There’s no time to sit and stare today, though; I’m there for a different reason. Instead of getting up last night to dance, I’d spent it writing a letter to him instead. If he wasn’t going to let me say any words to him, then he could at least read them. I woke up this morning to a pile of scrunched up paper at the foot of my bed, but I knew that what I’d written was what I wanted to say.
When he spins around from the table he’s just cleaned, I’m there, waiting.
“Hi,” I say, my voice breathy from the run and from my nervousness. “This is for you.” I pull the cloth from his hand and push the envelope with my note into his palm. Then, before I lose my nerve, I lean over and press a kiss against his bruised cheek and run away as fast as I can.
***
“Thanks, mom. Bye, I’ll see you tonight.” I give my mom a wave and climb out of the car. I watch as she cuts off another mother as she pulls into traffic, shaking my head at her bad driving.
I pivot towards the school entrance.
And he is there.
“Oh. Um, hi.”
He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and hands something to me.
It’s the envelope I’d given him.
“I left that for you.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at me, his eyes scanning mine with a laser like precision. I feel as if he’s seeing everything I’ve ever seen. Then he reaches over and takes my hand, pushing the envelope into it and walks away, before I can say a word.
“Hey, dipshit! You’re here for some more punishment?” I hear a voice yell out to him, and I see Jack standing by the bus stop, his friends cheering him on.
But he just keeps walking.
I turn the envelope over in my hand. It’s still sealed. He didn’t even read it.
Him
Just keep walking.
Don’t stop. Don’t turn around. Just keep walking.
The urge to turn is almost too much and my walk breaks into a run to distract myself from the temptation.
My feet blur under me, my lungs almost burst trying to keep up with my body’s need for oxygen. The muscles strain as they tense and contract, completely unconsciously, like they’ve done for almost 18 years.
I run until I know that I’m too far for her to catch me.
And then I still keep running.
Until I know that I’m too far for me to fall.
But sometimes, the things we do, are too late.
***
Her
I’m running after him so fast, I can barely feel my feet touching the ground. I’m going to run him down if it’s the very last thing I do. He doesn’t even turn around to check what’s happening behind him, and that both hurts and urges me on. I wonder if he even knows I’m chasing him.
If he thought I would. If he wants me to.
Where is he going?
And why is it so important that he gets there so fast?
I don’t even bother entertaining the question that he’s running away from something, someone, as opposed to towards.
Running from me.
I’m getting closer. I can tell by the back of his head getting bigger.
Just keep running, I tell myself.
Now is not the time to ponder what it felt like when he took my hand before pushing the letter into it. How my heart jumped when I saw him standing there. How it felt so new and yet like I’d spent my life walking toward him.
Just. Keep. Running.
The street comes to an intersection, and he follows it around the corner. If he makes another turn before I get there, I’m going to lose him. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment as I gather the strength for a speed burst. I’m used to telling my body to do things beyond what normal people can expect of their bodies, and I feel it respond.
Except, my feet suddenly aren’t touching the ground anymore.
“Aw, fuck!!!” I yell, as a sharp pain spreads up my ankle and my shin. I fall to the ground, bracing my fall with one arm, feeling the gravel scratch the outer layer of my skin.
“Shit!” I yell at the traitorous tree roots sticking out from the broken sidewalk, gnarled and wicked, causing my fall.
Everything looks instantly blurry but it takes a few angry wipes of my eyes with the back of my hand before I realize I’m crying.
“Stupid idiot!” I curse myself this time. What the hell do I think I’m doing, chasing a stranger who won’t even speak to me? Have I lost my fucking mind? The thoughts are hardly comforting and the hot tears just keep falling. Asshole, I glare at the empty street ahead of me as I curse him too.
I brush the dirt from my hands and shake my legs, feeling them out. At least there’s no real injury. That would really fucking suck. I take a deep breath, gathering myself, and resolve to never go looking for that asshole again.
Suddenly, something blocks the sun and a hand reaches out to me.
I look up into green eyes.
Something inside me, something stubborn, wants to swat it away, but I push the instinct down.
Taking the hand, I let him pull me to my feet. I drop it as soon as I’m steady, and notice a flicker of something unreadable across his face. I avoid his eyes, shuffling from leg to leg, regaining my balance. There’s a gust of wind, and a flash of white catches both our eyes. It’s the scrunched-up envelope, making its way down the street. It only takes a few steps of his long legs to catch up with it. He holds it out to me.