A Place for Secrets: A Southern Gothic

Run From It

            “There is not enough ibuprofen in the world for this morning,” Morgan groaned.  Her dark brown ponytail bounced with her sassy comment. Her parents were the only mixed-race couple in a thirty-mile radius and she wore it like armor. She owned her uniqueness better than anyone I knew. We had been friends since first grade, now we worked together.  She was the one-woman drama department. I helped out with the music. 

            “Not enough for the night I had last night.” She leered greedily for the gossip.

            “You didn’t.”

            “I mean, yes and no.” Beau had truly only stayed over. I didn’t have to feel guilty, but I did.

            “I would’ve.” She quipped. “I know you and Fletcher are all serious now, but Beau fits your lifestyle better.”

            “I’m sorry, what is that supposed to mean?” She flounced her tennis skirt, sat on the orange Gatorade cooler and demurely crossed her legs.

            “Do you really think you are going to be happy on the fringes of Middleborough high society because you are married to a farmer? Beau has real prospects and won’t keep you tucked away in a farm house. His life is monotonous and ruled by the seasons. You need more.” She waved her hand like the carnival fortune teller.

            “I don’t think that is a Fletcher problem, I think it’s a Middleborough problem.” I knew Fletcher was not spontaneous. I craved the stability. I had the impulsive forget-to-catch-your-breath relationship in college.

            Drummond Chase was the kind of boy who consumed the room when he entered it and had a jawline that would cut diamonds. He made me live life. If a song was playing he liked, he would pull me into the center of the room, wherever it was, and dance with me. We broke onto the roofs of all of our school buildings. Life was a never ending flow of opportunities, but so were his lies. He was so adept at telling stories I believe he truly thought all of them were the truth. I couldn’t go backwards, because if I went back I would fall back into his arms.

            Morgan rolled her eyes. “Graye, how long will you do this to yourself?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “How long will you try to make yourself fit?” I knew what she meant. She could see me as honestly now as she did when we were young. I decided to deflect. She would know what that meant.

            “I’m sorry, I believe I fit in this spandex quite well. Are you saying I should go run with the rest of the mob?” We smiled.

            “If you run now, who will help me with all of this?” She motioned to the perfectly functioning check in station, fully stocked Gatorade tables, and the lavishly decorated finished line.

            “So, we are running today?” I moaned.

            “I plan to beat you. I do have your track record to beat!” Morgan was always competitive in sports. I was most definitely not. I only ran track so my mom would get off my back about going to the gym.

            “You know if you actually ran track, you would have beaten me every time.” I joked as we stretched before walking over to the starting line. We both in our ear buds and continued to prepare for the race.  I was blasting my favorite playlist until I heard a loud thump.

            “Jesus!” My surprise only filled the perpetrator with glee. The blonde locks could not be mistaken. “Beau, what in the good Lord’s name are you doing here?”

            “Supporting my illustrious alma mater. What are you doing here?” He quipped with sarcastic ease.

            “I work here.” I drolled, matching his sarcastic tone. I shouldn’t have done it, but I looked up to him through my lashes. His smirk was contagious. I could see his chiseled form underneath his blue running shirt. Don’t look at it, Graye. You are in a good space. Don’t ruin it.

            Before I knew it, the gun had gone off and the race was starting. Beau and I volleyed at a casual pace. I kept my headphones in, but the volume low. I knew he would try to talk to me and I wanted to be able to purposefully ignore him.  I could tell he was talking to me, so I diverted course.  He was shocked but didn’t follow.  I wanted to be alone, but alone with him.

            I watched the scenery pass by during my run. The red dirt crunched under my feet and the honey suckles wafted on the wind.  I ran for me, not for the win. Pushing myself was what I always did. Unfortunately, that meant my mind drifted back to Drumm.

            Were we meant to meet? It seemed to be kismet, our first meeting. I was early for orientation when I heard something coming from inside of the auditorium. I stormed in quickly fearing that I had the wrong time, but there was nothing but darkness. The music didn’t stop. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness when I saw him playing the piano all alone. He was dressed like he was from the city, black hair, ice blue eyes, and the slightest freckles. San Francisco had come east… and found me.

            Cheering shocked me back to reality. I must have won the race. Morgan will be so displeased. The finish line sprays confetti and the senior football players douse me with Gatorade. Twenty bucks says they just wanted to see what kind of bra I was wearing. Whatever.

            Beau comes crashing in second place, glistening like a f*****g Adonis. I hate him.

            “How the hell did you beat me, G?” he says, barely breathless. I roll my eyes. “I see the boys got you. Can’t say I blame them.” He eyed my chest, and my lime green sports bra.

            “Lord, Beau, I knew you were slow, but I didn’t think you were still on par with the high school boys.” I lazily struck at him while patting myself down with a towel. “You going to be able to make it up to the second-place spot before the ceremony is over?” I walked away blithely.

            I started to do a cool down jog when I saw Fletcher in the crowd. “Fletch, what are you doing here?” He pulled out a bouquet of wildflowers and a giant thermos of ice water. “You’re my night in shining… flannel.” We giggled and he pulled me in for a hug.

            “I knew you would win the whole damn thing.” I leaned in closer and smelled him. He smelled like outside and home. “Morgan is going to be pissed. I am so excited.”

            “Ugh, I know. I will never hear the end of it.”  Fletcher and Morgan were best of frenemies. They both staked a claim on my life and were stuck with each other because of it. I think their greatest bond was bickering with each other. I kept drying off.

            “Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Oh, it was out before I could stop him.

            “Well I’ll be damned if it isn’t one of my underlings come from the pits of Hell to piss me off this sun-shining morning.” Morgan bopped up to us in her impeccably fashionable athletic-wear and still perky ponytail. 

            “Ok you two, can we put the bickering on pause until I leave?”

            “Bickering? What bickering? I am merely greeting my most dear person in all the world, right Fletcher?” She sent an icy glance his way. In reciprocation he let me go and started towards her.

            “Absolutely, babe! I just wanted to tell Morgan what a special friend she is,” he laughed as he gave her a huge bear hug.

            “Oh! Dear lord, Fletcher, must you be so terribly annoying.” She tried to escape but in vain. To be fair, she was enjoying the game and we all could tell. Once free, she turned her attention to me. “Shouldn’t you be getting to the winner’s circle or whatever?”

            “Morgan, you planned this thing, don’t you know?” She tilted her head and rolled her eyes.

            “Of course. Follow me,” she threw a cautionary glance at Fletcher. “A saint’s work is never done.” The comment nearly put Fletcher in stitches. Morgan strode away with the cool sway of a southern belle. I followed behind hiding my laughter.