She hates the rain.
It's usually not like this in Philadelphia, but on rare occasions it pours like a motherfucker.
And lucky her, she had to out walking with Rickety Cricket back from the bar (she needed help tending the bar, cuz the guys sure weren't going to).
As it starts to pour buckets and minivan sized cars, she feels Rick's hand close over hers.
"Hey, Dee!" he shouts over the roar of the heaven's pissing away Niagara falls over their heads. "Follow me! I know where we can keep dry! Y'know, wait out the storm!"
"What!" She shouts back only catching a few words of what he was saying before her arm gets yanked hard as he takes off running.
He can run fast, which she thought was strange considering how he's the one who wore leg braces in high school. Plus, she eats better than him (not by too much, she still needs to watch her weight). How can this scrawny guy run faster than her?
As it was, it was hard keeping up with him (curses for not working out more!), and she felt like it was a sketchy idea letting Rick take to some place she didn't want to go, but it was really flooding at this point, so why not?
A short while later and with Dee panting like a maniac, growling that she was gonna have another heart attack, they finally arrive at Rickety's so called "dry spot".
The doorway of an abandoned building. Seriously?
At least it was deep set in the building, and both of them could fit comfortably under it without getting blasted by freezing cold rain.
Dee coughs and groans as she crawls into the corner, still out of breath and a little pissed that she had to run in such unforgiving weather. Rick, the asshole, sits himself right next to her wedging her in near the wall and himself. She's about to protest when she realizes that not only does he keep some of the wind and rain out but he's kinda warm, so she shuts up and thinks she'll just use him. Just like a warm bag of meat or something.
"How the fuck can you run so fast? Shit, I'm dying here!" Dee coughs again before settling in closer to the wall.
Rick smiled before rubbing a hand on his leg thoughtfully.
"When you lose something, you realize the true value of what you had. In my case, I wasn't going to lose my legs again. I appreciate being able to walk better than most people. Running to me… it's freedom. Running is how I survive here on the streets."
"Okaaaaaaaaaaaaay… didn't want your whole philosophy on the subject, but okay." Dee doesn't know really what she should say at this point, instead wishing hard that there was some booze for her to ease the awkwardness.
"Haha… well, it's okay Dee. I get it. It's just something I've been thinking for a while. Not many people think about how great it is to be able to simply walk around with leg braces, but I think even you can understand how it feels like to be denied normalcy."
Kay, now he's getting personal! Dee's eyes narrowed and she prayed for God to send her some booze right now, either that or to end the rain. "Well, having a back brace taught me that people are assholes." She feels like she's gonna tear up a little about that, but she continues on anyway. "And it sounds like to me that have leg braces taught you that you had no chance of running away from asshole people before, but now that don't have them, you can."
"It's not like that." She looks up to see him focused somewhere off in the distance, beyond the pouring rain. She waited uncomfortably for him to say something more, and a tense silence follows. She's about to break it with some complaint about being wet and freezing when he spoke up again.
"It's a given that there are bad people out there." He looks down at his hands, then up at her. "But without the bad, we can't understand the value of good. If bullies didn't pick on the weak, then who would be the heroes to save them when they have fallen? Or how would we be able to change to protect ourselves when we can't be saved by others? We all have some bad in us, but coexisting with that sin is a chance to redeem ourselves. I just think that my experience in high school taught me that it can't be helped what happens to you, but how you react to it, that's something that can be changed."
She's a bit puzzled about this. "You joined the church because…. What? You wanted to help people?"
He looks embarrassed now. "Uh, well… yeah. That and because the one woman I liked didn't like me back so…"
Whoa. Sure his whole crush on her wasn't exactly a secret, but for him to give away his life because of her?
They sat in silence again, and this time it wasn't so serious, just awkward. She's got things on her mind, and so does he. If she thought more on the subject, she'd be less hostile to him, considering how he never really seemed to catch a break ever since she reentered his life, but instead she decided to focus on a different subject:
Grinning, she asked him, "So…. Does this mean you've never gotten laid before?"
After that, they spent the rest of the rainy evening huddled close, chatting amiably over their failed romantic conquests.
After her run through the rain with Matt, Dee came home embarrassed to find her make up all smeared and runny. It wasn't that she WANTED to look good for him (because c'mon, he's a loser), but it just made her feel self-conscious to have been out in public looking like a drowned rat.
Dee grabbed a wad of tissue paper and make up remover and began the laborious task of removing and reapplying her makeup.
Thick black mascara and faded lipstick stained the white cotton black and red.
After rubbing her face raw, Dee looked into the mirror to find a tired, thirty something year old, who just didn't look pretty. It almost made her want to cry.
Sighing, she pulled out dark eyeliner and started to redefine her eyes. It always seemed like they disappeared into her stupid bird like face otherwise. Her hand was on the mascara when she looked at her face.
Huh. She held off the mascara and went to some foundation, smoothing her face of any blemishes. No bronzer this time. She always felt like she was forcing her tan a bit too much with it on.
A bit of blush on cheeks and a light rosy lip gloss to finish the look, and!
Dee was looking at a younger, more innocent woman.
She, in fact, looked sweet.
She wondered why she thought globbing on make up made her look good. With a bit more control, she can stop coming off as some vindictive bitch, and actually look….
Decent. (she knows she's not that attractive, maybe if she went back to her natural blond hair color she'd look less washed out)
Sweet Dee took one last look at her face, before angrily wiping everything off.
Why does she want to look innocent anyway? It's not like it's gonna change what she's done.
Besides, she's gotten used to the cold mask she wears.