Out in the Rain

by Triptych

 

The weatherman had predicted clear skies for Chicago throughout the day.

               

So naturally, it had been pouring buckets since seven that morning.

 

Three people waited in the downpour. Each kept checking their watch hoping that, by some miracle, it would fast-forward to 34 minutes later, when the bus that they all had just misssed would come back for them. None of them had to be anywhere in a hurry, but they were all soaked and miserable and in dire need of coffee. They would occasionally take glances at one another, but any eyes that met were quickly cast to the pavement in front of them. They didn't really want to talk, anyway. They were too preoccupied with their own issues.

 

The Old Man pushed his glasses up again, and once again they immediately slipped down his nose. He was thinking about his wife, who had recently passed on. They had been married 49--or was it 48... no, it was definately 49 years. They had been through a lot, and there wasn't a second he would take back. But she was gone now, and it was if he couldn't remember how to live on his own. He tried desperately, though, because he was afraid that if his children thought he was having trouble, they would put him in a home. She had loved the rain, and he once had too; but now every drop seemed to mock him for everything he had lost.

 

The Young Lady stared vacantly down the road. In her hand she was holding a soggy paper covered in rain-smeared red ink. It was her final in English, and she had failed it miserably. She had worked feverishly the past semester to maintain a passing mark, and had definitley improved, but this one paper had enough influence to pull her under. Her mind was filled with random thoughts that this wasn't fair; that her teacher was a hardass; that her parents were definitely going to get on her about it; and that she may not get to see Brad Tuesday night. The Young Lady sighed and checked  her makeup. Her mascara was running.

 

Behind the Old Man and the Young Lady stood a middle-aged man in a hat who mainly kept his focus on the ground. Every now and then he looked aorund nervously from behind his sunglasses. The other two thought it was strange for the man to wear shades on such a dark day, but he had a good reason. He was the Weatherman that had wrongly predicted the weather. Again. But for the last time. He had been fired a few hours after his telecast, when the complaint line became overloaded and shut down. He gave small half-smile as he thought that he had at least screwed up Liza's day down at the complaint center. But it faded when he realized she wasn't standing soaking in the very thing that fired him...

 

They all noticed the white limousine pull up to the curb next to them, and the Man in the Suit that stepped out of it. He was a very rich man, appering numerous times in Forbes, but none of them knew who he was.

 

"Hello," he greeted them. "I was riding by when I noticed the three of you out here in this dreadful weather. I know you all are probably having some problems, and I would like to help you out."

 

The eye's of the three widened, but the Man in the Suit put his hand up because he knew what they were thinking. They all think that.

 

"No, I am not going to give you money. Money doesn't solve problems; at least it had never solved any of mine. But what I am going to do is stand here in the rain and get wet with you. I hope it makes you feel better."

 

The three stared in disbelief at the Man in the Suit as the limo pulled away, leaving him standing there with them. Through the rain he glanced over at them and smiled, and they began to feel better.