And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  I hadn’t slept, I’d been sitting in this chair in the dark, staring out a window at the windows across the street since yesterday afternoon.

  It was starting to get light out now. I should clean myself up and get ready to go to work. I should. I just couldn’t quite get myself to stand up. I should go shower. Or not.

  And then I got an idea.

  The one thing that always made me feel better.

  No, I wasn’t going to jerk off. I was going to run. I always felt better running. Mostly, I suppose, because when I was running, I didn’t feel at all.

  I could use some numbness today.

  I managed to will myself to stand up. I got to the bathroom and peed for about ten minutes. Man did I need that. And I stripped and pulled on some running gear. I stretched, did some warming.

  This will be good, I thought.

  This will work. If I run, I’ll forget. Just run and don’t stop.

  Out the door, stretching in the elevator.

  I was later than usual. No garbage guys, no poodle. There was sunlight and there were people out and about. There was traffic in the street. A dickhead in a Mercedes. Ever notice guys with those cars all drive like Nazis? Yeah, yeah, you can wait two frigging seconds, Adolf. Great, blow your horn. You can blow me while you’re at it.

  I made my way over to Fifth Ave., ran in place at the light, and then decided—screw it—and I ducked across the street without waiting for the light to change. A horn blared as I dashed across. Okay, that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life, I thought, as a delivery van braked and swerved, still laying on the horn the whole time. Yeah, well. Bite me, pal. So sorry to be an inconvenience. Dumbfuck.

  I jogged along on the path around behind the museum, made the sharp right onto the running path, and I let it happen. I let my legs reach out in their long strides.

  Thamp thamp thamp thamp.

  Now it would happen. Now I’d be able to turn my brain off.

  I glanced down for a second to see my legs working, the blond hair on my legs in the sunlight, the muscles underneath. I had good legs. Theo said my legs were hot.

  Shut up. Just run.

  Thamp thamp.

  Could I just pretend this didn’t happen? Pretend that I’d never felt anything? See him around the office? Nod in the elevator? Could I bear that? Could I really go to work every day with him there?

  I couldn’t quit. I had sixteen subcontractors depending on me to put their kids through college.

  And I couldn’t get Theo fired. I couldn’t do anything to hurt him. More than I already had, I mean. Fuck.

  Run. Just shut up and run.

  I would just go to work, avoid him as much as possible—and then if we did bump into each other, just let it be as miserable as it was going to be. Just gut it out, Bornic. You made your bed.

  He’d be okay, I figured. I had never been sure how involved he was anyway.

  Of course I’d made him cry yesterday.

  Thamp thamp.

  So he must feel something.

  Thamp thamp.

  I was such an unbelievable fucking bastard.

  I normally ran earlier, so the sunlight shining across onto the buildings to the West Side was new to me. I’d never noticed these things. I was running along with the Reservoir on my left.

  I’d made that beautiful boy cry. My God, I was the absolute dregs. Even fat, awful Madison had probably never made him cry. Other way around maybe.

  Thamp thamp.

  And I couldn’t see a way forward.

  I couldn’t undo what I’d done. I couldn’t make it better.

  I didn’t want to be the asshole he thought I was. And that I was. I wanted to be the guy he saw when he looked at me in my apartment that night. I wanted to be the guy he smiled at in that selfie, that selfie that I’d spent half the night staring at until I had to plug my phone in.

  By now I was past the Reservoir. I would just turn left up ahead and bend back downtown to start down the other side of the park, like every other day.

  I could do that. But what would I be running back to?

  Just shut up. Stop thinking.

  This so wasn’t working, was it. Nothing was working. My head was supposed to be empty when I was running and instead it was full of this. I was supposed to feel numb. I felt like shit. I was shit. Of course he’d dumped me, he deserved so much better.

  Now he knew me, knew what I was capable of. He knew what a dick I was, what my dick-father had made me, what I’d let my dick-father make me.

  I was running, and my head was still stuffed, stuffed with Theo and those eyes and his freckled little hands pressing back tears. And this incredible horrible coldness in my chest.

  Thamp thamp.

  I got to the turn—and I did what I never do. I veered off my path, I went right instead of left. I wasn’t ready to turn back, I couldn’t. I had to go on.

  Thamp thamp.

  Just run, you bastard.

  I picked up my pace. I was really moving now. I didn’t know how long I could sustain this, but I wanted to feel my calves hurt, my thighs, I wanted my lungs to burn. I pushed on.

  I hate this fucking park. How the hell do you get out of here anyway?

  As I went past the—what?—the Harlem Meer maybe?—I saw a sign for 124th Street, and I followed it.

  There had to be a way. There must be something I could do, some way that I could make him see, so he’d know that I was trying. It wouldn’t fix anything, but he’d at least know I tried. At least he would know that I wasn’t somebody who didn’t try.

  I bolted out the park gate and crossed the street—whatever it was—against the light. Was this 124th?

  I’d never been up here above the park in my life. I was on the sidewalk, running past people. This was Harlem, I was pretty sure. I just kept going.

  Run farther, I thought.

  I wasn’t running away from anything, I wasn’t running toward anything either. I was just running.

  Thamp thamp thamp thamp.

  The rhythm in my head started talking or maybe it was the rhythm in my feet.

  Done something awful.

  Done something awful.

  The light was against me, but I couldn’t stop, didn’t dare stop. I turned right instead. Scared to stop. I knew if I stopped, I’d stop. I’d literally stop. Crushed under this. So I had to keep moving, no matter.

  Just fucking run.

  Long crosstown block. Stretch out the legs. At the corner—traffic. I had to turn left, pushing farther uptown. I was really moving out now. Practically a sprint. No idea where this was coming from, I should be dying by now at this pace. I was only aware of the sound of my shoes on the pavement, the sound in my head.

  No way to fix it.

  No way to fix it.

  No way to fix it.

  No way to—

  And on I went. Red light—turn. Get to the corner and turn again.

  Red light. Screw it. Across the street against traffic. Just keep going, they’ll stop.

  Another red light. Run faster. Listen to your feet, the burn in your chest.

  Can’t make it right.

  Can’t make it right.

  Can’t make it right.

  Can’t make it—

  I had no idea where I was, I couldn’t see the street signs anymore, I couldn’t see much of anything anymore, it was all blurred for some reason. My eyes burned. My face was wet.

  Nothing you can do.

  Nothing you can do.

  Another red light.

  Nothing you can do.

  Go for it, go for it, go for it. They’ll stop.

  There was a scream of a brake and a car horn. Someone on the sidewalk yelled. I turned to see this smear of yellow coming at me, stopping in time—almost. I
held out my right hand to fend it off, and managed to sort of vault myself off the hood of the taxi and up and over onto the far side of the street. I fell forward and crashed against the pole of the traffic light, which I grabbed and held myself up. Someone was yelling. Maybe it was even English. Maybe it was Bangla. No idea. People were talking, talking, and more yelling.

  There was a face in front of me—dark, pockmarked skin, jaundiced eyes, he was asking me something. I blinked to clear my eyes and tried to focus. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my forearm—there was blood on it.

  “Are you okay, buddy?” asked the old face. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. I needed to breathe. I couldn’t breathe.

  I nodded that I was okay. My lungs were like torches in my chest.

  “You don’t look okay, buddy,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” I said although nothing came out. If only I could breathe, I’d be fine. I felt my grip on the lamppost slipping. “Yes—yes,” I managed to croak between the sobs that convulsed me, that I couldn’t stop. I was pretty sure I was going to fall down. “Yes,” I said louder. “Never better—I’m perfect. Fan. Fucking. Tastic.”

  Text to Rebecca

  You still speaking to me?

  Probably not.

  I promise I’ll fix it.

  That’s a start.

  But I need a favor. Big time.

  Huge.

  ?

  Can you come pick me up?

  ??

  Columbia Presbyterian—emergency room entrance.

  Did Theo put you in the hospital???

  No! And I can’t believe you actually made me laugh.

  Ouch.

  What happened?

  Stupid accident. I’ll explain. But they won’t let me go unless somebody comes to take me home.

  WTF?

  I’ll explain. Don’t say anything to Theo.

  Please.

  Chapter 43

  Rescue

  Jeffrey

  “I really appreciate this.”

  It took me forever to get the forms and releases signed, and that was without reading them. Who knows what rights I was throwing away. Goddamn lawyers. I was doing my best to keep the poor cab driver out of trouble—it wasn’t his fault, and he hadn’t actually hit me, I’d run into a lamppost, as I’d explained to the two cops they’d sent to interview me.

  “With that bandage, you look like you’re back from the wars,” said Rebecca. Aside from some bruises and the scrapes on my hands, my only real injury was where I’d banged my head on the traffic light. The whole thing was incredibly stupid and embarrassing. But because I was bleeding—and apparently couldn’t stop crying—they had plopped me in here, shoved a couple bottles of saline solution and God knows what else into me, and I’d slept for a day—except that they kept coming around to wake me up and shine little flashlights in my eyes, which got to be seriously annoying.

  “Home, James,” I said, hoping for humor.

  Rebecca called a car service, and now, after a quick consult from the doctor discharging me, she was helping me get in the backseat like I was ninety or something. I had a bump on my head, not a shattered pelvis!

  “You’re coming back to my place,” said Rebecca.

  “No.”

  “You’ve had a concussion. You shouldn’t be alone. You’re coming back to my place.”

  “Theo.”

  “What about him?”

  “I can’t. And he can’t either. We—just can’t.” I gave the guy my address.

  “What the hell happened?” she asked as she climbed in the other side. She told the driver to ignore me and gave him her address on the Upper West before she turned back to me. “Look, nobody knows better than I do that Theo is not the easiest person in the world, and neither are you. But not very long ago you two were stupid goofy about each other, and now you’re—you’re this! He’s manically pretending that nothing’s wrong, and you’re—what?—suicidal, apparently—”

  “I’m not suicidal.”

  “You ran out in front of a taxi.”

  “I didn’t mean to get hit. Look. I’m much better now. I’ve had all day in that bed to think about it. I’ll be okay.”

  “What happened?”

  “I did something a while back. And I meant to try to undo it, but I didn’t because—because I’m an awful person. I did something bad.”

  “To Theo?”

  “To you, Rebecca.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m really really sorry, and I’m going to try to make it up. I’m going to try to fix it. But Theo was reading Victoria’s e-mails, and he caught on to what I’d done and now he hates me, and he’s totally right, and you’ll hate me too when I tell you.”

  She looked out at the Hudson River for a few very long seconds.

  “Then don’t,” she said finally.

  “What?!”

  “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hate you.”

  “Serious?”

  “Yes. Tell me about it when you’ve fixed it, how’s that for a deal. And for heaven’s sake don’t look at me like that! You start crying and I’m taking you straight back to your bedpan.”

  Turns out, Iowans are even nicer than Canadians.

  “I so don’t deserve you,” I said quietly.

  “You got that right.”

  “Or Theo.”

  “Ehhhhhhhh—I don’t know about that one. If you two don’t deserve each other, who does?”

  “You think so?”

  “You’re both really smart and at the same time total idiots. And you both occasionally feel compelled to be mind-boggling assholes. Match made in heaven.”

  We rode together quietly for a bit.

  “I am so in love with your little brother, Rebecca.”

  “Yeah, I’d sorta picked up on that.”

  “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “I sorta picked up on that as well. You were pissed off after Roger, but you never chucked yourself in front of oncoming traffic.”

  “God, I feel so stupid.”

  “You got that right too,” she said, and leaned forward. “Change of plans—looks like we’re going to the Upper East Side instead.”

  Chapter 44

  A Broken Heart, Soldiering On

  Rebecca

  So that night I shared a bed with Jeffrey Bornic. He had a whole guest room, but I didn’t really think he should be alone—because of his head, and, well, because of his head. So without either of us saying a word about it, we just bunked in together—me, in a borrowed track suit. Not as comfortable as my flannel nightgowns, but you make sacrifices.

  I didn’t see Theo again until I got home after work. He was hunched over his keyboard, earphones on. I gave him a big wave to let him know I was there—but he still didn’t see me, so I just went on into the bedroom to change.

  “Whoa!” He threw the headphones off and jumped up as I walked past him. “Oh man, you scared me!”

  “Sorry. I tried to get your attention.” And I went on into the bedroom. “Did you eat?” I called out.

  “I’m good.” That meant no.

  “Hungry?” I asked, poking my head out, knowing what the answer would be.

  “Not really.”

  As far as I knew, Theo had never had a big love thing. He’d dated, he’d had boyfriends, and I’m sure there were more than I knew about. Madison had been a little drama, but then he’d sort of fizzled out to nothing. I knew Theo got a lot of attention from guys, and I think more than a couple people had shattered their hearts over him. But the other way around? Not until now. And this one, as much as Theo wanted to pretend it was nothing, was hitting him hard. It was a misery for me to have to watch, especially since I was convinced that there was nothing br
oken here that couldn’t be mended with just a little effort from one side or the other.

  “Want to go out and get something to eat, anyway? Just to keep me company?”

  “Not really, sorry.”

  “Want to spend another evening sitting around the house and being miserable?”

  “I’m not miserable, I’m busy,” he said, working something out on the keyboard, although there was no sound. “Where did you spend the night, by the way?”

  “Jeffrey’s.” I knew that would get his nose up off the plastic ivories.

  He stared at me for a couple seconds, deciding if he was going to be furious with me or not.

  “Did he tell you everything?” he said finally.

  “No. I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Why the hell not? No, wait.” His focus was back on the keyboard. “I don’t even want to know. It’s got nothing to do with me.” Looking up again. “But why did you sleep at Jeff’s?”

  “I promised not to tell.”

  “Fine.” Keyboard. “None of my business. Don’t tell me. Not like I care anyway.”

  “That’s what I thought. Hey, I bought some ice cream. It’s cherry.”

  Both hands slammed down on a chord I was glad I couldn’t hear.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “You think you’re being this great sympathetic big sister, going to cheer me up. Little Theo has an owie and you’ll joke him out of it and get his favorite ice cream, the poor thing, and make it all better. Well stop. It’s really totally unnecessary.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s true! There is no owie! I know you’re thinking this—whatever—with Jeff was some kind of a big deal, and it wasn’t.”

  “He thinks it was.”

  “That’s his mistake then. It wasn’t anything. He was the one who told me it was just a hook-up. And it was. It was fun and then it wasn’t. I thought he was different, and that was my mistake, and he is the way he is, which is a complete rectum—you might have warned me by the way and I don’t know how you can be friends with him—but that’s that. Just as well I found out how big a pustule he is now, don’t you think? Before it could get serious?” His voice was a little quavery at the end there. “And I’m totally fine.”