fired the mud minutes ago instead of just jumping out in front of him stupidly. Yet at the same time, this is kind of fun. I always did enjoy verbal sparring.
“No, that was just to goad you into coming out, and from the looks of it, that worked.” He grins and stands, slapping his hand against the ball of mud as if to intimidate you. Slip slap slop.
“You’re right, it did.” I squish my fingers deeper into the mud in my hands, preparing to aim. “And this time, I’m ready.”
I fire both of the weapons at him in quick succession, and then run around behind the dirt pile for more. He’s still recovering from the first two blows by the time I send two more. I continue this tactic for about the next five minutes, until Ryan wises up to what I’m doing.
“Sheesh, how much mud do you have back there?”
I gesture to the giant mud pile, as if its presence should be self-explanatory.
“Oh, come on. That’s not fair play. You can’t hoard that all to yourself.”
“It’s my property.”
“Correction: it is your dad’s property. And as such, I’ve been hired to work here, so I have just as much right to work here as you do.”
“That’s ridiculous logic, and you know it.” I grin and grab two more mud balls. This time, though, Ryan is ready. He’s got two more of his own to fire back. We continue this ridiculous game of fire and respond until I run out of prepared mud balls.
“Well, I guess that’s it then. I’m all out of mud.”
“Not so. You have that entire hill at your disposal.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “True.”
Without a word I run back behind, my trainers slapping against the mud. I’m soaked. And covered in mud. Even better.
Then, without further ado, I grab an armful of mud. Yes, that’s right—not just handfuls. An armful. Basically, I give the dirt pile a hug and then take the mud with me.
And throw it at Ryan.
Because I’m awesome like that.
It lands on him with a giant plop, blowing away any preconceived notions I had about cliché sound effects. And he looks like the giant Chocolate Milk monster come to life.
“Oh my gosh. You look terrible, Ryan.”
He just shakes his head in a perfect deadpan reaction. Thankfully, the rain is still coming down like a showerhead on steroids, so it won’t be long before the mud gets washed away—well, most of it. His clothes are likely to be stained forever. Like mine.
So it is that our fighting comes to an end. Or at least, I’d like to think that. Ryan seems to be too irritated to continue.
At least, that’s what I think as I turn my back and walk away in a triumphant mental high. But when I get a bucket-load of mud sloshed across my shoulders, I think differently.
I stop dead in my tracks, then whirl to face him. I can feel the mud dripping down my back. Ryan has spared no expense in getting me completely dirty. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“At least it wasn’t in your face. I was sorely tempted to do that instead.”
“Well, thanks. You’re so nice.” I can’t help but grimace at how gloppy the mess is. Then an idea sparks in my brain. “Okay, now that we’ve had your fun, and I’ve played your game, it’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“To show you how to dance.”
“Whoa, whoa. I said, I don’t dance.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
“Yet. You don’t dance yet.”
I squint up at the sky. The rain has softened, gently touching the earth with its drops. “Come on, Ryan. Are you scared?”
“No… I’m just wondering what my boss will say when he sees me dancing with his daughter.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it happens all the time.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you always dance with the hired men?”
“Only the special ones.” I close the distance between him. “We’re out here anyway. Here. Hold my hand.”
“This isn’t at all awkward to you, is it?”
“Uh… yes, it is. But I’m willing to risk it. If only to see the expression on your face.”
“You’re so kind.” He rolls his eyes. “I really need to get back to work.”
I hold up a hand. “Not yet.” Then I grab his right hand and lace my fingers through his, and then take his left hand and put it on my hip. “To spare you the difficulty, I’ll let you know that this is indeed as awkward for me as it is for you.”
He doesn’t respond, but I can see a slight grin on his mud-stained face. I inhale sharply and tell him the steps. Considering I haven’t danced in a while, it’s difficult for even me to remember how to do this.
A thought occurs to me. I really, really hope that Dad doesn’t come home right now. Because contrary to popular opinion, I don’t dance with the hired men. Ever.
“Okay, so… are you ready?” I whoosh out another breath after relating the steps to him in what I can only hope were coherent instructions.
“I, uh…” He pauses and stares down at our feet. They’re incredibly close. His boots are toe-to-toe with my sneakers, and they’re both speckled with muddy splatter-marks. “No. I’m not ready. And my apologies if I step on your toes.”
I give him a scrutinizing glare. “Are you ever going to be ready?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, might as well start now.” Without further warning, I start leading—despite the fact that I’m not the guy and technically Ryan should be the one leading. Right now, though, I don’t trust him enough to let him lead. Probably because he has no clue what he’s doing, and that slightly concerns me.
“Whoa—I’m not ready.”
I laugh. “Too late.”
“Where’s the music?”
“Don’t you hear it?” I nod my head to the rain. “It’s all around.”
He shakes his head. Probably surprised by my sappiness. I don’t really care.
“You’re so different, Avary.” He says this a few minutes later. “I’ve never met anyone else like you.”
I hesitate. “Is this a good thing?”
“I don’t know.” He stares at me. “I hope so.”
“Why do you leave all the time, Ryan?” I tip my head. I didn’t have a chance to think about what I was saying, but now it’s out in the open. Might as well go with it.
“I can’t stay in one place. I just… can’t.” He shakes his head. “It messes with my mind.”
“I don’t think that’s all.”
“I’m a wanderer, Ava. That’s all there is to it.”
I still don’t believe him. But another matter is at hand, one I feel like I need to address. “Ava?”
“Doesn’t everyone call you that?”
“No. And certainly not my father’s hired men.”
“Oh. My apologies then.”
“No… I like it.”
Then we fall into a comfortable silence as we dance. The rain has turned into a drizzle, and I can see a break in the clouds.
Ryan’s not a half-bad partner. His feet move expertly, sloshing in the mud. “I think we could stop now.”
I feign surprise, letting my jaw open even wider. “Oh, come on. Why?”
“The rain’s stopping. Not much point in dancing in the sunshine, is there?”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. And maybe we should dance all the time.”
“That would get really tiring, don’t you think?”
“I meant it as a metaphor.”
“Dancing through life, huh?” He laughs, and it appears like a bitter one to me. “Yeah, sounds like a great idea.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Well, I only wish life was as easy as you made it sound.”
“You know what? I wish life was as easy as I make it sound, too.”
“You mean your cheesy sayings aren’t all what they cracked up to be?”
“What cheesy sayings?” I stop, wondering if what he’s saying is really true. “I don’t have cheesy sayings.”
“Yes, you do. ‘Dancing through life’?”
“Well, it’s a nice thought, if you think about it. Then again, I’m not sure if you have a brain.”
“Hey! You’re not one to give compliments, are you?”
“Only when they’re deserved. So in that case, Ryan, you are a very good dancer.”
He seems taken aback by this, but only for a moment. “Well, in that case, now that I’ve earned your approval… I’m done.”
I stop, remove my sweaty palms from his, and brush them together in an effort to clear off both the dried mud and the sweat. My efforts aren’t very successful. “Fine, then. Good. I’m getting tired anyway.”
Ryan laughs as he walks over to the porch steps and sits down. “I’m thoroughly tired out.”
“Not to be a killjoy here, but you’re not done with what my dad asked you to do.”
“Don’t remind me.” He moans. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Just lemonade.”
“That sounds heavenly.”
“Well, come on inside and I’ll get you some.”
We pause, and both look down at our mud-covered selves. “Then again,” I continue, “that could pose a problem.”
“Tiptoe across the linoleum floor,” he suggests. “Not like that would help… we’d drop flakes of mud no matter what we do.”
“Dang.” I sit down next to him. “Well, we could get cleaned up.”
“How? I don’t suppose you have an outdoor bathtub.”
“No, but I do have a hose.”
“That… would be cold.”
“Aw, come on, where’s your sense of adventure, man?”
He stares at me and laughs. “You are weird.”
“Maybe so, but come on. I’ll spray you first.”
“No!”
“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter—you have to get cleaned up before you can return to work. Or do anything else, for that matter.” I grab his fingers and pull. “Come. On!”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he mutters.
“I’ve decided something, Ryan. You’re no fun.”
“And your point is?”
“Relax. Lighten up. Have some fun every once in a while. It’ll do you a world of good.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two hours?”
“Exactly. Don’t you want to continue having fun?”
“No. Not if it involves you, because I could very well lose my job.”
“Well, you’re already involved with me, so just get over here.” I finally mange to yank him to the side of the house. I uncoil the hose and turn the metal spicket. “Here. It’ll be cold, but worth it.” I aim it directly at him, resisting the urge to aim it at his face.
He shrieks like a little girl when the water comes on. Can’t say I blame him, but it is still a humorous sight to behold. I’m laughing so hard that I can’t hold onto the hose. Before I know it, the water pressure yanks the nozzle out of my grasp and the hose goes crazy. Twisting all over the place, it douses Ryan and us both thoroughly. It’s going to take me forever to get clean. And dry.
After I erupt in screams slash hysterical laughter, I manage to grab the hose. I have possession of it for about two seconds before Ryan wrestles it out of my grasp. “Okay, Miss Ava—it is officially your turn.”
Then he proceeds to shoot water into my face. Up my nose. I scream, a gargled sound that’s muffled by the sound of volatile water. “Ryan—” I hold my hands up to block the incessant spray of stinging water, but it does no good. I splutter. Dance around a few steps. Then finally get smart enough to duck, which gets me out of the spray for now. Except for the fact that Ryan has chosen to re-aim. He shoots it at my face. Again.
At this rate, I’m going to suffocate. It’s going to be a swift and tragic death for me.
Finally, after who knows how long, the water ceases. I fall onto the ground, coughing up a lung.
“Ryan,” I manage to eke out. “I pretty much hate you right now.”
He’s doubled over laughing.
“You stink.” I shake my head, rubbing the water off my face and shaking it into droplets on the ground.
“Well, at least we’re both clean.”
I look down at my clothes. He’s got a point. “Well… yeah… but still, that was cruel.”
“Welcome to life, Avary.” He actually smiles. “Now can I have some lemonade?”
I just stare at him. “Are you serious? You think I’m going to give you lemonade after what you did to me?”
“Uh… yeah…”
“Well then, you are correct. But only because I want some too.” I toss a grin over my shoulder as I head up the porch steps. “Be right back.”
Aside from being sopping wet and dripping water all over the kitchen floor, grabbing two glasses of lemonade proves to be a cinch. I pour them into Mason jars, my favorite type of glass even though it’s not really a glass at all. When I come back out, Ryan’s sitting on the porch waiting for me.
“I really need to get back to work.” He runs a hand through his hair as I descend the steps. We both know that he needs to get back to work. But he’s not going back to work yet. And somehow, we both know that.
“Yeah, you do.” I hand him the glass of lemonade, and he thanks me for it. At least Ryan still has manners, though he can get quite cruel when wielding a hose. “But we both know that you’re going to drink your lemonade first.”
“Yeah, probably.” He sighs. “And you’re ruining my job. I hope your dad doesn’t fire me.”
“You’ve mentioned this before. If you’re really that worried about it, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, it was kind of you to offer.” An edge of sarcasm coats his voice, and I definitely don’t fail to notice it.
“Yeah.” I nod to his Mason jar. “How’s your lemonade?”
“Good. Delicious, even.” He closes his eyes. “I haven’t had lemonade like this since I was a little boy.”
“No? How could you live that long without lemonade?”
“Believe me, I had much more important things to worry about.”
“Yeah… I guess so.” I sip the yellow, tangy liquid. “But lemonade can help cure even the biggest of ills.”
He takes another swig. “I suppose so.”
After a few moments of silence, Ryan speaks again. “So, who do you think won the war?”
“Of our water fight?” I ask, and he nods in confirmation. “Well, I don’t know. I think I did. But I suppose to be fair I’ll have to concede to calling it a stalemate.”
“I demand a rematch. Someday.”
I smile. “Bring it on.”
So as we sit on the porch steps, partaking in some of the greatest lemonade known to mankind, I can’t help but think of what I’ve gained today. I’ve gained a friend. And an enemy.
And maybe, just maybe, something much more.

Here we are now with the falling sky and the rain

We’re awakening.

Here we are now with the desperate youth and pain

We’re awakening

Maybe it’s called ambition

But you’ve been talking in your sleep

About a dream

We’re awakening