terristories

I step out of the shower and immediately feel the change in the air. The dry, burning heat of the day has been overcome by a heavy closeness; thunder rumbles in the distance. As the storm builds outside, so excitement builds inside me. The curtains at my bedroom window flutter a bit as a slight breeze stirs the air for the first time today. Charged with static, it pricks the hair on the back of my neck and sends a shiver down my spine.

The way you used to.
Where are you?

I cannot sit inside any longer so I pull a light cotton dress over my head and step outside. The thick air dulls the sounds of traffic from the highway nearby and the eerie call of an Ibis echoes loudly as it flies off, disturbed by my sudden appearance. Somewhere, someone is mowing the lawn and the smell of freshly cut grass fills my nostrils.

That was a rhetorical question; I know where you are.

The garden is in shadow now. Massive white clouds, too bright to look at, blot out the sun.

Do you know that I saw you with her? Never mind – it doesn’t matter now.

The breeze suddenly becomes a stronger, cooler wind and an almighty thunderous bang heralds the beginning of the rain, a gentle pitter-patter at first, quickly becoming a silvery downpour. I stand for a moment with my face turned upwards, arms outstretched, loving the sensation of the big, heavy raindrops hurtling out of the sky, stinging as they hit my skin.
Another crack of thunder and a bright flash bring me to my senses and I dash inside, dripping wet.

No sense in being struck by lightning, not today.

Inside I switch on a lamp. The sky has become dark outside and the noise from the rain, thunder and lightning block out even the sound of the radio that I know is playing softly inside the house. I realise I am shivering a little. These summer afternoon thunderstorms make me feel crazy, edgy, like someone on cocaine.

But that’s not the only reason for my nervous energy this afternoon, honey. Oh no. You see, two can play at this game.

I strip off my sopping dress and dry myself off with a warm, fluffy towel, the softness caressing my skin. Absently, I start looking inside the open wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear this evening. Would jeans be too casual? Of course, there is always my old favourite, the Little Black Number.
A massive thunderbolt rattles the windows.

That’s what she is wearing tonight – her little black dress. I know because I helped her choose it. After all, that’s what best friends do; they help each other decide what to wear for a hot date.
She still doesn’t know that I know. She told me she was going out with someone she met through work.
Just like you told me you were going to a conference tonight.
“You’ll just be bored, honey,” you told me. “You know how you hate all those speeches. I wouldn’t put you through that when there’s no need.”

Thunder makes the earth tremor, startling me. Lightning streaks across the sky and illuminates the room for a moment as if someone has taken a photo. The rain is pelting down so hard that it bounces off the concrete outside my window and splashes in through the open window, wetting the windowsill on the inside. Briefly, I consider closing the window, but I don’t want to shut out the storm. I feel too much a part of it.
I decide to wear the jeans. Halfway through pulling them on I change my mind and choose the dress instead, along with a pair of strappy sandals. The simple, elegant outfit makes me feel feminine and pretty. It gives me confidence.
I sit down to dry my hair, the noise from the hairdryer barely audible over the sound of the rain drumming down on the roof.
I apply my make-up carefully, trying to create a simple, natural but drop-dead gorgeous look.

I know you don’t see me that way anymore, but I have news for you: someone else does. We have known each other a few months and the spark was there right from the start, but I didn’t allow it to develop into anything. How could I?
“Sorry, I am a married woman,” I told him, fighting the urge to kiss his sensuous lips and trying not to be drawn into his mesmerising brown eyes.

Outside, the storm gets even louder as raindrops morph into hailstones, smacking into the concrete and bouncing off the grass. Steam rises from the swimming pool and the brick paving surrounding it as the deluge cools an earth that has been baking in the sun all day; the peculiar aroma of rain on hot ground permeates the air.

But when I saw the two of you together, kissing and holding each other when you thought no one was around, things changed. I waited for you to say something but you never did. And then when I went out for drinks after work with he was there, and we talked and laughed and it felt good to flirt and be flirted with. I felt – feel - drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame.

I finish my make up with a luscious shade of lipstick and check my watch. Just as I begin to think the rain will never let up, there is another loud crack of thunder; then the storm begins to roll away and is gone as suddenly as it arrived, leaving behind the rich smell of wet ground and a gentle pitter-patter of rain once again, which turns into a drip, drip, drip as it dries up.
I close the drapes and turn on a lamp near the front door, which I lock behind me when I leave the house. As I step outside the light is changing from dull grey into a peculiar orange glow as the sunlight begins to break through rapidly dissipating clouds. Under the dusky sunset the grass looks greener, the flowers almost unnaturally bright.
All around me the world looks brand new, freshly washed.

Tonight I am meeting him alone for the first time. So have your fun, honey, your fling with my best friend. Don't think I will wait around and pine for you, though. I am not even angry anymore - it’s too late for that. But I am going now. He is waiting for me.
I, too, am moving on.