Left Drowning

“My father tried to kill me. And then he saved you.”

“Yes.”

“There is no way that this happened.” He can’t stop shaking his head. “This means that your fire saved my life. That your parents’ death saved my life. That your depression, your guilt, those years you lost? Everything you suffered through gave me life.”

I stand behind Chris,but don’t touch him yet. “We can’t begin to piece this all together in any kind of logical way, but no, that’s not what it means. It means that there was a fire that was going to happen no matter what, and my parents were going to die no matter what. But don’t you see what else? That night had a purpose. A very good one. To keep us both alive. Maybe it’s our co

He drops his head, crying now. “That shirt? That really was you. You were on the dock.”

“Yes.”

“You stayed with me. For hours. You stayed all day.”

“Of course.”

“I was so amazed that you didn’t leave.”

“I would never leave you, Chris. Even then, when I didn’t know you.”

“You kept me from falling apart. Not just on the shore. But that night. When I thought … when I thought that I was going to drown, I thought about you. How I would never get to meet the girl who stayed with me. The girl who gave me strength. Who helped me plan a future and who got me to Matthews. I think that I must have gone to school there to … to find you. I didn’t think about it like that until now, but I was looking for you. Focusing on you that night made me hold on longer than I might have. When I couldn’t breathe, and I was choking, and dying in the fucking toilet … I fought to stay alive because of you. His pager went off, and I felt so guilty being grateful for that because it meant that someone else was in trouble. I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt, but … I also didn’t want to die. When I woke up in glass and covered in my own blood, I thought about you. You were all I had. I’ve kept your shirt with me since that day because it was all that I had of you. Or so I thought.”

Now I press my body to his and wrap my arms around his waist. I lean my head against his back and wipe my eyes on his shirt. “Don’t you see, Chris? You and I are supposed to be together. Not because we have to be together. There is always a choice. This is not an obligation or a duty. But our lives are entwined, they have been, for good reasons. I’ve known that from the moment I set eyes on you. It never made sense to me before. How I felt so deeply co

Chris turns around, wraps me up in his arms, and rests his chin on top of my head.

I hold him tightly. This is terrifying because I don’t know if he will take the risk to stay with me. I know he’s not one for reaching out for help or love even in better circumstances. I shut my eyes. “You think that I couldn’t possibly fall in love with the vulnerable side of you. And you’re wrong. I love that part of you, too. Chris, I don’t know what I believe in anymore… . I know that you don’t believe in God, or fate, or anything. If you can just push aside that rational, logical, fucking solidly cognitive piece of your thinking and just feel. Listen to your heart. The other shit? It doesn’t matter. The past? The horrible nightmare you’ve been through? We can handle that. We can. We already have, don’t you see that? For you, telling me the details of your life seems like something new between us, but I’ve always known in some ways. Maybe not the specifics, but I’ve known, and it’s never made my total love for you falter one bit. Never.”

I’m afraid to stop talking for fear that he will walk away for good, but at some point I have to turn the cards over to him. This could be the end. I may lose the only love of my life. But I have fought for him as hard as I can. It’s all that I can do.

“Just feel me, Chris, then nothing else matters. Belief in anything is hard, I know. But I am asking you to believe in me and to believe in us the way that I do. Can you do that? Please, Chris, please believe in us.”

He steps back and looks at me. His cheeks are damp as he lifts our hands between us so that we are palm to palm. Chris nods and drops his fingers next to mine.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Twenty, Twenty-One

At nine thirty this morning I left Hopkinton, Massachusetts, and I am now entering the town of Wellesley, somewhere around mile eighteen, I think. I am ru

The weather is on my side today. This last Wednesday in March is cool and dry. Weather around Boston is very unpredictable, and some marathon days have been dreadfully hot and humid, leaving even well-prepared ru

What’s working against me? If I continue this pace, I’ll come in at over five and a half hours. That’s a damn ridiculously long time to run, and my stamina is nearly depleted as it is. Yet I can’t imagine that I can pick up my pace. Eighteen miles is longer than I’ve ever run, and I’m hurting like I never have before. Fighting to do something that I’m not meant to do is scary. The fear of failure is scary. The average women’s time is closer to four and a half hours, but because I want this so much, I don’t give a shit if it takes me nine hours; I just want to finish.

Not only am I a slow ru

However, I do have some help with that.

I take a quick glance at Zach, who is driving a few yards ahead of me with the hazards on. I love him for how he’s unabashedly blocked intersections and ticked off drivers by trying to keep a clear path for me as often as possible. At this point I’d welcome the excuse to stop at a traffic light, and I groan inwardly every time I hit a green.

My legs are jelly, and I have never been this exhausted in my life. I just can’t do it. Accepting defeat is my only option now. I stop ru

“No way, Blythe. You can do this.”

“I can’t,” I manage. Jonah barks loudly out the window.

“Look ahead. Look up there.” He points up the hill. “Look what she did for you!”