Red Rain

24

Lea stirred the soup in the pot with a long wooden spoon. Behind her, the twins were already seated at the table, eager for their lunch. She smiled. So far they had devoured everything she gave them. They seemed to like any food you put in front of them. Ira was such a picky eater. These boys were a pleasure.

“Is it soup yet?” Mark entered the kitchen, scratching his stubbly face. “What a morning. The guy from the grant committee is coming here.”

Lea turned from the stove. “Really? Did he tell you how much they’re giving you?”

Mark snickered. He stepped up behind Lea and kissed the back of her neck. “You’re such an optimist.”

She frowned. “Well, they have to give you at least part of the grant, right? They wouldn’t turn you down flat.”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows? It’s hard times. I know you don’t read the newspaper-”

“I read it online. The guy’s coming all the way out from the city?”

“He said he has a house out here.”

“Why didn’t he tell you over the phone? He likes to give good news in person?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He wouldn’t even give me a hint.”

The soup made a sizzling sound. Lea spun around. She snapped the burner off before it boiled over the side of the pot. “Sit down. We’re all having tomato soup. Homemade. I sliced the tomatoes and everything this morning.”

“What a homemaker.” Mark tried to kiss her again but she ducked her head as she lifted the soup pot from the stove. “Too bad you’re going away again. Who will make us homemade soup?”

“Huh? Going away? Mark, I’m going to the city tomorrow morning for one night. I’ll be back late the following day. You’re not going to make me feel guilty about a day and a half in the city, are you?”

He backed away, raising both hands in surrender. “Just teasing. You know I’ll miss you even if it’s only one night. Every minute is precious to me.”

“Shut up. You’re not funny.”

Ira and Elena were away at friends’ houses. She ladled the thick tomato soup into bowls, then joined Mark and the twins at the table.

Daniel leaned his face to the bowl and took a long whiff. “Smells so good, Mum. Tangy as sea grass drying on the beach.”

“My bruvver is a poet,” Samuel said.

“I like the way you boys speak,” Lea said, stirring her soup, watching the steam rise from the red liquid. “You have good vocabularies.”

“There’s no school on the island, Mum,” Daniel said. “But our parents, bless their souls, taught us well.”

Bless their souls? He sounds like an old man.

An old man, but a charming old man.

She wished Ira could pick up some of their charm and politeness. Maybe it would rub off on him. If only he would spend some time with his new brothers. .

“Wonderful soup,” Mark said, across the table from her. He raised the pepper mill and ground a load of pepper into it. He always added pepper, no matter what the food was.

If I gave him a bowl of pepper, he’d add pepper.

Lea had learned not to be insulted when he reseasoned her food that way.

She raised a spoon of soup and blew on it. “Careful. It’s very hot.”

The soup bubbled on the spoon. Red. So bright and red. Where had she seen that color before?

She flicked the spoon hard and sent the soup flying over Mark’s shoulder. It made a soft splash on the wall.

The rain had come down so hard. Sheets of it. All bloodred. Red as the tomato soup.

Lea raised another spoonful, whipped her hand up, and sent the soup flying across the table onto the wall.

“Hey-Lea?” Mark’s startled cry.

The twins laughed. Did they think it was funny?

The red rain. The bloodred rain. The rain of all the victims’ blood. The dead crying their red tears down on everyone.

The dead. The raining dead. Their red tears steaming in her soup bowl.

Lea flung another spoon of the red rain, the bloodred rain, spoon after spoon splashing on the white kitchen wall. Tears rolling down her face. Sobs wrenching her throat and chest.

The red rain splashed on the wall. Splashed. Splashed again. Till Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind. Wrapped his arms around her so tight the spoon fell from her trembling hand.

“Hold on to me, Mark. Hold on to me.” Where did those words come from? “Hold on to me. Don’t let me go back there.”