Page 41 of Running Risk
How could he do this to my mom?
How could he do this to me and the twins?
He has destroyed our lives already with his anger and cheating. But now he’s having a baby with this other woman, and from what I overheard, he’s going to take our home—my mom’s home. I don’t understand how anyone can do this, especially to their own family.
I pace again, clenching my hands in and out of fists in rhythm with each of my strides. I figured he was cheating on her, but I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Deep down, though, I knew. Soon after seeing him go into that apartment, I talked with the military recruiter. I couldn’t explain it then, but now it is as clear as day to me. I know what I have to do.
I stop and look at my mom. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, and there are water spots on her shirt. “Mom, I need to tell you something.”
She looks at me, and her brow creases with worry.
Taking off my hat, I rake my fingers through my hair. I’ve been delaying telling her this just like I did with Rylee, but my mom needs to know. “I joined the Marines.” I don’t miss the slight quiver on her lips, but I continue and say, “I leave for boot camp a week after graduation.”
“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper as her hands raise to her mouth. “Why?”
“Mom, I just”—I rub my sweaty palms on my shorts. “I can’t end up like him,” I say firmly. My dad has drilled into me that you can’t be anything without a degree, but I see what kind of man he is. I don’t want to be anything that resembles him. Sure, he was able to get a good wife, but he threw it away. I don’t want him to claim I’m anything like him. This has been the only route I can envision for myself.
“Oh, sweetie.” She steps closer and places her hands on my shoulders. “You aren’t. What does that have to do with you joining the military and not going to college?”
“I can see that my path is headed down the same one he said he did and wants me to do. I have to do something different.” I shake my head. The military has discipline and the loyalty I want. I want to do something honorable with the life I have, and I don’t think anything he’s done has been honorable.
“Are you sure about this?” Her eyes search mine.
“Yes. I have to do this.” I didn’t have a plan for college. I was going to take the basic classes first, and afterward, figure it out. It was exactly what my dad did, and he always bragged about his degree. About his life achievements. About himself. Whether it’s the right thing to do or not, I have to choose a different path.
She nods. “What about Rylee?” She turns and grabsa cup out of a cabinet and fills it with ice and water then hands it to me.
An ache forms in my chest, and I take a much-needed drink. “She isn’t talking to me.”
Her eyebrows raise. “What?”
No matter what life throws at Rylee and me, we always stay tight. This is our first real fight, and it’s been awful. I don’t like life without her, but I know I hurt her. She needs time, but time’s running out. Graduation’s right around the corner, then I’ll be leaving, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.
27
RYLEE: THEN
Rylee:18 years old
My fingers thrum against the steering wheel as my eyes remain glued on the red light, waiting for it to change. I speed down the road the second it turns green, attempting to get closer to the airport with every mile. I don’t know where I’ll go once I’m there, but I’m trying. I have to at least try. I woke up to my mom shaking me, telling me she thinks Clayton was leaving and giving me a note she found taped to our front door. I jumped out of bed, and threw on jean shorts and a T-shirt that were scattered around the room. There was no way I was letting him leave without saying goodbye.What if it’s our last goodbye?I shake my head and try to stop the tears that spring up at the corners of my eyes. How can I let my best friend, my other half, leave without at least a hug?
I clutch the small piece of paper in my hand. Quickly glancing at the note, I scan it but already know exactly what it says.
I’m sorry, Ry. I hope one day you will forgive me. - Clay
Scanning the different road signs, I take the first exit and hope I’m right. Thankfully, the sign for parking is next, and I waste no time pulling off. I have no doubt people can see my pulse galloping in the vein along my neck. My car whips into a parking space, and I race inside. The rising sun shines in my eyes as my feet run faster toward the double doors. The strong gusts of cold air hit my face as I run through the opening in the automatic glass doors, blowing my hair behind my shoulders. I know it has to look crazy from not doing anything with it after waking up, but I can’t find a reason to care. I scan the busy airport. People pulling their luggage behind them, others running to get through customs, and I’m looking for the boy who has always had my heart. Someone bumps into me, and I stagger forward. They apologize and dash toward a long line. I watch their retreating back, and that’s when my heart leaps as my eyes land on him. He’s hugging his mom, and she touches his cheek when they part. He nods, and she backs away, holding herself—as if she needs comfort but no one is here to give it, not when her boy is leaving.
Even if I yelled, they wouldn’t be able to hear me. They’re almost one hundred yards away, and there are so many people between us. Clayton turns and walks toward airport security, showing security his ID and ticket. I run, realizing I’m going to miss him. I’m not going to be able to say goodbye.
He’s leaving without hearing how much he means to me.
He’s leaving without a hug.
He’s leaving without me.
“Clayton!” I yell, making many eyes look in my direction, but not the deep brown ones I want. I know he can’t hear me,but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Even with all the running I do, I don’t think I’ve ever run this hard. My heart gallops in my chest. I bump into multiple people, and I throw my hands out wide while I stagger and slow down.
The harder I try to catch up, the further he gets away as he walks toward the large metal detectors. I’m not sure when the tears started freely falling from my eyes, but they drip from my chin. I attempt to yell, but my throat is tight like someone cut off my air supply. Mrs. Daniels readjusts her purse on her shoulder and turns toward the exit, and I don’t miss the moment she sees me running. She covers her mouth as a cry escapes her mouth when I rush by, but all I can focus on is the blonde-haired boy walking out of my life and not turning back as I run toward him.
