Dancing in the Rain

Chapter VII

"Your dad?"

Stacey stared at what had been the lovable, wild boy with a gleam of shock glowing in her eyes. Jesse moved his head to a nod, almost like he was forcing himself. She craved to hear more, yet knew better than to ask.

However, he said, "He died... just a year ago. When I was sixteen."

"What... what...?" Stacey stumbled over her own words, unable to think if it was appropriate.

"What happened?" Jesse asked for her. When she mumbled a yes in reply, he quietly said, "Well, what happened is the reason why I hardly speak to people."

"You were this quiet for a year?" she said in a hushed voice.

"Mhm," he murmured. He gazed at the ground, suddenly finding his shoes rather interesting.

"Jess... you don't have to say more if you don't want to," she assured him quickly.

He shook his head. "No, I have to. I already started, so I may as well finish. But..." He forced his head back up, anxiously staring at her. "Will... will you listen?"

"O-of course," she said, hiding the tone of shock that nearly burst between her lips.

Silence... Intense silence. The sound of the ocean waves dropping against the sand of the beach was now faint, and the strong summer wind had toned down to a much more gentle touch. The dew on the fleecy, viridescent grass had begun to dry up.

Stacey watched Jesse intently, patiently waiting for him to speak. Maybe, perhaps, he thought it was a bad idea to suddenly speak of his deceased father for the first time in a whole year. Maybe he thought she couldn't be trusted to listen.

But she was merely paranoid for thinking such thoughts.

"We had a leaky roof," he began with slight reluctance. "It was raining the day before, and it was... pretty bad. So... we decided to try and fix it up." He pressed his lips into a thin line, seeming to be wondering if he should continue.

"Jess, you don't have to-"

"My dad was already up on the roof," he continued, cutting Stacey off. "I was still on the ladder... and I was terrified. It was too high for me to handle. So Dad told me to just stay down there. Said he'd tell me if he needed anything. I wanted to help, but... well...

"Anyway, we went into talking about my mom... since she died when I was twelve. Dad couldn't find his hammer or something, so he told me he was coming back down. When he got up..." Jesse visibly flinched, his blue eyes pooling with guilt and culpability. With a long breath, he said, "... He tripped over the tool box and... fell."

Stacey winced sympathetically. She found herself gluing her eyes to the ground, suddenly unable to look Jesse in the eyes. "Jesse... I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Jesse breathed out a small, quiet laugh. But it was much different than the laugh he had let out just ten minutes ago. This time, it was humourless and held such bitterness. "If I wasn't so damn afraid of heights... he would still be here."

"No!" Stacey gasped. "Jesse, you can't seriously think it's your fault!"

"It is," he said coldly. "If I was up there with him, I could've found that hammer or something. If I hadn't been so scared..."

"Jess, if you were up there and you were the one trying to find the hammer, you might've fallen too," she croaked.

"Better me than him."

"Don't talk like that! Jess, this could've happened to anyone! And..." Her voice trailed off. With a deep breath, she said, "I wouldn't have found a friend if it were you."