The Shape of Rain

MARCUS

The email that came on a Monday morning, when the whole idea is to get everything out and to start a fresh week, seemed just so right. That's when the past used to show up all unasked for, in a sense.

Subject line: ''Long time ''

She was tempted to leave it unopened, and spent a minute contemplating his name on her screen, with a chill in her coffee and the store quiet, as if the day was just about to start. Finally, she hit that open button because she thought not reading it meant letting it have a power which she didn't think it should have.

''Hello Mira. I've heard from Jen that you moved away from Chicago. A bookstore of a kind in a small town? That really surprised me. You cross my mind once in a while. I suppose you're alright, and that makes me think you're alright. In any case, it was really nice hearing from you.'' - Marcus.

That's all? Only one page of content with six short sentences written on that particular page so that they look like they came naturally. She read it over three more times. She didn't tell Elliot as soon as she could, not because she was hiding it; she kept reassuring herself with this reason twice, but because she didn't think there was something that warranted a conversation yet. An email consisting of six sentences.

Nothing had happened yet. Still, the thoughts were lingering in her throughout the day. Like a soft background song playing beneath everything else. She found herself rearranging the same books on the shelves two times in a row. Ruth checked if she was alright, and Mira answered in a tone that clearly showed she wasn't feeling fine at all, but Ruth, who is quite smart, didn't pry.

On Tuesday evening, Elliot dropped by. He must've come right from a working shift, as he was tired but looked relaxed. There was a feeling of lightness now in him; maybe it had to do with the ease with which he had accepted whatever changes were necessary in his life. He could tell even before she told him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, with a seat in the green chair. "Nothing's wrong with me." She answered.

"Mira." Her eyes fell straight on him. There was a certain manner in the way he was saying her name that made lying seem to be of very little use.

"Marcus has emailed me, " she finally confessed. A brief reaction came across his face that was very fast, and he tried to get it under control immediately.

To her dismay, he could conceal it so very well, but she had managed to get the knack of reading such things by now, and she knew what had been behind the mask that he had just put on: a moment of some emotion that came so quickly before he managed to get it under wraps.

"What did he say?" Elliot asked in a calm tone.

She explained, "That he knew I left Chicago. That he thinks about me sometimes, that if I ever return to the city, I should visit him."

Elliot stood there in silence.

"I have not yet given him an answer, " she confessed, " I don't think I even will."

"Are you longing to?"

In the silence, the question lingered; it was only an honest and upfront kind of question, the kind he used to always ask. He would do away with those smaller, crueler questions a less security-conscious person might raise.

"No!" she replied. "I meant it, and I even recognized how a tiny knot that had been there was loosening in her chest while she made this confession.

Elliot slowly inclined his head. "All right."

"Only that? Only alright?"

"What could I even say? " was the reply.

"Well, I don't expect you to say anything particular; be jealous, be annoyed, be something"

Elliot studied her face deeply, almost piercingly, and said, "I trust you. Naturally, you didn't mean it, but saying that name did not strike a chord would be a lie; in fact, it did. I'm not made of stone. But there won't be some performance of jealousy as proof of my love. My feelings are true; they aren't dependent on any 'performance'. He looked up briefly. It took her a while to respond.

"That really sounds like you have a lot of control over your emotions. I admire people like that. I suppose it really is quite evolved of people who can do that."

"That's one of the things that Grief tends to do." You become highly aware of your own feelings, whether you want it or not''

Mira showed Elliot the email; after seeing the email, he handed the phone back to her. Elliot was the first to speak.

"He's like a fisherman, " Elliot said. "A fisherman with bait."

"Bait for what?"

"Checking the door is still open. That is what people often do. People send a few lines and see what they can get in return."

He paused a little before saying,

"It doesn't necessarily imply he wants you back. Sometimes people want to verify that they can do something if the situation arises. This, to them, is more important than you."

She recalled Marcus and how they were fine and good for two years, but the love was not heartfelt. She thought of herself when she was with Marcus. "I don't miss him, " she affirmed. "I don't miss him, not even a bit."

Elliot nodded, ''i believe you''

"I miss the feeling of being wanted, even if it is short-lived and unproblematic. Before I understood the price of complication, I had been longing a bit to be loved just that way." Her eyes dropped to her hands. But missing him is very different."

Elliot smiled. "Yes. Completely"

She replied to him on Wednesday. A short message but polite. ''Happy you are doing well. The place was a great environment for me. Not going to return to Chicago any time soon because I am building a place here.'' She did not talk about Elliot. There may be no need. The letter was not really intended to update Marcus on her life. It was the door she hadn't realized was still slightly open that the letter closed, and she heard the sound it made when it shut.

Before she sent the letter, she showed it to Elliot. It made her aware of it even in the act: that small act of confiding something in someone, to have that person's eyes on it, not for validation but just being there.

"Building a place here, " he read aloud.

"Yes, it's happening."

"I know, and that's the reason why I really like it."

She pressed the send button.

Thursday evening, the circle was smaller. Owen was sick; Tobias was driving through a rainstorm, so he was unlikely to make it on time. Diane and Francesca came, and Sera came as a surprise; she had begun to join us more and more often, submerging herself into the pace of the place with the particular gratitude of someone who's been looking exactly for this. The talk went smoothly, but boring, the kind of night that would have seemed like just another Sunday last summer and now seemed like the world.

Elliot stayed on after, same as always. Ruth left them the last dregs of the wine and went to bed early, same as always. "Better?''

He asked when they were alone.

"Better, " she said. And it was true.

That email had dropped all the silence it had ever held the instant she'd clicked send on her reply; access had to be blocked by your own hand if it was to be truly believed blocked.

"For what it's worth, " Elliot said, "I wasn't worried. Not really. I was " He looked for the word. "Attentive, that's what I was. There's a difference."

"Attentive," she repeated. "Is that a doctor's word?"

"No, it's an Elliot word." He almost smiled.

"I watch for what's important, is all, doesn't mean I'm afraid to hold on to it." She looked at him across the table, the lamp casting its glow over both of them, the familiar sounds of rain doing its bit outside.

"That's what I like about you," she told him. He said,

"There's lots of things that I do like about you." He added with a smile, "I think the list's growing..."

''Yeah?''

"Yeah.''

He grabbed her hand again, across the table, just like he had been, but now it was nothing new; now he knew it was just right. "List-taking (a), this week - you know just what you don't want anymore; that's hard to find."

She held his hand and imagined doors closing softly behind her and the doors that had, without her quite realising, been opening all the time. Stopping at the door with his coat only partially buttoned, something was happening behind Elliot's eyes.

"I have been thinking about something for the weekend," he told her. "Do not ask me what yet."

"Wow, this is quite the mysterious evening on a Tuesday night."

"I get one mystery every month, and I am going to take my chance." He kissed her right at the door, fast and warm. "On Saturday. Wear something that you do not mind getting dirty."

"Elliott"

"That is all you get." He was now halfway down the stairs, but still looking at her with a smile. "Goodnight, Mira."

She lingered at the door even after he left, pondering the idea of something you don't mind getting dirty. She was both amused and curious about what he was planning.