All For Anna (22 page)

Buzz. Buzz.

My phone vibrated on my
nightstand.

It was a text from Kai.

Kai:
Up for a run? Want
some company? I can be ready in 10 minutes.

I smiled as I considered
his proposal. I had never run with anyone before. Kai was hardly
just
anyone
.
Kai was a man who didn’t lack in strength or endurance. Proof of that claim was
evident to anyone with eyes.

His body was solid and
muscular. I had heard stories about the workouts at the station and they were
nothing short of intense. I felt quite unsure about my ability to keep up with
him, but ultimately my desire to see him was greater than my pride.

I replied.

Tori:
Meet me at the
bridge on Elm in 20
.

My run to the bridge
was fairly short. As I neared it, I could see him stretching. A rush of energy
pumped through me. While one second he was stretching, the next he was doing
some kind of strange combination of bobbing and weaving. I hoped it wasn’t a
new dance move.

As I got close he
smiled, matching my pace as I approached. Within seconds though, I was doubling
my cadence just to stay in stride with his long legs.

“Good morning, beautiful,”
he said, looking at me with the grin I’d come to know quite well over the last
six weeks.

“Good morning. What was
that little jig you did on the bridge back there?” I asked, trying not to
laugh.

“Oh, ha! You saw that,
huh? There was a bee next to my hand, I was just trying to get away from it,”
he laughed.

“A bee, huh? Is
that
your weakness, Kai? Big, strong fireman is afraid of an itty bitty bee?”

He laughed again before
answering, “Actually, I’m pretty allergic to them. I was cornered by a whole
nest of them once when I was ten. I had over thirty stings that day. I have to
carry an EpiPen now wherever I go. Kind of a bummer,” he said.

I punched his shoulder.

“Or...kinda great that
you won’t die from a bee sting,” I said sarcastically.

“True, if you want to
be all glass-half-full about it.”

“And if I was ever
charged with a life perspective…that would be it.”

This time his laugh was
more of a loud, air-sucking bark.

I smiled and shook my
head.

**********

We ran past the park
and the high school, turning left onto an old country road. I had been on it
just a few times before. The greenbelt that spanned for a good couple of miles
made for nice running scenery. It was some of the only green land left that
hadn’t yet been capitalized on by greedy builders or investors.

 I worked hard to match
Kai’s never-ending stride, but didn’t complain.

“So, we haven’t really
talked about the camping trip since the fireman’s ball,” Kai said, breathing
heavily.

“No, I guess we
haven’t. When is it?” I asked, sweat dripping from my forehead.

Kai turned his head
toward me, “Weekend after next. Do you want to come?”

“I’m not sure, Kai. I
mean, it does sound fun to hang out with you in hill country, but I don’t know
anyone else. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Kai laughed. “What?
Don’t be crazy. You know Briggs...and Mike.”

“Uh, I only know Mike
because he drove me in an ambulance after my not-so-graceful fall. We’re not
quite BFF’s yet,” I said.

Kai pushed me gently on
my shoulder and laughed again—or tried to.

“There will be at least
three other women there. I promise they'll all love you, Tori. I have an extra
tent and everything else is taken care of already. All you need to do is just
agree to come. Do you have your schedule yet?” he asked.

“No, but I put in my
November calendar requests tomorrow,” I replied.

“Great, it’s settled
then. You’re going,” he said, grinning wide.

I rolled my eyes at
him, but couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

We kept running.

Kai’s talkative nature
had grown quiet. The only sound I heard was our breathing. Somewhere in the
last mile I had found new motivation to keep pushing myself forward. I’m sure
Kai’s presence had something to do with that. The new pace he’d set had finally
stuck; it was no longer a conscience battle.

I felt good.

It was right about then
though, that I realized Kai’s stride was no longer matching mine. He was
stopped and bent over, sweat pouring from his face onto the broken, faded
concrete. 

“I surrender! I
surrender!” Kai said, holding up one arm. He was still bent in half and
breathing hard.

I jogged back to him,
trying to make sense of his declaration. His head lifted and his eyes met mine.

“You won, woman. You
didn’t have to kill me though...I would’ve surrendered miles ago if only I’d
known you were going for a long-distance medal,” he said panting.

“Oh. Sorry, Kai, why
didn’t you say something?” I asked. It was then he gave me a look that I could
clearly identify as
male ego.

Kai looked at his watch
and pressed several buttons in sequence. His eyebrows shot up as he read the
tiny screen. He stared at me in surprise.

“What?” I asked.

“Is this normal for
you? Your
normal
distance of running?” he asked, shock still registering
on his face.

“Yeah I think so...I
don’t really keep track of the distance,” I said, wondering what he was getting
at.

“Tori...we’ve almost
ran 6 miles....in one direction,” he said flatly.

“Okay...well, you don’t
exactly look like a guy that’s out of shape, Kai,” I said, moving my hand to my
hip. 

He grinned and stood
upright.

“Have you ever heard of
guys that can bench press two-fifty, but can’t do an hour of cardio to save
their life? Well, you just met one.”

He laughed heartily
now. I laughed too, even though I knew he was exaggerating. I felt
self-conscious under his gaze in the seconds that followed. I shifted my weight
back and forth, trying to ease my anxiety. 

“Thanks for the lesson
in humility,
Pele
,” he said, looking around at the road we were on.
“We’re probably a good three miles out still if we take this short cut through
the field, would it
pain
you to walk with me a bit?” he asked, his eyes
amused.

“No, of course not. I
really am sorry...I should have paid more attention.”

We headed toward the
dirt trail that ran diagonal to the street. While walking in step with one
another –both sweaty and hot –Kai turned to look at me again.

“So, what do you
measure them by?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you don’t go by
distance, do you measure your runs by time or by land mark?”

I swallowed hard,
thinking about how to respond. I didn’t want to lie, but the truth was
unconventional at best. He waited for my answer, his eyes still glued to my
face.

“I guess I go by how I
feel,” I said quietly.

“I’d make it to mile
marker one if I measured it by how I
felt,
” Kai said, laughing.

I was grateful for his
humor; it seemed to break up these serious conversations so much better than my
angry defensiveness did. Dr. Bradley had been the only one who knew why I ran.
Consequently, she was also the one who had helped
me
understand it. Kai
took my hand in his, giving me the courage to continue my revelation as we walked.

“I always hated
running. I hated anything that made me hot and sweaty, actually,” I said.

“Could have fooled me,”
he said, winking.

“Yeah, I’ve probably
fooled a lot of people over the last year. I started running to deal—
cope
is what they call it in recovery lingo. I would run when I couldn’t handle it
anymore: the stress, the pain, the...the memories,” I confessed.

Kai’s face changed
again. This time I saw nothing but compassion. I hoped it wouldn’t turn to
pity. I hated pity.

He nodded, freeing me to
speak again.

“There were times in
the beginning I could only make it a few blocks, but I’d push myself till I
either threw up or was forced to sit down, afraid I was going to pass out on
the sidewalk. Then, as I pushed through one level of pain, I’d push past the
next and the next. One day I ran for close to two hours straight, all the while
focusing on ridding myself of...the images.”

“Did it work?” he
asked.

Kai’s question was
soft, thoughtful, yet his grip on my hand grew tighter. His jaw was tense.

“That depends on how
you define
worked
, I guess. If running kept me from other ways I could
have chosen to cope, then yes. But as you see, this is only a temporary fix.
Nothing will take it away forever,” I said, refusing to make eye contact with
him.

Kai was quiet then and
so was I.

I’d never said those
words aloud—I wasn’t even sure I had actually thought them inside my head.
Hearing Dr. Bradley’s theory of me was one thing, but it was entirely another
to admit it to someone else in full transparency. He stopped walking, pulling
me to a stop as well.  I searched his eyes in question.

“That’s not true you
know,” he said softy.

Confused by his
seemingly cryptic words I asked, “What’s not?”

“Tori, I know you’re
trying to figure out a lot of stuff right now and I admire you so much for your
courage and willingness to be honest, but I think you’re missing what could be
the biggest part of your recovery if you let it.”

Please don’t say it,
Kai.

I stared at him, hoping
that he would change the direction of this conversation, hoping that he would
give me space in this one area.

“God. He is more than a
temporary fix, Tori. He’s the only one that we can trust completely. I don’t
know where you stand with Him right now, but I do know that you hold the truth
inside you,” he said passionately.

I held his gaze for a
few moments more, and then broke out of his grip. I walked ahead without him.
This was one conversation I wasn’t ready to have—with Kai or anyone else.

“I’ll give you space to
think on it, but I won’t pretend that faith isn’t the answer you need. Sure,
there is tremendous value in therapy and support from your family and friends that
love
you,” Kai said, letting his last words hang in the air between us
before continuing, “but I’d be kidding myself and you if I pretended that you
could possibly find hope anywhere else, but
in God
.”

I kept walking,
processing his words before throwing them out. I knew he believed them, but
that wasn’t enough to make me believe them, too. Again I found myself wishing
it were different—wishing I were different. He caught up to me and put his hand
on my shoulder, stopping me gently.

“Tori, this is who I
am. I won’t apologize for it. I am a man who makes plenty of mistakes, but I know
what I believe and
who
I believe in. I hope you can understand that,
because this is the one area I won’t make any concessions in,” he spoke firmly
now, searching my eyes for understanding.

I nodded, letting my
still posture melt under his gaze.

“I do understand that your
faith is important to you, Kai. I would never ask you to change that, nor would
I want you to.” I took a deep breath before continuing, “But don’t expect me to
agree with you. My convictions aren’t the same as yours.”

He reached out and
touched my face, grazing his thumb over my scar. No one before Kai had ever
touched that tender, raised skin on my cheek. But that simple gesture brought
more comfort than I wanted to acknowledge. Comfort was something I had all but
forgotten.

“How do you sort the
truth from the lies, Tori?” His eyes were both tender and soft when he asked.

I swallowed. “I don’t
know.”

Kai’s smile was sad,
but he didn’t move his hand away from my face. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I
whispered.

“Your honesty.”

Kai pulled me in for a
sweaty hug before we decided to pick up the pace.

We ran back to the bridge in comfortable
silence.

Halloween: possibly the
worst night to work in a medical facility.

Aside from the many
acts of ridiculous stupidity, the word
creepy
didn’t even begin to
describe what happens in hospitals during the course of this twenty-four-hour
holiday. Nurse Holt had agreed to “limited decor and costumes” throughout the
emergency floor per her memo, but there were those that pushed the limits. Take
Nurse Bev Hatty for example: her platinum blond Marilyn Monroe wig, her ruby
red lips, her spider-leg-long false eyelashes. That was just the start. Over
the top of her black scrubs she wore a red sequined lace-up corset, which I was
quite certain she would have worn solo if not for the “Nurses, only wear scrubs”
rule.