Page 58 of In the Long Run
And the rest of the afternoon is pretty great, even if I can’t shake the feeling that the worst thing Knox has ever called me isn’t ‘coffeebean’, it’s ‘friend’.
22
KNOX
This might be a dumb decision.
But it won’t be the biggest one I’ve made in the last twenty-four hours.That was telling Gen that I wanted to be the friend she turned to, because, while it was true, I don’t want to just be friends.But she doesn’t know what she wants.This shit’s confusing.
Something that isn’t confusing?The tension that curls through my body at the thought of her being scared.Of her not being able to do something she loves because someone ruined it for her.Yesterday’s conversation with Gen was a startling reminder that the way women experience the world and are treated is still totally different to how it is for guys, regardless of the conversations some men have started to have.Some, just not nearly enough.
Which is bullshit, frankly.
And I’m a strong believer that if you aren’t a part of the solution, then you’re just another problem.
I drop into a lower back stretch, holding on to the top rail of Eugene’s fence so my muscles can expand and lengthen.
‘What are you doing here?’Gen approaches slowly.It’s after six a.m.Normally she’s left for her run by now.
I stand and move into arm circles.‘Thought I’d go for a run.’
With her.
If she wants me to.
Please want me.
She puffs out a tiny sound.I’d like to think it was a laugh, but there wasn’t any humour in it.
‘I need to get into a better routine with my running program and maximise recovery periods if I’m going to survive the marathon,’ I continue.Which is true.I’m a fit guy, but everyone I know who’s run a marathon has said the same thing: it will eat you for breakfast if you don’t respect it and do the training.And another thing I have to get better at?Proper warm-ups and cool-downs.Patience has never been my thing, but an injury could ruin everything.I move into leg swings, one hand resting on the top of the fence again.‘How are you feeling today?’I ask.
Gen watches me warily.I’m on thin ice here.Too much andI’llhave her doubting herself too.‘Much better.’She fiddles with the strap of her watch.‘The police called me back last night and said it didn’t match the description of the other guy they’re looking for.So he probably did get as much of a fright as I did.’
‘Still.No reason to be a dick about it.’
The sound that leaves her lips is almost a chuckle.Some of the cold surrounding us ebbs away.
‘What have you got on your plan this morning?’she asks.
Staying by her side.Making sure she’s really okay.‘An easy forty minutes.’
‘Funny.That’s what’s on my plan,’ Gen teases, and it’s so good to hear her like this.‘Come on.We can run together.We’re friends, after all,’ she says.
Hmm.Is it my imagination or did she just say ‘friends’ like it tasted bad?
We don’t talk much at the start.Gen’s quiet and focused so I follow her lead, my eyes sweeping from side to side, ears straining for anything concerning or out of place.But the morning is still,the only noticeable thing a hint of brine in the air that reminds me of summers spent watching the other kids play beach volleyball or jump off the pier.I remember wanting to be included but not knowing how to escape my reputation.Around the two-kilometre mark, the last shadows of night lift and the scrape of a digger methodically combing the sand mixes with the steady thrum of our footfalls.The rest of our distance passes in companiable silence, and by the time the sun has painted the ocean next to us a myriad of colours before leaving it a shimmering blue grey, we’re well into our cool-down jog.
‘Coffee?’I ask as we reach the footpath that leads to Alizée’s.
‘Please,’ Gen replies, before using the sleeve of her top to wipe sweat off her face.She’s all shiny, her eyes bright, her movements looser, more relaxed.‘Thank you,’ she murmurs.‘I needed this run.’
And I’d needed to make sure she was okay.I massage the spot in the middle of my chest that ached all night as I worried about her running on her own this morning.Or not running because she’d lost her confidence.It’s still there, but the band of tension lessens the more time we spend together.The more I get to see her smile.
Gen ambles towards the children’s playpark.She lifts her left leg, balancing her foot against one of the wooden posts on the rock-climbing wall and then folds her body forward, hands grasping her ankle.
Don’t notice how flexible she is.
Be a good guy.
