THE RAIN/LETTING GO
It was raining over the San Francisco Bay. It was a cool, fall rain. Winter was on its heels, but not too closely. The night skyline was foggy and the bright city lights were mulled into a mute orange haze over the city.
Nash Bridges stared out his expanse of windows from his kitchen as the rain hit the glass, running in steady streams down the panes. The stormy weather didn't usually get him down, being a lifelong San Francisco dweller. But tonight it had him in kind of a funk. He'd left work at the SIU early because he found he wasn't even being productive. His father, Nick had asked him if he was all right, to which he'd smiled and said of course.
Nick had gone to bed long ago. It was almost one in the morning. The street below was mostly quiet. The quietness and the lull of the rain gave Nash time to think. Too much time, in fact.
It had been many months since Nicole's death. He told his family and friends and even himself that he was dealing with it well. The woman who'd been his wife for less than ten minutes before being killed by a sniper's bullet; the woman who'd been carrying his child, a son; the last woman he thought he'd spend his life with. He still felt her so near sometimes. And sometimes it seemed like a lifetime ago.
He didn't have any pictures of her up in the loft anymore. It hurt too much. He had them put away in a box in the closet. Her things had all gone back to her house and he'd given everything, including the house, to Nicole's long time housekeeper. He didn't want any reminders.
He had one. He took a bottle of beer into the living room and pulled a videotape from a shelf mixed in with others. He slid it into the VCR and clicked on the TV. He sat on the sofa and stared.
Nicole's laughing smiling face appeared. It was at her house. She wore a black casual dress. Nash remembered the night he'd used the camera to film her.
"Come on Nash," she was saying. "Put it away."
"No, no," He heard his own voice say. "I want to prove to everyone someday that you're Chopin in a dress."
They were in the den of her house. Near the beautiful grand piano.
"Nash, I can't. I'll get too nervous if I know you're taping."
"Then don't look. Play."
Nicole laughed and sat at the piano. "It's not going to be good," she insisted.
"Play, sister. You're not getting out of it."
Nash zoomed in on her face. So happy.
Her hands went to the keys. A shot of her hands as they began to move and the music she created.
It was "Moonlight Sonata", the haunting Beethoven melody.
Her hands were strong, her nails not perfect, but medium length, bare of polish. The finger of her left hand bearing the ring Nash had bought for her just a week before the video.
The piano notes echoed in the video and filled Nash's living room as he watched.
The video now captured Nicole and the piano, her hands moving fluidly over the keys; her face, eyes closed, held a look of pure pleasure. She took her playing serious and was good enough to be a concert pianist, Nash knew. She had studied it since childhood.
The notes growing softer, then louder. Then soft. The song came to a gentle end and the camera cut off.
The next time the video camera was turned on, Nicole again was the subject. She wore a red and yellow one piece swimsuit. They were at the beach in Monterey. The ocean was in the background. It was almost sundown.
"Hey gorgeous." Nash's voice. Nicole, wearing sunglasses looked up. She's been applying lotion to her long legs.
She laughed. "Geez are you at it again? Why don't you go film some dolphins or something?"
"Cause you're the only thing worth looking at."
She just grinned. "You're full of it Bridges."
"Yeah, but I've got great taste in women."
"Oh really?"
"Really. Hey, I think I love you."
Nicole threw her head back and laughed. Not as if she didn't believe him, but because he rarely said it and now she had proof. She looked at him/the camera. She stood up and came closer.
"Hey, I think I love you too Bridges."
The camera clicked off. That was all that was on the tape.
Nash turned off the TV. He threw on his long over coat and headed for the elevator.
The rain hit him and he walked. It was dark. He didn't care. The mercury vapor street lights gave him all the light he needed in his dark place.
Within minutes he was soaked, his hair wet, his coat wet, although open, the rain hitting his clothes, wetting them despite it. It flapped open as he walked. He didn't know where he was going. Just walking.
1 You don't know how to ease my pain…you don't know…you don't know how to ease my pain
You don't know…what the sound is darling… it's the sound of my tears fallin' or is it the rain… You don't know…
You don't know how to play the game you cheat and you lie…You make me want to cry…
You make me want to cry…You make me want to cry….Cry…You make me want to Cry….
You don't know how to ease my pain…you don't know…You don't know how to ease my pain
Don't you hear any voices cryin… that's the sound of my love dying… here comes the rain…
You don't know how to play the game… you cheat and you lie … you don't even know how to say goodbye…You make me want to cry…. you don't know…
You don't know… You don't even know how to say goodbye…
You make me want to cry
You don't even know how to say goodbye….You make me want to cry….
Cry….
1.1 Song "Cry" by Goodly and Crème, 1985
It was raining over the San Francisco Bay. It was a cool, fall rain. Winter was on its heels, but not too closely. The night skyline was foggy and the bright city lights were mulled into a mute orange haze over the city.
Nash Bridges stared out his expanse of windows from his kitchen as the rain hit the glass, running in steady streams down the panes. The stormy weather didn't usually get him down, being a lifelong San Francisco dweller. But tonight it had him in kind of a funk. He'd left work at the SIU early because he found he wasn't even being productive. His father, Nick had asked him if he was all right, to which he'd smiled and said of course.
Nick had gone to bed long ago. It was almost one in the morning. The street below was mostly quiet. The quietness and the lull of the rain gave Nash time to think. Too much time, in fact.
It had been many months since Nicole's death. He told his family and friends and even himself that he was dealing with it well. The woman who'd been his wife for less than ten minutes before being killed by a sniper's bullet; the woman who'd been carrying his child, a son; the last woman he thought he'd spend his life with. He still felt her so near sometimes. And sometimes it seemed like a lifetime ago.
He didn't have any pictures of her up in the loft anymore. It hurt too much. He had them put away in a box in the closet. Her things had all gone back to her house and he'd given everything, including the house, to Nicole's long time housekeeper. He didn't want any reminders.
He had one. He took a bottle of beer into the living room and pulled a videotape from a shelf mixed in with others. He slid it into the VCR and clicked on the TV. He sat on the sofa and stared.
Nicole's laughing smiling face appeared. It was at her house. She wore a black casual dress. Nash remembered the night he'd used the camera to film her.
"Come on Nash," she was saying. "Put it away."
"No, no," He heard his own voice say. "I want to prove to everyone someday that you're Chopin in a dress."
They were in the den of her house. Near the beautiful grand piano.
"Nash, I can't. I'll get too nervous if I know you're taping."
"Then don't look. Play."
Nicole laughed and sat at the piano. "It's not going to be good," she insisted.
"Play, sister. You're not getting out of it."
Nash zoomed in on her face. So happy.
Her hands went to the keys. A shot of her hands as they began to move and the music she created.
It was "Moonlight Sonata", the haunting Beethoven melody.
Her hands were strong, her nails not perfect, but medium length, bare of polish. The finger of her left hand bearing the ring Nash had bought for her just a week before the video.
The piano notes echoed in the video and filled Nash's living room as he watched.
The video now captured Nicole and the piano, her hands moving fluidly over the keys; her face, eyes closed, held a look of pure pleasure. She took her playing serious and was good enough to be a concert pianist, Nash knew. She had studied it since childhood.
The notes growing softer, then louder. Then soft. The song came to a gentle end and the camera cut off.
The next time the video camera was turned on, Nicole again was the subject. She wore a red and yellow one piece swimsuit. They were at the beach in Monterey. The ocean was in the background. It was almost sundown.
"Hey gorgeous." Nash's voice. Nicole, wearing sunglasses looked up. She's been applying lotion to her long legs.
She laughed. "Geez are you at it again? Why don't you go film some dolphins or something?"
"Cause you're the only thing worth looking at."
She just grinned. "You're full of it Bridges."
"Yeah, but I've got great taste in women."
"Oh really?"
"Really. Hey, I think I love you."
Nicole threw her head back and laughed. Not as if she didn't believe him, but because he rarely said it and now she had proof. She looked at him/the camera. She stood up and came closer.
"Hey, I think I love you too Bridges."
The camera clicked off. That was all that was on the tape.
Nash turned off the TV. He threw on his long over coat and headed for the elevator.
The rain hit him and he walked. It was dark. He didn't care. The mercury vapor street lights gave him all the light he needed in his dark place.
Within minutes he was soaked, his hair wet, his coat wet, although open, the rain hitting his clothes, wetting them despite it. It flapped open as he walked. He didn't know where he was going. Just walking.
1 You don't know how to ease my pain…you don't know…you don't know how to ease my pain
You don't know…what the sound is darling… it's the sound of my tears fallin' or is it the rain… You don't know…
You don't know how to play the game you cheat and you lie…You make me want to cry…
You make me want to cry…You make me want to cry….Cry…You make me want to Cry….
You don't know how to ease my pain…you don't know…You don't know how to ease my pain
Don't you hear any voices cryin… that's the sound of my love dying… here comes the rain…
You don't know how to play the game… you cheat and you lie … you don't even know how to say goodbye…You make me want to cry…. you don't know…
You don't know… You don't even know how to say goodbye…
You make me want to cry
You don't even know how to say goodbye….You make me want to cry….
Cry….
1.1 Song "Cry" by Goodly and Crème, 1985