Begging For Rain – Maggie Rogers
and I was easily the last to arrive at the bar. it was already packed with its happy hour regulars as well as the rowdy teachers all finally glad to be done with the week.
“Olive! You made it!” Hanna cried gleefully when she spotted me. “Rob, get her a drink!” She yelled, turning towards her husband who was already being served at the bar.
I grinned back at her, still having my hesitations about coming along. I’d left the decision right to the last minute, spending at least an hour cuddled up with Meatball and dreaming of ordering take out and watching movies all evening. But alas, I had a feeling Hanna would arrive at my doorstep and drag me out herself if I canceled.
“You look hot, have you done something different with your make-up?”
I looked myself up and down, I’d decided to try and make an effort. Dress better, feel better–right? At least that had been the logic when I pulled out a long forgotten dark red dress that I’d bought with great intentions of wearing all the time, only for it to be pushed to the back of the closet.
It clung to me, giving me great curves that I usually kept hidden under a sweater or oversized top. When I’d looked into the mirror, I had to fight the temptation to tear it off and wear something less nice. I’d paired it with some converse and a leather jacket, which made me feel more comfortable.
“Nothing new. You look great too,” I smiled, returning the compliment. Her black hair was down in easy curls, and she was wearing a strappy black dress paired with some red heels.
“Have you heard from Rosa?” Hanna asked as I furrowed my brows in question “She said she’s sent you a few texts but you haven’t gotten back to her.”
Realization surged through me. Even though we no longer worked together, we had promised to keep in touch. She’d been one of my closest friends, and we’d had every intention of making time to see each other when we could. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to reply. “Shit, yeah she has. I always tell myself I’ll respond later but it slips my mind.” I pulled up the app, and clicked on her picture, seeing the multiple messages I’d forgotten to reply to. I’d been a terrible friend, blatantly ignoring the messages despite our closeness.
In fairness, I’d been struggling to respond to messages that weren’t urgent. Rosa hadn’t been the only friend I’d been putting off. It was exhausting to keep up the act, to pretend to so many people that things were fine and I was fine and everything was fine and not at all on fire. That getting up for work every day wasn’t a job in itself, and teaching was still everything it had been to me. Especially when the majority of my friends were teachers themselves, or in other successful roles. Hearing how well things were going for them, despite how despicable it made me, it only made me feel worse about my own performance.
So I’d started to avoid, and ignore, and disconnect. But clearly Rosa wasn’t having any of it judging from her multiple texts and even a prompting from Hanna.
“Who’s out, anyway?” I asked, changing the subject as Rob passed me a wine glass filled with my usual white.
“The usual crowd, plus the new joiners from English and math,” she responded before a dark look fell over her features. “And Ben.”
“Ben’s here?”
I wondered what hell had frozen over so he’d come to one of these events. He never appeared at these things. He was probably too busy at home torturing puppies or planning mathematical world domination, whatever that would look like. Hanna nodded slightly, looking a little awkward. I took a long drink, trying to settle my nerves. Why had I agreed to come out? It had felt like a bad idea from the start, and now I had to deal with Ben outside of school hours? Which sadistic bastard had even invited him?
Without thinking, I scanned the bar, looking for his familiar dark hair. I wondered how much it would annoy me today, the perfect mess of it all. I bet it was soft and perfect.
“You know, you and Ben have more in common than you think,” Rob piped up, joining in the conversation. My head snapped towards him in disgust, mouth wide open in shock.
“I always thought we were friends, Rob. I thought we were cool.”
“We are cool,” his voice went up an octave, getting all defensive.
“Then why would you go and say something like that?”
“All I’m saying is you both really care about your students and classes, you both get really good feedback…” he trailed off, the horrified look on my face telling him to shut up. He looked to Hanna for support, who just grinned at him.
“I told him not to say anything,” she admitted, looking over at me.
“Well, what did you expect?” I squawked, before taking another mouthful of my drink.
“Personally,” she started. “I think he actually likes you.”
“Are you actually on drugs?” I retorted, not even able to consider her words.
She snorted a laugh in response. They weren’t usually this drunk early on, but given the absolute insanity they were talking about, it seemed more and more likely.
“Go on, tell her,” Hanna said, looking over at her husband and nudging his arm.
“No.” He shook his head, looking back down at her, and completely ignoring me. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“But you did,” the smile across her lips was wide. “And you should tell her.”
“Tell me what?” I interrupted, my blood thrumming.
Rob opened his mouth to tell me, but Hanna cut him off before he had a chance.
“He gave up the improvements on his lab to keep the clubs going for a little longer. Clubs, as in both of them.”
“Who? Ben?” the question tumbled out of my mouth as my eyes darted between the two of them, searching desperately for answers.
Hanna’s crazed grin dropped momentarily, before she rolled her eyes at me and said, “No, Santa Claus,” she retorted, before clarifying, “Of course, Ben.”
I looked directly at Rob then, who shot one last look of irritation to his wife, who was back to wildly grinning, before confirming.
“He’s the reason the art club has funding this year. Not me.”
There wasn’t a glimpse of a lie in his eyes. No sign this was some sort of twisted practical joke and cameras were about to jump out at me at any moment.
“He only told me earlier today, and obviously I would have told you sooner but I wanted to see your face,” Hanna added.
Ben, rival, archenemy, and noted art hater, had given up something that sounded rather important, to keep my club going.
For some reason, all I could think of was the moment after the day in Rob’s office when he’d told us the clubs were being shut down, when he caught me coming out of the bathroom. He’d asked me if I was okay. And he’d… known. Known I wasn’t okay and had done something about it.
But why?
“I think I need another drink,” I murmured, my attention turning to the now almost empty glass in my hands, my brain completely wiped of any other intelligent thought. I broke from the couple, who were now bickering playfully between the two of them about the importance of work/social boundaries in their relationship.
I forced a smile to my lips as I passed a few of my colleagues, promising to return for a chat, before landing on the hard wood of the bar, mentally begging any bartender to quickly find me and put me out of my sober misery.
“Let me buy your drink, as an apology,” Hanna said, suddenly appearing by my side.
“And what about all the therapy I’m going to need?” I asked, but her grin should’ve given her away as she leaned across the bar and gave our order to the bartender. As he disappeared to go make the drinks, she answered me.
“Oh boohoo, your hot co-worker did something nice for you.” I opened my mouth to argue back but she cut me off before I had a chance to answer. “And don’t tell me you don’t think he’s attractive. I’ve seen you looking.”
“I do not look.” The words fell out as a splutter. I barely believed what I was saying, something Hanna had no issue calling me on.
“Oh really? Yesterday, when we were talking in your classroom and you just so happened to look across the hall-”
“There was a… child… running… with scissors,” I lied, trying to keep my cheeks from going red and hot. I didn’t know if it had been the way he leaned against his desk, his hands gripping the edge, his navy blue shirt rolled up halfway his arms. He had looked good, deliciously good. So good I forgot to hate him for a moment. I found myself imagining how tight a grip he had, imagining how that new third day stubble would feel against my skin.
“A child? In a school? How shocking.” Hanna interrupted my train of thought with a knowing look, and I cursed the fact she could read me so well.
“It’s just… it’s weird, okay. He’s being nice, and I don’t know why.” I began to wonder where on earth the bartender had gone so he could save me from myself.
“I think we both know why,” she sang playfully, and I shot her a plain look.
“He does not like me, that’s ridiculous.”
“He doesn’t have to like you,” she reminded me. “You don’t even like him. But the way you look at each other, I bet the sex would be hot.”
I almost laughed at the thought, before imagining. All the hatred from the years, the annoyance and the frustration. It had built and built. And recently, there had been a definite buzz between us, growing so loud it was becoming impossible to ignore any longer.
Maybe I needed a cold shower.
“Did you apply for that job?” Hanna asked with a little nudge of her arm, abruptly changing the subject. She stared at me, her eyes lined with smoky eyeliner.
I groaned slightly. “The application’s been open on my laptop all week.”
I must’ve sat down at least five times to finish it off, but every time I had ended up online shopping or staring at the questions, unsure where to even begin with the answers.
“You should apply, you’d be awesome at it,” she smiled reassuringly at me. “Plus I promise to try my best to swap sexual favors with Rob to make him more amenable to giving you the job.”
Instantly, the unease shifted and I smiled at her. “I knew I could rely on you to have my back, but I’m pretty sure Rob isn’t in charge of this decision.”
She laughed. “Damn, knew I should’ve gone higher up the food chain.”
The bartender returned, but my relief at his sudden appearance was short-lived as he placed two shot glasses in front of us, before filling them up to the brim with an all too familiar clear liquid, salt and lime wedges on the side.
“You can’t be serious.” I looked at Hanna, completely aghast.
“What? You, Olive Davis, will refuse a drink?” She smirked, and I knew this level of no bullshit between us was why she was my closest friend.
“No, but it will set my forgiveness back,” I grinned back at her, picking up the shot glass. We hit them together, before downing the booze. It was tequila, as predicted, the liquid burning my throat as it went down before we both grabbed lime slices and sucked the sour fruit. We looked at each other and laughed. Then, almost reading my mind, Hanna called the bartender over and ordered two more.
It had been a couple of hours, and I’d found myself a few bars over, dancing with some co-workers from the art and music departments. We’d all completed the section of the night where we only complained endlessly about work and side eyed the more stuck-up departments, and now the alcohol had loosened us up enough to be dancing wildly to whatever music the DJ was playing.
Hanna and Rob had left us an hour ago, Rob telling us he had an early Saturday as he was playing golf with some of the other principals in the area. Hanna had almost stayed out, but when Rob reminded her that meant she’d have to make her own way home, she relented, giving me a strong hug while demanding I let her know when I went home, and to share a taxi with one of the other teachers when I left.
I passed some of the teachers on the dancefloor, and ended up sticking with them, dancing to the music the DJ was playing in between karaoke sets. The DJ called up a couple of the teachers for the next song, and the opening chords of a too familiar tune started. Immediately my chest went tight, my heart stopped dead in my chest as the guitar riff began to whine.
My vision started to spin as I struggled to take in a breath. I was spinning around, trying to find the exit and fighting to get out of the crowds of people. The entire room was turning on its axis as my heart thudded against my chest. I struggled against the crowds of people, praying I didn’t run into anybody I knew.
Finally, I made it outside, the cool night air shocking me slightly. I managed to walk away from the entrance, just up the street where I would have a little bit more privacy before collapsing against the stone building, dropping onto the dirty ground.
But the song kept playing, over and over, and a familiar and warm floral scent filled the air around me, choking me until it felt impossible to take in any fresh air. I saw her smile, bright and completely carefree as her favorite song played over the radio.
She’d always put it on during those rare truly sunny summer days, when she’d suddenly appear in my bedroom doorway with a grin as she asked me if I wanted to go for ice cream. Dad would always be at work, and sometimes it was the only time we truly had just the two of us.
She’d roll all the car windows down, the warm wind rushing in, and take the long way to the ice cream parlor, sometimes foregoing the closest for another town over, just to make the drive longer.
But those summer days were gone.
She… was gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
My hands shook hard as I tried to wipe the tears from my face, my lungs burning for some fresh air as the words echoed around and around. I’d forgotten how to breathe, how to get control, and instead I kept falling.
Hands appeared on my shoulders, forcing my bent spine to press against the wall behind me. My vision was so blurry from tears I couldn’t make them out. I fought the pressure for a moment, pushed against the hands but they held firm, the coldness of the brick behind me beginning to radiate into the skin of my back.
“Just breathe.”
The words echoed around me, chasing away the ghosts as it came back into focus.
“Focus on your breathing, try to hold in a deep breath. I can count with you,” they commanded, as my tears continued to roll, my breathing still choppy and out of control. “Hold the breath 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… and inhale 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… And again.” I followed, and slowly I began to regain control.
The world around me slowed down, the tightness in my chest loosening as my sobs calmed down; the tears were still rolling but I was back in the driving seat.
“Feeling better, Olive?”
And then it all clicked into place. My head snapped to the right, peering over my shoulder, until I was staring up at the concerned face of Ben Bennett.
