by Susan Soares
“Yeah, we can.” He looked to the grave marker one last time. “I’ll see ya, kiddo.” With an arm still wrapped around me, we walked back to his car. I felt my feet heavy with each step. And I hoped that everything would soon feel lighter.
****
Anxiety and anticipation started to swell inside me the closer we got to my house. I knew it would be hard to tell Brandon about my mom, but the time had come. He had bared so much of himself to me: who he was, who his family was. Now I needed to do the same for him. I couldn’t live my entire life in the shadow of my mother’s death. It was time to step into the light. Even though I was scared, I felt ready. Mostly scared, but a little bit ready.
We walked hand in hand up my walkway. At the front door, I stopped and kissed him. He moved a stray hair from my face to behind my ear. My stomach flip-flopped as I kissed him again. Inside the house, we walked into the living room. Marc was sitting in the recliner, eating a bowl of cereal while watching sports on TV.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, is Gram here?” I almost forgot about her return from the hospital.
Marc slurped up some milk from his bowl. “Yeah, she’s in her room taking a nap.” He wiped some milk from his chin. “You guys wanna watch a movie or something?”
“Do we?” Brandon asked me.
I had to get the big reveal off my chest. It felt like an elephant crushing my lungs. “Maybe later,” I said to Marc. To Brandon I said, “Could you, like, wait one minute while I go grab something?”
“Sure.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll force myself to sit on this comfy couch here and watch sports highlights.”
“My man.” Marc said as the two high-fived.
Boys are weird. I raced up the stairs and flung the door open to my room. Piles of papers had infiltrated my desk, and I rummaged through them searching for the pamphlet about the breast cancer run. Notes from algebra class and articles from a beauty magazine were all I could find. Where was it? I scanned my room. It was a mess in here. Then I spotted something bright pink on my night table. I grabbed the pamphlet and held it to my chest. “You can do this.” I tried to pump myself up. After closing my bedroom door behind me, I walked quietly down the hall to Gram’s room. The door was ajar, and I poked my head inside. She was sound asleep. Her coloring was good, and she was wearing her favorite burgundy pajamas. Trying to be quiet, I tiptoed inside and kissed her on her forehead. She was warm, and she smelled like orchids. A wave of normalcy washed over me. All at once I felt like everything was going to be all right.
I was almost at the bottom of the stairs when I heard them talking from the other side of the wall.
I heard Brandon say. “Wow, she’s so beautiful.” Aw, he meant me, didn’t he?
“Yeah, she was the best mom ever, too.” Marc’s voice sounded heavy.
What was going on? I walked in what felt like slow motion into the room. They were standing in front of the mantle, and their backs were to me, but I could see Marc holding the frame that held the last family photo we took together. Mom looked stunning in a peacock blue wrap dress.
“What do you mean was?” Brandon said, obviously confused.
I stood there like a mute. And I was watching it happen, but like in a horrible nightmare, I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“Yeah, it was tough on all of us when she died.”
“Died?”
“Cancer. Stupid, life-sucking cancer, man.” Marc placed the frame back on the mantle. “Oh hey, Marissa.” He said after he noticed me standing there.
Brandon’s eyes met mine. I noticed they looked glassy and distraught. He marched over to me.
“Brandon,” was all I could get out before he cut me off.
“Your mom died?”
“Brandon—”
“When were you going to tell me this?” There was hurt and anger in his words, and his entire body was tensed up like a statue.
“Please, just let me explain.” I reached for his arm, but before I could touch him, he pulled away and booked it for the front door. No, no, no! “Wait!” I yelled so loudly that I probably woke up Gram. Then I raced after him much in the same way I had raced after him only a day before when he didn’t know who Marc was. He kept saying the word “unbelievable” over and over again. I tried to throw myself in front of his car door again, but this time he physically moved me to the side.
“Never in my life Marissa has anyone ever put one over on me like this.” His face was beet red. “You must think I’m a big idiot. Some idiot who can’t relate.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Seriously, Marissa? I brought you to my brother’s grave today!”
As he threw himself down into the driver’s seat, I tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. I watched him slam his car door shut and drive away. In the driveway, I stood, still holding the pamphlet in my hands. Only now, it had begun to wrinkle as my tears fell from my face onto the bright pink paper. The one person who could have understood how I was feeling had just gotten in his car and left me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thursday, I went to school. Brandon wasn’t there. He didn’t answer his phone when I called, and he didn’t reply to my texts. I went through my classes in a fog. Zoe told me about how things were going with her and Rob from Freshly Made. Apparently, he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Good for her. Some people are just made for relationships, and others aren’t. Recent events had proven that I wasn’t.
Friday, my stomach felt like I had eaten a box of nails when I thought I saw Brandon walking down the halls at lunchtime. It wasn’t him. Again, he didn’t answer any of my attempts to communicate with him. I couldn’t blame him, though. I’d come to the conclusion that he probably never wanted to see me again. I just wanted the chance to explain, which sounded so stupid, because how do you explain being a coward?
Friday night, I decided I at least needed to get some stuff off my chest. If he wouldn’t talk to me, I could leave him a message. And then maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to, at least, talk to me. Maybe… eventually.
“This is Brandon, leave a message.” His voice sounded smooth and sweet.
The beep went off, and when I tried to speak, only a squeaking sound came out at first. I cleared my throat. “Brandon. Hey. I know you’re ignoring me, and that’s cool. I mean, I get it. I would ignore me, too, if I were you. But I just had to say some stuff. That day at my house, I was going to tell you all about my mom. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I was. See, I’m doing this race tomorrow, a 10K, just over six miles, at Ridgemont High School, it’s to benefit breast cancer. And it’s like the first time I’ve been willing to come out to people about my life. But I wanted to start with you. Brandon, listen, I admire you so much, how you’ve been able to deal with Bobby’s death, and I wish I could have been like that, been open about my mom and stuff. But, for the past year, all I’ve done is deny it. It hurt too much to deal with.” I wiped away some tears. “But I’m finally ready Brandon, because of you, your strength, your ability to live your life for Bobby, in honor of Bobby. I want to do that Brandon, for me. And for my mom. I hope one day you can forgive me. I miss you.” I hung up.
The phone fell from my limp hand and onto my bed. From under my pillow, I took the photo of my mom and me at my thirteenth birthday party. We had smudged birthday cake on each other’s faces. Both of our smiles were bright and beaming. I wanted to smile like that again someday. Tomorrow was a new day. Every day was a new day.
****
“Are you sure you stretched enough?” Gram said as she pinned my race number onto my back.
“I’m sure, Gram.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for you to break through the tape at the end!” Zoe bounced excitedly.
“Zoe, that’s only for first place. I will not be in first place.” I took one last sip of water.
“Yeah, maybe second.” Marc winked at me.
Gram hugged me tightly. “Marc has it set up so we’ll get a
text on his phone of where you are during the race. So maybe we can yell for you at a few of the mile markers.” Then she whispered in my ear. “She’d be so proud of you.”
She and Marc left, and I took some deep breaths. I didn’t want to start crying right before the race. You can’t run if you’re blinded by tears.
“So,” Zoe began. “Did he call you? Text you?”
I shook my head. I didn’t expect my voicemail to suddenly make Brandon forgive me. I just hoped it would be a start. A voice came over the loudspeakers. “All runners please make your way to the starting line.”
Zoe blew me a kiss and trotted off. I stretched out my quads again and did a quick check of my heart rate. Energy was buzzing all around me. I thought again about Brandon, wondering what he was doing today. If he was thinking of me, if he’d ever forgive me. I closed my eyes and wished that he could feel the words “I’m sorry” that I silently mouthed.
A stranger, who was wearing one of the T-shirts marked for volunteers, patted me on the back and said, “Good luck,” as she walked toward the starting line. Luck had nothing to do with it, I thought. It took a long time for me to get here, for me to be able to stand here amongst all these other people, for me to allow others to know this part of me. Six point two miles would be easy enough for me to run. Running wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was over. I’d finally accepted the fact that my mother died of breast cancer, and I didn’t need to hide that anymore. Before walking to the runners corral, I took one last deep inhalation, looked up to the Heavens and whispered, “This one’s for you, Mom.”
I was stretching out my hamstrings when I heard a group of girls call my name. As I turned, I saw all the girls from my former track team jogging up to me.
“You came!” Shay squealed and hugged me.
I went through the rounds of giving hugs to everyone.
“Glad to see you here, Marissa.” Coach Moore said. “Remember to watch your footing.” She winked at me.
“I will.” A wave of familiarity washed over me. “Coach Moore, can I talk to you for a second.”
“Sure.” She walked me over to the sidelines.
“I just wanted to thank you for getting donations and stuff for this. I appreciate it.” I kicked some pebbles on the ground.
Coach Moore put her hand on my shoulder. “We do miss you on the team, Marissa. It will be nice to see you girls running together again today.”
“Oh, about that, would you mind if I kind of did this run solo?” My stomach twisted a little. “Not that I don’t want to be part of the team; I just, I don’t know, I just kind of want to do this run on my own.”
Coach Moore’s eyes looked glassy. She bent down to my ear and whispered, “She’s always with you, Marissa.” As she pulled away, I watched her wipe a tear from her eye.
I choked back my own tears and gave her a nod. Then I watched her walk back to my team, and I took my place as a solo runner. One day I’d be part of that team again, but today was about me and my mom.
I ended up somewhere in the middle of the pack, surrounded by a sea of women wearing pink. A girl next to me had put on a pair of angel wings. She noticed me staring. Her smile was bright and genuine.
“I’m running for my aunt. Are you running for someone?” she asked.
Without hesitation, I replied. “My mom.”
“Good for you.” She gently squeezed my shoulder and then started stretching out her calf muscles.
That wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it’d be. I was running for my mom. In honor of my mom. I looked up to the sky. It was bright blue and scattered with fat, fluffy clouds. The sun beamed down on us, and I felt a bit lighter.
As the race began, I felt free and strong. Some runners passed me and others dropped behind me, but I felt comfortable with my stride. There weren’t many people on the street — until we turned a corner just before the first mile maker. The cheers from the crowd were exhilarating. I wondered if I’d see my family. Then I heard Zoe and Marc screaming for me. As I scanned the crowd, searching for their faces, I spotted them just as I crossed the first mile. Then something odd happened. Just after the marker I saw a sign that read, Go Marissa! It was written on a large poster board that had been nailed to a tree on the sidelines. Marc, maybe? But I didn’t see him with any sign earlier. Maybe it wasn’t even for me. It’s not like I’m the only Marissa in the world. But it was a pretty small group of people out running today. Whatever, it probably wasn’t for me. It was kind of cool, though.
We crossed through mile two, and I didn’t hear anyone cheering for me, and there weren’t any mystery signs being displayed for me. I assumed that my family had gone to the finish line to wait for me there.
I checked my pace — just above my average time — and I felt good. My heart felt strong, and my mind felt clear. It was comforting to be running with all these women. Mothers, daughters, friends, survivors, fighters, a diverse group of strong women, all bonded together for the cause. My eyes started to tear up, but through my hazy vision I could see the three-mile marker just up ahead. I was focusing on the number three, but then my gaze shifted to a sign someone was holding. Go, Marissa, Go!, it read. I looked from the sign to the face of the person holding it. When I saw Brandon’s face I nearly lost my breath for a moment. As I ran closer I could see he was holding the sign in one hand and his other hand was holding onto a bicycle.
“Go, go, go, Marissa! Yeah!” He shouted as I ran past him.
I was so confused, I started running off the side of the road. Dirt and pebbles kicked up at my ankles, and I redirected my feet back to the pavement. Brandon? Had he forgiven me then? Was he just trying to be nice? Had my family put him up to it?
For the next two miles, all I could replay over and over again in my head were Brandon’s face — his big, vibrant smile — and his homemade sign. And then at mile five, I saw him again.
“Go, Marissa, go!” He screamed, and the sign he held read, I’m here for you! It also had a big pink ribbon drawn on it. I wanted to pull off to the sidelines and kiss him. Even if he was just trying to be nice, and even if we never were going to be boyfriend and girlfriend again, but maybe good friends, I still wanted to kiss him just one more time.
I felt the runners’ high as I hit the last quarter mile. Spectators were on the sidelines cheering us all on.
“You’re almost there!”
“Only a quarter mile to go!”
“Keep at it!”
“Run, run, run!”
My adrenaline was skyrocketing, and I just wanted to finish and grab my phone to call Brandon and thank him. I just prayed that he’d pick up. As I crossed the finish line, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my back. All the pain and self-consciousness I’d been carrying around with me seemed to fall off like rain to a slicker. I wanted to collapse to the ground and thank my mom for helping carry me through. One of the race helpers congratulated me, handed me water, and placed a light pink ribbon around my neck.
Gram, Marc, and Zoe all rushed me at the same time. I wrapped them up in a sweaty hug, and each one of us was crying. As I was squeezing Marc, I looked to my left and saw him.
Brandon crossed slowly to me. I walked toward him with my eyes to the ground. When he stood before me, I was afraid to look up. Then he grabbed me and lifted me up off the ground.
“Marissa, that was amazing!” He set me down, and I saw his face was beaming.
“But I thought you hated me.” I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t help it. There was no longer cause to keep up my guard around him anymore. He knew everything.
“I don’t hate you, Marissa. Believe it or not, I understand you.” He kissed my forehead. “Just think of me as your socks.”
I crinkled my face up. “My socks?”
“Yeah, I’m with you every step of the way.” He grinned.
I burst out laughing. “That is so cheesy!”
He joined me in my laughter. “Yeah, but you smiled.”
I wrapped my ar
ms around him and held on tight as a sea of pink surrounded us. I knew my mom would carry me through each and every day. I would now live for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The first time was always the hardest, and I knew that going in. I felt scared, nervous, and a bit like I might throw up. But I knew I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it so badly.
This was going to be it. I took a few deep, cleansing breaths with my eyes closed. After a few moments, I opened them, and I could see clearly before me. The air was sweet smelling, and I felt my heart begin to pitter-patter. After I made sure my laces were tied, triple knots, I began.
The sidewalk was nice. Much fewer cracks and more level then Fletcher Street. Who would have known Cranville Street was so great for jogging? I came up to the edge of Sacred Path Cemetery, and without a second thought, I kept running. Not holding my breath, not fearing it, just embracing it. I felt light and free, like something, or someone, was helping me. As I dashed past the section where her grave was, I called out, “Morning, Mom.” And in my mind’s eye, my words were a heart-shaped balloon, floating up to her in Heaven.
About the Author
Susan Soares lives in a small town in Massachusetts where she balances writing fiction with raising her three daughters. When she’s not writing she can be found reading, experimenting with photography and planning her next Disney World trip.
Susan recently received her master’s degree in Creative Writing and English from Southern New Hampshire University, and will be pursuing teaching soon. You can follow her on twitter: @susansoares1 and on YouTube: shewritesbooks, and on Facebook: Author Susan Soares.
Also from Astraea Press
Chapter One
September 1985