Running Against Traffic

by Gaelen VanDenbergh

  “We ready?” Al asked, popping his head in the kitchen door. “I set up the chairs. Darnell suggested we might be in for quite a crowd this week. Make sure we have a lot of lemonade.”

  Paige nodded, not terribly surprised by how quickly the Life Support Group, which had started out being Darnell, Paige, Al and Deirdre supporting just Bryce, had burgeoned into a hotbed of diverse misery, her yard dotted with more and more sad, lonely, addicted or simply insane people, hunkered on folding chairs, sipping at her lemonade, sweating and talking out their fears in the Summer sun.

  Amazingly, the more deeply disturbed individuals that surfaced, the more Bryce seemed to respond to the meetings, and open up about his troubled childhood and the depth of his addictions. Paige, on the other hand, hovered in the background, filling glasses and praying like a school girl who hadn’t done her homework that that the teacher wouldn’t call on her. Al just sat and listened, shocked by nothing. Paige was suspicious that he had actually learned how to sleep with his eyes open. The fact that he could periodically nod understandingly in his sleep was particularly impressive.

  Whenever there was a new group member, Darnell would smile benevolently, call them “friend”, and ask if they would like to tell them something. His voice was powerful, deep and hypnotic, and it sometimes brought the newcomer to tears, which would set the others in the circle off crying, and so the first five minutes or so could be a wailing session, while Darnell sat patiently, nodding with a small, sad smile on his face, his hands folded in his lap is if in prayer.

  When the sobbing would subside, settling into snuffles and rueful smiles and sighs, Darnell would look around the circle and say “there now. Does everyone feel better?”

  This would draw barks of embarrassed laughter, a collective deep breath, and everyone would be quiet, staring at their laps.

  “Okay, now,” Darnell said. “Let’s welcome our newest member. Friend, please tell us why you’re here.”

  Today it was Thomas, their mailman. Paige had found a heartbreaking, misspelled note in her mail pail, asking for her permission to come to a meeting. She had left a note back telling him when the groups were held.

  Thomas gave the group a wobbly smile with his huge, crowded teeth. “I’m afraid I’ll never find a wife,” he said. “Everyone thinks I’m slow. Kids don’t like me, but I really want kids. Maybe if I had my own kids, they wouldn’t make fun of me, or run away and hide when I deliver mail to their houses.”

  “I love my girlfriend,” another member said, “but she drinks, and starts screaming fights with me all the time. And she hates living here, and I’m afraid if I marry her, she’ll make us move. I don’t want to move.”

  “You don’t?” Paige asked without thinking. Darnell shot her a dark look. She busied herself with the lemonade table.

  “I…I have a drinking problem. I drink every day. I start around noon. By then my hangover is a little better, and a few beers help. By three I’m on to vodka, because it’s almost evening, so why not…I can’t make it to work, and I’m sick all the time…”

  “Al, do you want to share anything,” Darnell asked loudly. Al had been tipping back in his chair with his sunglasses on. He jumped and put four on the floor. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. I’m afraid of birds. That dumb duck terrifies me.”

  Darnell had a look on his face that Paige was fairly certain Al had seen during most of his childhood. Al smiled and winked at him, and Darnell’s eyes widened just a hair, but they were very clearly saying “I will thump you later.”

  An attractive woman in her forties was renovating an old farm house on the outskirts of town. When she had started, it was basically a shell, so she needed quite a range of professionals working on the place. She went on to describe, in alarming detail, how she had had sex with every man on the job, because she was paranoid that she would be otherwise ripped off, or that they would do shabby work, cutting corners or simply leaving projects unfinished. Sex, in her mind, was going to ensure that her house was renovated properly. It was obvious to all that her anxiety about her house was not the real issue.

  Paige elbowed Al. “I’ll bet you wish you were working on her house,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  Al scrunched his mouth up, trying not to smile. “You should be taking notes,” he said.

  “I would like to start today’s meeting by everyone sharing something positive in their lives – either in general or since our last session,” Darnell announced one day. “Come up with anything at all, before we delve into the pits of personal hell. A smile is always healing, no matter how small the reason.”

  There was silence. People chewed their lips and squinted up at the sun.

  Paige was growing more bored with each creeping second that passed. She got up to stretch her legs and pass around a tray of cookies and Darnell’s voice boomed “Paige Scott, perhaps you would like to start.”

  She froze. She felt like the teacher caught her sneaking out of a pop quiz. She eyed the fence, wondering if she could pole vault over it. It looked awfully high. Finally she sat back down and passed the cookie tray to Al. She drew an enormous blank. “Sorry.”

  “Oh come now,” Darnell said. “Anything at all. Something good. In your life.”

  Paige tried to think. The group leaned forward in their chairs. She shook her head, feeling hot and irritated.

  Darnell’s expression was thunderous. “Let me give you an example. Did you wake up with a roof over your head?”

  “Yes, but it leaks.”

  “We’re working on it,” Al snapped.

  “Someone give Paige an example,” Darnell said. His tone said someone set an example for naughty, spoiled Paige.

  A farmer across the circle raised his hand. “A guy I know went to the hospital yesterday, thinking he had a virus. He died.”

  “I have it better than that guy,” Paige said.

  “Listen to yourselves,” Darnell said. “You weren’t killed in Afghanistan, this morning. You woke up, in a home. You ate breakfast. You had a place to go today, where there are people around you who care. These are simple things that many cannot say. I wouldn’t dream of trivializing anyone’s problems, here, but a little perspective goes a long way. Don’t forget the bigger picture. You are just one lucky sot in a world full of genuine misery and true need. Think of what you do have, in this world, and be grateful for it. In the light of this gratitude, we can better deal with our individual challenges. The light of gratitude will help us heal.”

  “Let it shine, brother,” Al said.

  They all chewed on that for a while with their cookies.

  Paige fidgeted outside of her boss’s office. After a long and empty morning at her desk, doodling and playing games on her computer, a prickly feeling had taken over, that she couldn’t shake. It intensified as the morning wore on, and she couldn’t identify what the problem was until she received a phone call from Bryce, who was having a rough day.

  “I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about getting wasted on something,” he said, with astonishing clarity. “I want a drink so badly right now, I think I’m going to jump out of my skin. What should I do?”

  “Well, there’s nothing in the house, so don’t bother trying to break into the cabinet,” Paige lied.

  “That’s not the point,” he snapped. “I can’t sit still and I can’t work. I would go for a run but I’m afraid I’ll keep running all the way to Pleasantville. I’m ready to drink mouthwash. I’m ready to snort Ajax. I actually thought about calling my mom, but oh yeah, that’s right, she’s dead! Life fucking sucks!”

  Darnell’s Light of Gratitude was not shining on Bryce.

  “Stop,” Paige said, feigning calm. “Sit down, put your head down. I’m calling Darnell.”

  Al was able to take over the lunch service at the bar, which was almost nonexistent on a Tuesday in the summer, and Darnell headed to Paige’s house for an emergency group meeting. He said he would have Thomas put the word out in case anyone else
needed to join them.

  After hanging up the phone with a shaky hand, Paige sat back in her chair, feeling sick to her stomach. She knew it wasn’t all because of Bryce, and his demons charging in for an unexpected (yet always expected) visit. Something was missing that morning, and it suddenly hit her what that was.

  She listened at Hackney’s office door for him to get off the phone. Howard Hackney was a raging hypochondriac, and spent hours every week talking to Doc McLaughlin about strange and revolting ailments. He was clearly talking to him again, and Paige tried not to gag listening to loud ranting about seepages and potential fungi. Finally the phone was slammed down, and she tapped at the door.

  “Yes, what is it?” Hackney asked, rummaging around his desk, perhaps for antacid, or smelling salts.

  “Mr. Hackney, have you heard from Mindy today?” Paige asked.

  “No,” he barked, “Why?”

  “Because neither have I.”

  “So what,” he grumbled, uncomfortably shuffling a pile of papers.

  Paige stood her ground. “So, she calls me every morning. She has called me every morning since I started working here.”

  His tight red face went slack. “She does,” he said softly, confused.

  “Yes,” Paige said, firmly. “Every day. Except today. That worries me, especially because…” She swallowed the lump in her throat, an image of Bryce’s young mother Christina in her hospital bed so clear in her mind it was as if she was watching a movie, and she forced herself to soldier on. “Because she is drunk every morning when she calls. Today she didn’t call, so I think something might be terribly wrong.”

  Hackney’s ruddy skin had gone pale. He hung his head, and suddenly looked like a little boy who doesn’t know what do with his feelings. He grabbed his keys and scampered past her and out of the office.

  Paige collapsed back into her chair at her desk. Suddenly Hackney burst back through the front door. He stood in front of Paige, sweating and fidgeting. “I ran into Thomas just now,” he said. “He said that he just delivered our mail and that Mindy was heading to your house.”

  Paige stood, jittery with relief. “Let’s go.”

  Paige let Mr. Hackney into the kitchen to peek out the window into the backyard and see for himself, but she warned him not to go out there, not to startle Mindy or scare her away. She was perched on a chair next to Bryce, light and twitching like a bird about to take to the skies. Bryce was holding her hand, comforting her. Tethering her. Darnell was leaning forward, sitting very close to both of them, and there were a small handful of other desperate souls in the cluster who could not wait for the next scheduled meeting. They huddled together in a tight circle, keeping each other there, and keeping each other sober, a fog of their demons dancing in the air around them.

  Paige walked out of the front door with Hackney. They leaned against his car. He was silent for several minutes, looking like he was about to speak, then stopping. Paige waited.

  “Mindy and me…We go back to high school,” he finally blurted, his beady eyes wet. “I didn’t know it was this bad. I mean, I knew…Not this bad, I didn’t know. What do I do now?”

  Paige heaved a deep breath. “You need to go home right now and get rid of all the booze in the house,” she said. “And then talk to her. Please. Talk to her every day. And drive her to the meetings. I’ll get you a schedule and give you Bryce’s number. She can call him any time she needs someone to talk her off the ledge. I mean, someone who has been through it. Is still going through it, really.”

  Hackney swiped at his eyes and sniffed, stiffening up again. “So much for my nightly scotch,” he groused.

  Paige nodded. “Way to be supportive.”

  Hackney dropped Paige off at the office to shut it down for the day and lock up. She walked home slowly in the hazy heat and found the meeting breaking up. Mindy and Bryce were talking quietly by the gate.

  Tina. One light snuffed out can cause blazing illumination.

  The air in the yard was still thick with demons. Paige was surprised her flowers hadn’t withered. She went inside to call the Wiccans to come over and burn sage.

  Chapter 25

  Big news travels fast through a small town, and the latest buzz was that a 10K race was to be held right there in Wells Lake, in mid September. A running organization traveling across the country and running 10Ks to raise funds for various charities heard about the Wells Lake Running Club and added the town to their tour. Deirdre explained this to Paige one morning as Paige helped her unload produce into the bins outside of her store from the delivery truck.

  “How did they hear of us, again?” Paige asked, suspiciously eyeing Deirdre as she bustled about, turning her back and sorting through a crate of onions. Deirdre ignored the question, and then turned back to Paige. She folded her arms and her eyes narrowed as she glanced about her. “I wish we didn’t have to truck this stuff in from so far,” Deirdre complained. “But the nearby farms only grow one or two different crops.” She sighed. “What we need is to start a farm of our own, right here.”

  “Deirdre…” Paige couldn’t fathom such a daunting idea.

  “Seriously,” Deirdre continued, her voice rising. “There’s plenty of land for sale. If I could just afford to buy it, and hire a crew to work the farm, we could grow the majority of our produce right there! And just think how much I could give to people…The kids…”

  Deirdre gazed ahead of her, wistfully. Snapping out of her reverie as quickly as she sank into it, she said briskly “Again, more money. Not going to happen.”

  Paige sat down on the truck’s bumper, stretching her legs out in the sun. Her short khaki skirt showed off her lean, toned legs. She couldn’t help but admire the sloping contours of the muscles of her thighs and calves that she had developed from a year of running. Her tight, trim waistline was a pleasant side effect as well. She lifted her hair in her hands and let a brief breeze cool her neck. “Deirdre,” she began again. “How exactly did this charity organization hear of our town and the Wells Lake Running Club?”

  Deirdre fluffed her hair to a perilous height. “How does anyone hear of anything,” she said, then briskly changed the subject. “Maybe we could have a town fair, the day of the race. If people come to see the race, they’ll buy what we sell. We just have to think of something to sell.”

  Paige thought for a moment. “You know what people who come to small towns like to buy? Antiques, or locally made crafts. You know – useless tchotchke they can’t get anywhere else. ‘Wooden ducks, hand-crafted by local artisans. Watercolor paintings of the town lake. Junk like that.”

  Deirdre made a face. “Junk is right.”

  “Yes. But they’ll buy it. And order more Wells Lake Running Club tee shirts. Everyone will buy those, too.”

  Deirdre grinned. “We’re not going to make enough dough to buy my farm, but we’ll still make some dough.”

  Deirdre was excited, and ready with her grocery store specials, as well as boxes upon boxes of Wells Lake Running Club tee shirts in all sizes and colors. Darnell was excited, being the only tavern and restaurant in town. The residents of Wells Lake who had made crafts to sell at the fair were excited. Basically, anyone who stood to turn a profit at the event was excited.

  Paige was not excited. Paige was irritated. Paige was being pestered nearly to death by everyone who was excited. People kept stopping by the house uninvited to ask her if what they made could be sold at the fair, or if she could bake something for the school bake sale (“Don’t ask her to do that, for the love of all that is holy,” Al had wailed, hustling the organizer out the door). The running club wanted to squeeze in extra training sessions. Darnell needed extra help the day of the race, and wanted Paige and Bryce to waitress. “I’m having Darnell’s Bar and Grille mugs and hats made. Try to get the customers to buy them,” he said over the phone, early on a Saturday morning.

  “How?” Paige asked.

  “Suggestive selling,” Darnell replied.

  “What does
that entail?”

  “You suggest they buy them.”

  Al found her hiding out in the backyard with Bryce.

  “What are you two doing back here?” he demanded. “People are a-knocking!”

  “I had an episode,” Bryce said, mawkishly draping himself over Paige’s lap. “I needed to get high, so we’re having an emergency Life Support meeting.”

  “Man, that’s bullshit. Get your butts in the house and deal with the traffic.”

  He steered Bryce inside, ignoring his meek protests. “But, I have a problem…”

  A car pulled up to Paige’s house at six o’clock one morning, while the group was warming up for what they now gleefully referred to as “training sessions”, earning eye-rolls from Bryce every time. “Honestly,” he complained. “Do they think they’re training for the fucking Olympics? Who’s that?” he added, pointing at the car.

  To the amazement of all, Darnell hoisted his large frame out of the car. He was dressed in a yellow Wells Lake Running Club shirt, in the largest size they probably came in, but it was still tight on him, and long, yellow basketball shorts to match. On his head he sported a yellow sweat band. He walked up the driveway with an air of solemnity. Everyone stopped stretching and took a step back.

  When Darnell reached the roommates, Al looked him up and down and doubled over laughing. “Yo, bro, you look like a pregnant banana!” Darnell shoved him into a bush and turned to Paige, his hands clasped.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Is the course clearly marked, because I will be way behind you all.”

  Paige opened her mouth but no words came out.

  “Don’t worry,” Bryce said quickly. “I’ll hang back with you. But, why are you…?”

  Darnell held up his hand and bowed his handsome head. “I haven’t been feeling the best, lately, so I paid a visit to Doc MacLauchlan.” He was beginning to sound like a preacher, deeply intoning the word of the Lord. Everyone was rapt and silent, except Al.