Page 30 of The Neighbor
I study the houses and see they’re much older than those on my cul-de-sac. It isn’t the weathered look that gives that away but the style of the homes. Instead of the newer look of the houses on Park Circle, these are bi-levels and split levels popular in the seventies.
“You know, this might be the first time I’m over in this part of the development,” I say nearly breathlessly.
“This is the way I run every day. It’s almost like going back in time. If you run far enough, you can find homes built a hundred years ago. I thought about getting a house over here, but I got a great deal on mine, so I jumped on it. Well, my husband and I did, but when it was time to move in, he bailed. Guess he wasn’t ready for a mortgage.”
Barely able to groan out any words, all I say is, “Oh.” I want to ask if she’s divorced now, but if I try to do that, I might collapse.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I didn’t need him anyway. Same with Jared. Guys come and go. It’s the way it is.”
Sure my face shows my surprise that she’s basically written good old Jared off already, I turn my head as if I’m looking at one of the split level homes. Maybe he was only exciting when he was cheating, and now that he’s free to go with any woman he wants, he’s no longer tempting.
Not that I understand what Suzanne or Sara saw in him. And he’s got a third woman? When does that guy have time for work and sleep?
“Probably the best way to think about it. People come and go. You just have to live your life.”
I doubt I’ve ever sounded so philosophical. It’s probably the lack of oxygen to my brain. Who knew running would make me so Zen?
Sara breaks her promise not to ask me any more questions and says, “So what do you do? It must be a pretty good job since Park Circle is the swankiest neighborhood in this development.”
A car backs out of a driveway a few yards ahead of us and gives me the chance to stop and catch my breath. Sara continues to jog in place, truly committed to this running thing. Bent over, I take a giant gasp of air in and wish the humidity wasn’t already oppressive at only quarter after seven in the damn morning.
When I finally feel like I’m not going to black out, I stand up straight and answer her question. “I’m a human resources consultant.”
Not exactly an in-depth explanation of my job, but considering I think I might have nearly died for a moment or two when I was bent over, that’s the best she’s going to get from me. I’m never that chatty about my job anyway, so it’s not like I would ever describe it much more than that.
“Oh, that’s sounds interesting. Are you okay, Adam? You look a little flushed.”
All I can think of when she says that is I feel flushed, like someone stuffed me down the toilet and sent me through the sewer pipes. Clearly, I’m going to have to seriously consider if this is how I want to get to know Sara.
“It’s the humidity, I think,” I answer lamely. “It’s making my breathing difficult.”
In a kind gesture I didn’t expect, she puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles. “It can be rough on days like this. Don’t give up, though, okay? Running is great exercise.”
“I won’t. Thanks.”
A sheepish look washes over her. “You won’t mind if I continue on? I have to be at work by nine, and if I don’t get moving, I won’t get any real run in today. You’re going to be okay getting back?”
Feeling like some lightweight, I wave off her concern. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, her expression brightens. Nodding, she pats me on the shoulder again. “Absolutely! I’m so glad you’re going to keep at it. See you tomorrow!”
Sara takes off down the road, turning around when she’s about hundred yards away to wave at me. “Drink lots of water! That will do the trick! See you tomorrow morning, Adam!”
I wave back, barely able to lift my arm but needing to appear like I’m fine. Something tells me as bad as this was today, running tomorrow is going to be even worse, and water isn’t going to help me as much as I need.
But at least I have her address and some details about her now. I just have to suffer through a few more of these morning torture sessions before I can carry out my plan.
12
All day yesterday,I paid for that short morning run that I’m sure would have been the end of me if I had pushed it even a tenth of a mile longer. Even a scorching hot shower and a gallon of water didn’t help, despite what Sara claimed. I barely made it to the couch before my legs gave out, so I spent the next eight hours in the supine position, unable to move a muscle without crying out in utter agony.
Somehow, my body survived to wake up again this morning. I don’t know if it was the nearly ten hours of the soundest sleep I’ve ever had in my life or the handful of ibuprofen I tossed down my throat right before bed, but I feel good enough to try running again today.
At least that’s what I’m saying now as I glance over at the clock and see it’s nearly time for my alarm to sound at six-thirty. I turn it off before it does. I don’t need that chiming to start my day.
I just hope I can get more out of Sara today to make all this pain and suffering worthwhile.
The first twinge of my body remembering what I did to it yesterday occurs when I swing my legs out of bed. Normally, thisaction means nothing to me. It’s merely a step between sitting up and standing.