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I didn’t need the reminder. I knew who I was. I knew what I was.
But as the wind floated across my skin and my feet moved across the concrete, keeping pace with my steady breaths, I knew I was untouchable. There was no one on my heels, no one who could keep up–I had nothing more to contend with than my shadow and the air I cut through.
Running was my way of escaping from the troubles I couldn’t see and helped bring me back to what was important. Blazing through paths on lonesome hour-long jogs was an escape like no other. I was beyond capture, by anything or anyone.
To blend in, I wore black; black athletic tank, black shorts, black hat–the one concession to my need to stand apart from the crowd was the pair of red running shoes that softly landed on the ground with each stride.
A movement caught my eye just to my left, a hand waving in my direction. I silently cursed, thinking I had been recognized. I knew this hat wasn’t enough to completely shield my face. I saw a couple of young women standing next to a bench, talking animatedly with each other. My face softened, and I chuckled quietly as I took in their excitement. I had half a mind to stop for a moment, the woman on the left with the jet-black hair capturing my attention. The three or so buttons undone on her shirt left little to imagination about her chest despite the red jacket she wore.
I was a beat away from slowing my run when I suddenly crashed into an unknown body. We both went tumbling off the path and onto the grass.
“What the hell?” I snapped, pulling out my earbuds, completely caught off guard by being taken down so easily.
“Hey!” a distinctively feminine voice shouted in my direction. I looked over and large, brown, very unhappy eyes were burning in my direction. She snapped her gaze away as she smoothed her hand over her long, brown ponytail before getting up and starting to walk away.
“What’s wrong with you?” I yelled, standing up and shaking away the stunned feeling. “Couldn’t you watch where you were going?” Anger and upset were clear in my voice and part of me expected her to just keep going and avoid fighting with a stranger in the middle of the park.
But she surprised me–again–and whipped back around, her ponytail catching in the breeze the force of her movement created.
“What’s wrong withme?” she shot back, and I could feel the sparks of anger from her eyes shooting between the small distance between us. “What’s wrong withyou? You ran right into me because you weren't looking. Who runs like that in the middle of a busy park? You’re not the only one here, you know.”
“Are you serious right now?” I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped my lips, and it was clearly the exact wrong thing to do, because her posture hardened and her scowl somehow deepened. Still, I couldn’t ignore how beautiful her face was, even if she was losing her shit. And to be honest, it was a rare occurrence these days for someone to be outwardly angry at me.
“Do I look like I think this is funny? Would I find it funny to be bowled over in the middle of the park by some self-absorbed asshole as I’m just minding my own business?” She looked at her elbow and brushed something away. I tried to do a quick scan to see if she was hurt, but every inch of her visible skin in her shorts and sleeveless top looked perfect. “I could have been hurt.”
“That’s what you wanted though, right? I’m only sorry your plan failed.” I shook my head, realizing that this was what she wanted the whole time.
“Excuse me?” she bit out, her voice full of venom.
“Run into me and make claims, get me on the hook for some silly shit?”
Her face contorted, “What?”
“You heard me? Is this some paparazzi stunt?”
The woman scoffed again, shock in her eyes at the incredulity.
“Unbelievable,” she brushed herself off, pulled herself together and walked past me, almost brushing my shoulder.
I turned, about to call her out for bolting, only to hold my tongue as she hurried toward a little blonde boy who got up from the grass. She went to a squat to be face level with the boy and the kid smiled as she brushed his cheek and then his hair with her hand. I swallowed the words trapped in my throat.
I looked past the young woman and the boy and turned back toward the direction I was running. The woman who had initially caught my attention and essentially caused the crash and unfortunate situation, was now joined by a man. As they hugged and shared a more-than-friendly kiss, a fluster rose on my face, realizing the last five minutes was in vain. I put my earbuds back in and continued my run, glancing back only once in the direction of the pony-tailed woman and boy. I couldn’t get her fiery eyes out of my mind.
Perhaps it was the hat, but I couldn’t really blame the accessory for doing what I wore it for. Attention was great and truthfully, I basked in people’s praise and adoration. But I preferred to be able to control the attention and only get it when I wanted it. It was one of the perks of being on top–having eyes recognize me anywhere. It wasn’t the sole reason why I loved being at the top, but I couldn’t deny the fact that it felt strange to realize an encounter with me was insignificant for a woman. It was an unusual experience for me these days.
I didn’t know what was throwing me off my game more–the utter disinterest of the woman or the fact that I hadn’t been the subject of attention in that short moment. Either way, I found myself lingering by a bench just a few yards away from the spot of the collision less than thirty minutes ago. I placed my right leg on the bench, lacing back up my loose shoe and gazed across the park. It was a nice day and a lot of people were taking the opportunity to soak up some sun, but the only people I noticed were her and the boy.
He giggled as she clapped softly while pushing him on the swing. He threw back his blonde hair as the swing lifted him into the air. The little boy clearly enjoyed that feeling of flying and let out a long, high-pitched laugh every time the petite woman with the beautiful brown eyes nudged the swing.
Even from this distance and the brief encounter, it was clear that this little boy loved this woman more than anything in the world. He trusted her to keep him safe while he enjoyed the feeling of freedom and weightlessness in the swing. And for her part, she seemed fascinated by his laughter and there was obvious love and care in the protective way she scanned around them, making sure she kept up her end of the safety bargain.
Not for the first time, I wished I could find that kind of love for my Stella. She deserved more than just me.
I felt my phone buzz against my thigh in my pocket, startling me back to attention. I turned around to look away from the woman and boy and unzipped the pocket, pulling it up to my ear.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?”
