Mothers' Day

She wished she'd never seen him, not once in her sweet short life. That was her mantra, walking through the puddles on the side of the highway. The rain was so soft that it wasn't rain at all, it was some gentle creature lighter than mist and stronger than fog. The wind blowing off the bay smelled like a wet towel. The water ran off the edge of her poncho and down her bare shins, she wished she hadn't worn shorts. At least her backpack was dry under the poncho. If the rain stopped she might even be able to make a hot meal for dinner. The foghorn was blowing sad on Liberty Island, or was it Cape Sable? In this wet curtain she couldn't tell anymore. The road goes on forever, but she felt like she'd been on it at least a week longer than that. Her name is Rachelle and she's sixteen years old. She might or might not be pregnant, but that's not important here.

What's important is the rain, and the chill. It's like breathing through a mask of snow, and every time a breeze from the ocean slaps her face she squints her eyes against the salt spray.She's thinking hard about hot coffee, hot soup, but the next town is still so far ahead, so many rainy steps away.

The road's rising now under her feet as she passes a deserted beach, a bath house boarded up since Labor Day. It's steep enough that she's breathing a little harder as it climbs the headland. From here it rolls for miles along the tops of the cliffs, winding in and out of the low clouds. The crash of the surf so far below is like the soundtrack of a daydream. That was when she saw them.

Right there on the double white line down the middle of the highway, right there in the wind and water. Just an old pair of shoes splattered with the rain. They're worn and dusty and not much to look at. Were they his? Of course they were his, would you have it any other way? Right there where he'd walked out of them and into the rest of his life. She could almost see the wet fooprints, going down the highway for a little way before starting to climb into the rainy sky. She lined her own shoes up so carefully with his footprints, and wondered why it always had to end like this. She wished she'd never seen him, not once in her sweet short life.