Like Breathing

Page 10

He was an enigma. No. He was more than an enigma, he was .

Without words.

He was something I couldn't put my finger on. An actor in the 'not quite famous' stage when I met him. But I knew him.

His age

19

His sign

Leo

His hometown

Harper's Grove, Connecticut

I knew him but at the same time I didn't. Not in the story I wove, the story I wove of the two of us together. In the story I wove I didn't know him, and he didn't know me

at least not until page 10

On page ten I was running; I would always run. The same circuit through Mission's park. I liked the circuit because it was secluded. I mean, sure I would see some people here and there, but for the most part I was alone. And I liked it that way, when I was alone there was no whispering to my ears that I was different. That I stood out

When I was alone, I could pretend my skin was the color of my father's wife's. Light and sweet. The way he like his coffee and his women. Why he wasn't married to mama anymore.

And my hair would be the color gold woven from straw and I would look into the clouds and daydream. My mind wandered weaving in and out of reality and dreams, pushing the two together, and although I know they never would combine, it was hard to tell the difference sometimes.

But when I saw Him, I knew He was reality

He was breathing

He was real

And he was running my circuit.

I would run a four-mile circuit every morning, and for the last two I was trailing just behind him. He was wearing blue basketball shorts that only came down to his knees because he didn't let them sag the way the boys at school would.

He had an odd run. Although his steps were measured and slow, a light jog, his body was rigid. His elbows were at a ninety-degree angle, the veins tense, and blue against his pale skin. He was ready to sprint at a moment's notice. For what moment he was waiting for I didn't know. I didn't know who he was here, in my stories about him, on page ten I didn't watch his shows

Didn't know pattern of his tears

The sound of his voice

"Stop following me" His voice was deep, the kind of deep that chilled my bones and made me look up. Look up to see he was talking to me. It was assertive as it hit me, he was so confident that, for a moment, I looked around to make sure I was on my circuit and hadn't followed him onto his.

"I ain't followin' you... I run here every mornin'." I said, my voice was not deep like his but rather it grated on my ears It was like the color black.

"We've run two miles in the same direction, I caught you... do you want an autograph or something?" An autograph... why would I want his autograph? Was he famous? The defined angle of his jaw and strength in his nose suggested so. But a man could be beautiful and not be famous right?

Not this man.

"No, why would I want that? You famous or something?" I asked, my lips curved into a frown, and when I tilted my head to the side, he took a step forward towards me.

Breathe

Breathe

Breathe

He had entered my bubble

My Space

My-

"Hey! Are you not listening? Do you really not know who I am?" He asked, his thumb and forefinger snapped at his side, the sound shocking me out of my trance.

"No, I ain't seen you before. Should I have?" Of course, I should have. If he was offering autographs, then I should have known him. He thought I was following him. He was someone worthy of being followed. I should have known him. "Sorry, that was dumb." Apologizing? I never apologized, not even when I pushed Annelise off the bed and she broke her arm. Mama beat me senseless for it but I wouldn't say sorry. She'd called me-

"What? No, it's fine... you weren't following me? Don't want an autograph?" He asked, his words cut through my river of thoughts. My mind was blank when he spoke, his voice parting their flow like Moses did the red sea. His lips curved down. Lips that were thinner than mine, but by no means were they thin. I watched them as he spoke, the way they moved around the words, forming them slowly, deliberately.

"No, I wasn't, and I don't. I run here every mornin'. I live near here." I pointed back up the track in the direction of my home "I run, get hot chocolate an' walk home." I liked the scenery on the path I ran. The water flowed fast and loud all year round in the small creek and the birds sang, their blue coats stark against the green of the trees.

"Huh, alright. Well, I just moved here so we may see each other again then." He said before he turned on his heel and ran back on his path. I hadn't gotten his name on page ten. Nothing but a few deep words, words that crashed against me and left me still for a minute or two on the path after he had left.

No

That wouldn't work. I erased his movements, those few words on the page and brought his steps back to me. I had something to say to him and he couldn't just- "No apology?" I asked him. He paused mid stride and turned back. He turned to me with his brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't know why I'd stopped him. Who I was to stop him. "You accused me of bein' a stalker... you ain't gonna say sorry fuh that?" He stopped... his whole body under the spell of a pause button while he thought over my words. "I aint got all day. I got things to do an' I cain't be standin' here waitin' fuh an apology from some so-called celebrity." I hit play and he fell into motion again.

He exhaled, hard and fast as though I had struck him in his gut. And if that was where he kept his ego, I would have supposed I had. "And how exactly would you like me to apologize to you?" He asked, suspicion in his voice. My lips, that were naturally set into a frown, turned down even more.

"With your words. How the hell else you s'posed to apologize? You ain't got nothin' else I want." I said to which he smiled. Not a smile of annoyance, but an actual smile that reached his eyes, and brought crows feet to their corners. A laugh escaped him, not a great laugh that shook my soul, but a small one, one that made me want to smile with him. But I stuck my frown to my face "I don' see what's so funny 'bout this. It's just a few words..."

"No... no... I'm just used to people wanting things from me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to think you were the same. And I'm sorry to think you were a stalker. I won't do it again. You got a name... not-stalker-girl?"

"Not one you need to know." I said, having taken control. In my story I was strong. In my story I was the one to turn on my heel and run from him. On page ten I left him standing in the trail wondering about the dark-skinned girl who didn't want nothing more from him than a few words.