Chapter 2: DRIZZLE

That'd been two weeks from hell, he thought. After his flight touched down at Burbank airport an hour ago, he had immediately stumbled into a taxi. As the car pulled up to the curb outside his house, he saw in his driveway a small familiar car parked behind his.

Eliza is here? And I haven't spoken to her in days. Shit, she's gonna be furious with me ...

He opened the side door and stepped into his den. He dropped the carry-on bag onto the floor by his desk, and walked deeper into his house, looking for her. He wasn't surprised to find her, asleep in his bedroom. He wasn't even put off by the fact she looked comfortable and completely 'at home' in his bed.

Thankfully, she didn't break into his house. He never asked her to return his keys, or had he conveniently forgotten to ask her? With the fatigue threatening to put him down, he'd have to mull that over later (much later), about why she still had his keys, and what that meant for him. What she meant to him ...

He stole a few additional moments, gazing openly, drinking in the feelings of longing and belonging. Slowly and carefully, he brushed a few stray hairs from her face.

He shook her gently by the shoulders and spoke softly. "Hey, Eliza ... wake up, sleepyhead ..."

"Unnggggh ... " Who the hell was messing with her sleep? She opened her eyes to see that familiar frowny and concerned face with which she had become very accustomed. "Ohhhh ... Henry ..." She pushed the covers aside, and launched herself at him.

"Whoa ... hey ..." She really must've missed me ...

"I'm glad you're back." She pushed away from him a little, holding him at arm's length to give him the evil eye. "But SRSLY, what the quack! Where the hell were you?!"

"I flew up to San Francisco to say goodbye to a friend."

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Say goodbye ...?"

"They ... uhm ... they ..." He winced, his face squinting in pain.

Her eyes a little wider, she realized this was serious. "Hey, what is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?" She reached for his hand.

"Yeah, I do ..." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling the weight of all that had happened over the last two weeks.

"Come ..." She tugged his hand down, as they sat down, next to each other on his bed. "Tell me."

"They ... she died ... quickly ..."

"Oh, I'm ... I'm sorry, Henry ..."

"The cancer diagnosis came too late ... she didn't have much time left. She put a note on their Facebook ..."

"But you don't have Facebook any more ..."

"No, I don't. Another friend sent me an email with screen captures. I read her entire goodbye note."

"God ... what happened ..."

A childhood friend from his Van Nuys' days had moved to the Bay Area for work years ago. They'd been close as kids, but drifted apart when their respective careers took off. She was a successful electronics engineer, married a lawyer, gave birth to a boy and a girl, now 6 and 8, respectively. She was an enthusiastic long-distance runner, too, until she found she could no longer run. A check with her family doctor had led to specialists, and the diagnosis devolved quickly to one swift grim conclusion: only months left on the docket. She, her husband, and their families put all of their affairs in order, and she died peacefully in hospital, surrounded by her family. Henry never had a chance: he arrived in the Bay Area two days too late.

She nodded, but she found the will to ask the question. "Where've you been all this time?"

"Wandering, Eliza. Wandering as if I was lost, and wondering if I lost ..."

"I ... I don't understand ..."

"Wondering about what's important. About my mistakes. About rejecting you and hurting you. About hurting Julia. About regrets. About too much work, and not enough to do outside of work ..."

Ignoring his admission for now, she wanted him to get back onto point. "What happened next?"

"All the friends back when I was a kid growing up in Van Nuys, we all met up and caught up. We talked, we laughed, we got drunk, and we cried. Her funeral happened two days ago in San Francisco. We made ... or rather, I made new promises to myself and those people I'd do a better job at getting my shit together. Because honestly, outside of work, I totally suck."

"Yeah, you do ..."

"You're not helping, Eliza ..."

"SRSLY, Henry, that's where I come in. You know I'm gonna totes keep you on point."

"You are, aren't you?"

She nodded at him with a broad smile. "Mmm hmmm. Trust!"

"Oh, I trust ..."

They laughed together, at the simultaneously silly and serious nature of this conversation.

"Hey, Eliza ..." Henry turned to ensure he was looking at her in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going or what I was doing. I sometimes forget what impact my actions have on people."

"Nobody knew where you were, and I was worried. Saperstein knew, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did ..."

"I tried to get him to tell me ..."

"I asked him not to say a word ..."

"Yeah. Maybe it's time you told me how I can reach your parents ..."

"They'd be thrilled, actually. I'll make sure you have their contact information ..."

By this point, Eliza's annoyance with him had abated. "You know, I should still be upset with you ..."

"I know. And you have every right to be ..."

"... but I'm not. I'm just glad you're here and you're back ..."

"I am, too. Now I wish you'd been there with me in the Bay Area ..."

She shook her head out of fondness and exasperation. "Of course you do, you silly silly man ... "

"I'm sorry, Eliza ..."

"I forgive you ..."

The first drops began to fall, gently tapping on the roof. The falling water became a steady stream, and they heard the water running down the roof and into the eaves.

"Hey, listen ... it's your favorite, Eliza: 'rainfall on roof with quiet overspill from gutters' ..."

Her lips twitched in a tiny grin over the concern she had for him. "And you love it now, too; don't you?"

"Only because you pointed it out to me in the first place ..."

For the next few minutes, the unspoken agreement between them meant the pleasure of each other's company, watching their joined hands and marveling how well their hands fit. Their silence was met by the gentle thumping and beating of the rain, the regular slow-beat tapping against roof and windows.

She gazed at him, wandering between his eyes and his mouth. She lifted her hand, her fingers grazing lightly over his cheek, then over his lips. "I missed you ..." She closed her eyes and curled up into his neck.

He kissed the top of her head. "I know, Eliza. I needed the time to process everything ..."

"Don't ever do that to me again ... goddammit, Henry, I was really worried ..."

"I apologize ... I ... I missed you, too, Eliza ..."

She lifted her head and graced him with a soft look.

"Eliza, given what's happened over the last couple of weeks, it's reminded me I'm clearly deficient in a few important areas, and I believe I ..."

"Henry ... we're not in the office, so you can stop with the shop talk. Please tell me what's going on ... not here ... " She touched his forehead. "But from here ..." She patted her hand on his chest, laying her hand on his chest.

"Eliza, sometimes it's difficult for me ... and I know your emotional intelligence is often better than mine ..."

"Yes. But this is what I've always tried to tell you ... you have to let me help you, too ..."

"And what I'm saying is: all I want, all I've ever wanted ... is you ... here ..."

She looked at him in the eyes, seeing bits and pieces: the fear, his mortality, the loss ... the waste of time. One look and she understood. She understood it all without another word.

He continued. "I know we're not done talking, and I know you're not done kicking my ass. I'm not saying this solely because of my present emotional state ... but right now ... I need you ..."

He finally dropped his mask.

Beyond her wide-eyed response and in between the serious, she could still play. "Okay ... but ... no ..."

He grinned in reply. "No ... no funny stuff. I'm not messing with you; I promise, Eliza ..."

What might've once frightened her in the past didn't surprise her now: she understood in large part who this man was. "But one day ..."

"... one day ... soon, we'll talk ... and I promise I'll tell you ... I'll show you ... everything ..."

She nodded, seeing the truth on his face and in his body language. She climbed up onto the bed, dragging his hand behind her, and prompting him to follow her. "Come here ... you look exhausted ..."

"I am. I feel like I could sleep for a couple of days."

"Don't worry ... I'm not going anywhere, Henry ..."

They lay side-by-side, but moments after his head hit the pillow, he was out.

He's not going to like waking up to wrinkled clothes, but he looks a little beaten, world weary. I promise you, Henry, I'll make it worthwhile for you ...

She reached out, feeling flesh, muscle, and bone underneath his shirt. The warmth of his body next to hers mixed with her own warm wellspring of the feels lulled her to sleep within minutes. She didn't need the company of her smartphone; what she needed was the calm almost boyish look to Henry's sleeping face, taking her away, softly ... slowly ...

The rain transported them, washing away sins and mistakes of the past, making way for something fresh and new.

The medium rainfall, onto the roof, with gentle overspill from gutters ...

.