Five

Words: 2039

This is the fourth vignette in Five, although it was actually the first I wrote. I would like to thank Lyn, Erin French, and Imbrii for reading this and giving their opinions. *snuggle* Anyway, enjoy!



Four: Hold On

It's raining; it always rains. If it doesn't, then Riff never even notices. He walks home from work on the streets of London, soaking wet. A week ago he had an umbrella, but a strong gust of wind carried it away. Riff felt too apathetic to replace it so he walks to and from houses in the rain. As a doctor, he knows he's going to get very sick, especially with influenza spreading and killing the lower classes, but he figures it'll give him something to think about - like a happy vacation from his mind.

Although Riff never likes to do so, he's always thinking about something. Walking home from work, he thinks of the various patients he's had during the day, like that cute little girl with the pink ribbons in her hair. Her father was rich and liked to give her whatever she pleased, but Riff didn't quite think she wanted syphilis from him. Even though he wanted to say something, he didn't; it wasn't his business, anyway. He had more important things to think of than matters that didn't concern him.

Like that little boy with the sister who liked playing the piano. Riff thought yesterday that his condition wasn't dire enough to prescribe medicine that the family couldn't even afford, but this morning he was dead. That part of a doctor's job bothers Riff. He hates making a mistake and especially having everyone know that he made one. People were so hopeful for a miracle these days, though, that he knew his reputation as a doctor wouldn't suffer. Riff wouldn't be able to bear it if business plummeted.

Not only would the Raffits have more financial troubles than they already had, but Riff would be forced to think of something other than work, like his home life.

No matter how dirty the job is, Riff always prefers work to home, though none of his friends who know this secret can figure out why. To them, Riff has a happy, cheerful, and docile wife named Lucinda and their children are just darling and ever obedient. Riff doesn't tell them how it really is, though; he knows better.

Riff often feels ignored at home even though he's the breadwinner and head of family. Lucinda barely talks to him anymore - she hasn't really since they first became engaged - and when she does, she complains about their finances and their social standing. It's a pity they don't communicate often; Riff has a lot he'd like to tell her.

Their extended family doesn't think highly of Riff anymore because they think he works too often and can't manage his finances well. In reality Riff manages them very well - if he didn't, their entire family would be cast down among the lower class.

He knows they have the wrong idea about him, but that's the problem with Riff; he won't speak up and defend himself. He stands there silently and takes the blame, regardless of if he deserves it or not. That part of himself bothers Riff sometimes. Everyone thinks he's shy and it's partly true, but he just doesn't like to trouble anyone. The two things he hates most are change and confrontation. No matter how bad it gets, Riff would rather take that than something new and unfamiliar.

Besides, his home life isn't completely bad. Riff likes their five children because they're always laughing and playing when he comes home; he likes that because he sees a lot of sick and dying children in his job. Sometimes when they know Riff is in a good mood, they ask him to play with them. He likes that, even though he doesn't think he's a very good playmate for the children.

The children never call Riff "father," and he doesn't mind. He doesn't think he'd be able to take it if they did; somehow Riff thinks he might lose his sanity. He's usually right about that sort of stuff, but like the little boy with the sister who liked to play the piano, he figures that time is the best healer. It never is, though; time always makes things worse.

Riff knows the children aren't his, but he loves them anyway.

He often wonders if he loves Lucinda, but he knows he doesn't; he also knows that she doesn't love him. How could she when she's been having an affair with his brother? Riff knows about this affair and he doesn't like it - he doesn't like his brother much, either - but he's never said anything about it. The reason why their financial situation is so bad is because Riff's brother Clyde either steals the money from them and wastes it, or he and Lucinda go off on a trip, with Lucinda lying to her loyal husband about it. Riff knows about all this, including the fact that his brother fathered their children, and he tries to tell himself that he doesn't care, but he actually does.

What Riff really wants is a change, but he's deathly afraid to admit it to himself.

He doesn't like change one bit, especially if he can control it. If it's out of his hands, Riff can handle it, but if the responsibility of change is his, then Riff can't bear to be in charge of it. He never wants to be accountable for something gone wrong, although he is all the time. Sometimes when he talks to them, Riff's friends don't think he's quite sane anymore.

A part of him says that he should take charge of his own destiny and live a new life, but Riff doesn't like that part of himself; it scares him. He can't even bear to acknowledge that something needs to change. He thinks everything's fine, but it's not.

The smell of the Thames reminds Riff that he's walking the route home in the rain without an umbrella; of course, the last part he doesn't care to acknowledge. And he wishes he didn't have to acknowledge the first.

That river doesn't have a pleasant odor, actually. Maybe it's just the entire city of London. Riff doesn't actually know, but unlike some of his colleagues, he says he doesn't believe that toxins float through the air by the stench; he actually hopes it's true, though.

The rain begins to downpour, but Riff doesn't really care - with good luck he'll get himself sick.

"Excuse me, sir!" a light and childlike voice says politely, startling Riff.

Riff turns and sees a young girl under the shelter of an umbrella. She's standing in front of an antique store and very much unlike Riff's, her long, blonde hair is dry and untouched.

"Would you like to take shelter with me under my umbrella until the rain lightens?" she asks, her blue eyes shining happily with generosity and good will.

He doesn't know why, but Riff nods and silently makes his way under her umbrella; he has to hold it because he's so much taller than her.

"I hate the rain because Brother will never let me go outside and play," she laments as she looks at Riff curiously.

Riff tries to smile, but he doesn't know how it comes out because it's been a long time since he's done so. "It is very good that your brother restrains you. Dampness will make you susceptible to chills and illness."

She looks vaguely put out as she retorts, "But he always goes out in it! Today has been the only day he's taken me with him; sadly, though, he's not doing anything interesting."

Chuckling slightly, Riff tries another smile, and this time, he thinks it looks like one now.

The young blonde returns the smile cheerfully and introduces herself briefly, "My name is Merryweather Hargreaves."

"Good evening, Miss Hargreaves," Riff says politely and he almost tells her who he is, but she exclaims at the young, dark-haired man coming out of the antique store, calling him Brother.

The young man stops immediately, barely acknowledging her, and instead eyes the tall man with their umbrella suspiciously. His sister seems to see that and immediately chirps, "Brother, this man did not have an umbrella and it was really raining hard, so I offered for him to share mine. See, I am not a selfish and spoiled brat like you said I was this morning!"

Riff notices that the young man ignores his sister again and their eyes lock; Merryweather's brother has green eyes tinged with gold and it reminds Riff of the little girl with pink ribbons. "Good evening...Mister Hargreaves, I presume?"

Her brother doesn't answer and Merryweather begins to harp on her brother's bad manners, but he continues to ignore her and instead finally says as he looks off somewhere, "...A little reckless to walk around London in a downpour without an umbrella, is it not?"

Riff notices that the young man is flushing slightly along with sounding out of breath. The doctor in him tells him that he's sick, but he's not so sure. Their eyes meet briefly once again. As Merryweather's brother breaks the gaze almost at once, Riff sees that his face is flushed even more.

It makes Riff remember that he can take charge of his life; something makes him want to start anew.

"Perhaps," he answers finally, a bit embarrassed for a reason not readily explained.

Merryweather's brother clears his throat and suggests, "Well...the rain probably won't let up anytime soon. We have an umbrella and our house is nearby..." His face flushes a bit more and Riff's only beginning to figure out why.

It seems like he's too embarrassed to continue, but Merryweather finishes pleasantly, "Would you like to accompany us to the house so that we may have a proper umbrella for you? You should not walk around in the rain without one! You could catch a chill; you said so yourself!"

Half of Riff wants to run away while the other wants to stay; he doesn't know what to do, but he has the feeling that things are changing. He wants this change - he wants to be in charge of his own life.

But the resident part of him declines, feeling guilty when he sees the green and golden catlike eyes flash something unrecognizable briefly. He doesn't know what it is, but it makes more of Riff want to be lured in.

"...The rain has stopped, anyway," he mutters, trying to avoid her brother's eyes as he hands the umbrella back to Merryweather. She's cheerful about it and doesn't try to stop him or give him any more advice; her brother is silent.

Riff thinks to himself as usual as he walks away a few meters. He thinks of the little girl and her impeccable blonde hair, of her dark-haired brother with the green eyes sprinkled with fairy gold; that's what it is, fairy gold from the end of an iridescent rainbow. He can't stop thinking about the unfamiliar flashes in those eyes, how he sounded out of breath at times, how his cheeks flushed on occasion. Riff finds himself wanting to stop and stay, take up their offer although the rain has stopped, go on an adventure...

But he becomes afraid; he's too logical and he curses that. Adventures are unsafe and unpredictable. They're unfamiliar and they make things change; they require a confrontation head-on with destiny. Riff's heart pangs as he knows he can't do this. He just won't let himself, but he still can't help wondering what would happen if he did...

He knows it's his heart that directs him to look back again, and Riff finds that he's trapped again in a gaze from those remarkable eyes. The young girl skips around, playing with her umbrella; she's unaware of the indecision and uncertainty in this stranger's mind.

And it's then that Riff realizes what it was that repeatedly flashed in this young man's eyes.

It sways his decision to walk away from this adventure in life, to continue walking down his lonely road. It hurts, and Riff doesn't even want to think of why. He thinks that time is a good healer, but it's really not. Time is cold and emotionless; it won't cure love, but he thinks it will.

So Riff walks on.