Lives Between Walls

The rain poured hard. The shells pelted on my umbrella like I was before a firing squad of angels with water pistols. It was cold. My chattering teeth bore witness to that. I breathed out clouds. The street was a river, or a lake. When a car passed by, it became a wave that left my black raincoat drenched. After the fifth car I had stopped bothering to get out of the way. I just wanted to get home. The bus was taking for ever. I didn’t mind the storm. I was used to it now. It had followed me around for as long as I could remember. I had carried this umbrella so long, the handle had become indelibly etched into my right hand. My nickname in high school was ‘The Umbrella Man.’ That’s the story of my life.

I watched two younglings kick a ball across the yard opposite the bus stop where I stood. I watched the warm sunlight kiss their brown skin, and reflect off their dark brown hair. The grass beneath their feet was so green, the sky was so blue. I heard them laugh, I heard them shout, I heard the sound of the ball rustling over the lawn. For a moment I envied them. When I was that age, I would watch other children play from the window from inside my room. Desperate to go out and play with them, but I couldn’t – as it was always raining. So my childhood was lived out indoors – protected. So that is why I struggle with social skills, because I seldom got a chance to interact with people. I was always the weirdo – ‘The Umbrella Man’ – I anticipated it, I expected it. After all, it was weird to carry such a big umbrella when the weather was perfectly bright and sunny.

I glanced at my watch again – it was 15:15. The bus was 15 minutes late. I hated waiting. Especially when I needed to get home as soon as possible. I had been outside for too long, and I needed my medication. That is why I had rudely stormed out of Racqui’s party. “Are you leaving already?” she had asked with genuine concern. “Yeah I have to go,” I mumbled as I shuffled my way through the dancing bodies, making my way towards the front door. “Jack, you can’t keep doing this,” she said as she opened the door for me, “No man is an island, you need to let people in at some point.” I opened my umbrella as I began to walk down the steps to her house. I turned to her, “You don’t understand Racqui, it’s raining,” I replied as I pointed up to the clouds. I really got tired of explaining this story every time because no one understood what I meant. I had only met a handful of people who also suffered from the same disease. “Raining?” Jacqui replied with a puzzled expression, “Is that some kind of joke?” I ran off into the pelting rain, leaving her at the door. I felt bad for leaving her like that, she was a good girl, but she just couldn’t understand. Besides, I was already feeling dizzy at the party, and I needed my medication fast. I had sat there at the party with some of the guys from the workplace, listening half-hardheartedly to their empty conversations – while I kept glancing out the window, distracted by the rain.

At last the bus came and I did not hesitate to get on board. I closed up my umbrella and took a seat at the back. The driver had watched me go in, “Isn’t a bit hot to be wearing a raincoat Jack?” he had asked loudly, obviously so the other passangers could hear. I had walked the walk of shame all the way to the back seat as sniggers and grins paved my way. It hurt to be an oddball – I didn’t blame them though, they didn’t see the world the way I saw it. They were the majority, so I was the oddball. One day they will find a planet with people who perceive the world the way I do, and I will be normal. The silver lining about my condition though, is that at least I got to see more rainbows than the average man.

When I finally arrived home, I made a beeline straight for my room, and hurriedly pulled out a magazine with a scantily clad woman on the cover, from under the mattress. I desperately flicked the pages until I arrived at my favourite image. I took in my medicine – mind, soul and body focused on that one picture. I don’t know who that person was, who’s mother or sister they were, but at that point it didn’t matter – they had become my remedy. At once my heart began to relax – the cold and wetness from the rain turned into dryness and warmth. The sound of the pelting rain on that roof disappeared. The afternoon sun shone through my bedroom window once more. I was no longer an oddball, if only for that moment. I saw the truth again.

I was home.