The Way The Rain Comes Down... Part 1 - Carey Price

Some new material... a typical cliche story, but I've been in a butterflies and rainbow kind of mood for the holidays, so deal with it! This will be just a few parts.

Helloooo Carey Price.

“How about I just tell you where to go?!” she cried loudly.  “How could you not see me walking down the sidewalk with all these bags?!” 

“I’m soo sorry,” I apologized sincerely.  I quickly bent down and helped her pick up all the items that were now scattered across the wet sidewalk.  It was a cold, rainy day in Montreal and I made it even worse by running head-on into a girl who had her hands full.  “If it makes you feel any better, my phone is now busted too,” I cringed when I found the screen of my phone was cracked.

“Oh, that makes me feel sooo much better,” she scowled, snatching a box of tampons from my hands.  I didn’t even realize what I had been holding, but needless to say I was now bright red,  biting back an immature laugh.

I bent back over and gathered some more items.  When I reached for the loaf of bread, I noticed that it was completely squished.  If there was one thing I remember from my childhood, it was my mom flipping every time someone would smoosh her bread.  “Is there anything else that was completely ruined?” I asked her, holding up the ruined bread as evidence.

She stopped, looked over at me, sighed and frowned.  It was then that I really got a good look at her.  Despite looking exhausted and frazzled, she had a soft beautiful look that always caught my attention.  Her dirty blonde hair was tied in pig-tails that rested on her shoulders.  The weather seemed to add some curls that added some texture to it.  Entrancing blue eyes blinked back at me while she pursed her pouty lips.  She was in a pair of dark-washed jeans and wrapped up in a grey, woolen pea-coat with a pair bright plaid rain-boots.  Something told me she wasn’t always in a foul mood.  We stood there in limbo for a moment before she quickly looked away and looked in the bags that were back in her hands, stuffed to the gills once again.  “I don’t think so…”

“Okay, well I’ll run back in and buy you a new loaf…”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

“Where are you parked?” I asked, refusing to argue about it.

She stared at me for a short moment.  It was as if she was weighing all her options, but I also noted a slight change in her eyes; something softer.  She blew out a breath, turned and motioned over to the town parking-lot.  “I drive a black Jeep Wrangler.”

“Alright, get your stuff in your Jeep and I’ll meet you over there,” I said before turning to jog into the grocery store.  Despite it not being the most ideal way to meet a pretty girl, my footsteps still felt a bit lighter.

It had been a terrible day.  Everything that could have gone wrong did.  This morning I had to fight with my Jeep to get her to start.  My elderly neighbor, Henry, had to come out and help me jump it.  He was probably tired of all the times I bothered him to help me with “manly” chores because within the year that I lived in the house behind him, I had a lot of those chores happen.  It also didn’t help that my French was atrocious.  It was something I was trying to work on since I moved here from Iowa.  I knew a few of the basics, but it never seemed to be enough.

Once I got to work, late, I was informed that they were going to send me home for a day of suspension because I had been late one too many times within the last 6 months.  Never mind the fact that the four times I was late I had very good excuses, including a few doctors notes.  After pointing out this fact, my boss decided to let me stay, but next time, I would be sent home without pay for two days.

I then got a phone call from my landlord informing me that my check bounced yet again.  This was the second time in 3 months due to a calculation error in my checkbook.  Needless to say, he wasn’t happy despite my reassurances of having more than enough money in my savings account for at least a year’s worth of rent.

The cherry for the top of the sundae ended up being the events of my grocery shopping trip.  To begin with, I hated grocery shopping.  It is definitely on my list of worst adult chores, so I was already annoyed by having enter the store.  It went from bad to worse when I stepped out of the store and began walking towards the parking lot with my handful of bags.

It wasn’t his entire fault.  I couldn’t exactly see over top the loaf of bread that was barely staying in the shopping bag.  However, I was fairly sure he had been busying texting when he ran into me, which only angered me more than I should have been.

Immediately he began helping me pick up the items, still mumbling sorries.  I was just trying to keep myself from boiling over; walking a fine line of bursting into tears or going AWOL.  The latter was about to occur when I realized he was holding a box of the tampons I had just purchased.  Instead of flipping a lid and possibly landing in jail, I reverted to my sarcasm defense mechanism when he made the comment about his phone being broken.  Probably wasn’t fair, but at the moment, I was past the caring stage.

Despite my spastic, freaking out attitude, he remained quiet spoken and calm the whole time.  His question about anything else being ruined, made me stop and finally look at him.  The first thing I noticed?  He spoke English.  Then it was his tall, broad shouldered stature that led me to believe that underneath his black leather coat, I’d find a perfectly sculpted body.  His face and liquid brown eyes were shaded by a fitted camo-baseball hat.  Despite the day old facial scruff, he had a distinct boyish charm that was intertwined with a roguish handsomeness.  Suddenly I had to try really hard to keep the frown on my face.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed when it was obvious he was going to run back into the store and buy me a new loaf.  As much as I hated squished bread, I wasn’t going to make him replace it.  I would deal.

“Where are you parked?” he asked, the look in his eye was daring me to put up more a fight, because he was ready to not let me get my way.  My stomach took a flip and I suddenly felt warm all over.  Once I finally got a grip, I told him where I was parked and watched him and his jean clad ass, jog into the store.

From helping her pick-up her items, I couldn’t help but noticed she had picked up some chicken and a bunch of fresh vegetables.  An off the wall idea came to mind.  Why not invite her over for dinner?  I still felt bad about running into her and then there was the part where I found her really cute.  I was all for some sort of distraction, which she was already turning into the perfect one.  So when I went back in for the bread, I picked up a bottle of Riesling, checked out and headed off to find the plaid-rainboot clad blonde.

During the entire short walk to the parking lot I mentally rehearsing the words I was going to say to her and how I was going to just slip in the fact that we should have a dinner date tonight, despite not even knowing her name or if she might possibly be a serial killer.  When I arrived at the parking lot, it was blatantly clear that my rehearsal was for nothing because there was no black Jeep in site.

I chickened out.  Those amber eyes were probably going to haunt me for the rest of my life, but just couldn’t face him again.  I was too embarrassed by the way I acted.  I quickly loaded up the Jeep and went out the back entrance of the parking-lot, ensuring he wouldn’t see me leave.

After everything that went wrong today, I was not about to possibly put myself in an awkward position.  Which, I’m sure that would have happened because I could already feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins the more I thought about him.  With each thought, my mind pictured him to be hotter and hotter, further proving I would have some how figured out how to make an ass out of myself.

While I was so worried about making an ass out of myself with the unknown guy, I suddenly realized I should be more worried about where I was going.  Next thing I knew, I was heading straight for a fire hydrant in the curve of the road that I had failed to negotiate.  CRASH!  Fuck me.

After searching the parking lot for another minute, just making sure I didn’t miss her, I shook my head, hopped in the truck and headed back to my apartment.  Of course, once I got on the bridge to head to the south side of the city, I found myself in a sudden back-up of traffic and the clouds had opened up with a heavy down-pour.  It was uncommon to hit backed up traffic in Montreal for the simple fact of the many car accidents that occurred daily in the crazy French driving city.  Some cars turned around, which allowed me to move closer to the culprit of the clog up.  It took about 10 minutes for the rubber-neckers to drive past the scene of the accident and by the time I got up there, the police and ambulance had already arrived.

A black Jeep Wrangler had seemingly lost control and ran into the fire hydrant.  The damage didn’t look too terrible, but the person who I assumed to be the driver was standing there with tears streaming down her face.  It wasn’t until I saw the bright colored, plaid, rainboots that I realized it was my run-away girl.  I quickly put on my turn-signal and pulled into a drive-way across from the accident scene.

“I-I d-d-don’t want the ambulance,” I sobbed.  It was now pouring down rain and I could feel it soaking through my wool-pea-coat.  The feeling of doom now felt 100 times heavier and colder.  “I just want to go home and hit the replay button on this whole d-d-day,” I continued as the stern looking police officer just stood there when his arms crossed in front of him, glaring at me like I was some sort of psychopath.  Granted, the way I was crying hysterically when he pulled up, I’m sure it did look like there was some sort of mental instability going on, but that was completely beside the point.

“Do you have anyone to take you home?” he asked with a thick French-laced voice.

I looked over at the Jeep and back at him.  “You don’t think it’s drivable?”

He raised his eyes brows and left out a sadistic laugh.  “Non, sweetheart, it is not drivable.  The airbag is deployed and both of your front tires are flat…”

I started patting my pockets for my phone, but it was then that I realized it was probably somewhere in the passenger compartment of the Jeep, since I put it on the charger before I left the work parking lot.  “Um…I don’t really have…” I began until a familiar voice interrupted my string of confused words.

“Are you okay…?” my brown eyed bread squasher asked, reaching out to put a large hand on my shoulder, looking worried.

“And you are…?” the police officer began to interrogate until a look of surprise seemed to come across his face.

“He’s…” I began, but realized I didn’t even know his name.

“Carey,” he said, reaching out to shake the now stunned police officer.  I looked over at Carey and he looked over at me, winked and turned back to the officer.

The officer just rolled his eyes and nodded as my eyes about popped out of my head.  “Well look at that, Mr. Price has impeccable timing, Miss Greth,” the officer stuttered.  “Carey,” he said like he was meeting his idol.  “You can take your upset girlfriend home.  The tow truck will be here shortly.”

“Will she receive her citation in the mail?” Carey asked firmly, giving the officer a stare down.  “Or is there anything we can maybe work out instead?” he seemed to hint.  The next words out of his mouth were French and I was completely clueless.

The officer’s face brightened and he nodded his head, quickly writing down what looked to be his address and handed it enthusiastically over to Carey.

“But…” I began, but Carey gave me a warning look and asked gently, “Let’s get the stuff out of your Jeep and into my truck.  Okay, hunnie??”

I nodded and bit the inside of my cheek to keep any change of emotion off my face.  My heart was beating like I had just run a 2 minute mile.  My mind was whirling from all the thoughts that were racing on through.  I was confused and thrilled all at the same time.  I needed to rescuer, but with how bad everything was going today, I wasn’t too sure I wanted him to be around for what might happen next.  It was a dangerous choice on his part.  Obviously I had pissed off someone to deserve a day like this…

“You sure you’re okay?” Carey asked quietly when we got over to the back of my Jeep.

“Yeah.  I’m just more angry than anything at this point in time,” I admitted with a sigh.  “It’s been a reeeaaallly bad day.”

This comment made him chuckle.  “So these last several minutes weren’t the beginning?”

I laughed too.  “No, afraid not.”

“So when is my citation coming?” I asked quietly, despite the fact the officer was several feet away talking to the tow-truck operator.

“It’s all taken care of,” Carey said quickly.

“But what did you say to him in French?”

He looked up at me, smirked and in a flash, grabbed everything, including my purse.  I attempting to at least grab my purse, but he turned, pursed pouty lips, furrowed his brow and shook his head.  “Get whatever else you need, I got this.  My truck is the black Ford sitting over there,” he nodded to the truck sitting with its blinkers on in someone’s driveway.

“I think the officer wanted a few other items…”

“Take your time,” he smiled reassuringly, sending a shiver through me.  There was a friendly innocence in his look before he turned and walked across the street with all my stuff in his hands.

I watched him get across the street safely and then went to work at getting my paperwork and keys for the officer.  Of course when I handed the keys over to the still star-struck officer, I never even thought about the fact of my house keys being on the same ring.