Page 88 of Dangerous Pursuit

My eyelids are like lead weights this morning. I need to limit my reading at night. It’s lasting longer and longer until my eyes start closing on their own. After weeks of going to bed with Jackson on my mind, always resulting in tears, I took up reading. A good distraction became a bad habit. I’m hoping to counter it by adding a good habit to the mix.

I don my sneakers and head out the door, trying to decide which way to go on my run today. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever be one of those crazy people who ran by choice and weren’t being chased by an axe murderer, but here I am. The counselor suggested it—go figure, at least something she said actually helped.

When my mom saw me spiraling, she asked our handler to find a counselor. I guess it’s common for some to have a more difficult time with the transition into the program. I’m one of them. But other than my new running ritual, I don’t think I’ve gotten anything from therapy. Whoever thinks bringing up yourproblems every week is the answer to solving them is more messed up than me. Makes no sense, but if it satisfies my mom and makes her feel better, then so be it. Hence, the reading habit.

Once I started to talk about everything wrong in my life, the floodgates opened. The thing is that my issue isn’t with my past or some trauma I need to work through—it’s happeningright now, and nobody can fucking fix it. How am I supposed to deal with being stuck in a life that isn’t mine, using a made-up name, with people who have no idea who I really am and never will?

The counselor who specializes in cases like this says I should allow myself to make friends and live here as if we decided to move and start over. That I’m not diminishing my old life but accepting the possibility of two, and if I ever decide to go back, my life will be that much richer from the added friends and experiences. Seriously? I may have puked in my mouth a little. Did I mention that she works for the FBI? What a load of crap. She gets paid to say that shit.

How about we take you away from the love of your life and see how it goes. See how long it takes until you start picturing him moving on and wondering how long it took. See how it feels to lie in bed at night and imagine he’s on a date, what she might look like, if he thinks of you when he leans in to kiss her.

I stop and bend over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. I may have gotten carried away during that rant. I’ve been better recently, but I had a session yesterday. And they say counseling helps. Whatever.

“Mary?” I hear my name being called.

I straighten up to see Jeff, one of my coworkers from the coffee shop, coming to a stop in front of me. “Oh, hi, Jeff.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was you bent over like that. Are you okay?” I can’t blame him for being concerned since I’m acting like I just finished a marathon.

“Yeah, just overdid it for a minute there. I probably should’ve had some more coffee. I’m too tired for this.”

“Don’t worry, I have days like that too. I haven’t seen you on this trail before. Have I just missed you, or is this a rare thing?”

I laugh. “It probably looks like that, but I’ve been consistent for a few weeks. I run in different directions every day so I don’t get bored. I take it this is your regular route?”

“It is. I like knowing how much farther I have. It keeps me going.”

“That’s not a bad way to look at it. On the other hand, if you don’t know where you are, you’re forced to keep going until you make it back.”

This time, he laughs. “Very true. We’re both just trying to make it in our own way.”

“As is life.” MaybeIshould be the counselor.

“Since you said you needed more coffee, would you want to grab one with me and continue this profound conversation?” He smiles in jest. “I feel like this is the most we’ve talked, and we’ve worked together for months now.”

“I know, crazy. I would, but I have a big paper due and put it off until the last minute. Sorry.”

“No worries. Procrastination is my middle name. Maybe another time. I’ll see you at work.”

“Bye, Jeff.”

We jog off in opposite directions, and my heart is already going at a speed far beyond what my run is causing. I can’t believe he asked me out. Not that it was for a date, for crying out loud. Coffee isn’t a date, right? I didn’t even say yes, yet I feel like I just cheated on Jackson. Ugh, I’m not evenwithJackson anymore. Well, he’s not with me, at least. My heart hasn’t decided to let him go yet, but that doesn’t mean I should be getting so worked up over this. If only I could stop thinkingabout him constantly, but it’s become habit after 108 days of doing it.

I need to focus on the tasks at hand: get home, shower, and make up a topic for this fake paper I’ll not be working on in case it comes up. After that, I should make a list of excuses to have in my back pocket if this happens again. It’s hard enough being around people at work who think I’m someone I’m not; I can’t imagine a relationship with someone who doesn’t even know my name.

Jackson

Well, fuck.Both families are now checked off my list at 125 days without Mia, and I’m still at a loss. I’m not sure what kind of man can win the heart of a woman like Sofia after alienating his entire family by being a prick. No one has heard from him in years, and the last they knew, he’d left to become a poker pro in Vegas. It’s safe to say that all signs point to Las Vegas, where I’m currently headed, waiting to board a flight from Kentucky. To pass the time, I call Eli to check in and hopefully pick his brain.

“Jackson, what’s up, man?” he answers.

“Hey, Eli. Just sitting in another airport, getting ready to fly to Sin City.”

“No kidding. What did you find out?”

“Jack shit, but so far, Vegas has been brought up by everyone. Now that I’ve eliminated the possibility of family knowing where he is, the only thing left to do is play the poker circuit and look for him directly. I figure I’ll ask around and flash his picture.”

“Sounds like a plan. Where are you going to start?”

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