Page 81 of A Fighting Chance

The clock tells me there are only a couple of short hours left before my flight. There’s a strange relief in going, in knowing I am walking away. Running is familiar to me. I’ve been doing it my entire life. It’s predictable, familiar. The physical act of running makes your lungs burn, makes everything heave and swell. You’re standing there trying to catch your breath, but you feel freer, better, more in tune with yourself. This feels no different. I’ll get back to Boston, back to my freedom, and be more aware of every part of myself.

I walk downstairs with all my bags and stack them out on the porch. When I walk back into the kitchen, I head for the coffee, knowing caffeine will be an important component in order to survive today. Part of me can’t wait to be back in my bed in Boston, curled under my blankets. I’ll order in food and avoid leaving my apartment at all costs for no less than seven to ten days.

“You all ready, honey?” Paw asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Everything’s good to go.”

“We’re sure gonna miss ya around here,” he says.

“I’ll come visit more, I promise,” I tell him.

He smiles at me and my heart wants to burst. I sit down next to him and Harper comes in then. She sits across from me.

Nan is last to join us and has a small box in her hand. “This is for you, baby,” she says. She places the small box into my hand and sits down.

“What is this for?” I ask, confused.

“Just something I think you need,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as she starts to butter the toast on the plate in front of her.

I look down at the box in my hand and finger the red ribbon tied in a bow around it. I slide it off and set it down, then pull the top off. Inside, there’s a necklace. A small pendant with the word “Live”dangles from the silvery chain.

“I found it in one of the shops yesterday. I thought you needed a reminder,” Nan says.

I swallow hard. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” I slip it over my head and pull my hair through, adjusting it over my shirt. I rub it between my fingers and feel the grooves of the letters.

We eat breakfast mostly in silence after that, sharing the occasional comment about something arbitrary and all the while, I thumb the charm, giving a lot of thought to the word.

“I’m going to drive you to the airport,” Harper says. “Is there anywhere you need to stop beforehand?”

“No, I think I have everything,” I reply.

She gives me a tight smile, and it feels sad.

I reach for her hand and squeeze, doing my best to be a comforting big sister.

After we finish breakfast, I walk out to put my bags in the trunk while the dishes are being cleared. Lifting my suitcase into the car, I realize Gentry’s other note is still tucked into the front pocket. It’s not that I want to torture myselfper se, but I stuff the note into the pocket of my leggings and finish loading my bags.

As I sit on the porch swing, I take one last look around the farm. I’ll miss running the property, its unique challenges I’d never find on my runs in the city. I’ll miss the fresh air, counting the stars overhead because I can actually see them, and the way the sun sets over the fields and bathes everything in pink and orange.

And him.

I don’t even let myself think his name.

Nan, Paw, and Harper pile out onto the porch for the goodbyes. Nan hugs me tight and I squeeze her back, not wanting to let go.

“Promise you’ll come for Christmas,” she says.

“I promise,” I say. And I actually mean it. A long visit.

Paw bear hugs me and despite his recovery, I’m gentle with him at first. “Hug me like you mean it, you ain’t gonna break me,” he says, laughing.

So, I squeeze. “Take care of my cows,” I say.

“Of course, honey, of course. You take care of yourself, okay?” he says.

“I will,” I say.

Harper and I walk down to the car and I wave before ducking into the front seat, trying not to cry in front of them. As my little sister gets in behind the wheel, I realize I’m actually holding my breath and I release it.

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