Running

   [FAYE]

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. A panic attack is approaching, and I need to get out of this room. This is all too much to process.

“I need to go.” I rush to the door. Embyr had given me a ride here, but it was all a downhill hike and not even a mile to my apartment. I didn’t even care, to be honest. It could have been ten miles and I wouldn’t have cared. I just couldn’t stay in this room any longer. 

 “Faye, wait!” my mother stands up. I can hear her stiletto boots on the floor behind me. Before she can move any closer, I open the door and run down the street in borrowed sneakers three sizes too small. The T-shirt is long enough so I don't have to worry about my bare legs. I’m wearing some clean gym shorts Arthur found that were close enough to my size to stay on, so I’m not even flashing anyone. Plus, this is Berkeley. I doubt this is the strangest thing anyone has seen on a Saturday.

I hear heavy footsteps behind me, the careful strides of an experienced runner. He catches up to me, and then instead of passing me, slows down to match my tempo. I look over to see Arthur, his face no longer smiling, his eyes full of concern.

“Can I run with you?” 

I pause before answering. I was going to say something snarky like “I don’t own the sidewalk” but thought twice about it. He is probably as shocked and hurting as I am. And yet, he came after me. Sure, the sex was incredible, and he said he wanted to get to know me better, but this is more drama than most people would take on after a one-night stand. I look over at him. He is looking straight ahead, waiting for my response, not looking at me.

“If you’d rather be alone, I understand,” he replies. I see him gulp. Is he worried about rejection as much as I am? 

The silence stretches between us as I consider his simple request. My mind is still reeling. I know I owe this boy nothing, but I also consider that he came after me. No one else did. He cared more about my feelings than the pain he was feeling himself to come after me, a girl he doesn’t even really know. I notice him slow down, coming to a stop, ready to run back.

I turn back to him. He looks torn. His sneakers are untied, his hair is a mess. 

“Sure…” I say simply. The expression that crosses his face looks like sunshine in the fog, slowly warming, glowing softly.

Together, we run down the hill without saying anything. I don’t usually run with others, but with him in companionable silence, it feels okay. His presence soothes some of the hurt. I’m not exactly sure what this is that I feel when he is near me, other than it feels warm.

Once we’re down the hill, we aren’t the only college students running laps around the neighborhood. I live conveniently close to the university in an apartment I share with Embyr and a rotating cast of artists, actors, and whatever other stray she picks up from her adventures. Currently, it was a group of acrobats visiting on exchange from Taiwan. I notice her car, a ridiculous cottage core monstrosity covered in plastic moss and mushrooms, parked in our usual spot. She must be home, but I’m not really feeling much in the mood to talk to her right now. I’m not really feeling much in the mood to do anything right now. 

“This is it,” I announce. “So I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess…” he replies, his voice uncertain. “Unless…this might seem like a crazy idea, and I know I feel disgusting, so I’m sure you want a shower too, but how about we go to the college gym, use their showers and then adventure into town?” he rambles. This idea bubbling from his mouth, almost too fast to understand, as if he is trying to convince himself as well as me. 

“But I don’t have any clothes…” 

“Let’s stop at one of those cheap stores just off campus and…” he pauses. “I’m trying too hard, aren’t I? It’s okay if you don’t want to. I totally get it.”

I don’t respond. I’m not even sure what to say. “No, it's just I…”

“I know… you don’t know me, and this is a crazy idea. I just thought,” he pauses, “I just thought you might not want to go home yet either.” He looks back the way he came. 

He is right. I don’t want to go back up that hill, I don’t want to see our parents. I don’t even want to go into my apartment and have to explain all of this to anyone else at the moment. The feelings are too raw. As I stand there with him, his idea sounds less and less crazy. 

“You know what, let’s do it.” This time he smiles his kilowatt smile, and it isn’t at all weird. It is so genuine, I feel myself smiling back. 

We run together, first back up to Bancroft Avenue to pick out some clean clothes from the college shops that face the gym, and then across the street to the sports facility. The guy in the front recognizes him right away. Arthur explains that he forgot his key, and the guy makes him a new key card on the spot. Then, handing it to Arthur, he waves us both in. “I’m on the rowing team,” Arthur explains, “I practically live here.” 

Of course, he does.

“That and my dad and I don’t actually spend that much time together, and the house… gets a bit lonely sometimes.” He admits, runs his hands through his hair shyly. “It was different before mom died, Dad was different. My mom, she was always the one who took care of me…my dad, he was too busy making money or buying companies or traveling the world. Mom…”

“She was your everything.” I place a hand on his arm. 

“Yeah.”

“I understand.”

He stops.

“My father was my whole world too.” Tears build up in my eyes. “I just can’t… I don’t know how she could….”

He pulls me into his arms and I cry onto his shoulder. His chest also shakes as he fights to hold back his own sobs. God, what a pair we make. How could our parents do this without at least telling us first? How could they exclude us from such an important change?

We pull away, and I feel a shared understanding come between us as we look into each other's eyes. We are both hurting. 

“We’re here.”

“What?”

“The locker rooms. Here,” he opens the door to the boy’s locker room and then, propping the door open, turns to hand me the key. “Use this to get into the girl’s shower, it's just down the hall. I’ll meet you back out front in ten minutes.”

I nod, and head down the hall. Thankfully, the locker room is empty as I make my way to the shower. In my bag, I have a pair of leggings with the university logo running down the leg and an oversized t-shirt in our school colors. I was also able to get deodorant and some body wash. My hair would just have to remain a disaster. They didn’t have anything in the shop that could touch my curls.

I folded the borrowed hoodie, t-shirt, and shorts and headed into the stall, scrubbing off all traces of sweat and alcohol from my skin. When I felt clean enough, I braided down my hair, dried myself with a clean towel provided by the gym. Arthur had told me I could just throw the rest away, but I didn’t have any shoes and I really liked this hoodie, so I put those back on. The rest I placed in the school laundry. Maybe someone else might get a chance to use them.

I dash outside to see Arthur waiting, the sun shining through his blond hair, which is spiking up, uncombed. Like myself, he is wearing branded clothing.

“We look like one of those diversity ads for school admission” I joke.

He laughs, takes my hand, and leads me towards Telegraph Avenue.

It's a weekend, so there are street vendors selling all sorts of random things on the street. We pause at a used book store and take turns reading the back covers of poorly written romance novels out loud in dramatic voices. 

From there we head down to Ashby and walk down to South Berkeley. There is a flea market in the train station that has been happening every weekend for the last five decades. This has always been the “Black” side of town, and every year in summer they have a huge Juneteenth celebration, a tradition that dates back to long before it ever became a federal holiday. 

We dance to the djembe drums that always play in the background near the entrance to the train station. Kids dance with us in the closed street. We walk along the stalls and Arthur sees me pause to look at a beautiful head wrap that had been woodblock printed with traditional West African motifs. He pulls out his card and hands it to the gentleman selling it, who swipes it and smiles as he hands it back.

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“I know, but …”

“Thank you,” I don’t want to argue. I begin wrapping my still damp hair immediately, protecting my poor, abused curls. I look up to see Arthur looking up, his mouth open.

“What?”

“You're… just wow.”

I look down at my shoes, embarrassed. “I know, it probably looks weird to you, but…”

“No,” he explains. “It looks perfect. You look perfect. I was just surprised at how much the colors bring out the violet in your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

“A gift from my father. My mom used to always say that it was his dark skin and violet eyes that first caught her attention. ‘Such a stunning combination’,” I quote in her voice. “We don’t know where the red hair came from. That’s a mystery.” 

Arthur places a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see him looking down with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna get something to eat?”

“Sure. I could eat.” I agree. “I’m craving a sandwich. Are you up for a bit of a walk.”

He laughs, “I’d follow you anywhere, baby” his eyebrows wiggle and I laugh with him. 

“Now you’re just being creepy.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be serious. Where are you taking me, madam?”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s head to the Marina.”

We walk back downtown and then head down University Avenue. It takes us a bit of time, but that gives us more time to talk, which feels good. It turns out we have a lot more in common than we knew. We both love anime, running, and reading a good book, although we disagree about what a “good book” is. He’s a tea drinker. I’m addicted to coffee, especially expensive coffee, which is a financially dangerous addiction for a college student. I learn that he wants to be more independent and wishes he could just get out from underneath his father’s influence. I confess that even though I don’t live with my mom, she’s still financing my education, so I also wish I had more freedom as well. 

We are both just a couple of young adults trying to find our way in a complex world. A world that got a lot more complex for the both of us after this morning. 

We continue to share as we finally cross the freeway and head towards the sandwich shop on the bay. “I don’t have a car, my mom tried to buy me one, but parking is hard downtown anyway, and I’d rather walk and take the train,” I admit. “Sometimes I wish I had taken her up on one, though. But I just didn’t want her to have one more thing she could say that I should appreciate her ‘sacrifice’ for, ya know?”

He nods. “My dad bought me a BMW when I turned 16. I didn’t even ask for it. I was saving money from my part-time job and almost had enough money to buy myself a used Prius.” He scowls. “But Dad said, ‘That’s not good enough for a Drake!’ and that was that.”

The sandwich shop was part deli, part convenience store, part fruit stand. It's a local treasure, a mom-and-pop place that was still affordable and conveniently located near the marina. We buy a bag of grapes and chips to share as we wait for our sandwich orders to be ready, and then head over to the marina. 

The marina is a mound of green sitting out on the bay. It was built on top of an old landfill and is a popular spot for families and kite flyers. “My dad and I used to come out here at least once a month,” I explain to Arthur. “I just thought… I just thought it would be nice to feel close to him today. I hope that… Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can go to the Rose Garden sometime,” he asks. “Not today because it's uphill, and we’ve already done enough walking, but…” he smiles, “the Berkeley Rose Garden was my mom’s favorite place in the whole world.”

“I’d like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I really would.”

I take his hand, and we find a lovely spot to lay just below the apex of the hill so that we can be shielded from the wind coming off of the bay. We eat our sandwiches while watching the giant octopus kites flying overhead. Using his hoodie as an impromptu blanket, we lay side by side, our heads touching, as we watch the clouds move overhead.

“So,” he turns to face me. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

I pause to consider. I look at his blue eyes, framed in reddish blond lashes, as they search my face. Placing a hand on his freckled cheek, I whisper, “Yes.”

We both move closer, our lips touching, and everything fades away except for the feeling of our lips. It is a gentle, patient kiss. A first date kiss. 

We share an Uber, and he drops me off at my place. As I get out, I see the lights are off, and Embyr is gone. I don’t really want to be alone. 

As I turn to close the door, I lean in and ask, “Would you…do you think you might want to stay? Nobody else is here, and I think it would be great to hang out some more….” I twist a curl that has fallen out of my wrap and place it behind my ear, nervous. “That is, if you’d…”

I don’t even finish the sentence before he dashes out of the car. Laughing, we run upstairs and slam the door behind us.