Left Drowning(115)

“Dude, running sucks,” he says as we reach the peak of the hill. “You are one tough girl.”

I am barely running now, just shuffling really, when we near the base of Heartbreak Hill. “You ready?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s too hard. I don’t want to do this.”

He drags me forward. “Don’t stop moving. It’s the worst thing you can do. I read that. This is hard, but it’s not too hard.”

“I can’t. Why did I try this?” I pant.

A voice other than Sabin’s answers. “Because you believe in this.”

I love this voice. It cuts through everything that is hurting and reaches right to my heart.

“Chris, I hurt. Everything hurts.” He is next to me, and he grabs my free hand so that I have two of my most adored people on either side of me, holding me up as I run.

“I know, baby. Sabin is right, though. You can do this.”

“You’ll stay?” I ask. “To the end?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

“And I can’t do this without you. We’re going to run Heartbreak Hill together.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know. But you have to keep moving. Come on.”

Now I turn to look at Chris. As always, he takes my breath away when I see him. We’ve lived together in Bar Harbor for seven months, but every day I am staggered by the sight of him, and every day I fall more in love.

He hands me a bottle of water and smiles. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

I drink a third of the bottle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. So much.”

Sabin takes the bottle so that we don’t have to carry it and then kisses me on the cheek. “He’s got you. You guys can do this. Go! Go! We’ll meet you at the finish line.” He walks to Chris’s truck which Zach has been driving and hops into the bed. “Go, sweet girl! Run! Both of you!”

Sabin, Estelle, Eric, James, and Zach cheer as Chris and I start to run the hardest hill. The truck lets out a long, loud honk and they speed along Commonwealth Avenue and head for downtown Boston. I hand Chris the other earbud and we run to the same song that we listened to like this so long ago in his dorm room at Matthews when he first told me to run through the pain.

Heartbreak Hill is indeed a f*cking bitch. The steep incline is cruel and unforgiving at this stage of the run. People say that it’s all downhill after this, but it’ll still be a hell of a run. Going downhill takes control.

“Slow and steady, sweet girl,” Chris says. He keeps my slow pace. He is as strong as ever, but he doesn’t make me feel weak. He makes me feel capable despite how I falter in my run.

Chris and I live a quiet life in Bar Harbor. I mean, except for the loud sex. Of which we have plenty. I’m still freelance writing for the magazine, but I’m working on a novel also. This was Chris’s idea. I have no idea if it’ll go anywhere, but I’m enjoying giving it a try. Chris has immersed himself in Acadia National Park, and he’s become quite a good guide, leading us on challenging hikes and day trips. He got a job in the park’s administrative office and has surprised himself by getting involved in all the boring details, like the park’s budget. We’ve met some people who live in the area, and occasionally we have another couple over for dinner or go out with friends for an evening. Chris’s coworker owns a sailboat and has offered to take us out when the weather warms up a bit.

The winter months there would be considered impossible by some people, but Chris and I don’t mind. His truck can drive over nearly any snowfall, and we have a lot of supplies shipped to us. I’m quite happy not to leave the house for days at a time. Jonah keeps me company while I curl up with a blanket and my laptop and write by the fireplace. Our life is blissfully low-key. Except for when James and all the Shepherd siblings come to stay. Then it’s the best kind of chaos possible. Christmas was absolutely insane. Annie came out, too, and I think we all want her to adopt us. Except for Sabin, who still flirted with her like only he can. They will all be back out this summer, and James and Sabin have more plans for restoring the house, including sanding the wood floors and redoing the deck. Annie is staying with us for just a week, though. She has a boyfriend now, and they’re going to rent a place near us for the summer. She wants to be available for us—or, I’m guessing keep an eye on us—without having to live with seven recent college grads. I can’t blame her.

For months Chris resisted seeing a counselor. When his father died in the late fall, however, I insisted. He wasn’t sad about his father dying, but he was less relieved than I think he expected. There are pieces of his past that I cannot help him work through. He does talk to me, but it’s going to be a long time before he chooses to share everything. Or maybe he won’t share everything, and that’s okay, too, but he knows that I am always available. I’ve gone with him a few times to talk to the counselor. Hearing his stories is hard for me, and I have been battling my own rage and sadness over his childhood. I had amazing parents who died too soon, and he had an abusive, sick father who died too late.

When we are at the midway point of the hill, he wipes tears from my cheeks as we run. This moment is both incredibly painful and equally freeing. He knows how to read my body, and he knows when I’m about to break.