The Speed of Light: A Novel(71)

At two and a half miles, it hits me that I am going to finish. We’re nowhere near the front, but we’re also not last. The pain in my knee is stronger but bearable.

I am going to finish this race.

The thought leaves me giddy enough that when Nikki leans over, raises her eyebrows, and asks, “Should we kick it in when we see the three-mile marker? Finish strong?” my nod is enthusiastic.

Euphoria takes over. I push myself forward, faster, harder. I am going to finish this. I am strong. I can handle this disease.

I am in control.

But as if that thought has summoned the cruel gods of neurological diseases, my knee lets out a vicious throb. My leg buckles and I stumble—I catch myself, but the pain slows me to a limp-jog.

“What’s wrong?” Nikki slows, too. “Shit, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s just—my stupid knee.” I wince. “Oh God, I can’t run anymore.”

“Is it like before?” She’s alarmed now. “Are you able to walk?”

I shake my head. “No—it’s not numb and seizing up. It hurts, but I can walk. But I can’t run.”

Relief washes over Nikki’s face. “Thank God.”

I glare at her. “I can’t run, Nik.”

“We can walk the rest of the way—we’re almost there.”

“But I want to run this race.” Her calm voice makes me even more shrill, panicked, as runners fly past us. I stubbornly try to speed up, wincing with each step. “I promised myself.”

Nikki matches my pace. “Simone, you promised yourself you’d finish this race, and you will—whether it’s walking or crawling or even if I have to carry you across that goddamned finish line. It’s still finishing.”

My shoulders slump. “But . . . I was going to beat this.”

Nikki pulls me to a stop. More runners pass us, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Simone, this is one day. One day. All you can do is the best you can. All you can do is keep fighting every day. And I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

A shiver ripples through me, releasing my fear, my expectation. Making room for resolve. Determination. “Okay.”

“Let’s finish this race, eh?”

I nod, and hand in hand, we walk forward together. The finish line is in sight now. No more runners pass us—only those walking haven’t finished yet. But even if we were the last ones in the race, it wouldn’t matter.

I’m going to drag myself across that white line and finish. I’m going to conquer this challenge, and then tomorrow I’m going to get up and face the next one. And the next, and the next—I will keep going every day, no matter what.

I will not give up.

We’re close to the end now, and I hear a clap. Then another. Then the whole crowd is clapping.

A voice shouts: “Come on, sis, you got this!”

I smile—I can’t see Emmett, but he’s there in the crowd, cheering me on, and I pick up the pace slightly. A high-pitched whistle—that has to be Claudia; no one can whistle like her. Everyone is cheering now, and their encouragement is enough that I can limp-jog across the finish line, hand in hand with my best friend.

Nikki wraps me in a fierce hug. “You did it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

We pull apart when Mom, Dad, Emmett, and Claudia descend on us. Claudia hug-tackles Nikki while Emmett places his hands on both of my arms, looking down at me solemnly. “Sis, I just have to say . . . I totally called the last-place thing.”

I slug him, and he wraps me in a hug. “Proud of you.”

Mom steps forward to hug me, but there’s worry in her eyes. “You did great, honey.”

“Thanks. My knee was giving me a little trouble, but no worries—it wasn’t even bothering me at the end, thanks to our wonderful cheering section.”

“Yeah, we have a few cheerleaders here today.” There’s something about Nikki’s voice, the way her brow furrows and her eyes dart over Claudia’s shoulder. Then Claudia gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

I gasp, pop up on my tiptoes, scan the crowd, but there are no familiar faces—only happy strangers, exhausted and exhilarated. Then, on the edge of the parking lot, I see him. I want to call to him, but he’s already so far away, so I hesitate, turning to Claudia and Nikki, unsure, desperate. “Was that text about Connor?”

Nikki sighs. “I’m sorry, Mone. We didn’t know he was going to be here.”

“But why is he leaving?”

Claudia clears her throat. “He said he didn’t want to take away from your big day.”

My shoulders sag, and Nikki reaches for my hand with a sad smile. “Come on, let’s go get those beers.”

Pain settles in, but I follow them, my knee and my broken heart now an excruciating match. With each step away from Connor, I remind myself I was the one who let him go—I was the one who told him to go, who ignored his calls and texts, who shut him out, over and over again.

I remind myself it is too late.





CHAPTER FORTY

Beer is great for quickly replenishing the lactic acid in your muscles after a race—Nikki says something to that effect, at least, but all I care about right now is that it’s cooling my throat and dulling the pain. So after my family heads back to Aberdeen to pick up Grandma from the neighbors’ house, I buy another round for Nikki, Claudia, and me.