by Diana Gardin
“Hey, Brantley. Your friend here just agreed to be my new running partner.” There’s pride in my voice, because Mission Completed. I set out to accomplish something where Arden was concerned, and now I have.
“You’re seriously going to do it, Ards?” Brantley sounds pleased. “You spend a lot of time running…I’m glad it won’t always be alone anymore.”
“Okay, B. I’m always fine, but I’m helping Flash out because he’s asked me to. Twice a week for a month.” Arden’s tone is stern, but there’s a smile somewhere deep that makes my spirit soar.
Brantley’s voice grows closer, which means she’s leaning on the countertop, just like her friend. I turn my head, trying to aim my face toward the person speaking.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that, Flash.” She chuckles.
“Yes, please give me that. Because it’s my best trait. Maybe the only good one…” I stroke my chin, pretending to think about it.
When Arden laughs, I’m so startled, I pull back. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh, and I’ve known her for a month. The sound knocks the breath right out of my chest, and I fist my hands to keep myself from reaching out to touch her face. I’ll never know what she looks like when that sound leaves her, but using my hands to touch her would let me see her, in my own special way.
Clearing my throat, I turn my head slightly so that I’m focused on the place where Arden’s voice comes from.
“Um, how about tomorrow?” Her tone turns completely businesslike, the laughter gone.
I already miss it.
This isn’t productive, Flash. That’s not what this is about. Remember the whole “two broken souls” thing? You’d just drag each other down. Focus on the job you want her to do for you. Focus on that…
Okay. So, she’s turning our arrangement into a formal contract. I can handle that. Right?
Why wouldn’t I be able to handle it? What’s Arden to me, other than a way for me to begin running again? She’s a woman who intrigues me, someone I want to get to know better, but that’s as far as it goes. Both of our situations, as unspoken as they are, make it impossible for me to think of her as anything beyond that.
As if on cue, the unbroken, silent connection that seems to grow in strength between us each time I visit her, pulls tight and strong.
“Look,” she starts, her voice wary. “You need to understand that I know nothing about being a blind person’s guide. I mean, I’ve done some research—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand to stop her, a big grin dawning across my face. “You did research? On how to help me?”
“Well, yeah.” Her tone is defensive, and if I were a betting man, I’d put money on the fact that she’s blushing.
“That’s…kind of awesome, Arden. And I really do appreciate it. But I actually have a Mobility Specialist. He’s my brother…and he’s a pain in my ass. But he doesn’t run. That’s what I need you for. We’ll make it work, and Nitro will be there too. I just need your eyes. You can handle that, right?”
“She can.” Brantley speaks up, and there’s a slight pause. She grunts, and I can only imagine that Arden elbowed her in the side, which makes me smile.
“Yes. I can handle that. Let’s meet at the entrance to the park tomorrow morning at seven. That’s not too early for you, is it?” There’s a slight challenge in her tone, which I like much better than the business-like one I heard from her moments ago.
Oh, if you only knew, sweetheart. Being in the Air Force for eight years means there’s no hour too early.
I let her have her fun, though. “Yeah, I guess I can make it by seven. I’ll see you tomorrow, Arden.”
And Nitro and I walk out of the shop, me not even trying to hide the grin spreading across my face.
7
Arden
October 30, 2017
At quarter until seven the following morning, I leave my driveway and jog toward Forsyth Park. From the way Flash looked yesterday when I suggested a seven a.m. run, I know he probably won’t be there on time. But I’ll be there early, and that way I can stretch and be ready to greet him when he arrives.
I can’t remember the last time I ran with a partner. I ran cross-country in college, but that was five years ago. I’m pretty sure I haven’t run with anyone since. Trenton…he was never a runner. He kept himself in shape by working out at the gym.
Flutters of feelings so far removed from my present life begin flying around in my belly. Is it excitement? I’m excited to be running with a partner?
The idea sends immediate pangs of guilt stabbing through my chest, and I swallow down the twinges of anticipation. I shouldn’t be feeling excited about anything in my life. Not when my husband and my little boy have ceased to exist.
Swallowing down the pain that comes with that thought, I continue the jog to the park.
When I turn the corner from the side street I’m on and pause on the sidewalk across from the park, my mouth drops open in surprise. Standing in front of the gates, at 6:57 a.m., is Flash. He’s stretching on the grassy area just next to the path, the long and lean muscles of his legs prominent and flexed as he leans to one side and then to the other.
Spotting me from across the street, Nitro gives a short bark in greeting. His tail wags in excitement, and something warm and smooth envelops my heart. The dog is so sweet, responding to my affection for him with his own brand of love.
Looking both ways before jogging across the street, I stop right in front of where Flash stands stretching. He must have heard my footsteps, because he looks in my direction. It’s uncanny to me, knowing that he can’t see me, how it always feels like he’s looking directly inside me.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greets me with an easy smile.
One of the first things I noticed about Flash on the day I met him was that his mouth seemed like the type that didn’t smile often. I can hardly remember that man now. He gives me his smiles so willingly, so easily, that it makes me feel guilty I’ll never be able to return the favor.
I wrack my brain as I study him, trying to figure out what change in his life could have caused so much of his anger to ebb away. We’ve never talked about it, but I made an educated guess that he was pissed about losing his eyesight and didn’t know how to express it or manage it. That anger still stirs deep down inside him; I can see the frustration on his face sometimes, when he thinks no one is paying attention and he wants to do something a seeing person would do. I’ve seen him finger the menus printed on heavy cardstock at the shop, the expression on his face full of longing. I’ve seen him turn his face into the sun in the window, feeling its warmth. The expression on his face always lodges a lump in my throat, because he knows he’ll never see the light from it again.
His anger is valid. Whatever accident happened to make him blind, took away something precious. That feeling is so familiar to me that the thread connecting us is almost tangible.
“Good morning yourself. Why do I feel like I’ve been hustled?” I drop into a lunge beside him.
He grins. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
I snort. “You were here before seven.”
He shrugs, reaching one arm over his head to stretch the side of his body. “I’m an early riser.”
I glance down at Nitro, giving him a scratch behind his ear. “Is that true, Nitro? He’s an early riser?”
Nitro whines, tipping his head to one side, as if answering me.
“Okay, Hustler. You ready to do this?” I stand, pulling my right foot up behind me to stretch my quad.
Flash does the same. “Ready.”
“So how do we do this?” Trepidation hits me, not for the first time.
I don’t know how to be his guide. What if I fail at this?
I haven’t cared much about anything since I woke up from the coma. But failing Flash…I know he needs this. And maybe I didn’t realize it before, but I need this too. I need to help him, because heaven knows I couldn’t help Danté and Trenton when
they needed me.
A mound forms in my throat, painful and large. Swallowing around it, I focus on Flash. The sun peeks over the horizon just behind him, making his short brown hair appear almost golden from the effect. His skin is bronzed, like he spends a lot of time outside, and his body is lean and muscular.
“I need Nitro on one side of me and you on the other. Someone who’s been blind for longer than I have probably wouldn’t need both. Nitro and I aren’t quite ready to do this on our own yet, and I didn’t want you to feel like it was all on you. So, I have two guides today. Okay?” His voice is gentle, yet firm, while he explains.
I nod, silently curse myself, and then answer him aloud. “Okay.”
“I have this.” He reaches into the small pocket on the side of Nitro’s harness and pulls out a thin, soft length of rope. “It’s about fifteen inches long. We’ll wind it around our hands and it’ll keep us close together. You’ll give me verbal cues while we run; if we’re crossing someone’s path or if there’s something in front of us we need to avoid. Sounds simple enough, right?”
He gives me a reassuring smile, and reaches out with the rope.
“Right.” My voice is full of doubt, but I grab hold of the rope. His fingers brush mine as I wrap it around my hand, and his touch is warm and rough. I’ve never asked him what he does for work, but I can only imagine from the rough feel of his fingers that he works with his hands.
Or he used to, before his accident.
We both pull the rope taut between us. Flash’s head turns slightly toward me. “Let’s go. You set the pace, sweetheart. I’ll keep up.”
You set the pace. I’ll keep up.
Setting the pace puts me in control. I haven’t felt like I’ve been in control of anything for a very, very long time. I pause, letting the feeling of surprise, and then comfort, wash over me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of crisp autumn lingering in the air around us.
Control.
“Hey.” Flash tugs gently on the rope that binds us. “You okay over there, Arden? You’re usually the Energizer bunny…you never stop moving. I need my bunny right now.”
My lips quirk into an unwilling smile. Giving a sharp tug on the rope, I push forward through the gates of the park. Flash utters a quick command to Nitro, and the three of us are on the path, running under draping Spanish moss and past lush, rolling hills of green. All around us, the trees are declaring the new season, their colors blazing and fiery in the early-morning sunlight.
“It’s beautiful out today,” I murmur as we run. “Slight right here, Flash.”
We take the path as it veers, and Flash’s stride matches perfectly to mine. “Tell me, Bunny. I want to see it through your eyes.”
I hesitate, but only for a second. “The trees…they’re turning colors for fall. The colors are gorgeous, blazing reds and oranges and yellows. And the walkers and runners out this morning are dressed for the crisper air, just like we are.”
Flash hums his agreement. “I was surprised at the chill when I got up this morning…it usually doesn’t get like this until later in November.”
“The path grows narrow here, so I’m going to step a few paces ahead,” I inform Flash, as we run into a small tunnel. The stone above us mutes our voices, creating a cozy, darkened feeling. “We’re in a little tunnel…it’s darker in here. I can see the sunlight on the other side, about thirty feet away.”
“I know this tunnel…I remember.” Flash seems pleased at my commentary, so I continue during our run.
When we hit the two-and-a-half-mile mark, I pull him to a stop. Neither of us are breathing too heavily, and I admire the kind of shape he’s in. “Let’s make it a short run today, shall we? This is still a trial run for me. Turn around and go back?”
He gestures, using his head, back the way we came. “Like I said…you’re leading the way.”
So we return to the front of the park, keeping the same steady pace. I continue to describe sights around the park to Flash as we run, making sure to keep a careful eye out for anything in our path that could cause him harm, or get in his way.
I’m shocked at how naturally this is all coming to me. The smoothness to which we’re both taking this guide arrangement could mean we’ve been doing it for months. Years, even. It’s easy and steady, and after we started, there was nothing awkward about it.
We pull to a stop outside the gates and Nitro plops down beside Flash as he begins to cool down, pacing the sidewalk before dropping into some simple stretches. I follow suit, bringing one arm in front of my chest, and then the other. My body is limber, keyed-up. I could probably go for another five miles, and I’m not sure where all the extra buoyancy is coming from.
“That was…fucking awesome.” Flash muses as he stands up straight and reaches for our hands. Removing the rope, I shake out my wrist and immediately feel the absence of it somewhere deep.
“So I passed the test?” I ask, my voice carrying a hint of playfulness.
“Oh, you passed the test, Bunny. With flying colors. It was okay for you? Not too stressful?” There’s a note of anxiety in his voice I’ve never heard before.
He’s worried you won’t want to do it again.
That’s one worry he doesn’t need to carry. “It was good for me too, Flash. Same time tomorrow?”
Relief flashes across his face, and I have to keep my arms glued to my sides, so I don’t reach up to see his entire expression behind his glasses. “And Nitro is thirsty. So, let’s head to the shop. We can grab coffee, and I can give him some water and a treat for being such a good guide partner.”
Flash grins. “You spoil us, Arden.”
I turn and begin walking, tossing over my shoulder, “I didn’t say you weren’t paying for your coffee.”
8
Flash
October 25, 2017
“I can smell it.” I inhale and exhale deeply as we trot through the park, not because I’m short of breath, but because I want every aspect of fall that I can experience to invade my senses.
“Smell what?” Arden’s breath control amazes me every time we run. We’re on mile four, and she sounds like she could do this all day. It’s a long run day, so at the end of this mile, we’ll circle back around to complete four more.
The progress I’ve made as a blind runner with Arden by my side has been incredible. I’ve used my computer to research normal results, and it could take months for a blind runner to feel comfortable with his guide the way I do when I’m running with Bunny. She’s lived up to her nickname in ways I could never have predicated. If I were on my own, I might have given up after Nitro and I started out so roughly. When I’m running beside her, I know I’m safe, and I know that the people around me are protected from an incident, like the one Arden had the first day we met.
I can feel the heat radiating off her body as she runs, just feet away, and I tug slightly on the rope to feel the gentle slack. Her stride matches mine, which means her legs are long and capable. I know from being in close proximity to her that she’s not as tall as I am, but that she’s above average height for a woman.
“Fall. It’s everywhere, isn’t it?” She warns me that we’re veering slightly to the left, but I don’t tell her that Nitro has already silently guided me in that direction with the pull of his harness.
At this point, Arden’s verbal directions are more of an addiction than a necessity. It’s only been a few weeks, but I can’t imagine my runs without them. This was supposed to be a temporary situation. I’m supposed to give her up when Nitro and I are ready to run on our own.
Right now…I don’t know how I’m going to do that.
I shake the thought away. Don’t worry about that now. You and Nitro don’t have to go it alone any time soon. No one would expect you to.
Accepting help should have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Instead, Arden makes it easy. Too fucking easy.
She murmurs her agreement about the weather, her silence speaking volumes in t
he crisp, fragrant air. Awareness sends razors of curiosity along my spine, and I glance in her direction. “Halloween is right around the corner. I bet the houses in my neighborhood are all decked out with pumpkins and shit like that.”
Again, no response, just a murmur of agreement.
To this point, I’ve never pushed Arden to give me any personal information. She runs with me every single day, and the only things I know about her are her name and the fact that she owns The Art Of Java. I know she’s creative and can get shit done, but I don’t know anything else. Not where she lives or who she lives with. Nothing about her family. I don’t know where she went to college, or if she went at all.
She agreed to run with you. Not tell you her whole life story. She hasn’t had another panic attack in front of me since that first day in the shop, but something caused it. I’ve thought back to that day so many times since then, wondering if she gets them often, or it if it’s just occasional.
“Do you have decorations up at your house?” I press just a little bit harder. “Where is your house, anyway? We haven’t talked about that.”
There’s a soft sigh beside me. “I live in the gated community near Cannon Square, and no…I don’t have a single fall or Halloween decoration up at my house. I’m…I’m not a very festive person.”
I try to reconcile that with the person I know. At the shop, Arden pretty much keeps to herself. She’s polite to all the customers, but she doesn’t go out of her way to make conversation with them. I’d chalk it up to her being shy, or having an introverted personality, but somewhere inside me that just doesn’t ring true. Especially when some regular customer, someone who knew her well before I did, comes into the shop. They try hard to interact with her, but she completely shuts down, making it impossible for the person to have a real conversation. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a reason for that.
