Never Let Go

The rain always reminds me of her - tears from a cold, gray winter sky collecting on her face and lashes as she fixes me with that look, that look which says a thousand words, but only three that really matter. “I love you.”

It’s so appropriate that it’s raining now, today of all days, as I walk along the bustling street - trying not to drown in a sea of faces and black umbrellas. The sky always seems to know my pain. It rained, too, the day she boarded that airplane and broke my heart again. But my most vivid memory of her will always be that first kiss we shared so long ago – tears mixing with the rain as she let me hold her tight against my chest. I’ll never understand what brought us together that day, just like I don’t understand now what keeps us apart.

Blond hair wafts by, and I turn, hopeful for a second, but knowing in my heart it isn’t her. I cross the street, waiting for a break in the traffic before darting through puddles that splash my shoes and soak the cuffs of my slacks.

I watch from the little iron gate separating the park from the city’s lively and constantly changing faces. The small crowd that had gathered slowly disperses, leaving a lone figure standing at the grave. She is the one I’ve come for.

Relena…

She stands alone, dressed in black, wearing a long winter coat, but allowing the icy rain to touch and moisten rich long locks of gold. The bitter wind cuts through my own trench coat, and from here, I can see her shiver as well.

Not aware that I had made a conscious decision, my legs begin to move - to carry me to her side. I stand next to her, not making a sound, but holding my umbrella to shelter her from the rain. She glances up, and I notice that our fingers had somehow become intertwined. I turn to face her, gently untangling my hand before placing it under her chin. She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes, as I whisper softly, “I’m sorry,” before bending slightly to caress her gentle lips with mine.

As I begin to pull away, her hand touches my cheek, holding my face to hers, unwilling to break our kiss. I make a solemn vow that this time, I won’t let her go.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I stand by my father’s grave and wonder at this emptiness inside me. The other mourners are leaving, the service is over, and a man who was once so rich in life is no different than any other that rests in this place. It’s raining, again. Why does it always seem like my life is marked by rain?

The droplets fall from the sky and soak into the freshly turned earth at my feet. I’m overwhelmed by a sense of deep remorse, but I wonder that I can’t seem to cry for this man that was the only father I’d ever known.

My thoughts quickly detour to a different subject, one equally as painful as that of my father. Heero. God, I always think of him. I love him so much. Why is fate so cruel? It brings us together, only to be torn apart. The months I have spent away from this place - away from those eyes that remind me of the icy winter wind that chills my blood - have only convinced me more that I could never love anyone else. So, if love is so strong it conquers all, why can’t it do away with this pain from our past?

The rain has stopped. I look up and see the sky has become a black silken material - an umbrella. I turn to him, noticing our hands have somehow found each other. He touches my face, and whispers, “I’m sorry.” His eyes stare down at me; I can never hide from those eyes. Suddenly, I feel his mouth, warm and soft, cover my own. I close my eyes and pull his face closer, relishing the rush of feeling that seems to radiate from where he’s touching my lips.

He pulls away, and I feel something warm and wet on my cheek. He wipes my tears away, still staring into me, searching for answers I don’t have. I can’t cry over the death of my father, but I can cry for him. I could always cry for him, I think, as I bury my face in his chest and sob. The arm not holding the umbrella wraps around me, and I pray that this time, he won’t let me go.