The Run

         The pictures. The emails. The texts. They all had to go. If every trace of his existence disappeared, she could easily deny his presence altogether, she theorized. Systematically she deleted the pictures of the two of them. All of the songs he had recommended were gone with the click of a mouse. All texts to or from him were erased, and the picture messages went away with them. As he dissipated into cyberspace, she wondered if she could really forget about him. She had done it before, but then again, she had never felt so strongly about anything or anyone in her life. Could he really just slip out of her thoughts?
         Even if he did, she would still be a terrible person. It was just what she did. She ruined everything that came near her. Damage is her theme. Not one she chose, but it followed her around like a shadow. Some people escaped its wrath long enough to move on before she could kill their chances at life. But most got caught up in it all and ended up getting dragged under the bus. He was not the first, but he would be the last.
***

         They met in middle school, during those wonderful formative years when everything that will ever embarrass you happens in the span of a year and a half, most times more than once. They had a few classes together, and a handful of mutual friends. He was quiet and goofy, and she had a lot to say, and so they made decent, albeit one sided, conversation. Overnight she had a crush on him, and it blossomed silently and swiftly into a desperate need to kiss him, to touch and taste him. She flirted ostentatiously, but he didn’t notice a thing. Lacking the guts to say anything to him outright, the year ended quietly and sadly, without a goodbye from either of them. She was crushed.
         She missed him for years, but they didn’t cross paths again until their senior year of high school. He and her boyfriend became best friends, and all of a sudden, they were spending a majority of their time in school together, as well as some time out of school. Even though she loved her boyfriend, her crush returned, full force, and she could not take her eyes off him. She made excuses to be near him or touch him, and she made them often. Somehow no one noticed, including him, so for another year she went away dejectedly, waiting for the pain to end. Unfortunately, the miracle that was technology had spread over the years since they had been separated and so after they graduated from high school, they stayed in touch. Over the summer, they email back and forth. He went to a Journey concert, so he called her during their favorite song and the two listened together. She began investigating his interest in British television programs, and so they discussed for hours the merits of Doctor Who and Little Britain. And then it all changed.
         She couldn’t play the game anymore. She was born to verbalize, and so during one late night IM session, she made him promise he wouldn’t tell anyone before she blurted out her feelings. The messages came flying at him rapid fire, and he said nothing. She told him how every time she saw girls anywhere near him, she got irrationally jealous. She told him about how she had been sick for weeks on end due to the butterflies that kept her from eating or sleeping. She told him how she had felt that way for years, despite the lack of contact throughout most of high school. She kept talking until she had nothing left to say, and when she had apologized for at least the fifth time, he spoke.
         He told her that she didn’t need to feel bad, and that he was sorry she had suffered so much mentally and physically over him. She asked him how he felt about her, and he apologized. He explained that he felt bad that he had never noticed her feelings for him, and he felt even worse because he didn’t see her like that. He saw her as one of his best friends and the girlfriend of a friend, and that was all. She accepted his words as graciously as possible, and with as much tact as she could muster. She told him that she had just needed to get her feelings out, and that she really wasn’t expecting him to pour out his heart for her and reveal that he had loved her passionately the whole time too. She promised him that she was fine, and that she felt better for having said what she needed to say.
         Had he been in the room, though, he would have seen the tears streaming down her face in silent ribbons. He would have seen her wipe them from her damp cheeks with the back of her shirt sleeve, making her already tired appearance look almost homeless. He would have watched her hit herself in the head repeatedly with her knuckles in a closed fist as she reached for a tissue. He would have felt guilty as she trudged up to bed after brushing her teeth and swallowing a round of sleeping pills. But he did not see these things, because he was going to college in New York City and she was stuck in the sleepy town she had grown up in.
         She went to sleep, allowing the tears to continue to stream down her face and soak her pillow. She fell asleep, weeping silently and whimpering his name. She did not wake up bright and early the next morning as she had planned. She woke up and looked at her cell phone, which was charging next to her on the bed. Six texts messages and two missed calls. She scanned through the list of senders. None of them were from him, and so she rolled back over, flipped her soggy pillow over and pulled the thick blue comforter over her head. She didn’t get out of bed for the rest of the day, ignoring everyone’s pleading to come down stairs and eat something. She slept for two days straight, getting up to stretch, eat and go to the bathroom an average of once a day for the duration. Her friends texted her incessantly, and her parents were close to calling an ambulance on the day she got up.
         She awoke that morning to the sound of heavy rain thumping rhythmically on the roof. Her eyes opened automatically and she looked at her suddenly horizontal room. She rolled herself to sit on the edge of her bed. Naked and cold, she looked out the window at the pouring rain that came down in sheets against the glass. Without thinking, she got up, threw on her sports bra and a pair of shorts and grabbed her college hoodie. She tossed it lightly over her messy pony tail and grabbed her sneakers and socks at the bottom of the stairs, pausing only for a split second to slide them on. She raced out the door, leaving her bewildered parents to watch her fly down the street.
         As she ran, the fat droplets of rain splashed against her warm thighs. Each drop felt electric on her numb skin, and each one sizzled audibly in her empty head. She thought of nothing and she paid no attention to her route, but she somehow missed every wet, slippery leaf on the dark blacktop. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead, but her brain was surprisingly and blissfully vacant. She ran without thinking about how long or how far she had run, until she slowly became aware of how heavy her waterlogged sweat shirt was, and so she pulled her course into the parking lot of the small Methodist church about a mile away from her house. She jogged over to the barbecue pit at the back of the parking lot, mostly because it was covered but also because she had waited out showers there before when she would ride her bike by herself when she was younger.
         As she stood there, cold and damp, she caught her breath and looked out over the gray parking lot and the large back yard behind the church. Her thoughts came back to her slowly, one at a time, and she sorted through them methodically. She weighed the pros and cons, and the consequences of the actions or inactions she would take. She paced the length of the small shelter, muttering to herself and waving her hands obnoxiously at nothing at all. When she had mentally said everything she needed to say, she stared silently at the small green garden near the back of the church. She hoped for a sign, something to tell her that her choice was right or wrong. But she got no such thing, and so she took the lack of an outward signal to be a hint that she was alone on this one. She had never been religious, but as she stepped forward to begin her journey home, she looked up at the sky and thought how the present time would have been perfect for an epiphany.
         When she got home, she undressed quickly and wrapped her shivering body in a warm robe. Her decision was made, and although she was lacking the spiritual endorsement she was hoping to have, she set herself to work. Within minutes he was gone. He still physically existed, yes, but she was able to proudly reject the idea. The notion of love was gone. She happily walked about the house, her parents watching in their peripheral vision for signs of madness. After gathering all of her bath items, she stepped lightly into the bath tub and ran the water until it was the perfect temperature. She showered under she could feel all her extremities, and then climbed back into bed, wet hair and all. She sighed tiredly, and plugged her cell phone back into the charger. He was gone, as far as she could say, and she saw no reason to dwell on it further. As she drifted back to sleep, she rolled over onto her side and kissed her still sleeping fiancée on the forehead before letting her heavy eyelids close.