Page 30 of A Shot at Love
“Mario Kart, kickboxing, who bought the better birthday present, Settlers of Catan—”
“Settlers of Catan?” I point his way accusingly. “I didn’t win that! We were invited tooneboard game party by your track team, and you were the one who ruthlessly read the entire rule book ahead of time and sucked the joy out of the game. You decimated everyone!”
Daniel grins at me. “Okay, so maybe we were more like 50/50.”
“Equals.” I nod in confirmation. “Agreed.”
Daniel’s about to respond when I notice we’re approaching the St. Louis Arch, the river, and the surrounding park. I can already see other people dressed like us clustered around a check-in table. “We’re here!” I clap my hands in anticipation. “Let’s go!”
I can tell Daniel is trying to figure out what we’re doing. There’s a sign that reads “Check-In” above thetable, and the pamphlets on the table are for the nonprofit Love for St. Louis’ Children. “Is this a charity event?” he asks quizzically, glancing around at everyone in their neon running gear. One of the perky organizers comes over and hands us a stack of glow sticks. Now, if there’s something I know how to do, it’s accessorize. I begin making glow stick bracelets and necklaces for Daniel and me. I even make myself a halo that I perch around my messy bun, a replacement look for my previous pearl chopsticks.
“It’s a Charity Run,” I finally give in and tell him, bubbling over with excitement. “Love for St. Louis’ Children is a non-profit that helps foster care or emancipated kids transition from a life in the system into being an adult. Finding jobs, schools, housing. The Arrows do work with them, and I got an invitation to this event a few weeks ago. I didn’t have anyone who could go with me, but once Jadea said we needed a unique date activity, this seemed perfect. For every mile we run, the team matches it with $500. We get to run through the city, and people will know what we stand for.” I’m babbling now, trying to read his neutral expression. I start to trail off, “And, as you can see, the theme is ‘You Light Up My Life’! As in, the kids do…”
The longer I look at Daniel, the more concerned I become. He’s not just expressionless; he looks a little sick. His face has lost all its color. “Hey,” I say gently, tugging him towards a nearby bench, “is everything okay? I know your bad leg probably isn’t up to hurdles,but sometimes you still post your running times on social media, so I figured this would be okay.”
A little bit of Daniel’s expression clears when he hears my voice. “I do still run, but only on the treadmill.” He says it like it’s a shameful confession, looking at the sidewalk and fiddling with his neon green glow stick bracelet.
It takes a few moments for me to connect the dots and when the epiphany finally strikes, I sit down heavily next to him. “Daniel.” I don’t even know what to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about running outside. We can leave. I understand.”
When someone is hurting and you’re the one trying to support them, it almost feels like you’re trying to will your empathy onto them. Not pity but understanding. Daniel was in the hospital for weeks after being hit on a run outside, and while I didn’t see the full aftermath, he likely had months of physical therapy before he could even walk normally, let alone run again. That would obviously be a time you don’t really want to remember. The guilt makes my skin crawl. I was thinking of the old Daniel, not the new one.
Daniel takes deep breaths, slowing himself and his thoughts. I recognize the technique from my therapist. I keep my voice even and quiet. “I’ll do whatever you want, Daniel. If you want to run and face it, I’ll run with you. If you want to leave and watch Olympic reruns, I’ll do that, too. I know this run might be triggering.”
He nods at my words but continues to focus on his breathing. I sit with him for a few minutes, waiting.
“This is different. It was dark, raining, when that car hit me,” Daniel finally says. His words are steady, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself. “I was on the side of the road, not on the sidewalk. I was wearing a gray reflective jacket that was dampened by the rain. Visibility was poor, and it was after 11 PM. There were lots of young drivers in that area, and the one that hit me was driving twenty over the speed limit. It’s unlikely all of those circumstances will happen again.” It’s almost a mantra, the way the sentences fall from his lips. I wonder if he’s had to tell himself these things before. He smiles wryly. “And it certainly did not have the fun energy of tonight’s ‘You Light Up My Life’ theme.”
“Even if that’s all true, it doesn’t mean we have to run,” I say, words fierce. “Sometimes feelings overrule logic.” I try to pose my next question gently, without judgement. “Do youeverrun outside?”
Daniel surveys the excited buzz of people around us, the glow sticks and neon apparel, the light twilight of summer. His expression is far away. “Sometimes. If I’m running on a trail where there aren’t any cars nearby, and it’s light out. That feels very different from the accident.” His eyes catch on some of the cars racing by. “I was always a stress runner, and it was finals week. It was too dark and too rainy to be running without proper reflective equipment. I should have gone home or to the track or something. I had the walk sign crossing the street, but the car didn’t see me and was in a hurry. I just remember blinding pain and then waking on the wet asphalt. I was in and out of consciousness, lying in thestreet for what felt like hours as paramedics prepared me to leave. I still have dreams of going on that run. Or not. That decision feels paralyzing now.”
I wish I had planned better. This isn’t a marathon or anything, so we just run on city sidewalks. They planned a safe running route, but there will be cars driving nearby. I never even considered that Daniel would be bothered. I feel so disappointed in myself.
I reach out and take his hand. It’s cold, but I hold steady. He meets my gaze, surprised. “I believe in you, Daniel. Whoever you are in this moment, I believe in. We can leave and set boundaries and be strong. Or we can run together and fight back and be strong. Both are honorable. Understandable. I’m with you.”
I squeeze his hand, and he looks down at our intertwined fingers. The green and pink glow stick bracelets I made to match our outfits.
Finally, he looks at me. His eyes are lit up, his expression glowing. “I want to do this, Annie. This is my chance to take back something I lost. I had to say goodbye to a dream I’d had since I was a kid. I’ve come to terms with that. Butthis, I can have. Running outside with you, laughing and feeling better. Feeling better than I have in years.” Daniel’s eyes brighten with each word he says, and a relieved smile grows on my face at the sight.
There’s something inexplicable snapping between us. Like we’re balancing on the precipice of sharing exactly what went wrong between us. Delving back into the accident and the hospital and the silence afterwards.I almost open my mouth to let loose the barrage of questions, but instead all that comes out is, “I’m proud of you.”
He gives me that movie-star smile. “I couldn’t do it without you, Annie. You help. This helps.” He gestures to our clasped hands. “Everything we do together feels like the greatest thing I’ve ever done.” I’m blushing at his honesty.
I struggle to say something, to not let these new feelings mix with my old ones. I open my mouth, but then the last of the sun dips and a sharp whistle rips through the calm evening.
We both get to our feet, a bit unsteady, but brave and sure. The woman in front shouts for our attention. “Everyone ready to run for something they believe in?”
The crowd around us roars, and so do we. There’s something healing in sports and collaboration and caring for others. The route has already been set for us, largely along the river and downtown, with patches of neon sidewalk paint marking our way.
The pack starts running together, dozens of people looking ridiculous and loving it. I gently bump Daniel’s hip with mine, checking in, and the look he gives me is loaded. Mostly, it seems warm with determination, grit, and gratitude. I put myself between the street and Daniel, giving him the grassy side. We run at an even pace, one I know is much slower than Daniel’s usual, but he seems to be enjoying it.
One of the front runners is holding a Bluetooth speaker in the air, and it’s pulsing with different rainbowlights. Whitney Houston is the first song to play, and the whole group sings together, Daniel and I included.
Everyone cheers when we reach the first mile marker. We’re heading closer to the city now, and I see Daniel’s first flash of apprehension when we run across the intersection. He seems to run a little faster, so I use it to distract him. “Let’s try to go to the front.” I nudge him, and he jolts a little as though lost in thought. “Show them what we can do.”
My distraction seems to help, and we flow back onto the sidewalk. Some pedestrians seem irritated by our sidewalk takeover, but lots of cars and passersby cheer or smile when we pass by. “I’ll race you,” I offer and then take off before he can respond.
I hear Daniel’s surprised laugh and then we’re racing through the small crowd, apologetically pushing through to the front. We pull even with the guy with the speaker at the same time, but I try to argue I had the edge. “I was first!”
