Chapter 11 #3
“This is different. It was dark, raining, when that car hit me,” Daniel finally says.
His words are steady, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.
“I was on the side of the road, not on the sidewalk. I was wearing a gray reflective jacket that was dampened by the rain. Visibility was poor, and it was after 11 PM. There were lots of young drivers in that area, and the one that hit me was driving twenty over the speed limit. It’s unlikely all of those circumstances will happen again.
” It’s almost a mantra, the way the sentences fall from his lips.
I wonder if he’s had to tell himself these things before.
He smiles wryly. “And it certainly did not have the fun energy of tonight’s ‘You Light Up My Life’ theme. ”
“Even if that’s all true, it doesn’t mean we have to run,” I say, words fierce. “Sometimes feelings overrule logic.” I try to pose my next question gently, without judgement. “Do you ever run outside?”
Daniel surveys the excited buzz of people around us, the glow sticks and neon apparel, the light twilight of summer.
His expression is far away. “Sometimes. If I’m running on a trail where there aren’t any cars nearby, and it’s light out.
That feels very different from the accident.
” His eyes catch on some of the cars racing by.
“I was always a stress runner, and it was finals week. It was too dark and too rainy to be running without proper reflective equipment. I should have gone home or to the track or something. I had the walk sign crossing the street, but the car didn’t see me and was in a hurry.
I just remember blinding pain and then waking on the wet asphalt.
I was in and out of consciousness, lying in the street for what felt like hours as paramedics prepared me to leave.
I still have dreams of going on that run.
Or not. That decision feels paralyzing now. ”
I wish I had planned better. This isn’t a marathon or anything, so we just run on city sidewalks. They planned a safe running route, but there will be cars driving nearby. I never even considered that Daniel would be bothered. I feel so disappointed in myself.
I reach out and take his hand. It’s cold, but I hold steady.
He meets my gaze, surprised. “I believe in you, Daniel. Whoever you are in this moment, I believe in. We can leave and set boundaries and be strong. Or we can run together and fight back and be strong. Both are honorable. Understandable. I’m with you. ”
I squeeze his hand, and he looks down at our intertwined fingers. The green and pink glow stick bracelets I made to match our outfits.
Finally, he looks at me. His eyes are lit up, his expression glowing.
“I want to do this, Annie. This is my chance to take back something I lost. I had to say goodbye to a dream I’d had since I was a kid.
I’ve come to terms with that. But this, I can have.
Running outside with you, laughing and feeling better.
Feeling better than I have in years.” Daniel’s eyes brighten with each word he says, and a relieved smile grows on my face at the sight.
There’s something inexplicable snapping between us.
Like we’re balancing on the precipice of sharing exactly what went wrong between us.
Delving back into the accident and the hospital and the silence afterwards.
I almost open my mouth to let loose the barrage of questions, but instead all that comes out is, “I’m proud of you. ”
He gives me that movie-star smile. “I couldn’t do it without you, Annie. You help. This helps.” He gestures to our clasped hands. “Everything we do together feels like the greatest thing I’ve ever done.” I’m blushing at his honesty.
I struggle to say something, to not let these new feelings mix with my old ones. I open my mouth, but then the last of the sun dips and a sharp whistle rips through the calm evening.
We both get to our feet, a bit unsteady, but brave and sure. The woman in front shouts for our attention. “Everyone ready to run for something they believe in?”
The crowd around us roars, and so do we. There’s something healing in sports and collaboration and caring for others. The route has already been set for us, largely along the river and downtown, with patches of neon sidewalk paint marking our way.
The pack starts running together, dozens of people looking ridiculous and loving it.
I gently bump Daniel’s hip with mine, checking in, and the look he gives me is loaded.
Mostly, it seems warm with determination, grit, and gratitude.
I put myself between the street and Daniel, giving him the grassy side.
We run at an even pace, one I know is much slower than Daniel’s usual, but he seems to be enjoying it.
One of the front runners is holding a Bluetooth speaker in the air, and it’s pulsing with different rainbow lights. Whitney Houston is the first song to play, and the whole group sings together, Daniel and I included.
Everyone cheers when we reach the first mile marker.
We’re heading closer to the city now, and I see Daniel’s first flash of apprehension when we run across the intersection.
He seems to run a little faster, so I use it to distract him.
“Let’s try to go to the front.” I nudge him, and he jolts a little as though lost in thought. “Show them what we can do.”
My distraction seems to help, and we flow back onto the sidewalk. Some pedestrians seem irritated by our sidewalk takeover, but lots of cars and passersby cheer or smile when we pass by. “I’ll race you,” I offer and then take off before he can respond.
I hear Daniel’s surprised laugh and then we’re racing through the small crowd, apologetically pushing through to the front. We pull even with the guy with the speaker at the same time, but I try to argue I had the edge. “I was first!”
Daniel scoffs, and we merge to the front. “You just want to be first. Very different.”
The run is a 5k, and we run all five with delight. I’m sweating pretty heavily by the final mile, and so is Daniel. We’re definitely pushing the pace a little at the front, but the tunes and enthusiasm from the group never waver. It feels like we’re flying down the sidewalks.
As we near the end, I take a celebratory video of the group running, making sure to get Daniel’s gleaming and grinning face in the clip. In retaliation, he takes one too, focusing on me next to him. I try to block the camera, but he just laughs and zooms in more.
A surge of disappointment goes through me when I see the finish line.
That half hour of running was without thought.
It was joyous, ebullient, freeing. I thank the organizers of the event profusely and they thank the Arrows for their $1500 donation.
Daniel, to show me up and because he’s a good person, writes them a check for another $5000.
We walk back to the parking garage in contented silence.
I’m humming Whitney quietly as we reach the last block before the car.
Daniel is the one who speaks first. “Annie.” I’m so surprised by his tone that my head snaps in his direction.
He sounds soft, nervous. “Thank you. I really couldn’t have done that without you. ”
I shake my head immediately. “You did it, Daniel. The only thing I did was believe that you could.”
He takes a deep breath. “I should tell you the truth, the reason why I never reached out after the accident, the reason I just left the hospital without a wor—”
I put a finger to his lips. We’re entering the elevators now, climbing up to our very last few moments of the night. “Daniel, I want to hear all that. I do. But tonight…it was one of the best nights of my life. And I kind of want to keep it that way, you know?”
It’s an awkward explanation, but I want him to understand that sparkling feeling in my chest. I want him to see I need this uncomplicated joy, and I think he does, too.
The elevator dings to tell us we’re on our floor. “Yes,” he finally says, softly, “I think I know exactly what you mean.”
The short ride back to my apartment is filled with more of that warm silence. I lean my head against the window, trying not to think about tomorrow. About seeing my mom, about winning our last few games, about Jack and Trenton.
He pulls up in front of my building, and I startle. “Oh, we should probably post those videos we took at the run,” I tell him, forlornly taking off my glow stick halo. “Jadea thought it would look so great on camera.”
“I will,” he promises, and there’s an awkward moment where we’re automatically leaning towards each other, as though to kiss or embrace or melt into each other.
This time, it’s me who remembers the scheme. The farce of our relationship. “Thanks, Daniel,” I say evenly, getting out of the car. “I had a wonderful time.”
“Me too.” Another whisper of a smile and then he’s off into the night.
I climb the stairs up to my apartment and flick on the lights inside.
I rummage through the cabinets until I find my only vase.
The flowers in the bouquet Daniel gave me puff up proudly in their new home, and I wish I didn’t miss Daniel as much as I do.
I wish I could have asked him up. I wish we could go back and redo all the mistakes we made.
Instead, I hurry to bed. It’s only a little after 10:30 PM, but I have a noon game tomorrow, so I’ll need to be up pretty early. I set my alarms and lay out the equipment I’ll need for tomorrow.
I’m about to put my phone away and turn off the light when I see I’ve been tagged in Daniel’s Instagram post. It’s the video of me running beside him and then a quick cut to the rest of the group who cheer when they see the camera. A very cute and happy video. Jadea will be pleased.
I almost miss the caption, but when I finally read it, my heart skips a beat.
@DanielChan: Thanks @AnnieLarger for lighting up my life. Best date I’ve ever had.
Daniel Chan. Why does he make this so hard? Why do I? We’re caught in a romantic web of our own making, but as we get more tangled, we’ll only start hurting each other to get free.
But I don’t regret the date. How could I?