Lily: What?
Kyle: OH SHIT, I forgot I'm not blocked yet.
Lily: What do you mean?
Kyle: Nothing.
The hospital gaveme two days off from school and work, but the next day I felt like running. I was in such a good mood that it was the first thing I thought of doing when I woke up early in the morning.
It was strange waking up in my childhood bedroom. The running trophies lining the shelves, the faded posters of NBA stars on the walls, the twin bed that felt too small for me even though this teenage body fit it perfectly. For a moment, I justlay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to process that this was real.
I was eighteen again. My body was whole, unbroken by years of stress and pressure. The smile on my face felt much bigger than I wanted to admit. This still felt so unreal, and at the same time, I never felt so full of life.
I slipped out of bed quietly, got ready, and walked outside the house, careful not to wake anyone else in the process.
The January air was crisp and cold despite living in a coastal area, but it also felt purer than ever. I stretched briefly, then set off down the street, my feet finding the rhythm they'd once known so well.
I ran so much that I felt liberated, energetic, and happy. My knees were working perfectly, and that put me in a good mood. Not having to wear glasses also seemed fascinating. It was incredible how small things were taken for granted. In the real present, I used glasses like they were part of my life without thinking about it so much. Here, my vision was perfect, and the world was sharp and clear without any assistance.
Mile after mile, I pushed myself, testing this younger body's limits, reveling in its strength and resilience. No aches, no pains, no compensation for old injuries. Just the pure joy of movement.
By the time I returned home, sweaty and breathless but thrilled, the sun was fully up, and my family was waking up. As I entered the kitchen, my mother looked up from her coffee, and I could see the great surprise reflected on her face.
"You're up early," she said. "How are you feeling?"
I remembered sleeping until noon during my days at school, so it felt weird for her to see me so early. She could never imagine I was no longer the rebellious and lazy boy I once was.
"Great," I answered, and meant it. "Better than I have in a long time."
She smiled, though there was a hint of concern in her eyes. "The doctor said you should take it easy. You shouldn't have gone out running with that wrist in such bad condition."
"I feel fine, Mom. Really. I use my legs to run, I promise I didn't jerk my wrist." I took a cup and handed it to her, "Can I have some coffee?"
"And since when do you drink coffee?"
At that moment, I realized that acting like my 18-year-old self was going to be harder than I expected. I felt like a completely different person than I once was, and I didn't know how to make everyone believe I was still the same immature little boy.
"I don't know, I just want to. Can I have just this one cup, please?"
I decided, at least today, not to give her all the answers she expected. After all, I'd been in an accident, and she needed to understand that I wanted to take things easy.
After my dry response, my mom took the cup without saying anything, poured me coffee, and handed it to me, then we both sat down to drink it. That's when I finally realized what I was doing.
I was hanging out with my mom.
She was sitting across from me like it was the most normal thing in the world. Because for her, it was. She had no idea what the future held. That in only one year, I would leave the country. That in five years, she and my dad would have a complicated divorce. In eight, she would move across the country to be closer to my sister, who had moved for college and never went back. That in ten, I would barely see her twice a year because Sydney and Chicago were too far apart for casual visits.
My sister and I had had enough of my parents' constantfighting, so we both moved away from this city as soon as we had the chance.
Maybe I should have been a little more chill with her; after all, I knew she was going through a lot. But my brain didn't want to deal with the consequences of the changes that were about to happen if I made something different from where I was supposed to.
"Your father already left for work," she said, bringing me back to the present. "And Aria is still asleep, so if you are going to do anything now, please be silent."
Hearing my mother mention my father, I couldn't help but wonder if they would act differently if they knew how much the destructive relationship between them affected Aria and me. "Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Watching her sit there so calmly with her coffee, I couldn’t bring myself to be honest. It just felt easier to pretend I didn’t know anything, to act like everything was fine, instead of admitting hard conversations were waiting for us. "I'll be quiet," I promised, heading for the shower.
