Running Lean

by Diana L. Sharples

  Crash and burn.

  Calvin tugged his hair. “Just, uh, had a fight with Stacey last night.”

  Lizzie looked at the floor, or at her glittery sandals, Calvin wasn’t sure which.

  Peyton clasped Calvin’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. You’ll kiss and make up soon. If ever I saw two people meant for each other, it’s you and Stacey.”

  Calvin snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. What did y’all fight about?”

  For one second his brain stalled, sending panic racing down his spine. “Um, like … college, and … stuff.”

  Peyton raised one eyebrow. “College? That’s another year away.”

  “Yeah, but she wants to go to fashion design school, and I don’t even know what I want to do yet. So, like, that kind of guarantees we’ll break up, doesn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily,” Peyton said.

  “Maybe,” Lizzie said. “But you’ve still got a year to have fun together.”

  His gaze moved from one girl to the other. He couldn’t keep up this conversation, making up concerns as he went along.

  Peyton rubbed his arm in a parting gesture, making it easy for him. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

  Mom came out dragging Jacob by the hand and carrying crying Emily on her hip. Dad followed with Zachary, who danced at his side, yammering about something. Lizzie led the way out of the church lobby, bounding down the stairs as if leaving school for the start of summer vacation. Calvin paused at the top step to take Jacob’s hand from his mother, easing her burden.

  “I can go by myself,” Jacob protested, pulling away.

  Whatever. Calvin dropped to the back of the pack and plodded along the sidewalk to the parking lot. Dad had parked the family van in the last row, near the neighboring feed store, in almost the last available slot. Calvin shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to think about lunch. An early heat wave radiated off the asphalt and robbed his breath away. How could Stacey possibly have thought it was cold?

  “Hi,” a soft voice said.

  He stopped. Stacey stood beside the van. She’d pulled her hair back and wore a flowery dress that draped loosely past her knees. Cowgirl boots covered the rest of her legs. All covered up and conservative, with her hands folded in front of her and her chin tilted downward.

  Calvin blinked. “Hey.”

  That was how she did it! She covered everything up so it was impossible for anyone to see how skinny she was. All the thick sweaters and denim she’d worn all winter … But if she wanted to be thin, why would she hide her success?

  He and Stacey stared at each other while his family loaded into the van. She smiled a little, but not enough to hide the apology or embarrassment plastered all over her face and shifting stance. Maybe he looked the same way.

  He moved close enough to kiss her, but didn’t. The memories crashed back, and heat rose up the back of his neck.

  Stacey sucked her lips in and lowered her head even more. “I was stupid yesterday. I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

  Something trembled in Calvin’s chest. His hand jerked toward hers but he retracted it. Not ready yet. “Yes. I’m sorry too. I acted like a jerk.”

  She shook her head and sniffed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just a … slut.”

  He sucked air through clenched teeth. Had anyone in his family heard that remark? He glanced past Stacey’s shoulder. Mom backed away from the middle row of the van, where she’d strapped Emily into her car seat. Dad was already behind the wheel.

  Calvin bumped his shoulder against Stacey’s, clasped her elbow, and spoke in a soft growl. “Don’t say that about yourself. Don’t ever say that. Is that what your uncle told you?”

  Stacey pressed a finger joint to the puffy flesh beneath one of her eyes. “Please, let’s not—I feel horrible. You were so angry when you left last night.”

  He sighed. “I wasn’t angry. Just really frustrated.” He glanced at the van again to see how much time he had left. Not much; Lizzie was the last person crawling in through the side door. “Look, I don’t understand everything that’s happening, but we have to find a way to fix this thing. We have to talk and be completely honest with each other.”

  She stroked fingertips down his tie. “You look good, all dressed up.”

  He fought down the exasperation churning again in his chest.

  “Okay. You’re right,” she said. “Things are a little crazy and … maybe I haven’t been eating as much as I should. I want to do better, Calvin. I want to be healthy and—I promise you, I’m okay. I’m stressed out and trying to get over the stuff I didn’t want to tell you about.”

  “Yeah, I know all about trying to get over stuff that hurts. But you’re only hurting yourself more by what you’re doing. You’re hurting us.”

  She tossed her head and looked away. Her hair was held back in a clip, so none of the pink hair showed. Fashion model one day, school librarian the next. Weird.

  “It’s not all my fault, Calvin. Please don’t. Don’t … go there.”

  Calvin blew out his breath and folded his fingers around hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s go somewhere now and talk.”

  “Don’t you have to spend the day with your family?”

  “Ugh. Okay, wait here just a minute.” Leaving Stacey, he went to the driver’s side of the van and leaned against the window his father had already opened. “Dad, is it okay if Stacey gives me a ride home in a while?” His eyes flicked toward Peyton, who sat crowded between Lizzie and Emily’s car seat in the second row of the nine passenger van.

  “We’re meeting Pastor at the Bentley Café today. Stacey can come with us,” Mom said. She turned to shout an order back at the two boys in the rear seat, then flopped back into her seat and exhaled loudly.

  “Follow us to the café,” Dad said. “Y’all can talk in her car.”

  Stacey wouldn’t go. No way. All that heavy country cooking and a room full of people going up for second and third helpings? Wouldn’t happen.

  “Please?”

  Peyton leaned forward to stick her head between the two front seats. “They had an argument,” she said softly. “They need some private time. Let him go.”

  Thank you, Peyton!

  “Mo-om! Zach won’t stop kicking me,” Jacob wailed from the back.

  “He’s putting his foot on my side of the seat,” Zachary protested.

  Mom groaned. “All right, let Calvin go with Stacey. Just—let’s get these kids some lunch so they’ll settle down.”

  “Fine.” Dad pointed a finger at Calvin. “Don’t go in the house with her when no one else is home. Got it, sport?”

  “Dad, I know the rules.” Calvin backed away from the van.

  His father yanked the gearshift lever into reverse and pulled away. Calvin watched the silver van maneuver through the lot and onto the road. He could feel Stacey’s presence behind him as a pressure, like waves of heat off the pavement. He suspected his afternoon would’ve been easier if he’d gone with his family.

  Calvin pivoted slowly toward Stacey. “So … where do you want to go? I’m hungry.” It just popped out, like what any guy would say to a normal girlfriend at the start of a Sunday afternoon together.

  Stacey twisted her fingers together in front of her stomach. “I ate be—”

  “Before you came. Right. I got it.” He tugged his hair. Messing up already, letting his anger and frustration surface. “Sorry …”

  She tilted her head up and blinked in the sunlight. So pale. “I can’t stay out long. I still have some homework to do. Can I just drive you home?”

  That would take all of five minutes, including getting into the car and strapping on their seat belts. She was trying to dodge the issue again. Arguing about why she couldn’t give him more time meant they wouldn’t talk about what was really important. Calvin shrugged. “Sure.”

  They walked to her Honda without holding hands or speaking. Stacey got in the car first
then pushed a button to unlock the passenger door. Calvin plopped into his seat and buckled up.

  Country pop blared from Stacey’s CD player, a crooning song with a sad message.

  It don’t matter to me what all my friends say.

  You’re killing me slowly, but I love you anyway.

  Is that what she’d been listening to on the way to see him at church?

  Stacey snapped it off. She sniffed, and her hands flew over the car’s controls, shifting, turning, accelerating, while she stared ahead and said nothing.

  It’d be up to him to start the conversation, and he didn’t have much time.

  “Stace, I don’t know what to do or say anymore. Seems everything I do is wrong. It’s driving me crazy.” He waited for a reaction, but static tension filled the silence. He plunged onward. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m really worried about you. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you—like, really lose you.”

  Her brow pinched, she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Like, if I don’t do everything right, you might … die.”

  “What? You think I’m suicidal or something?”

  “No. You’re not, are you? No, I mean, I’m trying to understand why you’re doing what you’re doing and what I can do to help you.”

  Her tight grip on the steering wheel looked painful, especially her knuckles poking upward against pale skin. Sick. Not normal. Calvin forced himself to look out the side window. They drove over a narrow concrete bridge crossing Flowers Creek. That little slip of water snaked through the woods for a quarter mile before it marked the southern property line of his family’s farm. They’d reach his driveway in about a minute.

  “Calvin, do you honestly think I’m so stupid that I’ll kill myself?”

  No time for subtleties. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “You are killing yourself day by day. You’re starving yourself right before my eyes.”

  She drove on without responding, but her chin quivered and the car slowed, as if she couldn’t maintain firm pressure on the gas pedal. Before the car reached his driveway, it was crawling along Victory Church Road. A tear traced down Stacey’s cheek and she sniffed.

  Calvin looked away. Her tears would destroy him. “Why?” he said aloud without meaning to.

  “Why what?” Her voice was thick, choked.

  “Why is this happening?”

  Gravel popped beneath the tires as she rolled into the driveway. Sights Calvin had known his entire life pressed in on him, no longer safe and secure, instead telling him he had no time. If he got out of the car, she would leave—he was certain—and then he’d be alone with a hurting heart and no answers.

  He took a deep breath and forced out what had to be said. “It’s got to stop, Stacey. You have to see a doctor. I’m not going to watch you starve yourself to death.”

  “What are you saying? If I don’t do what you want, you’ll break up with me?”

  He squeezed an answer through his tightened throat. “Yes.”

  “Calvin!”

  He clamped his eyes shut. “Yes. I don’t want to break up with you, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t see the truth.” One hot tear leaked onto the bridge of his nose on the wrong side, where she couldn’t see it.

  “Please, no,” she whimpered. “Calvin, I know things are really weird right now, and that’s why I need you. My life … my life is like … spinning out of control. I don’t have control over anything. I need you to … to … be my hero. To be here for me when everything’s crazy.”

  “So you can control me?” he muttered.

  “No! I need something that’s constant and someone who loves me. You said … you said you loved me.”

  The tightness in his throat spread to his chest, his gut, and threatened to crush him from within. If only she could see how he was drowning in his love and his fears. He gasped, as if coming up for air from the bottom of a deep pool. The crushing sensation eased in his chest but moved at once to his sinuses. “I can’t …”

  “I need you to love me,” Stacey squeaked.

  “I do! That’s why this is killing me.” He sniffed, cracked open his eyes, and turned his face to her. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Though her cheeks were soaked with tears, she reached up to touch his. “You’re the only good thing in my life. Don’t—” She choked. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Then please, go to the doctor. Please. Do it for me.”

  Stacey lowered her head, and a tear fell onto the gearshift lever. She nodded. She nodded! A shuddering sigh escaped Calvin, and he clasped her head in both his hands. As he lifted her face to kiss her, she whispered, “I’ll try.”

  He kissed her anyway, though those two simple words dug a trench through his brain. She’d try. What did that mean? All she had to do was make an appointment, get in the car, and drive there. Easy. The choice was either doing or not doing. What was there to “try”?

  Stacey flung her arms around him, and her soft lips moved against his, caressing away his dark thoughts. Calvin’s fingers jammed against the plastic clip in her hair. He tugged it free and let it fall so he could tangle the locks in his hands. He kissed her as if it were the last time.

  The bizarre thought tightened his chest again. He came up for air and rolled into his seat.

  They held hands, staring at each other. Calvin couldn’t smile, and Stacey didn’t either. Her promise to “try” hung between them like smoke from a blown-out candle, seen and smelled but without substance he could hold on to. It forced an unspoken promise of his own, that he would wait, taking no further action, until she fulfilled her part or walked away from it. In the end, Stacey was in control.

  The tightness in his chest sent tension down his limbs. He clenched his jaw, not really seeing Stacey’s face anymore. Sticking with her didn’t make him a hero, it made him a slave. “Ouch. Calvin, you’re squeezing too tight.” He let go of her hand and reached for the door handle. “I’ve got homework too. Probably just as well I didn’t go with my family. The house will be quiet for a while.”

  “I love you,” she said as he opened the door.

  Calvin hesitated, exhaled, and said, “Love you too, Stace.”

  You’re killing me slowly, but I love you anyway.

  He propelled himself out of the car and swung the door shut, stepping back off the gravel as Stacey put the car into reverse. Calvin stared at his scuffed brown dress shoes until he could no longer hear the sound of the Honda’s engine.

  … but I love you anyway …

  No way he’d be able to study. The quiet of the house would only make the pathetic song that had invaded his thoughts echo louder. He had to do something to drive all the worries and anger away, if only for a few moments. He had to find himself again.

  Calvin ran up the front steps of the house and found a key beneath a decorative planter filled with dirt and nothing else. He let himself in, allowing the screen door to slap behind him. He had his tie off before he reached the steps leading to the bedrooms, and tugged his dress shirt out of his pants as he thundered up to his room. You’re killing me slowly, killing me slowly … Calvin stripped out of his church clothes and pulled on a T-shirt and thick jeans. He yanked on the hiking boots he used for riding, then took the stairs back down two at a time.

  The ring-ding song of the Yamaha’s engine drove the annoying tune out of Calvin’s head soon enough. He followed the service road around the cotton field, then cut into the woods, passing the place where he’d busted his throttle cable what seemed like months ago.

  No memories. No worries or anger or remembrances of Stacey’s kiss in the night. He wanted to feel nothing but the rumble and surge of the motorcycle beneath him and the cool, woodsy air battering his face.

  The uneven trail was a challenging ride. Calvin poured himself into it, let the rocks and the short, steep ridges beat his body and push his endurance. Like an old friend, the bike would not betray him or demand its own way. Their goals were
the same. He followed the trail to the border of the Greenlee property, splashed through shallow Flowers Creek, and headed into government-owned land bordering the Tar River. Here the trail was crowded with bushes and vines. Calvin slowed down, carefully picking his way through. He had a destination: a small clearing at the side of the river that was sheltered, quiet, and secluded. He and Tyler had discovered it and had camped there last summer. The mosquitoes had been unbearable.

  But nobody would find him there.

  Calvin found a relatively flat spot and cut the Yamaha’s engine. He set the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat. The sound of rippling water and a breeze in the leaves gently drowned out the ringing in Calvin’s ears and the echoes of a song he now hated. He sat cross-legged at the top of a ridge that fell down to the river’s edge, and pinched a chunk of papery bark off a birch tree. Sunlight sparkling on the water dazzled his eyes. He mindlessly toyed with the bark while his heart reached for some kind of peace … but couldn’t find it.

  He was supposed to pray at times like this. Pain clamped down on his heart again.

  “God …” Desperate, hurting, frightened, confused, angry. What could he say? “Please. I don’t know what to do. Show me what to do.”

  Taking deep, desperate breaths to ease the pain in his chest, Calvin looked at the sky and grimaced—the prayer felt meaningless, like all the words he’d used trying to save Stacey from herself.

  Chapter 22

  Calvin’s Facebook message dimmed as Stacey’s computer shifted to sleep mode. Cradling the laptop in a nest made of her quilt and her crossed legs, she flicked her finger across the touchpad to make the screen go bright again.

  Weary from a third day battling the flu, Stacey tugged at her lower lip and jiggled her foot to keep herself from falling into sleep mode again.

  Though she’d read Calvin’s message nine times, she was no closer to giving him an answer. It didn’t seem like he really wanted one. Stacey stretched out her cramped legs. When her computer settled into the new position, she read the message one more time.

  Hey, Stace. Hope you’re feeling better. I’m at Tyler’s house right now. Can you believe there’s only three weeks left of school? Anyway, we were talking about our camping trip. Here’s a link to a website that has pictures of Badin Lake. It’s going to be so cool. You’re coming back to school tomorrow, right? I’ll see you there. Love you. Cal.