ADANTE
“Why, Marie?”
“Why what?” replied a softer tone.
“Don’t give me that! You know why!” She stepped into a puddle, splashing her dull white sneakers. All around, ripples of light sung the song of a thousand tones, broken by the waves she left in her wake. Their nuanced brilliance would scatter, before resuming once again in her passing. She shook her foot in disgust. The act was futile, as the water was already soaking in. “It’s cold, dreary, disgusting outside today. What’s the point of walking out at a time like this?”
The attack was shrugged off. “I like it,” even as a gust of cold air misted her face. Beads dripped from the tip of the fabric canopy. “Isn’t it soothing, listening to the rain?” Her sentiment, however, was not shared.
“Nothing special about it! It rains all the time; it’s all that ever happens around here; it just drains the energy out of me. And not only that, I—”
“Ellen—” the softer voice interrupted. But she continued her rattle.
“—can’t stand what it does to my hair. It frizzes my curly hair, you know, and I spend a lot of time getting it right.”
“I have curly hair too.”
“And who is it that curls your hair? Hm?”
“I never asked you to.”
“Well you ought to. It’s what a proper lady must have.”
“Says who?”
“Just look around!” With one hand, she waved out from the shade of the umbrella to the empty gravel. In the distance, the mountains were shrouded by the low overcast. Only the voices of the rain could be heard.
“Well, not right now—because no one in their right mind would be outside right now. But look around next time there’s a sunny day. If there’s a sunny day.”
“Sunny days do come around.”
“Once in a blue moon,” she muttered under her breath.
Marie did not respond. Silence took over once Ellen quitted her pouting, knowing well enough she won’t be returning anytime soon. Even as thunder began to murmur from the mountains, she kept to a steady, languid pace. Marie was a sentimental type, despite being thirteen years of age, and the downpour’s chorus provided a great deal of sentiment.
Eventually, she came to a stop under a great oak tree. It hunched over the road, providing a sanctum from the heavens. The song was reduced to an echo, providing an occasion to dry. Marie stood still, as if lost, straining to distinguish their chorus. As if sensing an opportunity, or simply agitated, Ellen spoke once more.
“What is it now?”
Marie did not reply, denying the fortuity to breach her thoughts.
“Oh bother, let’s keep going!”
Marie did not, of course, desire to; but Ellen took charge now, hurrying along. Although the great oak provided a pleasant change of atmosphere, she yearned to return home at once, even if it meant returning to the rain. Upon leaving the shade, the chorus returned, and Marie seemingly awoke from her previous stupor, returning their stride to a languid pace once again.
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