Runner

            Seven AM. I am to begin my morning jog around the condo complex and the nearby park. It was something I picked up when I moved to Oakland, California from the small town I lived in all my life. However, I had a bad habit already of skipping my daily jog, two weeks in. I rolled over in my full-sized and grabbed my iPhone. I got three new Tinder connections, all of whom I will talk to for a day then never hear from again.             I sighed as I looked at my three-week-old fuchsia manicure, reminding me that I need to get a job ASAP. I was currently living off my saving from high school, which would get me through four months before I seriously needed to find a job. Thankfully my best friend since childhood, Amara Jackson, told me not to worry too much about rent until I can get a job.             Amara currently works as a lawyer at a top firm in San Francisco. She moved to Oakland when she was an undergrad at the University of California, Berkeley, and flourished in the city. I commuted to college from my family home, essentially meaning I never left the confines of our small town. I got to see Amara grow into herself, whereas I did not. So, when Amara suggested I move in with her for a change of scenery, I ran with it.             In fact, I am a runner. Not in the literal sense where I run marathons, but I often find myself running away from my problems. I do not like confrontation so I run. I do not like feeling stressed out, so I run. Literally, any sense of discomfort or difficulty makes me want to run. So again, when Amara suggested that I move in with her, I saw my chance to finally run away from my hometown, which I’ve felt stuck in.             I am currently running away from my s**t pool of men from my hometown. The last guy I was involved with did not work out. Sadly, he lived in my hometown, meaning I could either continue to run into him and explain why I dropped him or I could move in with Amara.             Jogging around Lake Merritt was semi-therapeutic; however, I could never outrun my own thoughts or anxieties. Throughout my jogs, I often criticize my passive behaviors, lack of a job, lack of post-high school relationships, and overall lack of control or purpose in my life. But with each negative thought, I run faster and harder; and before I know it, I would have run the trail on the lake twice.             I walked back to Amara’s house, passing hip restaurants and transients along the way. Once I finally climbed up the stairs into her apartment, I was surprised to see Amara sitting on her navy-blue couch, watching Love and HipHop. I groaned out loud in disapproval of her choice of reality TV before closing and locking the door.             “I thought you had work today?” I questioned as I sat my keys in the glass bowl on the table on the right side of the door.             Amara shrugged, her honey-brown eyes did not leave her 30 inches, flat-screen, “No, today is my off day. I get every Friday off, remember?” She retorted before snarling at the TV, “Ugh, I hate her.” She growled, “How was your jog?”             I sigh softly so she would not hear me, “It was good.” I chirped as I began to walk towards the small, light grey kitchen. Where I went into the stainless steel, top freezer fridge and grabbed a Smart water bottle out of the fridge. As I began to drink the water, I pulled out my phone from the pocket in my leggings to look at my messages. While I was upset at the guy I had my previous relationship with, I longed for a message from him asking me why I left and if I was okay. I only had a message from some random sleaze-ball from Tinder.             “You know what I hate more than commuting?” I called out to Amara.             “Hmm?” She piped up, pausing her show and finally looking away from the screen.             I smirked mischievously, “d**k pics.” Amara laughed and then beckoned me to the couch next to her.             “Let’s see it.” She sneered. Ever since I’ve joined Tinder, or rather ever since I moved in with Amara, most of our friend-quality time has been spent rating d**k pics. I walked over to the couch and plopped next to her showing her what was on my iPhone 6’s screen. Amara’s mocha face was scrunched like a lemon, “Oh my God, that’s tiny.” I snorted and she turned away from the screen, her face still oozing with disgust, “Why would he think to send something like that? It’s not even cute.”             “I never think it’s cute.” I laughed as Amara’s phone vibrated on the round, glass coffee table between the couch and the TV hanging on the wall. Amara quickly grabbed it and smiled sweetly, “It’s JC, he wants to know if I want to go to dinner with him tonight.” Her voice was giddy.             “Ooo,” I teased her bumping into her shoulders, “So when am I going to meet this mystery man?” I joked. Though it was interesting that I had been here for a little over two weeks and I have not met Amara’s boyfriend of five months.             She was grinning at her iPhone 8 screen as she began to respond to him, “Soon enough. By the way, I probably won’t be home tonight.” She informed me. I wanted to roll my dark brown eyes, even though I was truly happy for Amara. She deserved to be happy especially with a guy that seemed to love to pamper her. But since my love life has gone to shits, I have been cynical about love in general. I am skeptical that it will happen for me so I hate watching it unfold for others.             “Okay.” I croaked.             Amara’s expression changed and she turned to look at me, leaning her full head of pencil-sized ringlets on the back of the couch, “Solana,” Her voice was strained, I knew she was worried about me after everything that has happened, “How about tomorrow we can all go to a club in SF. He has some siblings here so it won’t just be the three of us going out.”             I smiled politely. I knew I did not really care to go out to the clubs or bars. Honestly, I would rather stay in and binge Scandal. But I also knew this was Amara’s way of making sure that I was okay. So, I knew I had to go with it, “That sounds like fun.” I said flatly.             Amara beamed, “Great. I’ll tell him about it now.” She said as she began to go back to her phone screen. I looked at mines to check my email to see if I have an interview waiting for me. The only thing I had waiting for me were coupons to store I could not afford due to my lack of a job, “Do you wanna go out to brunch?”             “Of course!” I blurted out, despite knowing that I did not have money to keep going out to eat, “Let me go shower and change.”             “Please don’t wear more sport casual stuff!” Amara begged me, though we both knew that I would leggings and a tee-shirt from Victoria's Secret that I could total wear to the gym.               There were so many brunch places in the Oakland area and we had a hard time sitting at Amara’s laptop looking at yelp reviews until we decided on the Grand Lake which was walking distance for us. Which also gave me the excuse to wear sportswear. We decided to sit at the counter and quickly ordered ourselves a Bellini.             Despite being here for two weeks, Amara and I have not had much time to chat between me looking for jobs, her actual job, and her boyfriend, JC. So, having her off today and not having an interview myself meant more quality time. And frankly, I miss spending time with my best friend from 5th grade.             Amara was always a bubbly person with a bright, big smile that exposed her perfectly straight and white teeth that did not need braces, unlike mines. Her mocha skin was just as flawless as her teeth. Her umber and rosy lips were plump and her nose was more pointed and European. Her honey brown eyes were big and rounded, and fairly close to the bridge of her nose. Her freshly waxed dark eyebrows had a soft arch to them. Her corkscrew curly hair was thick, dark brown, and fell just below her shoulder blades.             Amara was also shapely, with a thin hourglass figure. She was average height, only one or two inches taller than me at five-five. She was a gorgeous woman with a fun, fiery personality to match. She got along with nearly everyone, at first. But if you cross her or get into a heated debate with her, she will put you back into your place with that silver tongue of hers.             “So, you were actually recruited for your job?” I asked in amazement.             Amara smiled coyly and nodded, “I mean once you go to a top school you are a commodity.” I nodded slightly disappointed in my choice to stay local my whole college career, “But sometimes you also have to put yourself out there. Maybe start by volunteering or taking a low-level job. Or a job outside of your field.” She tried to reassure me.             I sighed out loud, before Amara could say anything, the waiter at the counter came over to ask for your food orders. Amara decided to go with something different and got the braised pork belly, while I stuck with the classic and got eggs benedict.             Once the waiter left, I opened my mouth to change the topic only to have Amara return to the job topic, “You will find a job, Solana. You will also find a man that treats you like a queen. You will have everything you’ve ever wanted and worked for, okay?” She pumped me up. Or at least attempted to.             “Okay, Amara, but I’m twenty-four. I live in your apartment and if I didn’t live there, I’d be at my parents’ house. They still pay my phone bill and the only reason I have money is that I sold my car before coming here. Yes, I have a BS and a Master’s but what exactly do I have to show for it?” I exhaled, “I’m sorry I’m not as positive as you, but s**t hasn’t been on the up in up for me since- f**k since damn near ever.”             Amara frowned, “That’s not true. Look by staying local you don’t have a student loan as I do. Again, because you stayed local and stacked money, you can now live comfortably enough for the next few months-”             “But I don’t pay anything,” I interjected.             Amara sucked in her lips at my revelation and nodded, “Yeah, but you often cook for me which saves me money going out.” She pointed out, “And finally, everything is not a race, Solana. Some people may do things differently from each other and that’s okay as long as you get to the finish line. Besides, I remember a time where you would give me the best advice.”             I laughed, “That was high school and freshman year because your ass was always getting into trouble.”             Amara laughed, “Yeah, not much has changed,” She chuckled darkly to herself, “But that was your up in up, so what you may be a little down right now. You have a lot of ups still, for example, that ass of yours is to die for. Your hair that you use to complain didn’t grow is now past your shoulders with shrinkage. And you’re still the more level-headed one out of both of us.”             “But I wish I could be like you, and confront confrontation, not run from it.” I groaned, putting my head down, into my arms on the counter.             I could feel Amara roll her honey eyes, “Girl, we both know my mouth of mines is what gets my ass in the most trouble.” She gritted her teeth together making me laugh and get up from the table, “Besides, we both can’t be mouthy or we would have destroyed my little apartment by now.” I laughed as our food was placed in front of us, “Thank you!” We smiled in unison at our waiter. Amara and I began to dig into our breakfast, limiting our conversation. By the time we finished, Amara looked at her phone to see more text messages from JC, “Shit.” She hissed.             “What?” I asked while wiping my face with a white napkin.             “JC’s on his way to the house, he wanted to take me shopping to buy a dress for dinner.” She informed me while biting her freshly manicured nails.