by Wesley Banks
“Wait, did you really, but you just don’t want to say it out loud because of Emma?” Nikki whispered. “Okay, blink twice if you slept with him.”
Casey stared blankly at Nikki.
“You’re killing me,” Nikki said. “Can you just tell me what happened?”
Casey hesitated. “He picked me up.”
“He picked you up? Like in his car?”
“No. Like he physically picked me up.”
“Casey, I love you, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Casey sat down on the bed next to Nikki, her left leg folded under her and her right leg hanging off the side. She breathed in deeply. “We were standing at the front door and I was saying goodbye to Ben. We started kissing and the next thing I know my back is against the door, my legs are wrapped around his waist, and his tongue, oh my gosh.” Casey breathed out deeply. “I’ve never been kissed like that in my entire life.”
Nikki looked at Casey, but didn’t say a word.
“What?” Casey said. “Is that bad?”
“That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
35
When He Runs
April 18, 2015
Four days later and Casey still couldn’t stop smiling as she walked up the bleacher stairs, each step echoing through the aluminum truss below her. Emma’s left hand was wrapped around several of Casey’s fingers, while her right was busy holding two scoops of vanilla ice cream in an old-fashioned wafer cone.
This was the last home meet of the season, and the stadium was absolutely packed. It was the only thing Ben had talked about all week long. Next weekend was their last away meet at LSU, three weeks after that were the Southeastern Conference Championships, and four weeks after that was the NCAA Championship. The schedule was pretty much burned into her head considering how long Ben spent talking about each race. At first it seemed as though he may just be talking off his nerves, but then Casey realized this wasn’t nerves at all. This was something that was completely and utterly consuming him, and it kind of scared her in some sense.
Casey and Emma finally found a seat at the top of the bleachers just below a huge banner reading “Tom Jones Memorial Invitational.” Casey had no idea who Tom Jones was, but she assumed pretty much no one else did either.
As they sat down, she scanned the field for Ben. Even though she’d been working twelve to fifteen hour days all week, they still managed to see each other or talk every day except Friday.
On Tuesday Casey got stuck at the hospital because the next shift resident was an hour late. She hadn’t heard from Ben all day, and was surprised when she got in bed to find her phone ringing through with a video call. She was in pajamas with no makeup and bags under eyes, and yet the first thing he said when she accepted the call was, “you’re beautiful.” It wasn’t just what he said though, it was the smile he said it with.
Wednesday night he came over for dinner and she made her world famous macaroni and cheese, which was really just macaroni noodles, cheese, butter, and milk. It was Emma’s favorite though, and the blue flower he brought her made it unforgettable.
They didn’t see each other on Thursday, because she got called back in to the hospital. But he texted her in the middle of the night, which was only a few hours into her shift. Fifteen minutes later she had found herself hiding in the break room, having the hottest text conversation she’d ever had.
Casey started to feel guilty about that night and the thoughts she was having right now. Not counting 8 Seconds, even though he did kiss her that night, they’d only been on three dates and yet she was nervous what might happen when the opportunity came up for more than a kiss. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for them to be alone…yet.
Casey looked down at Emma, who was literally covered in ice cream. Lines of dried vanilla ran down her fingers and around her mouth. There was even some in her hair. Casey grabbed a brown paper napkin from her pocket and wiped away the ice cream clinging to her hair behind her ear.
“Look, Mom.” Emma pointed towards the left side of the infield. “It’s Ben, it’s Ben,” she said, nearly dropping what was left of her ice cream.
Casey looked up to see Ben walking along side Parker. They were both wearing all blue. Blue tank tops with the word “Florida” in white writing on the center, blue breakaway sweat pants half buttoned down the sides, and even blue Nike sandals.
They walked across the infield for a few minutes, talking, and then Ben split away from Parker. He pulled his sweat pants off, revealing a pair of blue nylon shorts that she had seen on him before, and set them on top of a duffel bag. And then he slipped his sandals off and walked along the infield grass flexing his feet and ankles.
After several minutes Ben sat down next to his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of blue Nike shoes. He bent them each twice in his hand revealing a layer of thick black rubber under the minimalist running shoe. Then he slowly slipped them on and laced them up. The way he examined the laces reminded Casey of how she was taught to examine patients, never letting a single detail go unmissed.
She watched him stretch out and loosen up for the next ten minutes, while also trying to will him to look up at her. She had worn a pair of khaki capris with a drawstring at the bottom and a light blue tank top with spaghetti string straps that was probably a little too revealing, but that was the whole point.
He never looked up towards the stands, though. Not once.
The loudspeaker boomed overhead calling attention to all the runners participating in the 5000 meter. Casey watched as all the runners began to line up. Just beyond them she noticed the scoreboard change. In the upper left hand corner it read:
Event: 21 Heat: 1
And just below that:
Lane 1: Collins, UF
Lane 2, Morrie, FAMU
Lane 3: Wilder, UF
Lane 4: Zwiacz, TAMPA
Lane 5: Swartz, TAMPA
Lane 6: Fuentes, FIU
Lane 7: Fellows, N. FLORIDA
Lane 8: Sanders, UF
Lane 9: Blunden, N. FLORIDA
Lane 10: Gomes, FIU
Casey looked back down to lane three where Ben was standing. She saw him look over to Parker, and Parker nodded.
The starter gun was louder than she anticipated and she blinked involuntarily. But after that Casey never took her eyes off Ben again.
Casey could hear Ben’s voice in her head as they ran. “The 5000 meter race is just over three miles, which equates to twelve laps around the track.” The first few laps mean nothing. Everyone is just settling in, trying to figure out if their pre-race strategy is actually going to work. Can they sit back, can they break from the pack early, can they get to the inside, and so on.”
Ben had settled towards the middle of the pack, directly behind Parker.
“Laps four through eight are what Parker and I like to call the girl fight. It’s literally like a bunch of girls poking, elbowing, and kicking their way into position. This part of the race takes a lot of patience.”
Casey watched as all the runners crossed over into seven. She wondered what Ben thought about in those middle laps when he’s alone out there on the track.
“Lap ten is where the fun begins. At this point there are only three laps left. Leaving the pack too early or too late could cost you the race. You’ve got to know not only the pace of the pack, but just how much you have left in the tank.”
Towards the end of lap ten Ben made his first move. Parker pushed his way one lane to the left and Ben ran up the inside to the leading pack of three that was now four.
“Lap eleven is the toughest lap of the race. Everyone thinks the last lap wins the race, and that may be so, but the hardest lap is the second to last. During the final lap you’ll have enough energy for one, maybe two moves if you’re lucky. So lap eleven is the setup lap. You have to set yourself up to win the race in lap eleven.”
Ben and a runner from North Florida were stride for stride behin
d the leader going into lap twelve. Parker was in another group of three battling for fourth, and the rest were about ten feet behind.
“Lap eleven is the magic lap. I know I said that you only have enough energy and time for one, maybe two moves. But the truth is anything can happen in the final lap.”
At the first turn of the final lap everything changed. One of the guys running besides Parker made a push towards the front, passing Ben on the inside and running stride for stride with the same runner who led the entire race.
For a moment Casey thought that was it. This is how it was going to end. Ben was going to end up third and she was a bad luck charm.
That’s when the magic began. Ben moved towards the outside lane, running alongside the two leaders. For a moment he didn’t make another move, and it just looked like he was happy to be free from being trapped behind the entire race. Then he took off.
By the halfway mark he was matching the leaders stride for stride. At turn three he passed the leader and tucked back into the inside lane. By turn four all Casey saw was Ben. He was ten feet or more in front of the second and third place runners, but he didn’t relent.
With each step he was picking up speed. His quads flexed forcefully above his knee each time his foot hit the track, and his arms pumped fiercely, cutting through the wind in front of him.
The crowd was chanting his name. “Ben-son! Ben-son! Ben-son!” Feet were pounding in unison on the bleachers and hands were shaking the fence down below.
People were looking from the runners, to the scoreboard, and back to the runners wondering if Benson Wilder would break another record. But Casey was only looking at one thing: his eyes.
They were locked on something distant. Something beyond the finish. Something he was trying to barrel through like a freight train with no passenger stops, only concerned with the final destination. It was a look Casey had never seen from Ben before. A look that scared her.
Ben crossed the finish line seconds later and it all ended just as fast as it had begun. He came to a stop at about the midpoint of the bleachers directly in line with where she was sitting, bent over and rested his hands on his knees. She watched the incessant rise and fall of his chest and back as he gasped for air.
Then he looked up at her and the only thing she could think is it felt like he was one person with her and an entirely different person when he runs.
36
Secrets
April 18, 2015
After the race Casey and Emma waited outside the front doors of the athletic facility for Ben. Emma climbed up on the silver tube railing and Casey stood behind her, making sure she didn’t fall.
A few minutes later Ben walked through the doors, wearing a pair of longer mesh blue shorts, a gray UF Track & Field tank top, and a different pair of blue Nike shoes.
He started to walk over to them, but before he could move a slender brunette woman called his name. “Ben.”
Ben turned around blocking the woman’s view from Casey. “I told you, not now.”
Casey couldn’t see the woman’s face from where she was standing, but she could hear the frustration in the woman’s voice. “Ben I’ve given you as much time as I can. The story is running on Sunday, with or without your comment.”
Ben stared at the lady for a moment, but didn’t say another word. As he turned to walk towards Casey the woman glanced her way, and then over to Emma. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, typed something quickly, and of all things took a picture of Ben walking away. Then she pulled open the door and disappeared.
Before Casey could say anything, Emma blurted out, “Did you win?”
Casey smiled, “Honey, we just watched him win.”
“I know,” Emma said. “But I just wanted to make sure.”
Ben strained a smile and Casey knew something was wrong. “I did win,” he said with a wink.
“Can we go play on the field?” Emma asked.
Casey looked up at Ben and back to Emma. “Maybe next time,” she said.
“But mom, you said—” Emma pouted.
“Emma,” Casey said, silencing her.
They started walking down the concrete ramp towards the parking lot. Emma walked several feet ahead, tapping the metal railing as she hummed to herself.
“Thanks for coming,” Ben said.
“And miss a chance to see the great Benson Wilder?” Casey joked.
Ben tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace to Casey.
When they reached the parking lot, Casey walked over to the passenger side and unlocked the door for Emma. After she sat down, she reached across and pulled her seat belt across her. “I’m going to go say goodbye to Mr. Ben. You sit right here, okay?” Casey pulled out her phone and handed it to Emma. “You can play Angry Birds if you want.”
“Can I play Panda Pop?” Emma said excitedly?
Casey kissed Emma on the forehead. “You sure can.”
Casey left the door open halfway and walked over to Ben, who was leaning against the back of his truck. She noticed his demeanor had eased a bit not bothering to hide the fact that his eyes were clinging tightly to her body moving up from the hemline of her capris. They left her waist and moved over her blouse as it slinked against her skin in the wind. She knew that Emma might be watching so she had to be careful, but she wanted to try and cheer up whatever was bothering Ben.
When she was within a few feet, Ben pushed off the back of the truck. She stepped her right leg between both of his, however, forcing him back against it. His hands instinctively went to her waist as she pressed her lips against his. She opened her mouth slightly and for a split second let his tongue play with hers.
She wanted more than a goodbye kiss. She wanted him to unlatch the tailgate and lift her up on it. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and run her fingers through his hair as he kissed softly down her neck. Her heart was already racing, but she would have to wait for all of that.
She pressed both of her hands against his chest and spun away so that they were both leaning their backs against the truck side by side.
“Wow,” Ben whispered, slightly dazed by what just happened. He turned around and leaned his elbows against the top rail of the truck bed and lifted his foot to rest on the back tire.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he started.
Casey’s smile faded. That was not exactly the response she wanted to hear. Did she just do something wrong? Her mind was already jumping to a hundred different conclusions. Who starts a sentence like that? Of course I’m going to take it the wrong way now.
“I can’t see you for a little bit.”
Casey’s thoughts raced back to the woman that had followed Ben out of the locker room, and to just before that when he finished the race. Something had been off with him since she first saw him today, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there.
“Just for a week,” he said, quickly turning to face her. “Final exams are this week, and our last meet before regionals is next Saturday.”
Ben grabbed both of her hands and pulled her back in front of him. “I want to see you more than anything, but I can’t afford to be here without my scholarship, so I have to make sure my finals go well. And Coach gave us a big speech about not losing focus now that the season is almost over. Spring semester ends in a week and the break in our normal routine before regionals can be serious if we don’t stay focused. I just need to get through this week, and then I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
What Ben said made sense. Casey could remember back to final exams, and they sucked. And she could understand his need to focus. That’s not what bothered her. What bothered her is that when she looked back at him, he still had the same look as before. Like he was telling her the truth, just not the full truth.
Casey thought about it for a moment and regardless of whether or not this was a good time to ask, she asked anyways. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Ben looked down as he ran his thumbs
over the back of her hands. She could feel the subtle callouses move nervously across her skin.
Casey squeezed his hands lightly. “Ben,” she said. “What is it? Is it something to do with that lady after the race?”
He didn’t respond.
“Did I do something?” Casey asked.
“No,” Ben said immediately. “You,” he said looking up at her, “are perfect.”
“Then what? I know you’re keeping something from me. It’s not just from today. Ever since the first time we went out you’ve held some part of yourself back. I pushed it aside thinking you’d tell me when you’re ready. But…”
“I want to tell you, Casey.”
“Then tell me.”
Ben breathed in deeply and exhaled. “That lady you saw earlier. She’s a journalist. She wants to do a piece on me.”
Casey didn’t understand. “Okay, isn’t that good?”
Ben looked over to the car where Emma was sitting. “It’s not just about me.”
Casey smiled, “Don’t tell me they’re going to include Parker.”
“No,” Ben said. “Amanda and Grace.”
Casey thought about the names for a minute, but they didn’t ring a bell. “Are they on the track team?”
Ben shook his head no. He barely got the next words out. “They were my wife and daughter.”
37
Too Hard
April 22, 2015
It was Wednesday afternoon and practice had just ended. Ben sat in Coach Melvick’s office with a towel around his neck. Sweat was still dripping off him turning parts of the chair a darker shade of blue.
“Do you remember the conversation we had when you first got here?” Coach Melvick said.
Ben thought back to last August. He remembered the conversation like it was yesterday, but he didn’t respond to Coach.
“I told you if I ever thought you couldn’t handle this I’d yank your ass off this team quicker than a chicken on a June Bug.”