Not Even the Rain
Roderich stared at the package in his lap. During the short journey from his front door to his car, no less than twenty raindrops had made their mark upon its surface. A few stubbornly held out, managing to make the trip from house to package delivery company completely intact. Until Roderich wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket.
Really, he needn't have bothered. The pre-paid barcode label was safe beneath the thick layers of packing tape. As was the address. And the package was sure to collect more raindrops on its journey from car to store and from store to final destination.
Roderich frowned. Maybe he should have used more tape. Maybe he should have wrapped the whole thing in tape. The thought of the rain dissolving his small cardboard box, letting slip the contents inside. An empty box would arrive in Berlin and this whole thing would turn into an even bigger disaster and it was bad enough he was already second-guessing his decision and did it really have to be raining today?
Roderich grit his teeth and opened the car door, beset by the rain in an instant. He turned his jacket collar up and hurried to the entrance.
The soft bing-bong of a motion sensor doorbell announced his arrival as he pushed through the door. The girl at the counter glanced up from whatever book or magazine she'd been reading and gave him a rather bored smile before returning to her lounging.
Roderich slicked his sodden locks back from his forehead. The raindrops on his glasses he would deal with later. He looked down at the small package clutched in his hand to find it covered once again in wet spots. He tried to clear them away, but his sleeve was too damp. He gave an annoyed huff through his nose and grimly approached the counter.
The girl glanced up again, and Roderich saw she had been leafing through not a magazine but a product catalog.
"Can-I-help-you?" the girl said, the words running together.
Roderich placed the package on the counter. The girl's eyes flicked down to it.
"Just dropping it off?"
"Yes. Well, actually, i-is there a way to track it?" Roderich said.
The girl nodded and pointed a painted fingernail at a number above the barcode.
"Oh," Roderich said, shoulders dropping.
The girl gave him a small smile. "Hang on, I'll get you a receipt. Then you'll have the number."
Roderich nodded.
The sound of the rain pounding against the sidewalk drew his attention. He turned, watching over his shoulder as fat drops of water fell, his mind starting to wander.
'How long are we going to keep doing this?'
'What?'
'This!Meeting…like this…?'
"Here you go!" a voice said, pulling him back to the present.
Roderich spun around to find the girl at the counter brandishing a slip of paper at him. He pocketed it, uttering a soft "Thank you."
"No problem. What's in here, anyway? Kind of a small box."
Roderich lifted an eyebrow as he glanced one last time at the package. A wry grin twisted his lips. "My past," he said.
The girl gave him a quizzical look, her mouth hanging open as if about to ask what he meant, but Roderich was already out the door, ducking through the downpour of rain.
Roderich reached his car, all but falling into the driver's seat with a relieved breath at being again sheltered from the wet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, a slip of paper tumbling to the floor as he did so. Roderich cursed, nearly smacking his forehead on the steering wheel as he bent to pick it up. It was the receipt for his package.
Roderich stared at it. Stared at the number. It would be a few days until it arrived. And maybe a few days before he'd hear anything back. If Gilbert even got the message….
Roderich shoved the receipt back in his pocket and jammed the key in the ignition. His fingers went to his ring finger, to twist the metal band around it like he always did when nervous or upset. But the metal band was gone. The indentation it left faded with each passing day.
Roderich's hands fell to his lap. He settled for picking at a cuticle. But that was Gilbert's habit. He clenched his fists to stop when he realized what he was doing.
Outside, the rain beat a relentless tattoo against the roof of his car. Roderich stared out at the slick streets, at the condensate forming in the corners of the windshield, and decided it was time to go home.
He cranked the ignition, turning the heat on full blast to clear the foggy windows. The beat of the wipers against the windshield matched that of the rain, the sound relaxing – hypnotic, even….
Evening had fallen.The heavy rain from earlier lightened to a mist, giving the light from the streetlamps their own halo.Gilbert's hair was still wet from the walk from the café to the car park.For reasons Roderich could not fathom, Gilbert refused to join him under the umbrella.
They sat in Gilbert's car, parked in front of Roderich's house, the engine still running.The defroster was on full blast, fighting the cold, damp air outside and the two warm bodies inside.The windshield wipers let out an impatient thwack against the glass.
Roderich glanced up at the darkened house.Elizaveta was not there.She was out with friends.Or something.That was what she always said.Roderich used to think it was true.Now, it did not even shock him to realize he didn't really care.
Gilbert's bangs fell into his eyes as he stared at his hands held in his lap.An anxious finger scraped at a cuticle.
Roderich dried his glasses on a handkerchief, the umbrella having failed to shield him from the rain driven by gusts off the river.
'How long are we going to keep doing this?' Gilbert asked.
'What?' Roderich said, as he settled his glasses on his nose, pocketing the handkerchief.
'This!Meeting…like this?We've been…I don't even know what – together? – for almost a year and – '
Roderich gave a dubious puff of a breath.
Gilbert picked his head up at that, fixing Roderich with a penetrating glare. 'How long are you going to keep lying to your wife?'
Roderich's thumb rubbed against the indentation left by the absent wedding band.He never liked to wear it when he and Gilbert had their 'meetings.'But the red circle imprint betrayed him just as much.
Roderich slipped the band out of his pocket and back on his finger.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gilbert shake his head and turn away, glaring petulantly out of the window.
Roderich worked his jaw as if he'd just been punched. 'How long are you going to keep lying to your brother?' he said, hoping to hit the same nerve Gilbert had.
Gilbert folded his arms and shot Roderich a slanting glance as if to say 'That's the best you can do?'
'Lutz is so deep in the closet he's finding next year's Christmas presents,' Gilbert smirked. 'Besides…he wouldn't understand anyway.Be too embarrassed, what with his big shot job and all,' he added in a bitter undertone.
Roderich nodded.He knew – of course he knew – how Gilbert's brother prided himself in his work. And his image.Diligent, morally-upstanding Ludwig.The two times Roderich had ever met him, he wondered how the stern-looking blonde ever had the patience to put up with Gilbert – the self-proclaimed family fuck up.Maybe it was out of some deep-rooted family devotion – or pity.Gilbert was only in Vienna because of his brother's job with the embassy.Being the upstanding, steadfast person he was, Ludwig agreed to let Gilbert stay with him in Vienna, hoping getting him out of Berlin might affect some sort of change in his brother.Whether or not Ludwig's plan was working, Roderich could not say.Gilbert seemed content to bounce around, working odd jobs here and there.The longest job Gilbert ever had, though, was at that café where he and Roderich first met.Roderich remembered returning once, sometimes twice, a week just to order from that silver-haired barista who always made his coffee just right….
The buzz of a phone snapped Roderich's attention back to the present.
'Shit,' Gilbert cursed under his breath. 'Speak of the devil.'He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. 'Yeah?' Gilbert answered.Roderich could hear Ludwig's deep voice from the other end, though he could not make out what was said over the sound of the car.
'Jeez, would you chill!' Gilbert suddenly said. 'I'm just – Lutz! - …I'm trying to expl….No, I'm just….Christ, would you listen!I'm just droppin' Roderich off.You don't have to act like mom, I'm an adul….Wait, what?...What do you -?...O-okay….Yeah….Yeah, I will….See you soon.'
Gilbert tossed the phone onto the center console, his eyes darkening as he stared at it. 'I, um, I gotta get going.'His voice sounded oddly hollow. '…And, um…I might – might not be coming back.'
Roderich's brow knit as the wipers gave another angry thwack. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean I gotta go.I've got – s-something came up.Might be going back to Berlin.Sooner than I'd planned.'Gilbert turned his head to the window with a huff, his breath condensing on the glass.
'…And you can't tell me what – '
'No.'
'Why?'
'Jesus, this is hard enough without you givin' me the third degree,' Gilbert muttered. 'Why?Why should I tell you, when I don't even know what weare!What this thingwe have is?'
Roderich swallowed, fiddling with the wedding band on his finger. '…I thought – at the very least – we…were friends….'
'Friends,' Gilbert snorted, his breath fogging the glass. 'And this meant nothing more to you?'Gilbert turned and faced Roderich, his eyes shining over-bright in the dull, amber glow of streetlamps.
Roderich's breath caught in his throat.Yes! Of course it does, yes! A million times, yes, he wanted to scream.But his mind refused to work, and his mouth had joined in the protest.All he could muster was a blank-faced stare.
Gilbert's eyes narrowed.His words, acid. 'I can see why she's never home.'
'G-Gilbert, I – ' (His brain was rusty machinery and the gears were slowly grinding into place.)
'Get. Out.'
Gilbert turned back in his seat.Hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles glowing white.
Numb fingers pulled the door handle.Roderich slid out into the misting drizzle.The door had hardly closed before the car sped off, slipping a bit as the tires tried to find purchase on the wet pavement.Roderich watched as the taillights disappeared around a corner before turning and trudging up to his front door.
Six months later, he would be divorced.Divorced, and still thinking about the man he let leave.
.
A truck left Vienna that afternoon filled with packages bound for other parts of Austria, a few for Germany. One for Berlin.
Tucked away amid bigger boxes filled with Easter baskets for grandkids, clothes for the new baby, and the countless iWhatevers that were all the rage, the little box seemed somewhat inconspicuous – if not for the fact the sender may have used a bit too much tape. It rattled and shook and bounced along its route like all the rest. Scanned here, sorted there.
When it reached its final destination, the little package was rather sad looking, having been bumped and jostled by much larger boxes. It almost went unnoticed by the man who answered the door, accidentally crushing it under foot. (To be fair, the delivery driver was busy with much larger boxes and couldn't really be bothered to hang around and wait, so he rang the doorbell and hopped back in his truck, leaving the little package where he was sure someone would see it).
The man jumped back with a small yelp of surprise. He scooped up the crushed box, the beginnings of guilt settling in for treading on it – until he saw the name of the sender. He had half a mind to chuck the thing in the trash right then and there…but decided against it, giving Roderich the benefit of the doubt. (His loyalty would be the death of him one day, he was sure).
Gilbert brought the box inside. He perched himself on one of the kitchen stools, took out a pocketknife, and sliced through the layers of tape holding the top shut and opened it. Gilbert peeked inside. Seeing nothing but bunches of tiny, crumpled up balls of tissue paper, he upended the box, dumping the contents out. (Not that he really cared what Roderich had sent him….)
The paper bounced and rolled over the counter and Gilbert was about to give the whole thing up as some kind of joke when two small metal objects tumbled out. One landed with a dull thunk while the other one wobbled and spun a bit before settling into place. A card fell down on top, but Gilbert brushed it aside a moment to stare at the two pieces of metal.
One was silver and flat with a rounded edge and jagged teeth.
And the other was a perfect golden circle.
He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
His eyes fell on the card.
It was the kind sold in gift shops in art museums with some famous work on the front and blank on the back. Typical, Gilbert mused, though perhaps a bit risqué for him. He allowed himself a grin at the thought of Roderich fretting over which card to buy and finally grabbing the one with the naked chick being seduced by some creepy grey mist, which was actually the god Jupiter in disguise. (He allowed himself another grin at having remembered something from Art History).
Gilbert flipped the card over, not really knowing what he would find – if anything – written on the back.
He had to confess himself disappointed when he saw only four words written there – and not in Roderich's best handwriting either – until he read them:
Du bedeutest mir alles.You mean everything to me.
Ende