I texted Mom.
Adam: Can I go for a twenty-minute run? Had a long day.
I knew I would pay for it with inquiring questions and motherly smothering, but I would pay for it later, andlaterwas the key.
Mom: Yep. I am making pancakes. Danny liked them last time. =)
Adam: Here’s hoping he hasn’t changed his mind. Thanks, Mom.
Danny might have in fact changed his mind. He would love one thing and eat it over and over and, without warning, he’d decide he would never eat it again. That Mom struggled in the cooking department didn’t help, and I wasn’t much better.
I grabbed my running shoes from the duffel bag I always kept nearby in case I needed to burn off some negative energy. I tightened the double knot on my laces. I put my earbuds in and selected my rock playlist.
The current plan: push my body until I can no longer think of all my failures.
I ran past cattle pastures and hayfields, letting the loud beat of the music soothe my soul. The air was crisp and cold as it filled my lungs. I could do this run with my eyes closed. This was the same run I’d done in high school.
The only difference was that back then I would run to meet my now ex-wife Cassie and make out with her near her barn. We were young and stupid, that we married right after graduation proved it. I dodged the pothole in the dirt road.
I passed the Parks’ mailbox built out of horseshoes welded together at the end of their lane. I waved at Brad as he rode by on his horse. Must be bringing the cows in from pasture.
The life Cassie posted and bragged about now couldn’t look more different from mine.
I pushed harder and faster. Trying to outrun the failures, guilt, and pain that clung on to me as Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” blasted into my ears.
Not choosing me was one thing, but not wanting Danny would never make sense.
Danny. My reason for living and the brightest and best part of my life.
The run had worked its magic because I no longer felt anger and frustration. I wanted to be with Danny. I turned around and rushed back to Mom’s.
I gasped for air, trying to steady my breath, as I walked up to the old ranch house with white paint peeling and makeshift particle board steps. I knocked as I stepped inside.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me.” It had been just the two of us for a while. Dad died of a heart attack when I was in middle school.
She glanced up from the faded blue plush couch, but her smile didn’t reach her watery eyes.
“You okay?” I crossed the worn brownish-orange shaggy carpet toward Danny at the kitchen table.
“Yep, I’m good.” She gave a small nod.
Hm. “You ready, Champ?” He nodded but said nothing, nor would he look at me or his grandma.
Something happened, but I wouldn’t push the issue today. Danny needed to get home, and I would be back in the morning anyway. We could chat then.
“Okay, I’ll be back at ten to winterize the sprinklers. Snow can’t be far off.” I had to scrape the frost off my windows every day this week.
She shrugged. “Hard to tell with Idaho, But Frank’s knees were acting up and he swears snow’s coming this weekend.”
I smiled. “I know better than to bet against Frank’s knees.” I grabbed Danny’s errant sock. The man was correct more often than the weather man.
“Let’s bring out the Christmas decorations from the shed tomorrow too.” That would cheer her up; she loved Christmas decorations, and I would get to finish early. Between frozen fingers and slick shingles, early meant less likely to fall.
It would take the whole day. First blowing out all her sprinkler lines and then loading up her house with big, gaudy plastic reindeer, Santa, elves, and tinsel. Her favorite was the plastic yard nativity. Even though a light had shorted out and melted part of baby Jesus’s face years ago, it still went up every year. She insisted Jesus wouldn’t care about looks anyway.
I gave Mom a hug. “Cya in the morning.” She felt smaller against my chest than she used to. Had she been helping with Danny too much?
I grabbed Danny’s backpack off the floor where he had left it, and helped him into his neon orange sweater. He had been wearing it every day. I tried to wash it last week, and Danny insisted he wouldn’t go to school without it. After a heated conversation where neither of us budged, I finally asked why. He didn’t think his friends could find him without it.
