by Mina McShady
Nasty rolled her eyes. “So then why is he staying with you? And for how long?”
Jennifer paused and studied her hands. “I don’t really know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.” Jennifer shook her head, still confused at the weird way events had unfolded.
When Helen dropped her off at her apartment after the world’s most awkward drive, Eli followed her. She didn’t even notice him until she started to unlock her door. It was just so unexpected. So she didn’t say anything when he entered her apartment and deposited himself onto her lumpy futon as if he belonged there. Not sure what to do, Jennifer fed Wretch and made Eli a cup of chamomile tea. When she was done, she crept into the bedroom, curious what Eli was doing. She set the tea on the milk crate that served as her nightstand and lightly touched his shoulder. He was asleep.
Figuring that he was just taking a nap, Jennifer let him sleep as she moved quietly around the apartment, picking clothes off the floor, wiping down surfaces at random, and throwing out the science experiments incubating in the refrigerator. Jennifer hadn’t been expecting guests, and she was horrified that someone had actually seen her apartment in its most primordial state. When he finally woke up, he didn’t seem to know where he was. But he smiled lazily at Jennifer and asked her where the television was, because he wanted to see the news.
Jennifer, who had been on the verge of buying a television for years, relayed what, for Eli, was unfortunate news. No television. No stereo system. No high speed Internet connection. No iPods. Upon realizing that Jennifer was mostly oblivious to her lack of good-housekeeping and essential possessions, Eli sighed and asked Jennifer if she had any wine, which, it turns out, she did. So they spent the evening drinking cheap wine and eating a large takeout pizza that Eli had ordered in. They joked and laughed and finally found themselves in bed.
But, somehow, they didn’t exchange any real information. Jennifer hadn’t wanted to make Eli feel unwelcome by asking him how long he was going to stay, because she felt that it was partly her fault he couldn’t go home, and because looking at him filled her with a liquid, golden warmth. And Eli never spoke of his feelings or his future plans, because he simply didn’t know. Since Helen’s breakdown, he had feared looking too closely at the future or the past, which meant living stubbornly in the present, using his minute-by-minute thoughts and desires as a compass.
“Do you think you could love him someday?” asked Nasty, clearing her throat and wondering why Jennifer, who was normally straightforward almost to a fault was being so evasive. She was just slightly ashamed that she was probably going to enjoy this intrigue that was so bad for her friend.
-Eli Hawthorne-
Eli was running slowly and aimlessly because he literally did not have a plan. Hell had managed his running schedule, giving him neatly printed little forms each week noting the mileage, intensity, and purpose of each workout. Because he’d been too scared to call Hell, he didn’t have his schedule. He hadn’t even been able to work up the nerve to call Coach, who jokingly referred to Hell as his “partner in crime.”
But the lack of a training schedule was really just an excuse. Eli was afraid that somehow he’d gotten himself seriously out of shape. The realization had been creeping up on him for at least a few days. A vaguely hung over feeling—headache, dry mouth, sour stomach—seemed to accompany all his attempts to run. Some of that was because he really was sort of hung over all the time from his nights with Jennifer, which were still entertaining, although he could foresee the day when they would run out of things to say. But another part of it was a spiritual malaise that he associated with his confusing circumstances.
Although Eli was, for all intents and purposes, living with Jennifer, he couldn’t necessarily say that he was “in love” with her. Further complicating matters was his acute awareness that he had left Bob Robertson’s with no money in his pocket. In fact, Eli had no cash reserves whatsoever. Hell had bought him clothes and running shoes as “presents” and doled out forty dollars of “grocery money” for every twenty dollars of actual food and toiletries he was expected to bring home. For a small slice of time he’d thought that getting caught by Helen had at least brought him independence. But now he had no illusions. He laughed and joked with Jennifer and went out of his way to please her in bed, but he cringed every time she bought wine and takeout food for the two of them, feeling like a parasite, yet praying that she wouldn’t ask him to pay his share.
It made Eli feel marginally better to tell himself that he might fall in love with Jennifer, given enough time, without entirely discounting the possibility that he could still be in love with Hell. It helped that Jennifer seemed inclined to drift along without asking too many questions. He tried to imagine Hell in Jennifer’s place, just going with the flow without looking too closely at his intentions, and then he chuckled, taking small, staccato gulps of air. Hell was a grand strategist of relationships who prized decisive action over thinking things over. He could envision her boldly declaring her love or throwing him into the street, but not just hanging out, doing nothing.
He wondered if that was what he was missing. As annoying as she could be, Hell had been a force in his life. And without the force to fight or bend to, he was rootless and uncertain, just some guy. He wondered if Jennifer could become a force, too. Maybe, he thought, I should try giving myself some direction. He felt like crap—achy and tired, and his lungs were burning—but he decided to take control of his run. He made a sharp left and started running at top speed up Screw You hill.
-felis concolor-
It was a cloudy day and the predator could not sleep. He missed the warm sunshine that usually turned his out-of-the-way nest of brush and pine needles into a cozy womb. His limbs were stiff and chilly. It was time to move, to seek prey. He stretched, attacked a cluster of leaves that his movement had disturbed, and began traveling along the forest floor. It was early in the day for prey to be active, so he trotted jauntily, enjoying the blend of wild scents in the air and letting his tail wave freely in the light warm breeze.
Then, without warning, he froze. His motion-sensitive predators’ eyes had locked onto something skimming the ground. He compressed his body until it reached maximum tension, and then he sprung, lunging for the killing bite. But when he clamped his jaws together, he found they gripped nothing but air. Confused, he beat his paws on the ground, searching for a prey that had eluded his grasp. He turned around, noticed another small, twitching movement, and lunged again, and again, until he realized that he’d been chasing his tail. He stopped, looked around one last time, and began trotting again, his gait distinctly sheepish.
-Helen Kale-
Helen was running downhill, letting gravity have its way with her. She hadn’t seen another human being all day—the weather was overcast and humid, not good for running—so she was not expecting to see a tall man doubled up on the side of the trail. As she moved down the hill, she could hear him breathing in great long wheezes. She also noticed that the upside down triangle shape of his back was familiar to her, as were his dark, glossy curls. It’s Eli, she thought, and he looks like he pushed himself way, way too hard. Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing speed work this week. Why isn’t he following his training schedule? she wondered.
She briefly considered approaching him, encouraging him to regulate his breathing, and helping him identify what, exactly, was causing him to deviate from the plan that they had so painstakingly worked out almost a year ago. But the stinging sensations on her legs and the sweat in her eyes told her this would be a bad idea. When Helen dreamed of her reunion with Eli, she was always a cosmetically enhanced, thinner, and fresher version of herself emanating a light floral scent. The last thing she wanted to do was to let Eli see her red blotchy face and scabby, crosshatched knees. So she took a deep breath and accelerated, flying down the hill with her eyes trained to spot the rocks and divots eagerly waiting to pull her down.
-felis concolor-
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Something was running. Running fast. And the predator knew of only one thing that liked to run so quickly through the forest—prey! Drawn to the sound and the motion, he exploded into a bounding run.
-Eli Hawthorne-
When he heard the footsteps thud-thud-thudding down from the top of the hill, Eli was dismayed that someone—probably someone from the R&M club—was going to see him sucking wind on the side of the trail. He knew it was his own fault. He had been hoping to prove that he wasn’t really out of shape, that the strange limbo he’d spent with Jennifer had been an early taper, and that he was stronger than ever. But instead of conquering the terrain, the terrain had conquered him. After just ten minutes of all out effort, his muscles had started to ache and the back of his throat felt raw and swollen. He was uncomfortably aware of his struggling lungs and heart, which were flailing around and trying to escape his chest. At last, there was only one possible solution—to stop and let his arid cells fill up on oxygen.
From his vantage point on the hill, he could not actually see the runner who was rapidly closing on his position, but he knew that it was very likely that he himself had already been seen. Although he didn’t relish thought of trading small talk with some R&M club regular, who would actually dissect his tone of voice and body language for some evidence of cruelty or heartbreak, he didn’t want to actually ignore somebody. Gossip-wise, that would be even worse, leading to choruses of “He couldn’t even be bothered to say hi.”
Resigning himself to unwanted conversation, Eli straightened his spine and turned towards the trail. Whoever it was had seriously cranked it up. Now the footfalls blended into each other, like someone was actually sprinting down the hill, which was, in Eli’s opinion, a pretty gnarly endeavor. Then, in an instant, he saw a woman burst through the clump of trees just a few feet up the trail. What the Hell? he thought, as Hell blew by him without waving or nodding or even turning her head.
He watched as she accelerated down the trail just as if something terrible were chasing her. And then, with a small cry, she disappeared from sight.
-felis concolor-
The predator chased the prey. It panicked and fell, releasing an acrid odor of fear that caused the protein receptors on his taste buds to cry out with longing. Immediately sensing his advantage, the predator took a long leap, grasped the prey in his large, powerful paws, and let his teeth slide through the soft flesh of its neck. The prey sunk to the ground easily and inevitably. Whatever it had been before, it was food now.
The predator purred loudly in anticipation of savoring his meal, but he restrained himself from an immediate feast. Instead, he licked some of the blood from the prey’s skin, grasped it by the neck, in the same way that his dimly recalled mother had carried him, and dragged the carcass about a hundred yards into the forest, where it would be less likely to attract attention from dirty scavengers.
-Helen Kale-
Dammit, thought Helen, surveying the damage from her high-speed fall that had left her tangled up like a muddy pretzel. Her hands, which she’d instinctively used to break her fall, were covered with scrapes and moving her left wrist produced a song of pain in a high register. Her legs, especially her right leg, appeared to have been carelessly grated, and mud mixed with blood to create a microbial paradise that made Helen long for the sharp sting of peroxide. Still, nothing was apparently broken, which was a tremendous relief.
The idea of having to be rescued by Eli had horrified her. He might have concluded that saving her life made up for getting caught with Jennifer, that he no longer had to feel guilty or miserable about having betrayed Helen. And Helen didn’t want that. As far as she was concerned, he could feel like shit forever. Or, at least, she hoped he felt heartsick about their breakup. She knew that her exuberant beating of Jennifer significantly reduced the likelihood that Eli still had affectionate feelings for her, but―
Oh my God, thought Helen. A pale brown and white spotted fawn leaped over the trail just ten feet or so behind her. It was almost immediately followed by an oversized golden beige cat that seemed to have paws the size of a man’s hands. The cougar roared and snarled and finally gave way to deeply pitched chirrups and wet smacking noises that might have been the big cat masticating mouthfuls of his awfully cute kill.
Although Helen appreciated nature as much as anyone, she decided that this might be a good time to leave the area. She brought herself into a crouch, and feeling that her legs were basically stable if slightly shaky, she stood up and took a couple of provisional steps. Convinced her injuries were only minor, Helen started down the hill again, easily accelerating from a slow jog to a breakneck descent. For once she wasn’t thinking of Eli; the shock of seeing the mountain lion had wiped all but the most basic thoughts from her brain.
-Eli Hawthorne-
Could that have been a mountain lion? Eli knew that mountain lions cruised the trails around Crawford’s Notch like hungry land sharks, but he’d never heard of anyone actually encountering one. He took a moment to appreciate the rare candid display of nature he’d just witnessed. It was the kind of thing most people only saw on television, or in the zoo. He admired the mountain lion’s fluid movements, the way he’d seemed to practically float over the trail in pursuit of the young deer.
Deer, he thought. Dear. Dear. Hell. He suddenly remembered that Hell had flown by him, streaking down the hill at a pace that seemed incompatible with her low, rounded build. And then she’d made that little yip and disappeared. Although he had seen the mountain lion leap over the path, in the direction of the fleeing fawn, some wild, hyperbolic corner of his brain whispered, What if had been after Hell?
Now, instead of appearing as a majestic representative of nature in all its stark kill or be killed glory, the mountain lion was toothy menace, threatening to sink its long canine’s into Hell’s soft, white flesh. And besides, he thought, what if she fell and sprained her ankle? How will she get out of here? Feeling supercharged with heroic energy, Eli jogged down the hill, looking for Hell.
And soon he saw her, squatting uneasily on the ground. But before Eli could think to cry out and make his presence known, Hell had stretched herself into an upright position and began the remainder of her descent of the hill. Eli considered accelerating and chasing her down. It would be easy, he thought, because Hell is as slow as an elderly tortoise. But he decided against it. For all he knew, Hell had heard him jogging down the trail behind her and fled, too hurt, angry, or confused to see him right now. And, he had to admit, if he’d actually found her collapsed on the trail, too injured to proceed alone, he didn’t have a clue what he would have said to her.
Eli also pondered another possibility. Maybe Hell was avoiding him out spite. Maybe she’d rather be eaten by a mountain lion or die of thirst than accept help from him. Maybe, he thought, she was just a bitch.
-Jennifer Champion-
Through a series of unfortunate events involving a lit cigarette, an open window, a gusty breeze, and a cup of coffee, Nasty’s living room drapes had managed to catch on fire while Jennifer was attempting to clean the congealed mass of dishes in the kitchen sink. Jennifer had succeeded in dousing the flames, but the curtains—long, off-white flowy things—had been ruined and large patches of soot clung to the ceiling like interlocking inkblots.
Somehow Nasty, who had been uncharacteristically hysterical, had convinced Jennifer not to call a cleaning service and a hospice nurse. Instead, Jennifer herself had been dispatched to WalMart, where she hoped to buy replacement curtains and several hundred dollars worth of cleaning supplies. She was also supposed to buy a case of cigarettes for Nasty, who claimed that they—and gossip, of course—represented the only possible pleasure in her rapidly dwindling life. But she wasn’t sure if she would do it. She was afraid that Nasty, who was getting frailer by the day, would burn her house down if she continued to smoke while taking heavy doses of Oxycontin.
As Jennifer pushed her cart listlessly along a seemingly endless aisle, it occurred to her tha
t she was just not a very effective big store shopper. The sheer volume of brightly-colored stuff combined with fluorescent lighting to befuddle her senses and make her feel as if her brain were coated in cotton candy. There were so many things to evaluate and to choose from that she would become paralyzed with indecision. And there were so many distractions that it would take her forever to focus on the curtains and the cleaning supplies. Already, she was mesmerized by a wall of televisions. Something about the way they were piled one on top of the other, right up to the store’s 15-foot ceiling was compelling.
Then she remembered: Eli was suffering from television withdrawal. And she was already at the store. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t been intending to get one anyway...
-Eli Hawthorne-
Eli was disappointed every time he returned to Jennifer’s tiny apartment and its faint but ever-resent odor of cat urine. It’s not a real home, he thought, it’s a cheap storage compartment, an oversized messy drawer. Eli was especially dismayed today, because Hell, despite her weird, possibly hostile, behavior, reminded him of the supremely comfortable house he’d shared with her. Of course, he still remembered their fights, her strident neediness, and the surreal episode of her physically attacking Jennifer. But it all seemed so much hazier when his feet slopped on the particles of litter that Wretch had tracked all over the floor.