The Shape of Rain

KNOWN

The problem with being with someone new is suddenly realizing all the things you still do not know about that person; not that there is anything negative about it, it is more like entering a dark room and realizing it is spacious. You cannot see the walls, but you can perceive the space. The space is exciting; the space is worth exploring; that was what Mira understood on Saturday morning when Elliot showed up, observed him navigate the shop with the confidence of someone who feels totally at home, and realized that she had seen all of this a hundred times, and yet was looking at it for the first time. Same green chair, same coffee, same coat hanging on the same hook, but a completely different experience.

Ruth pretended that she didn’t notice the difference. She was terrible at this game. She always found ways to get into whichever room they weren’t in. She cleaned up the storage room, a job that she had been putting off for the past three months, especially on Saturday mornings when Mira and Elliot were in the front of the shop. She was making quite a lot of noise doing it. When Mira brought her tea, she raised her head with the face of one who had no ideas in mind whatsoever.

“You don’t need to pretend,” Mira said.

“I’m organizing things,” Ruth replied.

“For forty minutes.”

“It’s a difficult shelf.”

Elliot was reading, or at least pretending to, when she returned. The book was open; Elliot's attention, though, was on the window. She learned to distinguish between the two; the one who was reading was calm and focused. The other, the one who was thinking, just stared at the window.

"The what?" she said, sitting facing him.

"No harm. I thought about our meeting last night." He put the book away.

"The moment behind the door.

"That too, " he said, staring at her, "but first I told it to Caroline."Mira's posture changed. "What did she reply?"

"She said, I am giving you the actual words, 'Finally, I had been beginning to think you were both idiots'. That is the only one I had left from her."

Mira's laughter was so loud that the storekeeper, Ruth, came and peeked at them before deciding not to interfere at the sight on the doorstep and retreating.

Elliot told Mira, "She really respects you; it's quite a big deal for her to say something like that."

Mira replied, "It wasn't a compliment; rather, I was called an i***t.

"She referred to us together as idiots. You see? It's Caroline's style. You might need to learn that, too."

They went to the little cafe by the river for lunch. Their regular booth. The one with the amazing view, and just like a regular booth should be, when they had one, they weren't even asked for a reservation; the space near the window was theirs by default, the same way the green chair was his and the back table was a date spot on Thursdays and the entrance area was a place for their late-night kisses, marking a territory without making any statement about it.

The place was more crowded than it usually was. A Saturday lunch bunch, which in Bellweather meant a bit more than 4 people. The cashier behind the counter, her name was Dot, Mira found out- a woman of around, had worked here for almost two decades, had strong beliefs and shared them all freely, brought their dishes to the table without needing to get the orders checked. She glanced at them. Then the table. Finally Mira.

"It's about time," Dot said and left.

Elliot turned to Mira. "Is there nobody in this town who doesn't know about us? " he asked.

"I guess not," Mira replied. "Will that bother you?"

She thought for a minute. "I don't think so. You?"

"I have been living here for four years," he answered. "Around the third month, I gave up on privacy."

She got up from her chair, took the coffee, and said, "I know a lot of things about you, but I would love to hear something else you haven't said to me before." "Well, "he began,

"When I was 12, I wanted to become an architect." "Why didn't you, then?"

"It turned out I couldn't draw at all. Like, really badly. I mean, my 12-year-old house was like the house had to run for her life or the whole scene would not survive!" She smiled. "What else?"

"I usually read the last page of the book first."

She gazed at him. "That's a bad habit to confess to a bookstore employee. "

''I understand. I've been avoiding it.''

"Elliot.

"I can't help it; I need to know the end before I commit. "

To her face, he was speaking, and at the same time, his eyes kept following hers as if they had never met yet. She said after she looked at him and then after her eyes settled down. Elliot had that kind of expression when he said something too candid that he didn't even intend to.

"It's not really about books, " she said.

"I know, " he told her.

They walked along the river. There was a very cold February wind, a wind that forced you to put your hands in your pockets and your scarf pulled up to cover your face. At least the rain had stopped, and what really impressed was the reflection of the light on the water, flat, silver, and completely motionless even though underneath it was the river current. Mira remembered this feature of rivers. ''Always still on the surface, but always moving underneath''. She just let the words escape her lips without thinking. Elliot glanced up at the water,

"You can be really deep, or just the water is talking to you."

"Maybe both, " she said with a smile.

He gently touched her elbow a little, which was the kind of thing that you could still feel and the kind that was already a habit without realizing. Silently, they walked along for a while, leaving the river bank behind with its leafless trees. They passed the little bench where Owen used to sit and read when it was warmer and turned the corner where the river left the town to flow further away. At this turning point, one could see for a brief moment all the distance the river still had to go before it finally vanished to the place where rivers end their journeys.

"Can I ask you a question?" Elliot asked.

"Of course."

"Are you scared?"

She responded without any attempt to hide; in reality, she knew exactly what he was referring to. "Yes.

"So am I."

"That's all right, " she replied.

Elliot stared at her. "Okay?"

She continued, "Should we be unafraid of anything, it would imply that we don't actually understand the situation. We would not be scared if we were not at least somewhat aware of the situation." She didn't stop to explain further. "Being scared is, to an extent, a sign that something is really important!"

Elliot was silent for a few seconds, then he asked a question: "When did you become so wise about this?"

Mira didn't sound at all like a teacher of life lessons to others; rather, she said that she had made mistakes for a long time before she eventually realized the lessons they taught her. Elliot gave just a quick and genuine laugh - "Oh yeah, exactly."

Before the cold got unbearable to them, they decided to head back to town. They were heading up along the river, past a bench, and past some trees. Eventually, the cafe would appear to their eyes; moving down a little, they would see the bookstore, its window still warmly lit from inside, even in the afternoon. That really was the way it always was.

She watched it from a distance. Even her name wasn't up above the door; regardless, the place was already hers. So that truly counted; it was hers entirely. His hand was drawn to hers. No fanfare, his hand simply reaching out for hers as they strolled, their fingers intertwining without effort as though it was the only way. Though it wasn't practiced yet, could it? Would it? She didn't let go.

They strolled back on Carver Street, shoulder to shoulder against the February cold wind, the light getting dimmer, and rain returning, always returning, while Bellweather was doing the stuff that it was always doing, being, waiting, preserving all the beauty it holds within its soaked grey common, yet stunning self.