The rain wasn’t really coming down as I navigated the busy streets, but that wasn’t the problem. Thanks to the school being closed for a week, nearly twice as many people seemed to be driving around town and the sidewalks felt like they shrunk, leaving nearly no space to walk. As much as I enjoyed this week, it was hard to function outside of school in it.

 

And this rain, it was horrible. I remember the storm from before, but I was never out in that one, nor was this really qualifying as a storm. It wasn’t exactly like normal rain though; it looked like it was eating away at paint on cars, striping bark off of trees and felt like stepping in paint. It was the strangest feeling I’ve ever experienced. No one else seemed to notice yet, though. Coupled with the temporary population increase, it felt like a decade had passed before I got home.

 

“I’m home,” I call out as I enter inside.

 

“Cody!” cries a voice from down the hall, who then body tackles me.

 

“Hi, Chantelle.” Chantelle was my 6-yead-old sister and tends to body tackle me when I enter through the door. She had a bright smile on her face. “How’s Mom doing?”

 

The bright smile melted off her face almost as quick as it appeared. That usually meant she wasn’t doing too well. Ever since her surgery she says she’s been feeling weaker. We called the Doctor but he usually never had an answer. They’d just say it was something they’d never seen and there was no known cure for it. It was even outside of cancer; something rarer than that. It pissed me off, but there was nothing I could do. I just bit my lip and headed upstairs.

 

Thankfully the stairs weren’t far from the front door. In fact they were straight in front of them, a round kitchen to the left and an ordinary living room to the right. Behind the stairs was the dining room, which connected to the living room and kitchen on either side. It had a long 12 x 4 table circled by 8 chairs; 3 on both sides and 2 across. On the one shelf sitting by the kitchen entryway held some board games, like monopoly and scrabble. The opposite side had our chinaware. It was set this way so guest would see the china and not the board games when they walked through the door, as the kitchen cut off most of the left hand side of the dinning room. On the wall facing away from the kitchen/living room hung a photo of our entire family. Man was it a headache to get that one together.

The living room wasn’t much for show; we weren’t that technologically advanced and still had an old box TV sitting on our entertainment center, which we used for news and basic cable. A couch and coffee table sat in front of it. The coffee table had a platter of sugar cookies on it, because I promised my Mom I’d always make sure the kids had cookies to eat for a snack. I’d mix up various combinations and usually get no complaints. A red and blue circular rug sat in the center.

As for the kitchen, the rounded part seemed stupid to my dad when we first moved here, but I eventually learned to love it. The space allowed me to move more fluently and cause less of a mess. A giant countertop sat in the center with cabinet doors lining the outside of it. It’s where I did most of the setup, like chopping vegetables and placing ingredients in rows to use in most everything I made. The outer part was designed almost like a clock I’d say, with the entryway being 3 o’clock, the black, double door refrigerator being 12 o’clock, flame expert oven at 9 o’clock and 6 o’clock was the hardwood pantry, housing all our canned foods and vegetables like potatoes and onions. It was what I called my home because I spend so much time in there.

 

But none of that mattered right now as I ran upstairs, jumping up two steps at a time. My Mom’s room sat at the opposite end of the staircase, almost like a U-turn. The door was ajar, so I knocked, not wanting to barge right in.

 

“Is that you Cod-“ *cough* *cough*

 

“Mom!”

 

I ended up barging in anyway, finding my Mom in one of her coughing fits. I bent down on the opposite side of the bed from my sister. Even in her late 30’s she was so weak. Her long brown hair hung to one side and her skin was ghost white. She’d been fine before the surgery but now she was coughing every 20 minutes for about 3 to 4 minutes. She hadn’t really left bed since before than either. Cindy, my older sister, was wringing out a rag over a bowl of water.

 

“Her condition hasn’t changed much, Cody.”

 

The tone of her voice made her sound angry but also resentful. She’d told me before she was also pissed at the Doctor’s but also resentful that she couldn’t do anything. In a way, the whole family all felt the same.

 

“I’ll be all right,” my Mom whispers as she leans back down. Cindy placed the rag over her forehead, but she started coughing again. I hated seeing her like this.

 

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” I tell her, keeping my tears held back.

 

“I’m just glad you’re home,” she says weakly.“Cindy hasn’t left my side, even when I’ve asked her to enjoy her youth.”

 

“Mom, I already told you I’m not leaving your side,” is what she said, but I could tell she wanted to take her advice, but couldn’t.

 

Cindy wore her green tank and blue, jean shorts. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. You wouldn’t tell by looking at her, but she was more reliable than she looked. She even quit her job to stay by our Mom’s side, giving up most of her dreams. It was hard on her, harder than I could ever know.

 

“Has the Doctor called?” I asked, holding my Mom’s hand. They felt bony, more so than they should. Cindy just looked down and shook her head, a half frown appearing.

 

“So they aren’t going to do anything more?”

 

The Doctor said that they’ve done all they could, which also meant they were done sending her medication to even slow the process. They said it was pointless.

 

“Damn it!” I slammed my fist on the floor, startling both my Mom and Cindy.

 

“Cody…”Cindy whispers, her frown showing fully now.

 

“Cody, there’s no need to be upset,” my whispers then coughs once more. Once she settled she asked, “How’s your friend doing? Random was it?”

 

“She’s doing okay, but I’m more worried about you right now.”

 

“I’ll be fine, but I’m feeling a little tired right now…” Without another word, and one more coughing fit, she was fast asleep.

 

I stood and looked down at her, a woman with a strange disease that even the Doctor’s couldn’t figure out. It was unfair, to her, to my sister. It always made my blood boil. She didn’t deserve this, neither of them did.

 

“Cody, you okay?” Cindy asks me, bringing me back from my depression. “She is weak but I’ll watch over her. I knew what I was getting into when I quit my job,” a faint smile shown on her face.

 

She says that, but I knew she was hurting. That job was all she talked about when she was there; she loved it. Now she had to sit at home taking care of our mother because those Doctor’s don’t know up from down. I bit my lip at thought.

“Cody, go relax,” she told me with a brighter smile. “I’ll take care of Mom.”

 

It was hard, but I decided to leave her there and continue to watch Mom. As I left I saw the smile fade as she turned back towards our Mom. I knew she was hurt, but I couldn’t do a thing about it. Just like I couldn’t help Random with Cocoa…

 

“Cody, what ya making for dinner?” asks Chantelle, saving be from almost drifting into a wall.

 

“It’s a surprise, kiddo,” I tell her as I ruffle her hair. To be honest, I wasn’t in a mood to cook, which was rare.

 

 I headed toward the kitchen, placed my elbows on the counter and looked out the window and was shocked. The rain was still coming down, harsher than before, but that wasn’t the surprising part. Outside the sidewalks were clear, the streets were empty of moving vehicles and shops appeared to be closed. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Since when were people afraid of getting wet? Out of curiosity I stuck my hand out and jumped back in shock: it actually hurt!

 

“The hell?” I whispered as I examined my hand. Sure enough, it had light scrapes on it. Not enough to do real damage, but just enough to be irritating. This was rain, but it wasn’t rain. What was it?

 

“Chantelle,” I call to the living room. “Don’t let anyone go outside, understand?”

 

She came into the kitchen and looked at me quizzically, but she knew I was being serious. They didn’t often question me. I raced upstairs to let Cindy know. Before I left I took one look at my Mom and noticed she wasn’t looking as good, worse than when I came in before, which I thought impossible because that was only 5 minutes ago.

 

“It happened when the rain got worse,” Cindy assures me, almost like reading my mind. “It happened before as well, but I never told you.” She turned away after saying it.“You had enough worries on your shoulders that I didn’t want to burden you with more.”

 

After another passing glance I walked out of the room without another word. I didn’t want to think the weather was tied to her condition, but it was sounding too hard to think otherwise. Between this storm and the last, and I knew Cindy wasn’t a liar. I turned to the clock when I reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed it rolling on to six-thirty. Dinner needed to be started and I needed to get my mind off of the events of today. So I headed toward the kitchen and started prepare.