When it was Raining

 

Photo: Soop Kim, Unsplash

429 words.

It's been raining relentlessly since last night. This morning has dawned gloomy yet refreshing.  I walk towards the kitchen. I know you're in the bathroom. Too excited to catch the flight for your crucial official meeting.

As I am fixing a quick breakfast, my eyes land outside the window. A white car stands, taking a shower in the rain. 

Our first car. 

'I like the red one,' I had said as we checked different cars at the showroom nine months ago, right after our wedding.

'That's too bright and girlish. White is good.' Your response was firm and blunt. 

So, we came back with a white car.

You're now in the bedroom, getting dressed, humming. 

'I really want to learn how to drive a car. Will you teach me?' I had said the other day, and you laughed as though I had cracked a silly joke.

'Women are terrible drivers. It's better if they sit in the passenger's seat.' With this taunt, you dismissed my desire. 

Your phone blares and it snaps me out of my thoughts. You are talking to someone, agitated.

Tea is almost done. I drop a crushed cardamom into it, and a delicious aroma permeates the kitchen.

'It's raining. Let's go for a long drive!' I had said, last week.

'Oh come on! Don't be childish,' you had said and changed the channel.

'How can you cancel at the last moment?' You're almost shouting. 'So what if it's raining? I have a flight ―damn!'

'What happened?' I place the tea cup on the table.

'The cab cancelled the ride because, well, it's raining!' You make another call.

Back in the kitchen, I squeeze half a lemon over steaming Poha and carry the plate to the dining table.

Nobody wants to go. What am I going to do now! I can't afford to miss the flight!' You chide, pacing across the room. Poha, forgotten. 'You can take your own car,' I say.

'Brilliant idea. And who is going to drive the car back?' 

'I can do that.'

'You?' 

'Yes, you don't know but…I have learned how to drive. I have a driving licence, too,' I say, excitement brewing inside my head.

You sure?' 

'Do you have options?' 

At the airport parking, you instruct me. 'Drive carefully. I hope you remember the route. Go straight home.'

No! This weather is too good to go home. I am going for a long drive and I am going to do childish things. But I won't tell you that.

'Of course, dear.'

This post is part of Blogchatter Half Marathon