After a while he gave up on sleep, unwrapped his legs from around hers and slipped out of bed. It was almost pitch black and he could hear the rain all around; drumming on the window pane, rushing off the gutter, drowning the sound of the air conditioning. For a while he sat on the edge of the bed, but his mind was blank, or he couldn’t find himself able to think in her presence.
She stirred and he turned around and looked at her lying there with the duvet covering her breasts, and one thigh showing. He reached over to touch her but then thought better of it. He had a feeling she was awake and somehow it bothered him. He ran both his hands over his face and then swung his legs back onto the bed and lay on his side, listening to her breathing. He whispered her name and waited for a response, but none came, so he leaned over and kissed her gently on the shoulder. She shuddered but then was still again. He lay back on the pillow and put his hands behind his head. Perhaps she was asleep after all, and what did it matter anyway?
Half awake, he listened to the rain. He couldn’t remember hearing rain as torrential as the rain he could hear at that moment in all his life. Part of him wanted to open the bedroom window and feel the rain on him. Then, restless once more, he got out of bed and groped his way to the bathroom. He switched on the shaving light above the mirror and let the tap run for a while, before putting his head underneath. The water was cold and refreshing. He bathed a clean white flannel, and draped it over his face. The cool spread through his whole body, so he plunged the flannel into the sink again and this time rolled it up and put it on his forehead, letting beads of water trickle down the bridge of his nose.
Moving into the lounge he sat down. The curtains were drawn and there was a yellow glow on the walls, cast by the street lamps. He found his coat behind the sofa and his cell phone in the top pocket. The illuminated LED screen read . He thought about turning the television on but worried he would wake her. He walked back down the hallway and peered into the bedroom, his eyes took a little while to get re-accustomed to the gloom. She had moved to the other side of the bed and had her back to him. He returned to the lounge.
From where he stood he could see huge puddles in the street below. It was hammering down, raindrops streaming over the window glass. He started picking at the tattered curtains. His fingernails found a thread and he pulled on it, and pulled some more, before he realised he was unravelling a whole seam. He stopped what he was doing and began thinking again: about the rain, and her, how long it would last, how long it could go on.
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