Raining

“It’s raining,” he said.

“Yes, glorious spring rain, don’t you love it?”

He gazed out at it and shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?” I said.

“Not much to do when it is raining.”

“It’s beautiful to look at.”

“I guess,” he said again.

"What do you want to look at in the rain?" I said.

"I don't know," he said. Rain drops formed like crystals on his black hair.

"There must be something to look at?"

"Yes, there must."

"In the rain," he said.

"Even in the rain," I said.

"A nice piece of arse?" I said.

“I nice piece of arse?” he said.

I shrugged. “That’s what I always do when I’m bored.”

“Am I boring you?”

“No,” I said.

He looked out at the rain and then looked back to me. "Well, I can always look at a nice piece of arse," he said. He shrugged. "There will be no joggers, though."

"No," I said.

"We can't go to the beach."

"No, not in the rain."

"Not in the rain," he said.

"Is it 3.30, yet?" he said.

"Nearly, not quite."

"We could go perve on the school boys?" He smiled his naughty smile.

"The schoolboys?" I said. I tilted my head and looked at him quizzically.

"Year 12?" He shrugged again. "It was just a thought."

"Not a good one," I said.

"Is it 5.30, yet?" he said.

"Not yet," I said.

"We could go purve on the suits in the CBD?" He smiled again.

"The suits?" I said.

He shrugged again. "It was just a thought."

"Too many jackets," I said.

He looked quizzical.

I turned around and mimed something covering my arse.

He looked down at my arse and smiled in understanding.

"Do you want to get sticks and unblock the gutters?" I said.

"The gutters?" he said.

"Yes, the gutters."

He tilted his head and thought for a moment. "We'd need umbrellas and rain coats."

"I've got umbrellas and raincoats."

"Both?" he said.

"Yes, both."

He looked out at the rain. "The gutters?"

"Like we did as kids."

"Did you?"

"Yes.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It always takes me back to my childhood," I said.

“When was the last time you played in the gutters with sticks?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

He shrugged. "Okay."

"We can make paper boats and float them in the torrents we release."

"Paper boats?"

"Paper boats," I said.

"In the torrents?"

"In the torrents," I said. "See whose boat comes first."

"Like a race?"

"Exactly like a race."

“Will I get my shoes wet?”

“Why, are you getting cold feet?”

“Ha, ha,” he said.

“Ha, ha,” I said.

“Will I?”

“I have boots.”

“Boots?” he said.

“Gum boots,” I said.

“Are they black?”

“Are they black?”

“Yes, are they black?”

“Yes they are,” I said.

“They are?”

“What colour would you expect gum boots to be?” I said.

“I once had green ones with buckles on the side.”

“Green ones with buckles on the side?”

“Yes, green, buckles down the outside.”

“No, these are black.”

“I just wondered.”

“I’ve never seen green gum boots with buckles on the side.”

“No, neither have I.”

“But you just said…”

“Except for that pair.”

“Oh, except for that pair.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why so fancy?”

“What?”

“Your green gumboots with buckles?”

“My mother used to put cling wrap on our shoes as kids when it was raining,” he said. “I think it was rebellion.”

“Rebellion?”

“Against the cling wrap.”

“And your mother.”

“Indeed.”