Running from Love: A Story for Runners and Lovers

by Rozsa Gaston

  The other two problems were his book deadline and his need to find another place to stay over the holidays, which were fast coming up. Come to think of it, he had a lot of problems. But the way Farrah had hesitated when he’d asked if the other guy made her happy wasn’t one of them. That split second of uncertainty had hinted at a way to get back into her life.

  Staring at his computer screen, he decided to reward himself for finishing his chapter by giving her a call. In a minute, he’d wrapped it up, all twenty-five pages of How to Handle Horsey Talk. One thing he’d recently learned was that it was a lot easier to handle horsey talk than relationship talk. He shut the cover of his laptop and picked up the phone.

  After three rings she answered.

  “Hello?” Her voice shimmied through the phone. He imagined her as a tree nymph peeking out of a tree.

  “Farrah. It’s Jude.”

  “Hi.” Her greeting came out like a diphthong. Nuanced, with a hopeful lift at the end, she didn’t sound altogether closed off.

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About what makes you happy.” He might as well hit the nail on the head.

  “I told you I’m not ready to talk about my personal life.” Quickly, the tree nymph scurried back into her tree.

  He re-routed fast.

  “I understand. So I don’t want to talk. I want to run.”

  “You what?”

  “I want to run with you again. Up and down that hill.”

  “You’re kidding. You didn’t look like you were enjoying it.”

  “You’re right about that. I really need to do hill work. They’re my least favorite workouts.”

  “Me, too. Especially the downhill slopes.”

  Jude breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for running. They could talk about their favorite sport until they were blue in the face. It was a safe topic they both enjoyed, one that never got too personal. “So let’s set up a time this week to tackle that hill again.”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot going on.”

  “Farrah, clear the decks for one, small hill workout with me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  As her voice tightened, he caught himself. Hold on man. Rein it in. “It means I’ll give you some company on your nastiest workout of the week. That’s it. Nothing more.”

  “I told you I’m not ready for anything personal right now.”

  “Nothing personal. Promise. Just the sheer joy of running up hills and back down them.”

  She sounded as if she were choking back laughter. “Okay. How about Thursday?”

  “Done. What time?”

  “Is four too early?”

  “Four it is. I’ll pick you up at your place.”

  “Jude, as far as the flowers go, thanks, but don’t pressure me.”

  “It’s nothing personal.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Of course not. I just enjoy giving flowers to you.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yes. Hugely.” He caught himself. “But impersonally, of course.”

  “Okay then, could I make a suggestion?’

  “Please.”

  “Orange is my favorite color.” The tree nymph’s head popped out again.

  “Orange it is, my lady. Oops. I meant that impersonally of course. Not my lady as in my lady. I meant like any old lady.” Relationships were complicated. Especially ones that weren’t clear yet.

  “Any old lady?” she teased.

  “No! Any old lady,” he stammered back, wishing all of their misunderstandings could be so light.

  “Any old lady it is. See you Thursday.”

  “See you then.” Getting off the phone he couldn’t decide who had sounded sillier, Farrah or him. Maybe Farrah. Yet another reason he was falling for her.

  “IT’S CALLED WAVE Hill,” she told him as they approached the first of the two long hills they’d run the previous weekend.

  “So this is Wave Hill.” He’d heard of it. The large park overlooking the Hudson was known as a famous landmark in Riverdale. He hadn’t realized it was surrounded by a dense forest.

  “This is it.” Farrah ahead, they began their ascent.

  “This sucks,” Jude breathed out after a minute.

  “Right. It does.”

  “At least it’s pretty.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  Their run was off to a good start. Jude felt confident, although he still wasn’t sure about how to keep an impersonal tone with the last person on earth he felt impersonally about. He’d ask his sister over Thanksgiving for some pointers on how to play this particular hand with the opposite sex. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him.

  They spent the next few minutes focusing on getting up the hill. The weather was unseasonably warm for November, somewhere in the high sixties. After twenty minutes of running, it would feel twenty degrees warmer.

  Side by side with Farrah, Jude was elated. Her running style was the diametric opposite of his. She was graceful, light on her feet. Next to her, he was a galumphing giant. What was his competition for her heart like? He imagined him as a tall, thin, wussy architect who wore eyeglasses with fancy frames. Pretending he was underfoot, he viciously stomped his head in, stride by stride.

  Ahead of him, Farrah was already taking off her zippered fleece and wrapping it around her waist. He followed suit.

  At the top of the first hill, she slowed down and ran in a circle, waiting for him. Something was written across her T-shirt but he couldn’t make it out. All he could catch was the word “girl” before he checked himself, averting his gaze. It wouldn’t do to stare at a woman’s chest while trying to reassure her his interest was strictly impersonal. They were just working on improving their hill work together, right?

  “Ready for the next one?” she asked, looking as fresh as a spring lamb.

  He loved the way she bounced in her running shoes as she waited for him. Again his eyes were drawn to the words written on her berry-colored T-shirt. “Like a girl” came into view. Not only was she like a girl—she was the embodiment of one. A womanly girl. Unlike the females he knew back in Greenwich, who were more like tiger-women packaged as Park Avenue pussycats.

  “Give me a second,” he begged.

  “Don’t stop moving. It’ll break your stride,” she ordered.

  “Uh-huh,” he panted, circling in a slow jog then turning left to head up the next hill. For the next few minutes they ran in silence, side by side.

  In a minute he felt Farrah begin to fade. His muscular legs were giving him an advantage he didn’t want. He willed her to keep up with him, slowing his pace.

  “Don’t slow down for me. Go,” she puffed out.

  “Come on, girl. You can do it,” he encouraged her. Ignoring her orders, he kept pace at her side. “Just take it easy and breathe.”

  She nodded, struggling to keep up.

  “Breathe baby, breathe.” He hadn’t meant to say “baby.” It had just slipped out.

  She looked strained. Was it from the run or because he’d gotten too personal?

  “Sorry. I meant it impersonally.”

  “Sure you did,” she huffed out.

  “You’re doing great.”

  “I hate this hill.”

  “Me too.”

  “I hate it when I can’t keep up,” she panted.

  “Why?”

  She glared at him.

  Something about that glare hit him in the heart. It reminded him of something he couldn’t possibly remember. He’d find out one day in heaven if his mother had a similar one, if he was lucky enough to get in.

  “Why do you think?”

  “Because you want to win?”

  “No. I mean yes.”

  “You’re really good at being confusing.”

  “Thanks,” she gasped out, laboring.

  “Don’t talk. It’ll save you from contradicting
yourself.”

  She glowered at him again. This time, he saw the phrase on her T-shirt. It said “I know I run like a girl. Try to keep up.”

  He laughed aloud, his heart as warm as his body.

  “You run like a girl and I am keeping up,” he said in a low voice, taunting her.

  “Says who?” She surged ahead, passing him.

  “Got your groove thing on, huh?” He heaved out behind her. A little trash-talking was good for the soul, not to mention for keeping things strictly impersonal.

  “See you at the top,” she shouted.

  This time, when he tried, he couldn’t catch her. But now he knew how to light a fire under her. That might be handy information under other circumstances.

  In another minute, he joined her at the top, where she stood.

  “That was rough,” she greeted him.

  “You do this once a week?”

  “Yes. When I’m not traveling.”

  “Do you like traveling?” He hoped he wasn’t getting too personal.

  She looked at him, a shadow crossing her face. “Not really. I mean not for business. I might like it if it were for fun.”

  “You ever done any traveling for fun?”

  “I’m going to California for Christmas.”

  “Sounds great.” He hoped she wasn’t going there with the jerk. “Whereabouts?”

  “San Diego. My brother lives there.”

  Information gleaned, personal boundaries not crossed. Not visiting the jerk’s family, apparently.

  “Great area. Good for running.”

  “I know. I’m doing a 5K out there the day after Christmas.”

  “With your brother?” Oops. Getting too personal again.

  “Yes.” She didn’t volunteer anything more. “Want to keep going?”

  “What’s further on?”

  “North Riverdale. It’s pretty along Palisades Avenue.”

  “Tell me there aren’t any more hills.”

  “If that’s what you want to hear.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s flat as a pancake from here on then.”

  “Liar.”

  “Trash-talker.”

  “Lover of orange.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’re Irish, that’s why not.”

  “That’s not all I am.” She turned and continued up the road, now thankfully flat.

  “And what’s the other half?” He pulled up alongside her. He could run all day with her next to him, distracting and provoking him. But the sun was getting low in the sky. They’d need to turn back soon.

  “I told you before. It’s your homework.” Her voice brushed him like a feather. Now, it was she who was getting personal. She’d said that to him at Ryan’s on their first date. He wished they could go back to that evening and erase everything that had happened since. Almost everything.

  “You’re right. Let me guess. Uhh—”

  “Not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘I’m not in the mood.”

  “Too personal, huh?”

  “You said it.”

  “Back to a little trash-talking then?”

  “Sure.”

  “So why’s a girl who wears a T-shirt like that not able to keep up? Huh?” He ran faster, moving ahead of her.

  “Says who?” she stepped on the gas, trying to catch him.

  “Says me,” he yelled over his shoulder, sailing ahead.

  “Drop dead,” she shouted.

  “You like to say that, don’t you?” he yelled back.

  “Only to you!” she shouted.

  “Too bad you can’t catch me,” he taunted, slowing down until she was almost beside him, then speeding up again.

  “Bastard!”

  “Now, you’re talking.”

  “You’re doing that on purpose,” she yelled.

  “Anything to get you moving,” he teased.

  Their feet flew as fast as their banter. Soon they were at another turn in the road, this one curving inland, away from the Hudson. To the left stood a large institutional-looking building on a gorgeous expanse of lawn, sloping down to the river.

  “What’s that over there?”

  “It’s a retreat center.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “It’s for Catholics.”

  “I am Catholic, and I need a retreat from your tongue.”

  She giggled. “The gate to the parking lot’s open.”

  “Let’s check out the river from there.” Together, they ran through the gate and down the length of the mostly empty parking lot to the far side, next to the river. There, they stopped.

  “Looks like we’re going to catch the sunset,” Farrah pointed out.

  Sure enough, the sun was setting in a great orange ball of fire over the New Jersey Palisades on the opposite shore. It would dip behind the steep cliffs lining the west side of the Hudson within minutes.

  Standing side by side, Jude’s arm was within inches of Farrah’s. He wanted to reach out and draw her to him. But it wasn’t the moment. Instead, he imagined drawing her into his arms, praying the run and their light conversation had loosened the muscles of her mind as well as her body.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed.

  “Yes.” Farrah stood like an Indian Princess next to him, straight, slim, and staring out over the river.

  Like you. It was all he could do not to say it. Too personal, man. Rein it in. “This must be the view from your place, no?” How well he remembered the end of their first date, the evening they’d gone to Ryan’s. They’d admired the Hudson, then they’d admired each other. His fingers itched to touch the back of her neck again, sliding up into her silky, thick hair. This time, he’d draw her to him and kiss her until she saw stars in her eyes.

  “Yes. You can see this from my balcony.”

  “No wonder you like living here.”

  “I do.” She gave him a smile. He wished she’d give him her heart. But it was taken already. Or was it?

  After a moment, the sun sank behind the New Jersey skyline. If they’d been on the Greek island of Santorini taking it in, they would have turned and kissed. Jude vowed the next time they watched the sun set together, they would. Maybe one day they’d even make it to Santorini. Rein it in, man.

  “We’d better get back,” Farrah said.

  “Let’s come here again next week.”

  “Next week’s Thanksgiving,” she reminded him.

  “Oh. So it is. Are you around?” He hoped she didn’t think he was fishing.

  “No. I’ll be out of town.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. I’m going to my sister’s on Long Island.” Why had he told her that? She hadn’t asked, but he’d wanted her to know. If the past few months had played out differently he’d have taken her with him.

  “Sounds nice,” she said, noncommittally.

  “Want to get together the afternoon before?” he suggested, he hoped casually.

  “I can’t. I’ll be—I’ll be busy.”

  “Well, if anything changes, let me know. We could switch our run from Thursday to Wednesday then go back to Thursday the following week.”

  “Jude.”

  She’d said his name. It was so personal he wanted to squeeze her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think this is a good idea?”

  “Do you think you should be wearing that T-shirt if you can’t keep up with me on hills like that one back there?” Suddenly, it was he who didn’t want to get personal.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Don’t get personal. I can’t take it.” Especially if you try to push me away.

  She looked confused then amused.

  “You love teasing me don’t you?” she asked.

  “I grew up with an older sister. It was my only defense.”

  “I’m just not sure we should be spending time together.”

  His heart twisted like a knife. “You’re saying that because you can’t stand
the thought of me beating you on the hills like that.” He’d keep it light. Otherwise, he’d break up into pieces. She wasn’t trying to cut him off completely again, was she? It was more than he could bear.

  ELEVEN

  It had been too much fun. Too easy. If she didn’t watch herself, she would get massively confused again. Her heart had danced when Jude asked about her Thanksgiving Day plans. He’d wanted to know what she was doing on one of the most important days of the year. He’d suggested getting together the afternoon before when she’d told him she wasn’t free. He really wanted to spend time with her.

  As the sun set over the Hudson she asked herself how she’d gotten herself into this position. Supposedly she was going to New Jersey to meet Will’s family for Thanksgiving. But Will hadn’t firmed it up. One week away, and she wasn’t really sure what she was doing. Will had said he’d get back to her with plans, but he hadn’t yet.

  In comparison, the man standing next to her knew how to make plans and include her in them. That was more than could be said for her former boyfriend.

  As they stood watching the sun go down, all she could think of was the evening in the parking lot after dinner at Ryan’s with Jude. How he’d played with her hair as they’d looked at the stars in the sky over the Hudson. Here they were again, looking out at the river, this time as the sun set. Jude seemed to be with her at the right moments. Or were they the right moments because he was with her?

  Yet she’d been thrilled when Will had suggested going out to Saddle River to visit his family. She’d never met them. It had been a sore spot for her when they’d dated. Now, it was a sore spot again as Thanksgiving bore down on them, and Will hadn’t indicated anything definite about his invitation. In her book, meeting a man’s family for the first time wasn’t a casual thing. But it was classic Will to toss out an idea then drop it.

  “Let’s go back,” she said, catching Jude’s eye as she turned from the river view. He looked sad, as if she’d hurt him. Instantly regretting that she’d said she wasn’t sure they should be spending so much time together, she saw in a flash what she’d done. She’d transferred the hurt Will had inflicted on her years earlier to another person. It had practically been the same thing he’d said to her on the phone when he’d ended their relationship. Why was she doing this to another person, especially one she liked?