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He took me sightseeing. The two of us on his motorcycle. The security Michael had sent in a car discreetly behind us. The poor man had arrived and been immediately put to work. His name was Heathrow, like the airport, and he had a great British accent. When I asked if he was too tired, he’d scoffed at me like the idea was ridiculous, and I’d decided to take him at his word.
I took a selfie with a view of the Eiffel Tower behind us, not for public consumption, just for us. We didn’t need to get to my dad anymore. That ship had sailed. We drove on. Every sight, every view, we stopped and smiled. He was a good sport about my need to document things, and I thought he was pretty much just happy to be out on his bike in the middle of the day.
Ants crawled on the back of my neck the whole day. It must be the security trailing us. I could feel his eyes on me.
We ate dinner at home that night, and he taught me new things I could do with my vibrator. Things I hadn’t imagined doing with it before. It had been a tool to get off fast, not to play with for hours. And he’d finally let me give him a blow job. The taste of his hard, thick cock in my mouth had made me wet and ready. When we’d made love, it had been almost dawn. What was the difference? We weren’t getting up with an alarm.
I woke up, with his arms around me and the sun streaming in the room. I’d never felt better.
That was until we started to run again. I knew I would eventually get stronger. It was the eventually that was the problem. I made it about as far as I had the time before. The mural had changed, and I stopped to stare at it. There was my mother reading a book on the wall. My mouth fell open. This woman had really captured her. It was a magazine image. I’d seen it on the wall in one of our rental houses, framed. But I had no idea what had happened to it since. A capture of it was right there.
I stared at it, tears coming to my eyes. She’d been about my age there. Happy. No worries. Hitting it big in a career few ever would. What had happened? Well, other than the obvious that her children had happened. Had she somehow foreseen the future? Known what fucked up individuals we would prove to be?
Sure, I idolized my sisters, but they were deeply troubled. Hope with her need to please, and Bridget with the fear that if she didn’t win, it meant loss. Fuck. Where had this clarity come from? The running?
We’d been playing phone tag. I needed to hear their voices.
It was disloyal to think those things. What was wrong with me?
“She’s not as pretty as you.” Zeke stood next to me. When had he turned around? How long had I been standing here?
“Prettier.” I had to disagree with him. It simply wasn’t true. “Because she knew herself. Or at least, she did there.”
“You know yourself. Stop pretending you don’t.”
I ignored him and crossed the street to be closer. It wasn’t like my mother was really there, but I had a visceral need to touch her image. I didn’t care to question why.
A man strode past us, stopping abruptly when he saw me, and I saw Heathrow appear seemingly out of nowhere. I was impressed. It was hard to be invisible until needed.
He didn’t approach yet. Wait and see seemed to be the game.
“You are the redhead.”
I smiled. “Oh, I’m hardly the redhead. There are lots of redheads—”
“Yes,” Zeke interrupted me. “The only redhead. She is it. You’re right. Any other redhead is pale next to her. You’ve spotted her. Now move on.”
My mouth fell open as the man scampered away. I didn’t know if I should be in with love what he just did or horrified.
“You can’t talk to people like that about me. There will be bad press.”
“And? Would that be the worst thing in the world? You don’t have to be the kindest person everyone ever met every second of the day. You’re busy right now. He spotted you. He has a story. Dude can tell everyone he saw you on the street.
Let’s finish our run.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do it.”
“You can. One more mile, then we’ll turn. You need to do better this time. Small increments. It’s good for the soul.”
I sighed. He was right, and I knew it. “Fine. But if I can’t walk tomorrow, you’re carrying me around.”
His smile was slow and ridiculously full of promise.
“Maybe I won’t let you get out of bed.”
I caught my breath. “That sounds like a plan.”
“Only if you make the mile.”
