Leta stood in the doorway, looking out at the rain. It was only one in the afternoon, but the
day was as dark as early evening. The sun had given up on sharing its friendly light
to an unhappy world and decided to go elsewhere. As it was mid-February and the
height of winter, everything was a dull gray—streets, grass, trees, bushes,
even the houses across the street had their colors muted. The rain was steady
and cold. There was little wind, and she did not believe that the temperature
would decrease enough to freeze the water or turn the rain to sleet. Instead,
they would simply have this dull, relentless rain.
How did people who lived in rainy
climates stand it?
She used to
like the rain. As a teenager, she enjoyed putting on her rain garments and aggressively
greeting the weather as something to be conquered. Getting wet meant little;
she could always dry off later by sitting by the fire, drinking hot tea and
feeling the warmth flow from her inside to her outside. However, as a teenager,
she had no children. Now she did, and as a parent, she was responsible for
protecting them from anything that would hurt them or impede their growth and
maturity. When they were babies, she loved bundling them and draping them in
blankets. She would carry them close to her, using her own body to shield them
from the elements. Sometimes she held them so closely to her that she could
smell their breath, a sweet milky fragrance.
As they turned
into toddlers, she would hold their hands to keep them in balance and close.
But at that age the rain began to fascinate them. They would tug against her
grip, trying to pull themselves away to explore the wonders of worms and
puddles. When they started school, all she could do was dress them properly for
the elements. After that, it was up to them to refrain from reckless behavior.
She had taught them to stay as dry as they could, to avoid dangerous
situations, and pay attention to their surroundings. Once, at about age six,
her son Dale misjudged a puddle and got his foot caught in a crevice of the
sidewalk. To free himself, he twisted his ankle. With the help of his older
sister Vivian, he limped all the way home. All he had on the one foot was his
sock, because (he told her) the shoe was still stuck. After stripping him and
redressing him in dry clothes, and putting ice on the swelling ankle, Leta went
out into the rain herself to retrieve the captive shoe. Later, as he hobbled to
the supper table, she mentioned with her motherly air of knowingness that she
hoped he had learned his lesson about stomping in puddles. At that time, the
rain was an annoyance.
Now the rain
seemed like an enemy, mocking and taunting her flagging spirit.
All these
years, she tried to protect her children, instill in them a sense of right and
wrong and provide them with the tools they would need to be successful adults.
She also wanted to provide for them. When she left their father Ralph, she did
so only when she knew that she was going to give Vivian and Dale a better life
with a better father. Albert was everything she could have wished for them—and
for her. The four of them lived happily together for five years. Every day was
like a bright spring morning with the sweet fragrance of dew and flowers in the
air and birds providing a musical accompaniment. They had a home, food,
clothing, heat and cash in their pockets. But Albert’s sudden death left her a
widow with two dependent children. She married Ora Freeman out of necessity and
the belief that he could provide. But he couldn’t—or maybe wouldn’t—she doubted
she would ever know which. They were hungry, in debt and lacking all the basic
living necessities. Ora was absent and neglectful.
In divorcing
him, Leta thought that she would be making a positive change. She hoped that by
going through the process Ora would resume his family obligations, or at least the
courts would require that he provide for her.
Foolishness.
Ora would not
change. He would not open his eyes. Certainly, he still wanted her to be his
wife, but he made no effort to accommodate even her most basic needs. As for
her children, Ora could not be bothered.
What was a
woman to do?
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