9. Chapter 9
After my weekly call with Sue, I dress in lavender leggings and a long-sleeved white tee.
It’s cold today, but I’ll heat up quickly when I run.
Ray and Jake know I won’t be over until late today to visit.
Zander is already up drinking coffee at the island when I enter the kitchen. “Morning, darling,” he smiles.
“Hi.” I return his smile and put the kettle on for tea. Snatching a muffin, I nibble on it until the kettle boils.
Despite it being chilly, the sun is out working to dry the dew-misted landscape, and the road is quiet, so we run around the neighborhood.
We both have earbuds in, so there’s no conversation, but it’s comfortable.
Alex has often been my running partner on Mondays and Saturdays since Jake moved here, so his stamina has improved.
He still can’t finish my run, but we have a routine where I circle him and I’m still within sight.
I take my shower when Alex is finished. He and I spend a few hours making the muscle cream and lotion for Jake, and we discuss some new research he came across regarding short-term memory.
Zander grills us burgers for lunch while I make homemade fries and coleslaw. He stops at Finn to pick up a few guns before driving over to the gun range after lunch. It’s located northwest of here, across the river.
When we arrive, I see an outdoor range on the left with a long, worn wooden table; people standing behind it shooting at targets staggered at various distances across the sleeping grass.
A one-story, large grey cement building with barely any windows sits in front of us with no markings visible.
We follow Dad inside, where he greets the man behind the counter by his first name.
“Good to see you, Stan. This is my daughter Summer and Alex. Do you have two spots open side by side?”
“I do Z,” he replies, sliding over two clipboards and pens. “You know the drill.”
Zander grabs the clipboards, walking over to a counter on the left. “Please fill out these forms so you can train. If you’ll give me your driver’s licenses, I’ll get them copied while you do that.”
We hand over our IDs and then fill in the forms. It’s basic info with an explanation of the rules, and we have to agree to a background check.
Once we finish, we hand them to Stan. He gives our driver’s licenses back, compares our paperwork to some type of report, and then files it away.
“I had him run background checks on you last week since I knew we were coming today. Saves time,” Dad tells us.
We follow him through a door into a long, narrow hallway with glass on the top half of the right wall. You can see lanes with people shooting. Dad goes to the very end and opens a single door to the last two lanes.
He teaches us how to dismantle, remake, and care for our weapons before going through safety procedures.
Once he’s satisfied we have that down, he hands us safety glasses and ear protection.
I go first, loading my weapon before lifting it to aim at the target.
Dad adjusts my stance and grip, and I am ready to take my first shot.
Flicking off the safety, I take aim and fire one shot, and the bullet hits the bottom corner of the paper target. Switching the safety back on, I set it down. “That recoil is no joke,” I comment.
“It is at first, darling, but you will adjust. The recoil caused you to lower the gun enough to throw off your shot. Try again.”
I take several more shots before I feel like I can handle the recoil, and then Alex takes his turn. He shoots three rapid shots before flicking the safety on and setting his gun down. “Showoff,” I mutter.
Alex smiles at me, moving to the next lane so we can both practice shooting with Zander going between us, offering tips.
We spend an hour there before Zander calls a halt. Packing up the guns and safety equipment, Zander drives us back to Finn to return everything to the safe. We grab some hot chocolate on the way home. “You both did well. With some more practice, you’ll be hitting the bullseye in no time.”
We decide to visit the range again next Sunday. Alex is interested in getting his carrying permit, which Zander promises to help him with.