Chapter Three

The rain was pounding against the windows and ceiling, so heavily that you could barely hear anything else. It woke me up from my sleep at night, so I'd turn sideways, facing the window, and watch the drops as they violently crashed against the glass. I'd wish that somehow the rain could wash me pure… or wash away my memories.

And then I saw him. Hair sticking to his forehead, wide eyes, his face covered in droplets of water. He just stared at me.

"Carey?" I whispered, in disbelief. I got out of bed, walked slowly to the window, and opened it… everything felt so reminiscent to that last night we were together, when he came to my window and told me that he had to leave. He climbed inside, and we stared at each other, speechless.

"You're completely drenched," I said. "Let me get a towel so you can dry—" But my words were interrupted, because he grabbed my face and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his body, and soon we were locked in a fit of passion… I peeled off his wet clothes, and he peeled off my dry ones, all the while not losing contact with each other. We fell to my bed… and we made love.

Or sometimes I woke up before we did. Sometimes I didn't offer to get him a towel. Sometimes I kissed him first. But the dream was pretty much the same every time I had it… and I had been having it at least once a week, every week, for the past four years.

Needless to say, every day when it rained very hard, I couldn't help thinking that Carey would appear. It felt like more than a dream… like a vision. Or maybe I just wished it were.

Today was one of those days.

I loved it when it rained so heavy that it pounded against the roof. It was almost like a spiritual cleansing. Or the tears of nature: a reminder that I wasn't the only one who was miserable.

What could Irene have said to him?

It wasn't the first time I thought about this. Rather—far from that. How badly could she have possibly threatened Carey that forced him to leave? It just didn't make sense. She could have threatened to tell everyone—but they were all bound to find out eventually. Honestly, that was the least of my worries. He was too old to be grounded severely. And she couldn't have threatened him financially because obviously he had enough money to live alone. What was it? Would I ever know?

Carey wrote me that letter. He said he couldn't stay because Irene forbade him to see me and he couldn't bear to be so near what he could never have. But something didn't sit right with the situation. That couldn't be the whole story… there had to have been something more.

I had thought about the numerous ways I could find out, too. I could ask Irene. Flat-out. At this point, I really didn't care how much she hated me. The problem was that I hated her too much to talk to her… to even ask her this question. And I doubt she'd tell me the truth, anyway.

Or I could find Carey. And of course I had tried that, too. I had tried every day for two years to track him down. It was useless. He was unlisted—everywhere. Phone books, online, everywhere. I found out through dumb luck, flipping through the newspaper one day about three years ago, that he had joined a local band… but their hometown wasn't listed, and no mention of the band was ever made again. The article said that the band was playing a show in Hope Springs… but, as luck should have it, "Guitarist Carey Bell is unable to play due to a mild illness, and will be replaced with fellow guitarist Matt Anderson for the band's next few appearances." I knew the truth. He was avoiding me.

Where was he now? He could be across the country. He could be married and have children. Maybe he went to college. I wondered if he had changed his name. For all I knew… he could be dead.

He might as well have been.