He woke up to the roar of rain upon the roof and the whipping of wind-driven raindrops against the windowpanes.  He felt cheated, hollow.  There was an ache in his soul like a broken promise or a sunless day at the beach.  He was sure he had just been dreaming an excellent dream but the storm’s evident fury had captured his immediate attention and now, he could not remember the dream at all.  There was the occasional hue of distant lightning and quite some time after, the low rumble of thunder.
          He felt uneasy.  He loved storms but this one had come at the wrong time.  Still, he felt a kindred spirit with it in some way as he always did with rain, lightning, thunder, wind, and snow.  He loved to run out in sudden summer cloudbursts and let the rain wash over his face and drench his body completely.  As a child, he’d loved to run in the wind, let it steal his breath, feel the dizziness until he felt he would faint.  In winter, he would literally swim in fresh snowdrifts relishing the same effect.
          He looked to his right.  She was sleeping he supposed.  She was so quiet.  He had this feeling that the dream had been about her somehow.  He could not explain it.   He felt this incredible love for her.  He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her how he felt.  He dared not.  She was not the spontaneous hugging type.  Oh sure, at times she’d let him hold her but it had to be on her terms; when she felt like it.  He had to admit to himself that it was he who desired to be held.  He’d felt that need since childhood but his mom had been awfully busy.
          There was another flash of lightning, closer this time.   He saw her face momentarily; peacefully oblivious to his yearning, to his unease.  Thunder growled.  How long had they been together?  Seven years?  Yeah.  It would be eight years come August.
          They’d met when she was thirteen although he did not find that out until two months later when it was her birthday and the truth came out.  She looked older than her age.  She’d skipped a grade in school and all of her friends were his age.  He was eighteen at the time they met.  Everyone said they made a great couple.   It seemed corny he supposed but it had been love at first sight for both of them.   She was very pretty; beautiful really.  But her beauty was natural, totally unpretentious.  She was bright.  She stole his heart before he’d realized it.  At the start, it was all carefree love and awkwardness; he was possessive and given to jealousy although she never gave him reason to be thus.  He worried about her.  He thought that she was too reckless.  She would hitchhike with her friends and she’d swim too far out for his liking.  But she was jealous as well.   In some ways, she had reason to be upset with him.  He remembered how he used to flirt with her friends.  He had to keep up the image, the pretence.  In fact, he was painfully shy and lacked self-confidence.   He admired her.  He still did and, he was still mired in low self-esteem although he hid it quite well.  He was a good actor.
          Lightning flashed very brightly this time and thunder immediately exploded and the house seemed to shake.  She sat up suddenly in the bed.  He could make out her outline against the white wall.  She brushed the hair from her eyes.
          “Are you awake?” she asked.
          “Yes.”
          He felt so much love for her and such a need to tell her how much she meant to him that he felt faint.  He was afraid to upset her.  She might think he was weird for stating the obvious.  His mind was reeling. 
          Lightning flashed once more and the thunderclap was terribly loud.  It seemed to convince him.
          “I love you so much.  I feel I should die.  To prove it to you, I mean.  I can’t find the right words.  I think I dreamed about you.  I love you so much it hurts.”
          He blurted it out.  Too quickly, he thought.  He waited while the wind swept the windowpane with the rush of rain.  He waited still.  She said nothing.
          And then, just above the din of the storm, he heard her sigh.  That was her answer.  No words.  Her sigh said it all.
          He thought his heart would stop.  He felt dizzy.  For a moment, he wished he would faint and perhaps die or at least stop breathing.  He wished to be out in the storm, to be whisked away with the wind; washed away with the rain…
          …He turned over on his side away from her, fearful that the lightning would reveal the tears glistening on his face.  He was grateful for the clamour of the storm for it mercifully drowned out his quiet sobs.
          Sleep came and he seemed to drift away into a dream.  In it, she held him and whispered magical words.  He was in heaven.  After awhile in the dream, he opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of his mother.
 
 
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Copyright 2005
Regis Auffray