108 Raindrops

Phil and I hop off the warm bus and plunge ourselves back into the rain. It's dark and the rain is heavy. As I open up my umbrella, I welcome the familiar smell of the wet cement. I'm about to turn to Phil and comment on how I didn't know that the bus stops here, when a voice pops up behind me.

"Excuse me, do you know where ______ street is?"

The voice belongs to a young lady. Her face is porcelain white and her bright red lipstick makes a sharp contrast against its canvas. She's wearing a long coat, hood up, but no umbrella.

I respond, "Yeah, we're actually headed that way."

We walk, and Phil and I awkwardly try to shield her from the rain with both of our umbrellas. On the way I ask her for the exact address and pull it up on Google Maps. I remark that Phil's house is on the way there and my house is the opposite direction.

Upon reaching the street, I say goodbye as I prepare to head back to my house. As Phil and the woman are looking for a gap in traffic to cross the road, I stand there and watch them watch the cars.

I'd like to say that something powerful overcame me, something beautiful and inexplicable, but nothing of that sort happened.

I just crossed with them, that's all.

As I thought, Phil decides to walk the rest of the way with her, so I tag along behind them.

Sidewalks in my city really aren't meant for three people. I found this out in grade eight and I'm reminded of this again. I walk, umbrella casually leaning against my shoulder. I don't know if I hold umbrellas wrong or something, but my left arm usually gets soaked.

On the way there, Phil makes small talk with the woman. From what snippets of their conversation I can make out over the rain I discover she is an exchange student here for a few months. It seems like Phil naturally slips into conversation with her, though there are several moments where the language barrier comes into play.

They talk and I walk. I think to myself, It's usually like this. Phil is the front man, the first point of contact. I'm the logistics guy. The guy with the plan and the map. There's nothing wrong with being the map dude, but sometimes it feels like I should also man the front desk sometimes. I don't resent Phil at all for this though, it's simply how I am.

It's a pretty long walk, and not even halfway there my feet are drenched from stepping into invisible puddles. Eventually we make it to the supposed block of houses, but most of them don't have visible addresses. With the help of my phone we determine which one is the right house.

The woman profusely thanks us and walks up to the front door. Phil makes a motion to leave, but I want to make sure that she gets in safely. I also want to make sure I didn't give her the wrong house.

In retrospect, it is a bit awkward to just have two people stand there and watch you try to get in. My awkward decision pays off though, as nobody comes to answer the door after a few minutes. I approach her, and Phil hesitates behind me. I feel bad for dragging him into my weird mess.

After a few minutes of troubleshooting, we find out she has keys to the basement suite. We make our way to the back of the house and she immediately recognizes the entry way. She searches in her bag for her keys, and I hold my umbrella over her. When she finds it, she thanks us again.

We give our goodbyes and start making our way back to the front of the house. I stop right as we turn the corner and I quickly say, "Just wanna make sure that she gets in fine," before peeking over just to see her step through the door.

Making our way to the front, Phil makes a comment about how at some point, it's "too much." I agree. That was too much from me, and I'm not entirely sure why I did it. Maybe it's my way of redeeming myself and trying to feel like a good person. Maybe I just genuinely wanted to make sure she wasn't locked out or anything.

In the end though, it doesn't matter what my intentions are.

We start walking back to our houses, and talk about the experience we just had. Phil says he's glad that I came along because he's supposedly terrible with directions, but I think he's giving me too much credit.

In seemingly no time, we're at Phil's house. I bid him farewell and head home myself. As I approach my house, I see that my tenant's lights are off. I remember that my brother has a band concert, and my heart sinks. I silently hope that my tenant is just in his room. Instead of heading right for the door, I circle the house, checking for any lights.

None.

I walk up the stairs to my back door, and hang my umbrella on the railing when I reach the landing. Opening the door, I walk into my house.

I don't really like being home alone, for various reasons really, but one stands out the most.

I flick on multiple lights as I make my way to my room - the kitchen, the bathroom, and finally the light in my room.

I'm home.