Page 7 of Run For Me
What sounds good for dinner? Hmm… I was going to make tacos, so we could do Mexican.
Me:Meet me at Rico’s for six? It’s on Seventh St. About a five-minute walk from campus.
Amelia:Perfect! See you then!
I get up to put the ground beef in the fridge. I’ll use it tomorrow and make burgers. When I get back to the couch, I pull up the campus page on my phone and log in. There is a community forum that I navigate to. I type out a post about my lost journal, but right before I submit it, I decide against it.
I really want to find my journal, but if I put it out there that it’s me who is missing it, and whoever finds it actually reads it—oh my god, I can’t even think of what would happen. It has me dizzy.
Of course, it’s possible they won’t find those entries, since they’re from months ago, but it could happen. Anything could happen. They could be reading the entire thing like some sort of twisted autobiography.
I close out of the page and toss my phone away. I can’t post anything about it missing. I’ll check more lost and found bins tomorrow, and maybe even pop into the offices to see if someoneturned it in there. Maybe I overlooked it in class, and it’s stuck between the seat or under it.
I need to stop obsessing over it. Worrying about this isn’t going to change anything. It’s only going to make me feel worse and potentially drive me crazy.
The clock on the wall tells me it’s just about five, so I’ll have to leave in thirty minutes to get to the restaurant on time.
The house I live in, the one my grandparents left to me when they died, is a twenty-minute drive from campus. A lot of people have told me how lucky I am that everyone left me so much when they died. The house, the car, the money… and I am grateful for all they’ve done for me, but I’d rather have them. Time spent with them was always more important to me than objects. Going through the most important years of my life without them hasn’t been easy.
Having a place to live, a car to get around in, and so much money I don’t know what to do with has helped. It gave me somewhere to start. I don’t know what would have happened if I had nothing. I wasn’t old enough to go into a home, and I have no other family to turn to. It’s possible I’d have ended up on the street, and that thought scares the hell out of me.
My phone dings with a text, and I grab it from the end of the couch. My first thought is that Amelia is canceling our plans. It isn’t Amelia though, it’s Sam. I find myself happy over that, and I guess I’m looking forward to hanging out with someone. Who knew?
Sam:Can you talk?
Me:Yes.
My phone rings a moment later.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just hanging out. I’m going out to dinner with someone I met today.”
“Oh? What’s her name?”
I frown. The way he worded his sentence rubs me the wrong way. Why would he assume it’s a female? I mean, Amelia is a female, but why would Sam assume that? I could have guy friends. Instead of making a big deal about it, I just answer the question. Then I go on to tell him where we’re going.
“Have you thought about what I said?” he asks as soon as there’s a break in the conversation.
“About what?”
I get up to gather my stuff, and I grab a thick jacket from the hallway closet since the weather is getting colder, especially at night.
“About me coming to see you this weekend.”
I pause, the jacket in my hand. “Sam, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” he asks, sounding frustrated.
I guess I can’t blame him for feeling that way. There isn’t a good enough reason I can give him. I can’t tell him the truth.
“I’m not ready,” I say. Which is the closest thing to the truth he’s going to get.
