Chapter 4
Noah
Being home after so many years is always weird.
The steadiness of the house, the clean air, the smell of the lake with every step outside, and the snow.
The biggest thing that gets to me about being home is the constant thoughts of Olivia.
It’s been too many years since we have seen each other. Since everything changed.
I'm not the same person I was then. I have witnessed unspeakable things and have traveled across the world…and she is a doctor now. I overheard Cole at the gym telling someone about the volunteer work she does with various Milwaukee organizations. She’s a doctor who is coming home for the first time since her grandmother died and is considering seeing me.
“You should see if she wants to get drinks” I hear my sister call from the bathroom as she is getting ready for school this morning.
“I have,” I growl back at her.
“Well, try harder, it's the first time you’re both back at the same time, and I miss”
I slam the door shut before she can finish that sentence. Even though I know she’s right. Bec is almost always right.
Ollie is more than my best friend's sister. She’s always been more. She's a part of this family. Bec looks up to her and Ollie takes care of her as if she were her own biological sister. She brings cards and still texts Mom on all important dates and always thinks about my family.
I need to do something, anything. Anything to distract me from the fact that she still has not texted me back.
We have always kept in intermittent contact.
Text messages on birthdays and holidays but nothing more than niceties and formalities.
I want to believe that most of that was due to being in the Army and having deployed overseas time and time again, I can’t help but think about what would be different now if I had acted differently on that day all those years ago.
I grab a light jacket, slide on my running shoes, grab Archie’s leash, and whistle for my four-legged best friend.
Archie comes walloping down the hallway at full speed wiggling with big fluffy ears flapping and tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.
He knows what time it is. I may only get to see this big goofy mutt when I’m home on leave, but he is my favorite running partner.
We open the front door and set off, one step at a time.
The blinding reflection of the sun off the snow causes us to be cautious the first few steps not to slip on any snow or ice.
Running, or exercise in general, has always been the best way for me to clear my mind and avoid shutting down or acting irrationally. I learned this relatively quickly after my dad died and everything went to shit.
My therapist at the time suggested I needed an outlet of some sort, specifically a healthy outlet.
Mom’s depression was getting worse, and I was an angry high school boy trying to hold everything together while mourning the loss of my father.
And there was just one night I couldn’t keep it together anymore.
My options were to lose my absolute shit on my kid sister who didn’t understand why Mom was still in bed refusing to get up, to eat, or play with her, or to yell at my already broken mother.
I had enough self-control at the moment to know none of those were good options or the right choice, so I left the house.
My brain told me the best option was to run away.
So I started running down the driveway toward the town.
I ran for thirty full minutes before I realized that I wasn’t raging anymore.
And I haven’t stopped running since.
So here I am, running in December in Wisconsin, trying to run away from the self-deprecating what-ifs as to why Ollie hasn’t responded, and hoping she will text me back.