Page 16 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

A QUARTER AFTER five the next morning, I was putting on my walking shoes.  I loved taking my walks this time of year.  It was still dark outside, of course, but in late March, the birds were announcing the arrival of spring.  They could get downright noisy, but I found their song soothing and reassuring.  It reminded me that everything old and cold and lonely could renew itself, could become fresh and happy and light.

My walks were part of my salvation list.  When Mel left, I’d taken to sleeping late and eating for comfort, and when I finally decided to take my fate into my own hands rather than allowing negative emotion to consume me, I made exercise a priority, and that was why I took the walks—rain or shine and temperature be damned (although I finally got smart and decided that a blizzard was pushing it; that was when I bought my treadmill)—and also bought yoga DVDs.  I found that the exercise was more than just keeping off the weight.  Exercise put me in touch with my heart and my mind and also allowed me to connect with nature, something my computer or my home could never do.

And I discovered I liked nature a hell of a lot more than people.

If I’d had friends like I had when I’d been younger, that would be another thing entirely, but my best friend from adulthood had moved away about three years before thebig dump…and we’d lost touch.  In spite of social media, it was hard for me to connect with people.  I didn’t feel comfortable talking to our old friends, because I didn’t know whose side they’d be on.  Looking back, I knew that was silly, but at the time, I’d felt vulnerable and alone—isolated—when Mel left, and I began living for my children.

Onlyfor my children.

In spite of the fact that I’d begun taking care of myself (and even might have appeared to an outside observer to like myself), I was going through the motions.  It was better than nothing, I knew, but it wasn’t the same, and I thought maybe once I got the kids raised and out of the house, I would be forced to rediscover myself.  Until then, I was going to follow my list, because at least I was living to a degree when I did.

No amount of telling myself thatlife is preciousorevery day is a giftwould help.  But at least I was trying.

The last few days with Brandon in the house had distracted me somewhat from my list.  I wasn’t nervous about that fact, but I knew myself too well and knew I needed toget back on that horse.  Too long without following my list and I might find myself back in sweatpants sitting in front of the television munching on a bag of popcorn, only having managed to eke out a few hundred words on a current story.  No…discipline was my best friend, and my list was my salvation from darkness.

And I’d do well to remember that.

I double knotted the black lace, because those shoes had a tendency to come untied.  That was okay around the house, but once I started walking, I liked to keep a steady pace, unfettered by malfunctioning clothing.  The only exception to maintaining a rapid pace would be if I saw something I wanted to observe more closely, but this time of year—when it was still pitch black—that was unlikely.

As I stood from the wooden bench in the entryway, I paused at the creak on the stairs.  Which kid was up at this time of morning?  That could only mean illness—which meant I might have to use the treadmill instead of leaving the house.  I looked toward the dark stairway, though, what little ambient light coming from the lamp in the living room illuminating the bottom few steps, and in seconds I saw unfamiliar hiking boots.

No.  No, they weren’t unfamiliar.  They just didn’t belong to one of my children.

Brandon emerged in the soft light then, a quiet smile on his face.  A vision.  Absolutely beautiful.  I could almost feel my heart swell in my chest as the blood in my veins began to swirl.  There was an old lust in there that had been quelled and beaten down by years of disappointment and regret and I thought my youthful exuberance had died.  Now I realized it had merely laid dormant all these years.

It was all there, rising from a loamy grave to greet Brandon’s presence.

Yes, I knew my crush was stupid.  It wasn’t that it was unfounded.  Brandon was most definitely the kind of young man who would have been mytype when I was younger.  He was good-looking with boyish features made rugged and manly by the day’s growth of facial hair, his musculature and body ink telling his true age…and yet I knew a large part of him had aged out of necessity.  It was part of his untold story, but I sensed that, if our friendship blossomed, he might choose to let some of it leak out.

In the meantime, I had desires to hold at bay.  I’d had many an unrequited lust in my youth.  Some I hadn’t acted on in my girlhood due to fear of rejection; a few I had avoided because my common sense had told me that just because the boy in leather with a bad ass attitude looked hot and stirred dark things inside didn’t mean he would make a good life partner; and, more recently, after settling into marriage, there was the wholeit’s okay to look but you can’t touchphase where you stayed faithful to your partner out of respect and love.

Fucking shame my husband hadn’t had a mutual respect and love for me.  Bastard.

But I had experience with keeping things normal.  I could feign afriends onlyperspective.  And if I played that role long enough, I might even find a way to become a mother figure for Brandon if that was what he needed.  I’d have to get to a comfortable stage first, though, find a way to let my desirous feelings go.  I imagined my insides as a raging river—white caps and torrents, racing down a mountain while bringing life and refreshment to all around, yet still dangerous and fear-inducing because of the power inside.  I needed to become the river that, hundreds of miles later, becomes a lulling, gentle, calm presence.  I knew I could get there, but it would take time.

I realized I’d have to play things out in my mind.  I knew that because of past crushes.  Maybe that was the writer part of me.  I had to dream it all out in my head while sublimating my urges.

And, sublimated urges in place, I smiled at Brandon, hoping I didn’t look like a predator.  Smoothing out the thighs of my yoga pants with the flat of my hands, I said, “What are you doing up so early?”

“You jog?”

A slight laugh escaped my mouth.  “No, but I do take walks every morning.”

“Would you mind some company?”

I didn’t think twice about it.  “I’d love some—if you don’t mind not running.”

His feet landed on the floor and crossed the few feet to where I stood.  “Running’s overrated.”

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