Ecstasy, and Rain
By Anne Spackman
Copyright 2014
By Anne Spackman
“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise… This ecstasy comes when one is most alive…”
—Jack London, The Call of the Wild
Anne was almost twenty-five years old and was sitting in a children’s tree house in the rain. Raindrops fell on her feet as she dangled them out of the tree house.
The guys, two of her roommates, were sitting in chairs on the covered porch, talking, some distance away. Anne sat there for a long time, as the rain fell hard onto the roof of the tree house. Before the storm ended, she jumped to the grass, kicked off her sandals, and walked barefoot over to the porch where the guys turned around and looked at her.
The two guys looked her up and down. “Need an umbrella?” asked Mike.
“No,” said Anne. “No, I love the rain,” was all she said, and then she wiped off her feet to make sure they wouldn’t track any grass or mud in before she went inside the town house.
It was late April, and the rain had cooled things off. Anne got a raspberry seltzer out of the fridge and drank it quickly. She drank a lot of seltzer water, and coffee with cardamom. Mike and Dan had also introduced her recently to mint juleps.
That night Anne planned to go to see a Russian film at the local university movie theater. She returned to the porch.
“Dan, would you like to go to see a Russian film tonight with me?” she asked, and she only asked Dan, because he had studied Russian language. “It’s called ‘Adam’s Rib’.”
“I have plans already,” said Dan, “but thanks for asking.”
“Mike—”
“Same,” said Mike. “Have a good time, Anne.”
Anne shrugged and went to her room upstairs to change clothes. She was staying in a five-bedroom townhouse with four other roommates, and all four of them men—Mike, Dan, Dave, and Brian. She put on some navy blue work-out pants and a t-shirt, and looked out the window of her tiny room. The sun hadn’t come out, but it wasn’t raining any more. Anne went to her mirror, adjusted her hair, picked up a bottle of freesia hair spray and sprayed her hair. She stopped to peer at a small spider that had taken residence in her room by the mirror—and left it alone. She needed to dust the room soon, she realized. Anne then went back downstairs, carrying a backpack.
“Who are you waiting for?” asked Mike a short time later, as it became clear Anne was leaving but waiting to be picked up to go somewhere.
“My coach, Don. I’m going to gymnastics practice this afternoon, then to work at the Reg later, then out tonight to the film.” The Regenstein was a large library at the University of Chicago, and Anne was working there.
“Gotcha,” said Mike with a disinterested nod.
“Take care and have fun,” said Mike, as Anne went to the door. Don had arrived in his car and was waiting on the road, with the engine still running.
“Bye, see you later,” Anne said, left the apartment, and hurried to meet Don.
* * * * *
Tiny sparrows darted in and out as Anne fed them crumbs of food. They flew away in a flurry as Mike showed up on the back porch outside.
“Hi, what are you up to?” he asked.
“Not much, just feeding birds.”
“So, who was the guy who visited you today?”
“His name is Dmitry. I met him at the Reg when I got off of work.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mike, sounding a trifle jealous. “So he’s just an acquaintance?”
“That’s right, I just met him today, and we took a walk by the Lakeshore, so I invited him in for a drink. It was hot outside.”
“Okay, well, it’s a good thing we were here when he came. You never know.”
“He’s fine. I trust him. He’s a student.” Mike sighed with a hint of a patronizing air.
“He’s a guy. Be good, now,” said Mike.
* * * * *
One day, early in May, Anne was training in Bartlett Gym, doing a back handspring, and her foot fell into a hole in the floor. Her ankle turned, and she heard and felt something tear inside her ankle. There had been a loud noise. She was in agony in seconds. Anne was helped down to the foyer of the gym, where Don eventually came to get her and took her to the hospital. He waited kindly with her as she was examined by a doctor.
“So you have a torn ligament in your ankle—calcaneofibular ligament tear,” said Don. “Did they tell you what to do with it. RICE—rest, ice, compression, elevation?”
“Yes, and I got a prescription for Darvocet.”
Don took Anne home, and actually came and brought her a set of used crutches that his son had used before. She hugged him, and thanked him.
She had met Don seven years ago at the university, where she had done gymnastics and Don had been the coach. She had then moved to Houston and lived there and had taught gymnastics for a few years before she returned to Chicago. When she returned to Chicago, she had gotten back in touch with Don, who often invited her to train with him and his son at a large gym where he knew the head coach. Anne could still do handsprings and saltos or flips at that point, and enjoyed a few sporadic training sessions every now and again. She didn’t know, however, if she’d be able to tumble again after this injury.
* * * * *
A week after her injury, Anne’s university friend Bruce came to visit her. Mike didn’t like Anne’s guest. Bruce was well-mannered, and obviously quite close to Anne, and Mike’s expression let everyone know how he felt about the newcomer. Anne had already had a few male friends visit since April—but they were only male friends, not boyfriends. Mike was acting like a suitor, as he had made it clear he was interested in Anne romantically a bit, but so far, he hadn’t asked her out on a date, so Anne paid Mike little attention when he made comments about her male friends.
That night, Bruce and Anne went out that night to a film, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” and then had a pizza dinner at Café Florian. Bruce waited with Anne for the bus back to her apartment. They sat on a bench, talking and enjoying the night. Anne was happy, but the bus arrived too soon. She said good-bye to Bruce, and then got on the bus to return home. While she was in the bus, it began to rain again. Anne started to cry, and she wasn’t sure why. However, she dried her tears before she went into the townhouse.
“Have a good night out?” asked Dan casually.
“I had a wonderful night,” returned Anne.
* * * * *
Another good male friend of Anne’s called that week. His name was Pat. Pat worked out in San Rafael, California, and he had invited Anne to come visit for a few days to see the newest “Star Wars” film. She had agreed to go before she had torn her ligament. She flew anyway, out to San Francisco, crutches and all. Pat was really sweet to her, and took her all over San Francisco—to Japantown for a stroll and a sundae, and he would take her anywhere she wanted, really, but in the end, they stayed inside and watched t.v., since Anne couldn’t walk far on crutches. The “Star Wars” premiere was amazing. Pat worked for George Lucas, and they got to go to a special event for the premiere, which turned out to be a lot of fun.
When Anne left San Francisco, she hugged Pat good-bye. It was really hard saying good-bye. Anne returned to the apartment in Chicago, and went back to her usual life. Mike, however, was more interested in what had happened between Anne and Pat. He even asked her about it one night shortly after she returned to Chicago.
“So, did you sleep with Pat?”
Anne almost choked on her tea. “That’s not your business,” she said, which only made Mike angry. He shrugged it off a second later. Mike must have realized he shouldn’t have asked.
Anne went to her bed, stared up at the ceiling, and couldn’t sleep. She had so much going on in her mind.
* * * * *
It was raining early in June as Anne tried to hobble home from Mr. G’s supermarket on her crutches, carrying groceries. It was amazing how no one had ever stopped to ask her if they could help her at any point that she walked on her crutches. Anne had no umbrella, but it didn’t rain hard late that afternoon. She arrived home drenched, and Mike answered the door. He stared at her. She stared back.
“Let me help you in,” said Mike. And he took the groceries from her and helped her inside. “Go get changed,” said Mike. “You can’t stay in those wet clothes.” Anne was actually surprised and elated by how kind Mike was that day.
Anne held onto the railings of the winding staircase and left her crutches downstairs, as she couldn’t carry them. Mike followed, carrying the crutches.
“Thank you,” she said. She was almost open-mouthed.
Anne got into her room and shut the door and didn’t move for a while. She was just breathing hard.
* * * * *
In the end, Anne started walking after six weeks, but didn’t fully regain any strength for two months after her ligament tear. She was soon to move to New York City, and had to say good-bye to her roommates. Mike wasn’t pleased to see her leaving at the end of August. He had hinted that she could join him and Dan in an apartment two doors down that they were leasing on September 1st, but Anne had already got everything ready to move to New York City. It was hard saying good-bye to Mike and Dan—she cared about them now, and would miss them. Most of all, she would miss her coach Don, and her friends as well.
She had never been good at good-byes.
* * * * *
“Strawberry Mousse, French Chocolate Mousse, Chocolate Intensity—look at all of these desserts!” someone in the line in the New York City supermarket was saying as she looked at the desserts by the check-out. Anne had a basket full of coffee, celery, and cucumbers—and was getting tired of holding it. The line was so long.
Of course, whoever it was had just mentioned Anne’s favorite desserts, but she was on a budget and not eating desserts at the moment. She almost looked over at them, but didn’t; her arms were starting to hurt.
Anne carried the groceries home, and made a quick dinner of salad and chicken stir-fry for herself and her sister, Carolyne. Carolyne was writing poetry before they sat down to dinner, but Carolyne stopped writing for a while, after she had finished. Then, they took an evening walk in the park, and sat down on a bench by the water.
They had just seen “Gladiator”, which was now Anne’s favorite film, and the music was running through Anne’s head. Anne had always had an interest in ancient Rome. She and her sister wanted to go on a run the next morning, but it was often hard fitting it in if they didn’t rise early enough to do so.
“You write all the time,” said Carolyne.
“I guess I do,” said Anne. “I finished my last novel a few weeks ago, though. So I guess you could say I am taking a break.”
“You wrote for nine months straight, every night. I was beginning to think you were going to wear a hole on the floor.”
Anne laughed.
“Let’s go to Central Park tomorrow. And to Pizzeria Uno.”
“Sure, all right. You know, I met Bruce today. He came through the city on business, and I met him and took a walk with him.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Fine, I think. He looks quite good, and is of course very busy with his career.”
“Did you tell him ‘hi’ for me?”
“I did,” returned Anne. “He only had a few hours to see me. Can I read your poem?”
“I’ll read it to you, when we get inside.”
* * * * *
Almost five years later, Anne was attending the Tobin College of Business in Queens, New York, when Carolyne and their friend Desireé came to visit her new apartment in Queens. They all went out for an Indian meal together, and had a lovely afternoon lounging in Anne’s apartment.
Anne had put up a string of multi-colored Christmas lights at the small window. It was festive early that December.
“Well, we have to go now,” said Carolyne and Desireé. It was getting to be late afternoon, and both of them had a ways to go to return to their apartments in Queens. All three women lived in Queens, in various locations.
“Bye,” said Anne, hugging them, and seeing them out. She was sad to see them leave, but got a call later when each got home.
The next day, it rained. It didn’t snow, though it was getting colder every day. Anne put on a coat and went out on a short walk in the rain, and she remembered how, years ago, Pat had bought her and Carolyne each an umbrella when it started raining in Chicago and had given it to them without being asked. She started to cry, then tried to stop crying, and was finally able to just smile with the memory.
It rained for hours, and Anne walked and walked in the neighborhood, then went to St. John’s University campus where she was a student and headed to the library to check her email, since she didn’t have internet access at home. When Anne returned home, she soon fell asleep to the sound of rain falling on the window pane.
It was always easy to sleep to that sound.
* * * * *
Anne got up early and got dressed, put on her coat, and headed into the cold December day in Queens. She always loved the sounds of birds in the early hours of morning. It smelled good outside, but there was mist in the air.
Anne headed to campus for work for four hours. After work, she got lunch at a deli, and then later she planned to return home to study before class that night. Every day as a student was jam-packed with work and study. She took a brief walk in the local park right after lunch, and fed some of the birds the crusts off of her sandwich. The spotty grey mourning doves were a favorite—they and the pigeons vied for the few crumbs of food that she had to offer.
Anne realized again that she had forgotten to bring an umbrella when it started to rain again. Anne didn’t have any way of checking the weather in her apartment, since she had neither t.v. nor internet there, and she often forgot to check the weather when she was at work. Anne turned around and ran to the street, and decided to pop into the health food store to have a look while she waited for the rain shower to lessen or pass.
Only it didn’t. In the end, she braced herself to hurry home.
* * * * *
“Don,” said said, over her new cell phone, “some strange things have been happening to me recently, that I can’t talk about. But can you give me some advice?
“I can try,” returned Don, in a careful, guarded way.
“What should I do about men troubles?”
“What do you mean, ‘men troubles’?”
“I guess, I guess I can’t tell you what’s going on—but I was being harassed recently…”
“Report it. Get away. Do what you have to, and don’t let yourself go out alone at night.” Said Don. “Unless you absolutely must.”
“I go to school at night,” said Anne. “But I can try to just go from A to B. Thanks, I just needed to hear your voice and feel safe again.”
“’Safe’?” Don was worried.
“I’m ok. Just frazzled, and something was going on here I can’t really tell you about. I should be ok soon.”
“All right.” Don seemed worried still, but ok with this response.
“Good-bye, Don,” said Anne. “And thanks for everything.”
“Glad I could help,” said Don.
She hung up the phone, and was soon in tears. She had no way to say what was in her heart, but she guessed Don knew that she loved him, and that she was grateful for all he had done for her over the years.
Anne couldn’t say in the end what had happened, but she felt better talking to Don even in a vague way, and got ready to go to work.
The love in your heart is the
best feeling ever, but it hurts, she thought. Oh how it hurts.
It was raining outside.