After the Rain Stops, I Won't Miss You

The day we decided to divorce, Harbor City was hit by a once-in-a-century rainstorm. Meryl Mason drove me to the courthouse. Halfway there, she suddenly pressed a bank card into my hand. "Keith, I'm sorry. I know I'm the one who let you down in this relationship." "But Elwin… he only has me now, and I just can't stand to see him hurting." I stared at the endless raindrops streaming down the window and said nothing. Three years ago, on our honeymoon, Meryl and I ran into a small-time thug who robbed us at knifepoint. To protect Meryl, I killed him by accident. Manslaughter. Three years. Meryl mortgaged the house and spent every cent of her savings. All so I could get out sooner and be back with her. Now I was out. And Meryl was telling me she had fallen hopelessly in love with the younger brother of the woman who put me behind bars. 1. The rain came down harder and harder, and the car stalled in the middle of the downpour. Meryl and I looked at each other, at a loss. With no other choice, we ended up at a coffee shop on the corner. When we ordered, the server kindly brought over hot towels. She looked at the two of us, and her face suddenly lit up. "Mr. Winfield, Ms. Mason, it's you two! It's been so long." "You two are so sweet, going out on a date even in rain like this." I looked at Meryl and gave a faint tug at the corner of my mouth. "We're on our way to get divorced." The server froze. Meryl closed the menu and didn't dwell on it. "The usual few things, and remember, no sugar in his coffee." Just as the server was about to put in the order, I raised my hand to stop her. "That won't be necessary. Just a glass of warm water for me." "I picked up a stomach condition in prison. I can't drink coffee anymore." Her hand reaching for the money paused. Meryl lowered her head and didn't say anything else. I pulled out a few tissues and wiped at my rain-soaked pant legs. Meryl started to help. But her eyes drifted, without meaning to, toward the vicious scars on my leg. She hesitated, then couldn't stop herself from asking. "These… how did you get them?" After all this time out of prison, Meryl had finally noticed something was wrong with me. Maybe it was only when Elwin wasn't around. Only then would she spare a little scrap of attention for me. "Just a small accident, that's all." My first month inside, somehow I'd crossed the guy who ran the place, and every day I got beaten and singled out for no reason I could name. Once, someone pushed me down a flight of stairs. Comminuted fracture of my lower leg, seventeen stitches. Back then I really wanted to see Meryl, just once, to ask her why she hadn't come. But later, when I learned it was Elwin who'd paid someone to do it. All those thousands of grievances suddenly wouldn't come out. I could see the ache and the reluctance in Meryl's eyes. I smiled and said it lightly, like it didn't matter. "It's nothing serious. It's all in the past." The server brought over the drinks. Out of old habit, Meryl tore open the packet for me. The wind chimes at the door jingled in the rain. Everything seemed just like before. Except, as she reached over, I caught the smell of an unfamiliar perfume on her. Something turned in my stomach. I didn't touch the glass of water in front of me. The shop fell quiet again. Meryl glanced at the time and, a little awkwardly, searched for something to say. "These past few years must have been hard on you." "I kept trying to find a way to shorten your sentence, but with some things there was really nothing I could do." Those days really had been hard to get through. After I went in, my parents cut off all ties with me. The dance troupe struck my name from the roster. Meryl was the whole reason I found the strength to keep living. My first year inside, she was afraid I'd do something to myself, so she'd time it right and come see me the moment visiting hours opened. She'd tell me everything that had been happening in her life. She'd talk over how to get my sentence reduced so I could get out sooner. She said she'd found the victim's family and would do everything she could to earn their forgiveness. My second year inside, Meryl's attitude shifted a little. Not the grief and outrage of before—now she was sighing all the time. "Keith, I don't know what to do either." "Elwin is a pitiful person. His parents died young, and he and his sister only had each other growing up." "Caroline did what she did back then because she was desperate—she had no other way to raise the money for his treatment." "Now that Caroline is dead, how is he supposed to survive on his own?" Back then I didn't understand the pity and the ache in Meryl's words. I could only faintly sense it. In a haze, it felt like something had changed. After that, Meryl came to see me less and less. And our conversations slowly moved from everyday life onto Elwin. I'd tell her about the wrongs I was suffering in prison. She'd tell me how hard it was for Elwin, living all alone. I'd pour out how much I missed her. She was worrying about Elwin, home by himself. Maybe by then she was already in love with Elwin. It's just that neither of us had realized it yet.