Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

Dinner was filled with food I wished I’d never tasted, only for the fact that I knew I would miss it every other night I couldn’t have it. The conversation between us flowed freely and easily, pieced together by lingering looks and flighty, sometimes-nervous laughter. It felt good to see that our connection surpassed the physical and wasn’t just through Noah, his infectious personality, and a brief but impactful meeting in our past. Somewhere around the time dessert was brought to the table, I realized that, wow, this was real. Like, this—me, in a nice restaurant, with a pretty woman who genuinely liked me—was happening. And I would go home afterward to my own place—one I was growing prouder of by the day—to hopefully dream of this night and pray that it would happen again. Ray extended her foot, resting it beside mine beneath the table, as she dived into the fudge brownie sundae we’d decided to share, and out of nowhere, a wave of bittersweet sorrow came over me, joining the awe I couldn’t shake, as I hoped Gramma and Grampa could see me now. I hoped they were proud that, despite it all, I’d still managed to find myself here, knowing the goodness in me had come from them and them alone.