Beyond the Point(92)
OPENING THE GATE to her neighbor’s backyard across the street, Avery found the dog leash underneath the grill. She and Eric Jenkins had struck a deal—Avery would take his dog, Bosco, on long runs, and in exchange, he shoveled her driveway in the winter and mowed her lawn during the summer. It was a good deal because Bosco helped Avery feel safe when she ran alone in the woods. But unfortunately, Eric’s wife had a permanent scowl on her face every time she saw Avery leashing up their dog in the backyard, as if Avery were purposefully trying to point out that she was out of shape. Michelle was out of shape. But Avery wasn’t trying to rub it in.
Seeing her, in the kitchen window, Avery gave a little wave and a false smile.
Bitch.
The word came into Avery’s head before she could stop it. When had she become so hard? Had she always been that bitter? Who cared if Michelle stared at her and Noah, judging them, when he left in the mornings? Who cared if she hadn’t once invited Avery to any of their barbecues that they had in their backyard? She still shouldn’t call the woman a bitch.
At that moment, Michelle opened the back door and smiled at Avery.
“You sure you want to take him?” she asked kindly, bobbing a baby on her hip. When did she have that baby? “I know he’s a lot to handle.”
Just then, a black Labrador came barreling out of the house. He darted around Michelle’s legs, through the yard, and jumped straight at Avery’s knees.
“Whoa, Bosco! You want to go running?” Avery looked back at Michelle. “No, it’s fine. Really.”
“Eric and I are heading to Oklahoma next week for Thanksgiving,” Michelle said happily. “We leave Tuesday.”
“Oh great,” Avery said. “To see your family?”
Michelle gave a slight shake of the head. “Eric’s.” She stepped outside and looked at the sky, as if to assess the day’s temperate weather for the first time. “I wish I liked running. I’ve never understood it. It’s like . . . what are you running from?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. She felt so tired of holding up the neighborly charade. “Well, I’ll bring him back soon. Maybe in an hour?”
Michelle raised her eyebrows like she’d never heard something so insane. “Knock yourself out,” she said with a laugh, then looked at the baby. “We’ll be here.”
The dog panted, stretched, and flipped his black tail back and forth with force. Avery felt a surge of gratitude toward the dog—At least you want to hang out with me, she thought, staring at his happy brown eyes. There it was again. That little, bitter voice. The only thing she could do to shut it up was to run. And so, turning out their gate, she ran.
THE TRAIL WAS eight miles long, hidden by the woods. The entrance, an inconspicuous path marked only by a small wooden post, was Avery’s confidential cardio treasure. It weaved an oblong loop and passed over a creek twice, ascending and descending gradually across varied terrain. There were roots to dodge, rocks to kick, and spiderwebs to pull off her face along the way.
Avery pushed herself faster than she’d ever run before. Off his leash, Bosco sniffed grass, marked his territory, and trotted far ahead, a black spot among the rotting brown leaves on the ground. Avery breathed in perfect rhythm—inhale, four steps; exhale, four steps. Her hair collected sweat and her legs turned over, warm on the inside even as a cold breeze passed over her thighs. This was perfect running weather—cool enough to keep her going for hours. And at least when she was running, she was supposed to be alone.
As she ran, she did the math. She and Noah had been together more than a year now—several months longer than Avery’s longest relationship, and that was back in high school. But the truth was, Noah had become like a ghost, coming in and out of her life as he wanted, never giving much explanation for where he was going, how long he’d be gone, or why he couldn’t answer his phone. When his job took him away, it was like he didn’t even exist. Avery didn’t want to be demanding—she couldn’t imagine stooping to the level of a girl who stamped her foot and asked for a ring. But some kind of assurance that their relationship was moving forward would have been nice. It didn’t even have to be moving forward! Just moving . . . somewhere.
Instead, Noah left her alone in her kitchen to watch her neighbor’s children grow up before her eyes. Dani was living in London and gallivanting all around Europe on the weekends. While Avery was sure deployment sucked at times, at least Hannah had a chance to put her training to work. And what about Avery? She had a shadow boyfriend, a messy house, and not much to show for her two years out of college, other than a few pieces of furniture she’d bought at IKEA.
Then there was the letter. Ever since she’d received notice from West Point that John Collins had been paroled, nothing had felt right. The first thing she should have done was call Dani and Hannah. But that night, sitting on the guest bed in her parents’ house, she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone. It was the middle of the night in London, and Hannah was tucked away in some far corner of Afghanistan, unreachable. It had been a year since they’d been together at Dani’s apartment in Boston for Thanksgiving, and even then, they’d seemed so suspicious of her new boyfriend. She couldn’t call them with the news about John Collins or her worries about Noah. She didn’t want to hear I told you so.
As she ran, Avery tried to untangle the web of her own shame. Who was she to feel bad about her life, when Dani had just watched the person she loved most tie the knot with someone else? And Hannah—she wouldn’t see Tim for another year. Compared to them, Avery had no right to feel anything but fine.