by Medusa72 » Sat Oct 21, 2017 5:59 pm
Beginning
Chapter One
I met him when I was twelve. Although he swears we were thirteen. He is five months older than I, so maybe it was just between our birthdays.
James was his name. Is his name. I have to get used to speaking of him as though it is the present, I guess.
Here we go...
My friend had once again made me go to church with her. I didn't normally attend, but my mother insisted I take nice clothes. Here I was among fancy-dressed rich people. That's who my friend was. Surprisingly, we got along pretty well. I sang with the choir, I paid attention to the message, that is until the preacher started talking about "sexual immorality". My friend poked my arm and I looked down to see a game of hangman set up. She looked at me as though such things were not to be spoken of. It was such a different world from my home life. When I had questions, I asked my mom. And asking questions about such things were nothing to be ashamed of. But I held my tongue. I didn't want to be kicked out of this nice church building.
And so I made it through a day in church for the first time since I was eight. My friends mom, a perky southern woman led us through the large "fancy-dressed rich people" crowd to the car, where I was shocked to see two gangly boys dressed in ordinary, faded clothing. The two boys were to ride with my friends grandma, while my friend and I were to ride with her parents to a little, run down burger restaurant. The name of this restaurant? Burgers and Fries. Very original, I know.
"Oh mom, do we have to take them to lunch with us?" My friend whined.
I don't quite remember what her response was, but I do remember thinking how bratty she sounded. They couldn't be that bad, surely. I learned their names. James, and his younger brother, Jesse.
We got to the restaurant and the adults went to one booth while the kids went to another. The brothers looked poor, but James especially looked seriously underfed. He was extremely skinny, not a ripple of fat or even muscle to be seen. His hair was shaved off his head. His skin was a leathery tan. His eyelids, were a dark brown with even darker purple bags underneath them. But his eyes... They were a piercing blue, being protected by long black eyelashes. I didn't note how large his lips were until I was much older, but since I'm on the topic of describing him; his lips were wide, and unnaturally soft looking. (Feeling too, but we'll get into that later.) I sat across from his brother, who was shorter, and lighter in skin tone. Jesse had freckles like me, but a real punky attitude.
We were eating our burgers silently. Things were awkward, sure. But not unbearable. Now this part I remember vividly... It all started when Jesse kicked me under the table. Being as awkward as I am I didn't say anything, the first time, that is. My friend then started making small talk with James, asking him about school. I vaguely remember him saying something along the lines of it's, "Good, but I'm ready for running season to start."
But Jesse wasn't done. He kicked me again and once more, I stayed silent. James is quiet with his responses to my friend and he looks down as though he's not interested in speaking out.
A third time from Jesse and I resisted my anger by asking him nicely to stop. You want to know his response?
"It's not me."
I think I argued with him a little bit before stopping, not wanting to make a scene. Until he did it a fourth time, this one the hardest kick of them all. I glare at him and he tries to look innocent. Calmly, and looking down at my food, I swing my leg back and then forward with all my twelve-year-old might. Jesse cried out a dramatic, "Oww! You kicked me!"
"It wasn't me," I say slyly.
Jesse looks at me in shock, then looks at his brother who shrugs, as if to say, "You deserve it."
James looks at me, and I look back at him unphased. Jesse looks at his food with a pout. I'm not sure what my friend was looking at in that moment; but upon speculation, I bet she was looking at James and I, thinking something along the lines of, "Oh no you don't."
I got home later and thought about the-tired-looking James. I wondered to myself if he had suicidal thoughts very often.
Please understand that I say this because I was observing how suicide seemed to be a trend of being talked about in hush tones. Also, at that age, one of my best friends moms died of cancer and so I had been thinking about death a lot and wondering what it was like. I'm honestly not too sure what made me believe James had the potential for suicide. Maybe it was how he looked at me at the end of the meal. I automatically felt like I understood him. I felt like I could read him. Then I started thinking about reading and went to pick out a book, unconcerned with anything.
This concludes how I met The Runner.
~
Chapter Two
Much time passed. When I was somewhere between fifteen and sixteen my brother began working at the same little grocery store that James did. When I went to buy something (usually chocolate milk), I always saw him. I didn't talk to him much, just said hi a couple of times. He didn't seem to mind.
I went to a church camp after I had already turned sixteen that lasted about a week. Guess who pressured me into going? My friend. Whose name, by the way, is Emily. At that point in my life I wasn't sure what I believed. I guess you could say I was agnostic. But I went anyways. The things that happened there changed my life forever. I vowed to give my life to God. Then I spoke to James for the first real time in about three years. He had changed. He was much taller. He had more muscle definition, but he still looked like he wasn't being fed. He chattered nonstop about running. Running this, running that. It's like he didn't know how to talk about anyone else. Like he couldn't relate to other peoples interests. I cracked jokes with him all week. He gave me a piggy back ride when I was tired. In the bus on our drive back home. He let me put my pillow on him and take a nap.
When I got home I told my brother of how I had a crush on him. Even to this day I still laugh about the shock on his face. I had never dated anyone before. On the trip I also became friends with some of the people I would rely on in the future for support. Grant, who was nineteen; and Cassandra, who was fourteen. The age gap between our friendships was no stranger to me. I hardly had any friends who were my own age. I talked to Grant almost everyday. In my childish ways I enjoyed all the attention he gave me. So I kept responding. I kept encouraging. I was addicted to feeling wanted, even though the flirtations weren't mutual.
After church camp was workcamp. It was in the same summer. Workcamp was an opportunity to paint houses for people who couldn't afford to paint themselves. I had always wanted to do it, but my mom didn't trust me until that year. It was church based, but it wasn't necessarily as big of a deal as church camp. My first day there, I bumped into James. He smiled at me, and it wasn't the first time I had the feeling I got when I saw him smile at me. The feeling in my chest, like my heart was swelling and my bones couldn't contain it. I texted him first. He seemed so excited, he asked me all sorts of questions about myself and my life. I told him I was troubled because I liked someone and I didn't know how to tell him. Later on down the road when I asked him if he remembered this he said he immediately thought I was talking about Grant.
At workcamp we did everything together. We sat on the bus together, we ate together, we talked to each other together and apart. He told me about his home life. This is where I found out his dad died when he was twelve. His mom also worked as a truck driver and was never home. He had relationship issues with his brother. Just the year before he had a falling out with his aunt and moved out of her house to live with his grandma (who was just one door down). He had a sad life. I knew when I met him, but I didn't know just how sad. Yet still he smiled that smile at me, and my heart swelled. On the last day of workcamp my dad came to pick me up and as he helped me put my bags in the car, I told I would be right back. I ran to find James. I told him I was leaving. I expected him to say goodbye and I would turn around and go home. Instead, he didn't say anything, just pulled me into a tight hug. I went to bed that night with my body tingling.
I definitely fell for him.
~
Chapter Three
A couple more months passed and I didn’t talk to James a whole lot during that time. Every now and then I would go to church, say hi, ask him how he’s doing, then move on. We made small talk, but it was still flirtatious. We were constantly laughing at each other and sitting together, but never alone.
Emily didn’t like it, I could tell. She didn’t like him, for some reason. I didn’t really mind, and I never tried to change the way she felt until later on when I felt it was essential. Things really kicked off in July of 2015. I was seventeen years old. The church was hosting a “Vacation Bible School” (VBS) and Emily and I volunteered. Jesse and Grant volunteered too, as well as another boy my age; George. George had a big mouth, but he was enraptured with Emily; he gave her and abundance of attention that would make any other human being sick. On the first day I sent a text to James, asking him to come save me from third wheeling. He obliged, giving me twice the attention.
I invited him to every VBS day and each day we seemed to get closer and closer. Every time we said goodbye he gave me a hug that I never wanted to escape from. We texted outside of spending time together where he tried to get me to meet him for basketball with his friends. That was the first time I didn’t think being with him would be a good idea. One- I don’t play basketball, and didn’t want to make a fool out of myself with him. Two- Why would I go if I couldn’t get to actually spend time with him? What would I do? Be his cheerleader? No thank you.
On the last day of VBS he texted me; these words were copied directly into my diary and that’s the only reason I can even give the conversation to you. Here it is…
July 30, 2015
James (9:04 PM): Hey.
Me (9:12 PM): Hi
James (9:14 PM): So listen, I hate to be the one to bring the heavy but we probably need to talk.
Me (9:14 PM): Ok.
James (9:18 PM): Well, I think it would be good to know where each other stands. As it is I think you know that I have feelings for you and I am under the impression that you feel the same. Am I right?
Me (9:19 PM): You are correct. I’ve wanted to bring it up to you before but I’m not ready for a real relationship so I didn’t want to waste your time.
James (9:24 PM): Ok, I wanted to say that I knew you didn’t want to date so I wanted to tell you that if it’s okay I would like to take things slowly and wait for you to be ready? And you aren’t wasting my time. I knew that you didn’t want a relationship yet.
Me (9:26 PM): That’s very sweet of you. Thank you for being so understanding. But you really don’t have to wait for me.
James (9:28 PM): But I want to, so with your permission, I will wait?
Me (9:29 PM): Ok.
We then proceeded to have a normal conversation. Upon revisiting my diary I found this entry:
“I feel happiness that we’ve admitted it* to each other. But I also feel guilty of making a promise that I can’t keep. Oh, but how I want to keep it. (He has beautiful bright blue eyes. I’m kind of crazy about them.)"
*It- our feelings for each other.
I had forgotten about that entry. I had completely forgotten how well I could predict the future. He had dulled my senses, made me forget all the painful things from my past that although I didn’t want to remember, I needed to remember. It made me who I was. But because he was so good at making me forget, I ignored myself. I ignored my gut feeling that it would never work with him. I ignored my all-knowing power that impending doom was upon me.
But The Runner became mine.Last edited by
Medusa72 on Mon Nov 13, 2017 11:55 am, edited 9 times in total.
i will not sit downdid you ever make it out of that town
i will not shut up where nothin ever happened
rivers and roads, rivers and roadsour love ain't nothin but a monster
rivers till i reach youour love ain't nothin but a monster with two heads
