Love, Words

Rain

“It’s raining hard.”
“And you’ll always love me, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And the rain won’t make any difference?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Because I’m afraid of the rain.”
“Why?” I was sleepy. Outside the rain was falling steadily.
“I don’t know, darling. I’ve always been afraid of the rain.”
“I like it.”
“I like to walk in it. But it’s very hard on loving.”
“I’ll love you always.”
“I’ll love you in the rain and in the snow and in the hail and–what else is there?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m sleepy.”
“Go to sleep, darling, and I’ll love you no matter how it is.”
“You’re not really afraid of the rain are you?”
“Not when I’m with you.”
“Why are you afraid of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“Don’t make me.”
“Tell me.”
“All right. I’m afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it.”
“No.”
“And sometimes I see you dead in it.”
“That’s more likely.”
“No, it’s not, darling. Because I can keep you safe. I know I can. But nobody can help themselves.”
“Please stop it. I don’t want you to get Scotch and crazy tonight. We won’t be together much longer.”
“No, but I am Scotch and crazy. But I’ll stop it. It’s all nonsense.”
“Yes it’s all nonsense.”
“It’s all nonsense. It’s only nonsense. I’m not afraid of the rain. I’m not afraid of the rain. Oh, oh, God, I wish I wasn’t.” She was crying. I comforted her and she stopped crying. But outside it kept on raining.

– A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s