Page 34 of The Husband Hour
She did a double take, then ignored him. Undaunted by her lack of welcome, he ran up beside her.
“What a surprise,” he said.
“Give me a break.”
“What? I’ve been totally out of my running routine since coming here. And I usually run with a partner, so this is great luck.”
She glanced at his feet. “Your sneakers look like they’ve never seen the light of day.”
Busted! He glanced at hers, and the thing was, they seemed pretty new.
“So do yours.”
This seemed to take her aback. “I have to replace mine every few weeks. I run twelve miles a day,” she said.
“Me too! Gets expensive, right?”
“Go away, Matt. I want to be alone.”
He matched her pace, breathing too heavy to talk. She glanced at him and increased her speed. By the time they reached Longport, his heart was pounding so hard, he was certain it was going to give out. He dropped to the ground and looked up at the sky. The light suddenly dimmed, and he thought, This is it. Going out in a blaze of physical and professional failure.
“Are you messing around or are you having a heart attack? You better tell me now before I call an ambulance.”
Lauren loomed over him, blocking the sun.
“I am not messing around, but…I’m not having a heart attack. Just an acute case of humiliation.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“I’m not sure. Is the sky full of dots, or is it just me?”
She knelt next to him. “You just overexerted yourself. You should be more careful. That’s how men your age drop dead.”
Men his age? How old did she think he was? “I’m thirty-four.”
“Exactly.”
Okay, this was more than his already bruised ego could take. He sat up—too fast. He sank back down. People walking by turned to look at him.
She crossed her arms. “I have things to do, but I feel like if I leave you and something happens, I’m being negligent or something.”
“True. I still could have a heart attack. That might be manslaughter.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Lauren, if you think I am amused by this, then you know absolutely nothing about male pride.”
That silenced her. He felt his heart rate begin to normalize and he sat up. She shifted impatiently.
“Can I go now?” she said.
“I just want to say one more thing.”
She sighed and looked around.
“Lauren, before I was a documentarian, I was a war photographer. I’m not a carpetbagger trying to make a buck off your tragedy. I’ve been over there, okay? I worked as an overseas correspondent. I know what those guys went through.”
“You’ve been where?”
