Portrait of a Girl Running

by J. B. Chicoine

  “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “You say that now—”

  Jennings cast a quizzical look.

  “You’ll see,” Leila said, glancing at the clock. “Do I need to stay for the entire session?”

  “I’m certainly not going to force you to stay.”

  “But you have to give a report to the court.”

  “Yes.”

  Leila rolled her eyes.

  “Leila, we both know the only reason you’re here is because of the court’s mandate. I simply want to help you meet that mandate. And since you have to at least show up, perhaps we could make the best of it. You needn’t divulge to me anything you’re not comfortable with. In fact, you don’t have to talk at all. But you might find that it helps to talk things out.”

  Leila stood. “Maybe next time. I’m just not in the mood for any more today.” When she reached the door, she turned back toward the doctor. “Is Manic-Depression hereditary?”

  Jennings’ brow rose. “Clinical studies show there may be a genetic link.”

  “Oh,” Leila said, and left.

  ~

  Leila walked her way toward the track. Kyle stretched in preparation for the official tryouts. She had to admit, he was kind of a hunk, but in proximity with Ian, Coach Brigham, Kyle could never compete. And now that Coach was sporting a beard for the last month or so, Kyle could never measure up to that kind of manliness, though she wasn’t certain if she liked the facial hair or not.

  As she came up beside Kyle, he gave her a startled double take and smiled. “So, are you here to watch or tryout?”

  Leila’s shoulders squared. “Actually, I’m going to tryout.”

  His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious. I didn’t tell the school board I wouldn’t tryout,” she said though she was stretching it. “They just had an issue with my being on the team and being coached by Brigham.”

  “Okay, so you want me to go tell him?”

  “Sure.”

  Kyle ran over to Coach Brigham who stood with his clipboard, whistle, and stopwatch. Kyle gestured toward her. Brigham smiled and glanced at Ms. Thorpe, and then back at Kyle and nodded.

  With that, Leila joined the other track-team hopefuls. Just as she anticipated, Brigham included her in a threesome with Kyle and Micah. Ms. Thorpe observed from the sidelines without intervening.

  With one leg extended, Leila squatted between the two boys, waiting for the whistle. She glanced at one and then the other, exchanging smiles. Micah winked back. In an instant, they lunged forward in a full run. For the first 50 meters she and Kyle ran neck in neck, leaving Micah behind. At the 75- and then at the 100-meter finish line, she was ahead by a meter, and then two, finishing just ahead of Kyle. All three scored excellent time.

  Stretching a little between events, Leila waited for Kyle to report back. The numbers meant nothing to her, but Brigham’s spontaneous smile made her want to try all the harder in the 800-meter run. Twice around the track would be a breeze.

  Once again, all three poised, side by side at the starting line. With the whistle, they took off. At first, they all kept apace with each other, but after 200 meters, Leila advanced. Kyle moved behind, and Leila allowed him to draft off her, but not for long. She could not resist pushing her lead harder and stronger, egging him forward in all earnestness. To her surprise, he edged ahead. The sight of him provoked a novel feeling. Competitiveness. It impelled her forward without restraint as she made the 400-meter loop. Now extending herself beyond him again, she passed the 600-meter mark, fully in the lead. As she headed out of the curve of the last 100 meters, she spotted Brigham on the sidelines ahead, spiking her exertion further. She flew past him and in seconds, Kyle finished a breath behind her.

  If Leila had impressed Brigham in September, she hoped for astonishment now. She wound down and jogged back toward him. Kyle approached, elated with their results. Apparently, she had shaved seconds off her time. Kyle came in just behind, outdoing his personal best and nearing a record himself. This would be a good year for Kyle. And Micah, well, he would make the team, but too much pot smoking cut his performance.

  Leila headed toward Brigham, watching him as he watched her. She walked past, keeping her eyes on him and then stood before Ms. Thorpe.

  “Please let Coach Brigham know that I am officially withdrawing my name from the tryout roster. As we both know, I won’t be running with the team this year,” Leila said. “It’s really too bad, isn’t it? How us girls just can’t seem to get a team of our own. I wonder what the school board will resort to next year to avoid funding a girls’ track team.”

  Leila returned to Kyle on the infield. Micah migrated toward Coach Brigham as other boys positioned themselves on the track. Leila and Kyle speculated on their performances and simultaneously sensed an ominous presence—Mr. Myles sitting halfway up the bleachers.

  “Looks like your daddy longlegs is here,” Kyle said.

  “Don’t call him that.”

  He grinned. “Well, we could call him a brown recluse.”

  Leila shoved him. “Shut up—I never should have told you about me and him.”

  “Sorry.”

  Leila bit her lip. Myles stared directly at her.

  “So why’s he here?” Kyle said. “He never shows up for extracurriculars.”

  “Beats me,” she said. “Wait for me, okay?”

  Leila headed toward the bleachers and ascended them in a bounding gait. Myles leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. She sat to his rear. Looking at her askance, he leaned on the bleacher behind. She waited.

  “I thought I might find you watching in the stands. Didn’t imagine you’d be trying out.”

  “Oh. You saw that?”

  “Indeed. You certainly are an evasive runner.”

  “Yeah, well, I relinquished my spot on the team if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “So why are you here?”

  He inhaled. “I wanted to talk to you about a sensitive subject.”

  Leila rolled her eyes. “This isn’t going to be a sex talk, is it?”

  He glanced back. “You aren’t in need of one, are you?”

  “Good God, no.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Though I have the feeling this issue will rouse even more discomfort.” He exhaled. “We need to talk about your future.”

  Leila’s chest collapsed onto her knees, her arms limp at her sides for effect. “Ugh!” She exaggerated her eye roll. “Is this going to be about college?”

  “Just hear me out.”

  “Fine.”

  “I realize you haven’t taken the SATs, but it’s not too late. In fact, there’s a test date for latecomers in a few weeks.”

  “Mr. Myles, I obviously don’t have the money, and I’m not going into debt with student loans. My grades are mediocre, so there will be no scholarships coming my way. And any chance I may have had at an athletic scholarship has been completely flushed by the school board.”

  “What about your art?”

  “What about it?”

  “Perhaps you’d like to pursue that.”

  “I can pursue art without sitting in a classroom being told I need to loosen up my style.”

  “If it’s only a matter of money, I’m in a position where I could help out.”

  “You already know how I feel about the whole money thing.”

  “You could pay me back if you want to, without interest.”

  “All of that’s beside the point. You’re assuming that I even want to continue going to school. The last thing I want to do for the next two to four years is spend time in a classroom, trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life and frittering away resources while I try and get my act together. The only thing I’m certain about at this point is that as soon as I graduate, I want off Long Island.”

  He nodded slowly. It took a long moment for him to ask, “Have you giv
en any thought to where off Long Island you might be heading?”

  “I really like New Hampshire. I thought I might head back up to the lakes where I used to live. It’s familiar, and I think it would be a good place for me to be.”

  “I see.” He stared at the track.

  She blurted, “Would you please stop giving Coach Brigham the stare down. It’s rude.”

  “I’m doing no such thing.”

  “I don’t know what you have against him. He’s never caused me any harm and you know it.”

  “Have you forgotten that it was your involvement with him that precipitated the whole gym incident?”

  “Oh—I guess we’ve forgotten that it was Miss Weiss’ lack of self-control that precipitated the whole incident?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”

  “So did you start out disliking him? Or is it just the fact that you can’t control my attraction to him?”

  He glanced back at her and then at the track. “I have nothing personal against Ian Brigham. In fact, I initially found him the most tolerable of my colleagues. My concern is that the forbidden aspect of this relationship has become very enticing. Your romantic notions may be blinding you to the fact that he is a grown man with adult issues of his own.” He paused. “Forbidden fruit when it is tasted can be very sweet, but afterward, very disappointing, even devastating. I’m not saying that Ian Brigham would intentionally hurt you. It’s just that your expectations may be unrealistic.”

  “Well, right now I don’t really have any expectations regarding Ian Brigham.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  She could not refute it.

  “You know what, Clarence?” She rose from her seat. “This is not a subject open for discussion.”

  She descended the bleachers, then paused and turned back toward him. “By the way, we have a therapy session scheduled a week from today at three o’clock.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. If that’s a problem, I’ll give you the therapist’s number and you can reschedule. But as you already know, I can only make it on Saturday or Sunday.”

  He scowled. “Saturday is fine.”

  “You’re not going to like the therapist, you know.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because she’s pretty.”

  She continued her descent as Ian watched her. When he smiled, she smiled back, indifferent to Myles’ judgments, and still undecided about the beard.

  ~

  Leila flipped through a magazine, glancing out the waiting room window. Where is he? Of course he would show up—he was nothing if not responsible, downright dependable. The notion of him missing his first appointment with Dr. Jennings stirred the same old discomforts of never knowing if or when her dad would show up for things like school productions, parent-teacher conferences—or worse yet, if they would up and move when she had a part in an upcoming play or had worked for weeks on a science project she would never get to present. Joe had been more dependable that way—at least to begin with.

  Leila hadn’t known quite what to expect from Mr. Myles as her guardian, but she had hoped they would spend more time together—quality time, not lecturing time like on the bleachers. Leila had even fantasized about just hanging out with him, the way normal teenagers fantasized about the opposite sex—but without the romance. The possibility of her childish wishes coming out in therapy mortified her. She had already set herself up for disillusionment when she had suggested a celebration of their new status, though he likely had no idea that declining would disappoint her so.

  The interior office door opened and Jennings made a welcoming gesture. “Are we alone today?”

  “No. He’ll be here.”

  “Shall we wait for him?”

  “No.” She shot another look out the window and stood. “He’s probably delaying just for effect.”

  “I see.” Jennings lifted her brow and led Leila into the office.

  Leila took her seat on the sofa and Jennings sat, as expected, in the chair across from her.

  “Tell me, does Mr. Myles often do things just for effect?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly in class. It’s just his way of maintaining control.”

  “Is it effective?”

  “I think he thinks so.”

  The sound of Myles’ arrival filtered in. Jennings opened the door.

  “Mr. Myles. Please join us.” In her affable way, she extended her hand. “Valerie Jennings.”

  Myles looked her over from head to toe. Had he noted her lack of a wedding band? He shook her hand.

  Leila said, “You’re late Mr. Myles. I certainly hope this is not indicative of what we can expect from you in the future.”

  He glared at Leila but softened as he looked Jennings in the face. “My apologies.”

  “Please, have a seat,” Jennings said.

  He sat in a chair nearest the exit, and Jennings sat paperless, opposite him.

  Jennings began. “I hope you don’t mind that we started without you Mr. Myles—or would you prefer I call you Clarence?”

  Leila smirked as he tightly crossed his leg and arms.

  “Myles is fine,” he said.

  Dr. Jennings no longer tilted her head in her inviting way, and much of her facial expressiveness disappeared as she looked at one and then the other. “Is there anything in particular that either of you would like to talk about today?”

  Myles and Leila stated in unison, “No.”

  “So then, would you say things are going well?”

  Again, in unison, “Everything is great.”

  “Well, Myles, you’ve been Leila’s guardian for four weeks now. How has your guardianship altered your relationship?”

  “It hasn’t altered anything.”

  Jennings folded her hands in her lap. “And what about you Leila, do you think his guardianship has altered anything?”

  “Nope. Pretty much status quo.”

  Jennings’ relaxed smile thinned. “So, you’re happy with the way things are going?”

  Leila didn’t feel inclined to incriminate Myles and she knew he didn’t care to get all deep and intimate with their therapist. In the ensuing silence an alliance congealed as Myles cast a sly eye at Leila.

  “Oh yes.” Leila said, “I think they’re going very well.”

  “Wonderful. Then lets talk about the things you appreciate in each other.” Jennings addressed Myles. “Why don’t you begin.”

  Following through on their unspoken collusion, he began with a nod. “One thing I appreciate about Leila is that she’s open minded and compliant.”

  “Do you have a specific example?”

  He nodded. “A week ago, I suggested she take the SATs. Reasonable girl that she is, Leila agreed that it would indeed be a fine idea.”

  Leila suppressed her surprise and annoyance. “Yes, Mr. Myles can be very persuasive. I really like how he’s always looking out for me.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful. Now, Leila, why don’t you tell Mr. Myles what you appreciate about him, aside from his looking out for you?”

  “That’s easy.” She looked directly at him. “I appreciate the way he trusts me and respects my privacy. He knows I would never pursue a relationship he didn’t approve of, and that going to college would indeed be a fine way to spend the next four years of my life.”

  “I see.” Jennings’ gaze shifted from one to the other. “Tell me, Mr. Myles, what major would you like to see Leila pursue?”

  “Her art, of course. She’s very talented.”

  “Oh. You’ve actually seen Leila’s artwork?”

  Leila did not like being made a liar but refrained from letting on.

  “Yes,” he elaborated, “she’s quite the portraitist.”

  Leila chimed in, “Mr. Myles especially likes my choice of subjects.”

  Jennings took the bait. “Have you ever painted Mr. Myles?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ve seen it
?” Jennings raised her brow at Myles.

  “Indeed,” he scowled. “It was delightful.”

  “Did you consider it an accurate portrayal?”

  “Yes—all of her work is quite good. In fact, at my bidding, she intends to enter some of her work in a community-sponsored art exhibit. Isn’t that right, Leila?”

  Myles had pushed their imaginary rapport too far. Rather than expose it, Leila agreed. “Yes, that’s right—and I know exactly which painting I’ll exhibit.”

  ~

  Leila’s caseworker visited on the fifteenth of the month. She came and went with minimal attention from Leila. All things had been found as expected and to the woman’s satisfaction. A week and a half later, and at the beginning of spring break, Leila followed through with another scheduled visit with Dr. Jennings.

  “I was so pleased to see how well you and Mr. Myles get along. You’re quite the happy little family,” Jennings said.

  Leila smirked. “Oh please. We both know that was such a ruse.”

  Jennings acknowledged her admission with a satisfied smile. “Do you even like Clarence Myles?”

  She thought for a minute. “I do. But it’s sort of ironic that the very thing I like most about him is what annoys me most.”

  Jennings waited for her to elaborate.

  “It’s not as though he actually knows what I’m thinking, of course that’s impossible, but I feel like he anticipates my next step or knows what I’m up to. It’s weird. I feel like he knows me better than I know myself.”

  “Would you consider your relationship with Clarence mutual?”

  “I don’t feel like our relationship is particularly two-sided, if that’s what you mean. Even though I think we’re very alike in some ways, he definitely has the upper hand. He just has a lot more age and experience, so I think he picks up on things with me a lot easier. But I don’t really know that much about him.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Perhaps we could discuss that during our next session.”

  “Well, that’d be interesting.”

  Chapter 27

  Leila pushed open her kitchen window and then the one beside her art table. A warm breeze blew in from the south, ruffling the photograph tacked to her wall. She sat and studied the picture Ian had taken of her. If only he had shot it in color, then she could reproduce it in watercolor, no problem. But to translate it into color was a new frontier. She simply didn’t have the confidence.