Page 79 of For the Record

I really did try to keep in mind why I was doing this. Why I’d signed up for this in the first place. I wanted to see my dad—as soon as I chopped off these legs and magically grew new ones—show him the pictures, and say look, I did it. I did it for you. He wouldn’t remember it. In fact, maybe thirty minutes later, he would ask what I did over the weekend, and I would probably just shrug and say not much. The point wasn’t so he would remember. It was to see his reaction and know how much it would mean to him. The old him and this new transitioning one as well.

I kept that in the forefront of my brain as I pushed farther and farther. One mile down, two miles down, two point five. Each mark was a reminder of what the goal was here.

My body was betraying my mind. I so, so badly wanted to finish. I wanted every bit of my spirit to be there, but my feet relented. Just when I thought I wasn’t going to make it, that my legs were going to give out and I was going to have to army crawl out of this nightmare, I heard the familiar deep rumble of a shout in front of me. On the horizon, beyond about ten other racers, was Adam.

Two hands around his mouth, yelling my name in that baritone that was sure to scare off anyone in a twenty-foot radius. Maybe it was because I hadn’t seen him in what felt like ages, or maybe it was because I was past the point of exhaustion and was borderline delirious, but I started crying. I slowed my pace to a stop, forcing racers behind to veer around me. My head slumped down, shoulders shaking as the tears flowed out of me involuntarily. They rushed out one by one as I cried, bent over with my hands on my knees.

“Come on, honey!” he shouted, and I looked back up, not caring the slightest that I had to be the least attractive person on the planet while my Adam was practically Superman in civilian clothing. The finish line was right there, in perfect view, like pearly white roads leading to a golden gate. I shouldn’t have even stopped, but hearing him, seeing him, made it feel like my entire world had stopped on its axis.

I sobbed, my chest aching and tightening. I sniffed in an attempt to not look like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum, but I couldn’t keep this in. Even more so when I heard another deep voice shouting at the sidelines.

“I didn’t come this far to not see you finish.”

My eyes shot up again, because this time, I was surely, surely hallucinating. Behind Adam, in his distressed red Phillies tee and long khaki shorts, stood the man who had raised me to be everything I was.

My bottom lip wobbled, and I rubbed my eyes. “Dad?”

He chuckled, his eyes looking clearer than they had in weeks. He looked like the man who’d taught me to ride a bike. The one who used to sing Hootie and the Blowfish to me when I couldn’t sleep. The same man who was left behind by almost everyone in life and yet had never once given up on me. There he stood, smile wide and laughing loud enough for me to hear over the crowd.

He pointed at my face before turning to Adam to say something in his ear. Whatever was said caused Adam to bust out laughing. That dimple that I wanted to write an entire dissertation on flashed for everyone to see.

They were here for me. Right in front of Calla, Layla, and Marigold, as they whistled and shouted my name. Crew was beside them, crying, which somehow turned my sobs into laughter.

I spread my arms wide and ran full speed to my father, pulling him into the tightest hug.

“How are you even here?” I asked against his chest as his hands wrapped around me and patted me hard on the back. It felt like I was being transported to the moment I fell off my skates as a kid, scrapes covering my scrawny knees with blood pouring to my ankle. My sister pointed and screamed, which freaked me out even more. Dad held me, told me crying was okay—that he cried all the time—and brought me inside to clean it up. Mom yelled at him for not watching me better. Ironic, since she was sitting on the couch watching the news. He didn’t answer. He just cleaned me up and wiped me free of tears before hugging me with a firm pat. You’re so strong, little Stevie.

The memory shuddered through me as my sobs grew louder. He was the best, best dad there ever was. There was no doubt about it. Even in this state, he was still the best.

“My son invited me, of course.” He sounded so bright, and I smiled into his shoulder. What a good day for a good day.

His son. What a little softie my dad was becoming. I remembered visiting him last week, talking about Adam coming home soon and my excitement. He smiled over at me. I always wanted a son. Closest thing I got was a girl in pigtails that shared my love of ACDC and Jurassic Park. He’d ended up with both now. As long as Adam was mine, he was going to be Dad’s too. And I had a feeling he was going to be mine for a much, much longer time than any of us anticipated.

I pulled back to look at Adam, who was smirking down at me with that dimple that I wanted to crawl into. I knew I looked awful, but not an ounce of me cared as I leaped for him, my thigh muscles magically feeling a burst of energy that only he could cause. Chuckling, Adam reached for me and picked me off the ground, squeezing me tight.

“You okay?” he asked low in my ear.

I nodded. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“You’re my wife. You know I’d do anything for you.”

I sniffled and pulled his face to mine, planting my lips on his, tears and all. Ignoring the wolf whistle from who I assumed was Calla, I wrapped my arms around Adam’s neck, squeezing tight and shaking against his lips.

He pulled back and set me back on my feet. “Let’s finish this, yeah?”

No more motivation needed. I could have flown to that finish line if I willed it. I nodded enthusiastically and readjusted my race belt so you could see it more clearly.

My feet turned to go to the finish line when I stopped myself and turned back. “Dad!” I shouted.

“Yeah?” he asked with a head tilt.

I waved a hand over. “Come on!”

He deserved this. Chances were, he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. That was okay. I would remember enough for the both of us. He chuckled and waved a hand to brush me off, something he did regularly when he didn’t want to admit he was confused.

Adam dipped down a little to his height, speaking in his ear as he separated the temporary fencing enough to leave a gap for my dad to join me. Dad’s eyes looked from Adam to me as I reached a hand out his way for him to grip.

“Your bucket list,” I explained. “Let’s cross one off together, okay?” I smiled at him through the ache in my chest.

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