The Running Girls(9)
Brewing coffee on the stove, Randall considered his plans for the day. He’d spent the last couple of months fixing the place up until it resembled something close to the home he’d once shared with Annie and David.
He drank the coffee outside. The wind was strong but its currents warm. He smiled as he sipped the bitter drink, thinking he was now more alone than he’d ever been in prison. The last person he’d spoken to was his daughter-in-law, Laurie, who’d paid him another visit last week. Aside from her occasional appearances, and his exchanges with the delivery driver who brought him groceries every couple of weeks, he had little to no human interaction. The few people he did see on the shore steered clear of him, as if the stink of prison coated his body.
When he asked Laurie about David, her face would falter and she’d quickly change the subject. She was a lovely woman and he wasn’t sure why she checked in on him. She let on that it was because of David, but Randall was pretty sure she kept her little visits secret from her husband.
He’d come to accept that David would never come to visit him and had made peace with the fact. He welcomed the little snippets Laurie offered him, but knew she was withholding information. Something had happened between Laurie and his son, and Randall sensed she wanted to tell him. He saw the pain in his daughter-in-law’s features and wished he could help. Wished he was allowed to try.
A few weeks ago he’d given Laurie a letter for David, but every time he mentioned it she would just shake her head. He’d never tried that when he’d been in prison. David had made his position very clear after the sentencing.
Randall would never forget that look from his son as his sentence was read out. David had been sitting in the gallery, next to Warren. Randall had already known by then that he’d lost everything, but the sound of the judge announcing his guilt had still dizzied him, had changed something within him, as if the same DNA that had helped assure his conviction had been reorganized in his cells. David had exchanged a look with him before shaking his head and looking away. Randall had realized at that moment that not only had he lost his wife forever, he’d lost the whole of his family.
That he’d been all but forced to plead guilty by his lawyer made no difference. Randall told David his reasons for pleading guilty the last time they’d met, in a stinking interview room in the county jail. If the case had gone to trial and he’d lost on a not-guilty plea then he risked life imprisonment, or even the death penalty. Due to his previous good record, his lawyer had managed to arrange a plea bargain agreement that would see his sentence lessened. But for that he had to admit to killing Annie, and that was something David was unwilling to accept.
Finishing his coffee, he decided to postpone once again the painting of the fence. The delay would give him something to look forward to. It was still early morning, so if he set off now, he could reach the shore and make it back before lunch. He packed a water bottle and, after glancing at the sky, pulled on a rain slicker before shuffling off toward the beach.
At one time he used to run to the beach and back again. Even after running along the water for the length of the beach, he would be back within an hour. Now, his age and fragile knee meant it would take twice as long just to reach sight of the water. Not that he cared. If it wasn’t for this, he’d be finding other ways of delaying painting the fence. If recent days were anything to go by, that would probably involve slouching around the little house trying his best to fight the thousand memories the place held for him.
Gray clouds accompanied him as he made his way down the dirt track, which he’d cleared over the last few weeks. Sweat dripped down his face, the slicker suffocating his skin, but still he felt the cold in his leg. The stabbing pain in his knee had reached his bones. He stooped and considered returning, dismayed to see the house still in view. When had he become so decrepit? Age had crept up on him in prison, his youth stolen from him along with his liberty.
He cursed under his breath and dragged his leg onward, determined to at least leave sight of his house. It was another hour before he crossed the main road and walked on the wooden panels protecting the dunes. He stumbled at the summit, sliding ten yards down the sand before his right foot caught in a rabbit hole and pitched him face-first into the powder. Laughing, he rolled over and sat up. Sand, small patches of grass, and, above, the pastel-gray cloud surrounded him. He knew he shouldn’t remain sitting for long—it would make it all that harder to get back up—but for now, he was content to sit and admire the patterns the wind made in the sand. As the wind drifted over him, carrying loose sand that stung his dry skin and caught in his mouth, he half expected to see Herbie come bouncing over the lip of the dune toward him.
Even though the dog had been dead these last sixteen years—Laurie had told him he’d died not long after Randall was imprisoned—he was still disappointed when he didn’t appear. Maybe that is what I need, he thought, as he got to his feet and continued walking. A dog would alleviate his loneliness and give him a reason to get up every day. Maybe the next time Laurie called round, he would ask her about helping him get one.
He couldn’t tell how long it had been since he’d set off. Although prison life had been regimented, the days, months, and years had soon become meaningless. It had all been reduced to simply lost time, and Randall had the same disrespect for the blurring passage of time now he was on the outside. His life was now centered solely on his grocery deliveries—the only thing he had to be present for. He didn’t wear a watch, and his estimate of the time of day was based on the level of light, something that was currently hard to read, with the low-hanging clouds.