Rain Over Me

Frankie

Apparently, I wasn’t clear when I told Oscar I was here to talk to him. Not long after I walked through the door, he disappeared upstairs and hasn’t returned. I sat here and waited for ninety minutes before accepting that he’s not coming back down.

Since days after they moved in, he’s had an issue with me, and I’m sure it’s more than my “menace dog” or his struggle with change. It feels personal and I want to know why.

The last time someone took exception to my presence… well, it resulted in me transferring schools, moving to a new city, and starting over. The circumstances might be different, but that doesn’t mean I want to leave the situation unchecked.

It appears we’re not resolving things tonight, even though I’m still angry. I’m mad Oscar called me a creeper. Mad he’s decided to hate me for no reason. And now I’m especially mad because there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can march upstairs to confront him.

Can I? No. That would make me a creeper.

I tap Blake on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with a girl he introduced earlier as Jessie-Lee. “Sorry, guys. I’m just uh… Yeah, I’m going to head out. Gotta get Brad home.”

“Are you sure?” Blake asks, turning away from his new lady friend.

“Yeah.” I consider telling him that I came to talk to Oscar, but I don’t want him making it an issue or going up to get his cranky roommate, who clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. “Enjoy your night,” I say to everyone within hearing distance, including Keith and Austin. Then I walk out the door into the cooling early autumn air.

My Sunday morning volunteer shift at the animal hospital always seems to be the craziest. Most vet offices are closed on Sundays, so we end up with an influx of people bringing in their pets for one reason or another, desperate for help. It’s hard when not all of them can be saved.

Today we had a few different pets, from a hedgehog to a macaw, so it was a great learning experience, but we also had to say goodbye to one family’s beloved cat. By the time I walk out the door into the rain, shielding Brad in my coat, my heart is heavy. My little pup has only been in my life for a few weeks, but from day one, I loved him enough that if I lost him, I’d be devastated. That was made abundantly clear when he got through the fence and Oscar threatened his safety.

Just thinking about Oscar’s infuriating behaviour makes me tense as I walk to my car. But that’s not what causes the surge of panic to rush through me before I reach my driver’s side door. The problem is, I don’t know what does. Brad reacts, scrambling to poke his head out of my coat.

I freeze, pulling the hood of my jacket back enough to scan my surroundings—something I’ve been a little too lax with lately. There are so many vehicles around, but the falling rain makes it impossible to see inside any of them.

Should I go back inside? Risk running to my car? Am I just being paranoid?

I take a deep inhale after scanning the area one last time and dash for my car. I press the unlock button when I’m only a few feet away and hit the lock button as soon as I open the door, so it seals us inside when I close it. From the safety of my car, I again search for anything out of place.

Nothing.

I’m just being paranoid.

That thought doesn’t calm me down, though. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I sit and wait for something to appear that justifies my reaction. My thumb hovers over the call button with 911 already typed in.

Still nothing.

No one suspiciously lingering in the bus stop. No shadows moving inside any of the neighbouring cars. Not a single reason to explain the hairs standing on the back of my neck. I don’t know if Brad’s reaction is to an external threat or if he’s picking up on my fear.

After a few more minutes, I convince myself the events of the day just have me on edge. Brad helps ease my fears by making a nest out of a hoodie on my back seat. With no reason to hang around any longer, I pull out of my parking spot and exit onto the street, desperately wanting to be inside the safety of my own four walls.

As I drive, I keep a close eye on my rear-view mirror, watching for anything suspicious. I don’t want to accept that my instincts are that far off. Instead of taking the direct route home, which takes less than five minutes, I continue south so I can make a wide circle, only making right-hand turns. After my third right-hand turn, I realize a black sedan has made each turn a few car lengths back. When I turn back onto Dundas Avenue and the car follows again, I continue eastbound, headed to the nearest police station.

Before I reach the next block, the car turns right onto another side street, out of view. My shoulders are tense and my palms sweaty from the sixty-second ordeal. I attempt a few steady breaths to slow my racing heart, deciding to continue to the police station anyway.

I pull into a street parking spot in front of the station, continuing to watch my side mirror to be sure the person following me doesn’t reappear.

Several police officers run in and out of the precinct, rushing inside or to their cars. Their presence, despite not being aware I’m even here, is comforting. After five minutes, the mysterious car hasn’t reappeared, so with less fear choking me, I make a second attempt to get home.

On top of the physical effects, my mind is racing, so my thoughts are not focused on the road, where they should be. That’s exactly why a figure suddenly appears in front of my car at the crosswalk turning onto my street.

Or should I say our street?

I slam on the brakes, causing the tires to screech along the pavement.

“Hey! Watch where—” Oscar’s words stop when he makes eye contact after my windshield wipers clear the window.

I don’t even know what to say. I feel like the world’s biggest idiot and actually feel sick that my distracted driving could have just ended in tragedy. Sure, I may not like the guy, but I don’t want to run him over with my car.

What choice do I have but to issue a heartfelt apology?

I roll down my window, wincing as some of the cool rain splashes my face. “I’m so sorry. Do you want a ride home at least? To… make up for almost killing you?” I laugh in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

It doesn’t.

Oscar raises an eyebrow and steps over to the window. He leans over, placing his hand on top of my car. “Sweetheart, if that’s how you drive, I’d rather take my chances on foot.” Then he stands straight, glances in both directions—which is unnecessary on a one-way street, but he did almost get mowed down—and dashes off in the rain.

After a few seconds, I shake off the surprise from his response and roll my window back up. I have no choice but to drive forward, passing Oscar jogging along the sidewalk. A fresh surge of embarrassment courses through me as he turns his head to watch me roll by. Like he needed another reason to hate me.

And what was with the derogatory sweetheart? Like he’s patronizing me for having an error in judgement. Or for almost flattening him.

Whatever. What’s done is done. All I need right now is to get inside and hide out until I have to go to my classes tomorrow. I can use that time to get my head right so I don’t nearly kill anyone on my way to campus.

I pull into my usual parking spot in front of the end-unit row house I call home, hop out, and lock my car. Oscar is only a few dozen metres away now, jogging down the sidewalk to my left. He runs along easily, despite his soaking wet grey track pants and gym bag slung over his shoulder. As much as I want to yell at him for disappearing last night without giving me a chance to talk to him, I don’t really have a leg to stand on after being the cause of his near-death experience. Now is not the time to try to claim the moral high ground.

The reality of the entire situation has me rushing inside before he gets any closer. Besides, I’m far too embarrassed to admit why I was distracted in the first place. I highly doubt Oscar is the type to garner a modicum of sympathy anyway. And the last thing I want is his pity.