In the rain

He didn't have enough courage to say anything about it, he turned white, his mind, his appearance and his ability to speak. The guy in the corner also did nothing more than to watch him with discreet fascination, both waiting for someone to make the first move which ended up being June. Nothing more nothing less than retreat. He mixed with the crowd and returned the same way. He was shaking from head to toe, his breathing became a little deeper from the effort of climbing the slope and especially from the shock. He carried the scarf in his hands, he had completely forgotten to place it around his neck due to the sensation of cold was no longer inside his body, it seemed that he was getting used to the warmth of the coffee shop.

Without major setbacks he arrived at his grandfather's house and a warm and sweet aroma welcomed him, almost relaxing his muscles completely at the same time that he came out of his dream.

- June, you came back.

Dylan was speaking from the dining room where he was looking for the steaming pot.

- I see you didn't have any problems, come, sit down, temperature continues to drop, the chocolate is ready, have a cup and join me.

Speechless June searched in the cupboard for a pair of cups, one of the cups he had taken was one of his most treasured possessions, a gift from Noah, he approached his grandfather allowing him to pour the drink into both.

They drank in silence, a soothing drink that lulled them to sleep. Their eyelids turned heavy and the yawning came before the clock struck 8.

- I hope you enjoyed today.

They made eye contact, June wanted just to nod and leave his answer simple, but he had the need to speak.

- It was great, grandpa. I had a good time.

Neither his voice nor his tone matched completely but it was fine for him, he really felt the day as that ointment that his soul, in burning pain, needed to lessen the sorrow, of course it didn't last long enough thanks to a certain encounter at the end of the day.

- I'm glad to hear that. Well, having said that, let's go to sleep, you look exhausted and the day was somewhat hectic. I also enjoyed it, it is not the same to appreciate it when you are alone than when you have company.

- You mean it for connor?

Dylan held back a small laugh, it was comforting that his grandson didn't end the conversation and set the tone for a dialogue.

- I mean it for you, and of course because of having seen my dear friend; I didn't exaggerate when I said that we are close, we grew up together and we went our separate ways when we reached a certain adulthood. Something quite normal, however after his divorce he undertook his trips abroad being almost impossible to locate and, dear boy, after reaching 50 you can only hope to hear from your friends by themselves or by funeral news. Knowing that, my friend, almost my brother, continues to pass through this life as an exhilarating feeling from which I took advantage of every second. I hope it's not the last time.

And for a few moments the deep-eyed guy from the cafeteria ceased to be a concern for June, Noah, instead, appeared again in his mind. Just a picture of his face, and although something that characterized Noah was his idiotic expression, the grimace that reflected that memory of him was shady. He felt guilt and nostalgia. What had happened for someone like him to lose the sparkle in his eyes? Probably something June caused. Although he had no idea where his hypothesis came from, taking into account that he remembers almost nothing. He once again pushed his thoughts away from him and returned to the subject with his grandfather.

- I don't think so, grandpa. You can tell that he has strength and vitality.

Dylan sighed.

- I know, but tragedies are not merciful.

TRAGEDY.

A word so sour and uncomfortable to say, a word that evoked more than just discomfort in June. Shaking chills.

There was nothing more to say that night, June still had unfinished business to process and he did it in the silence and darkness of his room, with a bit of traditional white noise. Just questions with no answers.

Was that guy really the voice in his head? It was definitely the same tone.

Why? He could be just bugging him or maybe looking for him for some reason.

What would that reason be? Unfinished business perhaps.

Was it someone from her past? He said “see you again”, he was definitely there at some point in those 5 years.

What kind of relationship did they have? They were most likely to be schoolmates.

But above all and more important, how the heck could he talk to him telepathically? Or was it just his mind confused about him and being possible a little paranoic? Was either of the two options really possible?

The cascade of probabilities ran out as his hypothesis seemed more illogical and thus the dream came like a sweet goodnight kiss.

November 10

Sunny, it's cold inside the house.

The talks with my grandfather have become fluent, despite having no idea of what to say he ends up speaking for both of us. Since that day of the competition and the night of the surprise I haven't heard messages in my mind again, it's not like I'm looking forward to hearing them either, something tells me they won't stop that easily. It may be that the strange guy was really that voice, it's not like I've seen him again because I haven't even gone to the port. I haven't had the courage to do it and not precisely because of cowardice, but a damn strange feeling that makes me restless from one second to the next; that is my well-known sixth sense. That guy emanates a strange, dark vibe, I wouldn't know how to define it at all.

I try not to let him take away the little calm that following my routine gives me, as soon as he appears I prefer to take the 10-page book and read one by one until those creepy eyes disappear. Fortunately they are gone when I get to page 3.

Nikki keeps coming every morning without fail, grandpa keeps buying her a few minutes waiting to have breakfast with me, sometimes I do, sometimes I don't and that makes her happy somehow. Sometimes she talks too much and is silent when she doesn't get answers from me, she is inhibited, apologizes, smiles and eats in silence, then she resumes speaking but without addressing me much, mainly with my grandfather. Their biggest subject in common is Connor. Nikki is nice, way nicer than Ray.

Nikki is a girl who smells of freshly baked bread, Ray is a woman who leaves bitter aromas with her cigarettes and her words, Nikki makes her grandfather laugh and Ray makes his eyes fill with sadness. For our fortune Ray is not here and he won't be for a few months.

He stopped writing, as his thoughts flowed on the paper more than usual, he felt strange and pleasant even though his jaw was tight and his muscles tense. By the time he noticed it, he stood from his seat, stretching like a cat and cracking his back. He gestured a little to release facial tension, took a deep breath and looked out the window, it started to rain. Rain in November. Very thin, barely curtains of water on the coast, the weather had changed in the course of his writing. Nostalgia, an old emotion that comes and receives with ease and no reluctance, the one that usually gives him the best advice; the rain also makes people run. It was an ideal time to go out for a little walk on his own. He closed the blog and left the desk clear, he adjusted his sloppy appearance a bit, took his beige jacket, put on his boots and took a small umbrella.

- I will go out for a moment.

Dylan could barely see as his grandson disappeared through the door. He wanted to go after him, owing to how sudden it seemed but something told him that it would be fine. Giving him the confidence to fend for himself on a walk or for whatever he was going to do was one more step toward regaining his trust. He would see it as soon as he got home.

June stopped for a moment after leaving the house to admire the subtlety of the rain. It was his favorite. He took a deep breath, opened the umbrella and walked down the hill, being careful not to slip on the mud and stones. At some point his concentration was lost between the delicate noise of the water sliding down his umbrella, almost emulating the white noise of his radio. He was relaxing, he had definitely took the right decision.

There were few people passing through, most of them walk under umbrellas and the rest aboard taxis or their own cars, the rest took shelter in food or coffee places; On the boardwalk there was only water and the reflection of the streetlights that were beginning to light up quickly darkened taking into account the cumulus clouds. He walked between streets and reached the shores of the bay, the almost non-existent waves now seemed to be moving, still small but they were more defined waves. He walked away from there, he wanted to return to the small house on the outskirts of Seameet but something whisper him that it was not time yet, curious since it was not the voice, but a feeling that he was looking for how it would lead him to go to a specific place: the shores of that open sea beach where the surf show had taken place.

It took him approximately ten minutes, there were still traces that revealed the event, some hunts that were set up in order to encourage tourism to that side of Seameet, it seemed that little by little they would include lifeguard towers, and the red flags were waved strongly along the beach. June took off his shoes, he had never walked on the beach in the rain, it was his chance. He put aside the umbrella without closing it, put his shoes under it so they wouldn't get wet, and started walking.

He emitted a deep sigh when touching the sand and feeling the water on his face, they were like small and fine kisses on the dermis, he extended his arms to each side, letting the air current wrap his body. Internally he felt how blood ran through the body from his feet to his head and a warm feeling welled up in his chest. After a couple of deep breaths in which he felt his body oscillate, he returned to his original position. And the first thing that his eyes saw in the distance was a post with boards, it looked like some kind of signaling, like the ones that usually exist at the forks in the roads. He reached it to inspect it more closely.

The tables had names with different fonts, there were names of men and women, and under the names there were two dates.

- This is…

- A small memorial.

The extra voice made him turn to his left, a deep-eyed guy was looking at the wooden planks, June was not surprised not to have noticed his presence, just as he was barefoot and without an umbrella, although it seemed that he had been under the rain for longer from how water dripped from his hair. He was wearing a rather large black jacket, his hands were kept in his pockets, it wasn't long when he took them out together with a lighter and from inside the jacket he took out a cigarette, he lit it without even looking at June.

- For the surfers?

June was the one who had the initiative to continue a dialogue, the guy took a deep drag, held the smoke, exhaled and nodded. June shifted uneasily in his place, he didn't like the aroma of tobacco, he walked a couple more steps in order to put enough distance to inhale fresh air while he concealed looking at each table as if he was searching for someone among the names. The guy just watched him with a mix between disinterest and curiosity, he smoked and as soon as his gaze met June's for microseconds he let out the smoke. Then he would divert attention from him to the raging waves off the coast.

- If you stay a long time in the rain you will get sick.

That got the stranger's attention, he turned to see June who seemed to be debating between saying something else or walking away.

- So do you.

He answered and finally dropped the cigarette into the damp sand, as soon as it was completely extinguished he took it with a piece of paper, put it in his pocket, turned around and started to walk away.

- Thanks.

The boy stopped and turned to see June, who was not looking at him and began to walk next to him.

- The last day, you know, the scarf.

- Oh. Nevermind, you came back for it, you would still have found it in the same place.

- Can I know your name?

The boy raised an eyebrow at June's question.

- You’ll see, you know mine and I have no idea about yours.

No one stopped their steps, they even adopted a leisurely walk, as if they were taking as much time as possible to talk or to maintain near to each other.

- Do I?

If it hadn't been for the cold, the heat of embarrassment that washed over June would have been quite noticeable and uncomfortable, like having answered a wrong question in front of some classmates. He just spoke without thinking, but it was a fact, wasn't it?

- I… I thought I heard you say my name that night in the cafeteria.

- So?

- You said "it's nice to see you again" and then you called me by my name.

He had no idea where he was getting confidence to go straight to the point and continue insisting on his hunch, June was not crazy, he was clueless, distracted, a bum with no job or benefit, but he was 100% sane and that guy was not going to make him believe otherwise.

- You are the voice in my head, aren't you?