“Yeah? What did he say?” Al asked pleasantly, picking bush prickles out of his shorts.
“He said…” Darnell paused. People leaned closer. “He said, I need to eat right and start exercising, or I’m going to die.”
The group gasped audibly.
Paige thought, no kidding, but nodded gravely. “Darnell, you are doing the right thing in coming here today. Running will change your life. Just remember, no matter how many times you throw up now, it will get easier later.”
They set off in the light of the early sunrise, Darnell front and center, flanked by Bryce and Al, with the running club jogging behind them. They made it to the center of town, where the townspeople cheered from their front steps and rushed to line the road, shouting and calling out their support for Darnell, as he had always supported them.
Darnell fell out twenty seconds later, staggering to the sidelines and bowling over a few unprepared spectators, but it was twenty seconds that the town would talk of for years to come.
The house was coming along with increasing momentum toward the renovation finish line. Paige took a day off from work, and the housemates donned old clothes, tied bandanas over their heads, and worked all day and well into the night sanding and then taping off and painting the walls a warm coffee and cream color.
The boys finally stumbled off to bed and Paige sat for a while in the living room, gazing at the shining floors, and the clean, freshly painted walls. She inhaled the ever present scent of old wood and the acerbic, chemical smell of the paint. It was the smell of old and new, a freshening of memories with a thick coat of hope. She gave her crooked house a crooked smile. Her pleasure was bittersweet. She felt like she should apologize to it, for nurturing the house as it had protected and shielded her, only to turn her back on it and sell it. She silently tried to explain herself, staring around at the carefully rehabbed surroundings. Finally deciding that her mental conversation with this inanimate object probably wasn’t healthy, and might be delirium, she crawled upstairs and into bed.
Paige awoke from a heavy slumber to the doorbell ringing. She stirred and was jabbed fully awake by the pain in her arms and back from the prior day’s hard labor. She was delirious from only having slept for a few hours, according to her clock. It was six o’clock on a Saturday morning. She rolled over painfully, right into Al’s back.
“What are you doing here?” she groaned, trying to get comfortable while trapped in a cramped space between Al and the wall. The doorbell rang again, accompanied by some knocking.
“I don’t know,” Al yawned. “I think I got up to go to the bathroom and went back to the wrong room. I was so tired I was probably asleep the whole time. Who the hell is that at the door?”
“I don’t know, but you’re going,” Paige said, and pulled her pillow around her ears.
Al pushed himself upright and shuffled out of the room. A few minutes later he was back, climbing under the sheet again and pulling it up to his chin. “It’s for you,” he said. “It’s the club.”
Paige opened one eye. “What club?”
“The Wells Lake Running Club.”
“What? Send them away.”
Al rolled over so his back was to her. “They’re not going away,” he said, plumping the pillow under his head. “You’ll have to go talk to them.”
Paige waited a moment, listening. The doorbell rang again.
She dragged her sore, bone-weary body over Al and out of the bed and folded herself into her bathrobe, not caring that it was very short and black satin. She stumbled down the stairs, eyes unfocused, and opened the front door. They were all over the front lawn, lightly jogging in place, stretching, bobbing, and smiling at her expectantly.
“What are you doing here?” Paige finally managed.
The offending doorbell-ringer up on the porch was doing hamstring stretches and smiling like a ray of damn sunshine. “We’re here to run,” he said, beginning to jog lightly in place like the rest of them. She squinted around at them, all bobbing and smiling.
“And?” she demanded.
The front man’s smile faded a little. “And, it’s time to run,” he said hopefully, still bobbing up and down. “We need to train for the big race.”
“So what do you need me for? Go run!”
They all jogged in place and waited, confused.
“Shoo,” Paige yelled, and slammed the door. She peeked out the side window and saw them finally trotting away en masse, corks on a wave. She went back to her bedroom where Al was sleeping, his lips parted slightly, his breathing deep. She crawled in next to him and laid her head on his firm chest, feeling like the dog that was ordered off of the couch, and snuck back on when no one was looking.
The day of the race was bright and swirling cool breezes felt literally uplifting as Paige’s anticipation mounted for her first competitive run. The organizers (thankfully from out of town) had decorated the finish line area, which doubled as the town fair area, with tented tables stocked with bagels, bananas, juice, and goody bags with race tee shirts, causing Deirdre to grumble about taking away from her shirt sales, water canteens and sample energy bars.
The Wells Lake Fair organizers had wormed their way into the area, and taken over a few tables, to the surprise and confusion of the race organizers. They didn’t object, however, when they found that the town was considerably smaller than they had thought, deciding that they probably didn’t need quite as much space as they had originally planned.
The townspeople straggled in with their contributions to the fair. There was a baked goods table to benefit the local school, on which were a few delicious looking items as well as some completely unidentifiable creations that Paige considered buying and throwing away to save some unsuspecting out-of-towner from a trip to the hospital. She remembered her bank balance, however, and decided they were on their own. Another table was dedicated to homemade objects d’art that residents had made for the occasion. The prevailing theme seemed to be creepy wood carvings and small unframed water color paintings. Some people had just found “interesting” looking pieces of wood, leaves or feathers and mounted them on other pieces of wood, in rustic collage-like endeavors. Bryce had been recruited to organize the fair setup, which entailed smoking a cigarette and singing “Arts and craps table, over here! Bring your arts and craps HERE.” Someone else set up a petting zoo, which consisted of their family dog, a pungent smelling pig, and a few chickens that promptly fled the scene.
“I didn’t know chickens could fly,” Al remarked, joining Paige and Bryce by the craft table.
Bryce dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his shoe. “They didn’t fly, they sort of flapped away.”
“They were off the ground though,” Paige said.
Bryce draped his arm across her shoulders. “There’s a certain symbolism, there.”
“What is it?” Al asked.
“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Bryce said, dryly. Then he let Paige go and adjusted the short black skirt that he wore over his jeans. Darnell had instructed him to wear whatever Paige was wearing to work at the bar, that day, so that it looked like they were in uniform. Bryce had complied, and matched her white tee shirt tucked into a black skirt with a pocketed apron. Paige had her hair in braids, and Bryce couldn’t seem to stop touching them.
“We should have brought Dingbat to the petting zoo,” Bryce said reaching for her hair again.
Paige stepped out of reach. “The town mascot? No one can afford him.”
They had brought their running gear to quickly change into after the “morning rush” was over. Darnell decided to serve brunch before the race, and then shut down the restaurant until the post-race party that he spent weeks planning. The runners from out of town would return via shuttle bus to where they were staying to get cleaned up, and then the bus would bring them back for the party. Darnell had instructed the bus driver to drop them off right outside of his establishment. Paige had agreed to help waitress only on the condition that Darnell ra
n in the race, and despite his newfound dedication to the sport, she was surprised when he had agreed.
As the crowd of runners gathered at the starting line, bouncing and stretching and chattering to one another, Paige stood somewhere in the middle, shifting her weight from one foot to another, trying to clear her mind and soak up the sun and spirit and unravel the nervous knots in her stomach.
Al elbowed his way through the crowd and tapped her arm. “Yo, watch this,” he said, smiling wide. “I’m going to get Darnell to start up at the front.”
“You can’t do that,” Paige said. “That’s where the elite runners are. He’ll get in their way. It’ll be like a traffic jam. They might run him over.”
“Exactly!” Al darted away and a few moments later he returned. “He’s up there,” he said, pointing. “Okay, see you at the finish line.”
“Where are you going?” Paige demanded.
“To the front.”
“You’re not an elite runner either, Al.”
He smiled down at her and clapped her on the back. “I’m more elite than you!”
Paige watched him dart away through the crowd and realized, through her annoyance, that she was no longer afraid. She had structured her whole life around not having to be afraid. She had been afraid of fear, more than anything else. Now it was a part of her everyday life, like another roommate. She had stared it down, kicked it aside, crawled into bed and cried with it. She could do it again, and again.
She was simply Paige Scott, competing against Paige Davenport. And Al.
Paige heard the starting gun fire as if she was in a dream. She hesitated, watching the crowd of runners make their way across the starting line and then fan out and pick up speed. Darnell was looking around him wildly, flapping his arms as if a swarm of bees was swooping by, as the elite runners zipped around him. Paige focused on her breathing and watched the ground until her shoes crossed the line, and then she picked up her pace and fell into a rhythm of breath and footfall and sunshine and clear air and her heart beating faster and faster as she pushed herself harder, passing several other runners. She was alive, truly alive, and her arms moved in fluid synchronicity with her legs and her feet and her blood. Paige Davenport was gone, she was eating Paige Scott’s dust. Beaten, reticent, barely alive, Paige Davenport faded into nothing, and Paige Scott felt as if she was running for her life. The miles ticked away.
She spotted Al up ahead, wheezing and limping toward the finish line. Paige suddenly felt as if she could run forever. The pain in her legs disappeared, and she sucked the cool air into her lungs, feeling the warm sun on her hair, and she flew past Al, with a wave and a wink.
Paige gulped the water offered to her by a race volunteer and watched Al cross the finish line and limp off the road to the park. She contemplated tackling him to the grass but decided to bring him water instead.
Paige lowered herself gingerly to the grass beside Al and offered him a paper cup full of water. He drank some and splashed the rest on his face before flopping back down on his back.
“Whew, this here is a good feeling, finishing that race. I’m all energized and zingy!” Al folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
Paige propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze drawn to the finish line where Deirdre was hovering, watching the runners come in, restlessly folding her arms, then shading her eyes.
“Want to hit the shower with me?” Al asked, opening one eye.
Paige tipped her sunglasses down over her eyes and sighed deeply, her body teeming with gleeful endorphins. “You are all talk and no action, Al Martin.”
“I could be persuaded today.”
“You’re showering alone.”
He laughed and pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go hit the fair. We can grab some Gatorade and a bagel. Like a date. One that we can afford because everything’s free.”
Paige accepted his outstretched hand and they walked toward the crowd arm in arm.
“What is happening over there?” Al asked later, when they had returned to their spot on the grass and were going through their goody bags from the race.
Paige looked where he was looking. Darnell loped across the finish line, straight into Deirdre’s wide flung arms, which she wrapped around him, before tilting her head back for a kiss, which Darnell planted on her waiting lips.
Paige glanced nervously at Al, who was struggling to his feet.
“Al?” Paige began.
He shook his head, not looking her way. “I’ll be back.”
Paige chewed her lip and watched as Al walked toward the bench where they sat together, warming the air. Darnell gestured at his knees as Deirdre mopped his face with a towel. She stood and darted away to the water table as Al approached. Darnell looked up at his little brother. They exchanged words, their expressions identical, serious, looking so much alike at that moment, face to face. Then they smiled. Darnell stood and they shook hands. Darnell clapped his brother on the shoulder. Al turned and strode away toward home.
“They’re engaged. They’re going to make the big announcement shortly,” Al said, loudly enough to be heard above the revelry in the bar, but matter-of-fact. He raised his glass and sipped. Paige caught the delighted laugh in her throat and swallowed it down with a sip from her own glass. She was warmed by the drink and by the news and by how utterly fantastic Al looked, his jeans hugging his long legs and his solid arms and chest filling his soft sweatshirt, his scent infusing the air around them. She hoped to remember this day as one of her best, one of their best, an hour of time spent together after the race that meant more to her than all of the lost memories folded into her photo album.
“Paige?” He asked, looking at her sidelong.
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
Paige snapped to attention. “Yes, and I think it is wonderful news,” she said. “I hope you do, too.” She snaked her arm through his and pulled him nearer. “You love them both,” she said. “Can’t you love them together?”
His eyes looked into hers. There was a question there, but she didn’t know what it was.
Finally, he pulled his arm away to lean in against the bar, and spoke. “Yes.” He shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “That’s my brother. Darnell. And that’s my Deirdre. Other than my mom, they’re my only family.”
Paige nodded and let that rest where it fell. Lucky is the person who gets into that family, she thought.
Bryce approached and draped himself over Paige’s back. “I’m tired,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “Can I go home, mommy?”
Paige shrugged him off. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “Just wait a few minutes. Darnell has something to share. Al, are you coming?”
He hesitated, his eyes flicking around the room. They rested on his brother for a moment, watching Deirdre move to join him behind the bar. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
Chapter 26
Friday, October 1, 2011
It has been raining here non stop. Everything has turned to mud and our little lake has overflowed its banks. Hurricane Irene flooded so many towns, but around here it seems pretty normal to go from ice storms to bugs and humidity, to wading through town in rain boots. Acceptance letter to Temple grad school arrived today with information packet. I have no money to pay for it. I doubt I will get much financial aid. What to do? What to do? I’m not sure why, but I actually feel like I have laid enough bricks in the road that it will continue, even if I can’t build it. I have to find a job, a place to live, tuition money, a life... Why am I not more overwhelmed? Maybe I’ve been drinking and forgot to get upset.
Paige laid her journal aside and got off the couch to look out the living room window into the dark, steady rain. Despite the sheets of rain soaking the town, the air remained stubbornly sticky and warm. If she went outside, she would be wet. Staying indoors, she was damp. She threw on a raincoat and rubber boots and headed out back to her garden to pick the last of the vegetables. Al was working at
Darnell’s, but she couldn’t keep eating there and expect to save any money. She had to learn more economical measures, like how to prepare a cheap meal for herself.
Sloshing back into the kitchen with a dripping bag full of plum tomatoes, peppers, lettuce and eggplant, Paige shook off her gear and towel dried her hands and neck with a clean dish towel. She stared at the heap of muddy produce on the table and reached for the phone.
“The key is to keep it simple,” Deirdre explained, shaking sea salt into the boiling pasta pot and stirring it. “If you have fresh, quality ingredients, you don’t need to do a lot to them. Now, is the chicken nearly done?”
Paige opened the oven door and peeked inside. “How can you tell?”
“You time it! What time did you put it in?”
Paige closed the door and picked over the herbs on the counter. “Not sure, really.”
Deirdre rolled her eyes. “Good lord, Paige, pay attention. Now, how long should we cook the pasta? And let’s see what you did with the vegetables. What kind of herbs go in the sauce?”
Paige set heaping bowls of pasta with stewed vegetables and herbs onto the kitchen table and set the pan of roasted chicken to rest on top of the stove. The boys had not come home, but there would be plenty of food for them to eat when they did, and it smelled safe to consume. It actually smelled rather tasty, she thought, her stomach rumbling. She couldn’t recall whether Bryce or Al had mentioned their plans for that Friday evening, but it didn’t matter, really. Deirdre set the candles from the living room onto the table and lit them. “Just us girls,” she said, smiling conspiratorially. Paige worried for a moment that she might want to cast some spells or engage in some other Wiccan activity. But Deirdre set out wine glasses instead. Paige unlocked the cabinet and uncorked a bottle of cheap Merlot.
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