The Long Run Home

The Long Run Home

My heart is threatening to erupt inside of my chest with each pounding sound of my feet hitting the pavement. Pain sounds like a vacation compared to this feeling. It’s safe to say, I’m out of shape. My doctor issued my sentencing after an unpardonable year of overindulging on tacos, alcohol, and every other carbohydrate that comes to mind. We all have our way of hopelessly surviving a mourning period right? Undoubtedly, forty pounds quickly found a home on my gut, thighs and hips – so today, I’m running in hopes of severing all ties with my forty new friends. 

My fitness watch is beeping, telling me that I’ve surpassed my achievement goal, but I’m still about a mile out from home. Sweat is beginning to pool in my ears, drowning out nature’s morning song. The fog is thick, intrusively limiting my vantage point – I can’t see much of what’s in front of me at all. Ignoring the burning sensation of every bone in my body, I lift my arms to spoon the puddles from my ears. Nature’s melody is now crooning a little more vibrantly, but I hear something else in the distance – a low humming sound, like that of something motorized. I slow my pace a bit to listen more intently, and now I can hear tiny putters of which I know is coming from a vehicle that has been idling for quite some time. It reminds me of all the nights I would sit in the car listening to hours of Indie soul bands with my muse. In between each track, that same humming sound would fill the space between us. Over time, that space became so awkward and that hum became so loud.

I come to a complete stop, and what feels like a ton of bricks weigh down on my calf muscles, but I ignore them, because my eyes are now locked on the faint red glow of two taillights. I don’t make a habit of creeping up on parked cars, but this scene has quickly become more eerie than I expected. If there was another path, I’d travel it just to avoid this inevitable approach. 

“Hello!” I yell ahead, as clear warning of my presence.

Not only is this scene eerie, it’s familiar, and I’m not up for being mutilated by some psycho freak like I’ve seen in hundreds of films. A part of me is suggesting that I just run at full speed, passing the car as if I never even noticed it. Of course this is not something I’m about to do, so I slowly begin to walk forward. The heat of the engine has broken up the fog just enough to reveal a pearly white BMW 335. Every single window of the car is completely down, which is odd for such a brisk, foggy morning like this. 

“Hello?” I say again in a lowered tone this time, but only the humming engine responds. 

I uneasily arrive at the passenger’s side of the vehicle, and I see a young woman, no older than twenty-five, sitting behind the wheel with no life exuding from her body. 

“Oh my God!” I’m pretty sure I’m saying outloud, only I really don’t know. I feel a panic attack rapidly approaching. Instincts tell me to call 911, but as I’m feeling through my empty pockets, I realize that my phone is laying on the kitchen counter where I left it.I snap my head left and right, but all I see is thick fog, and all I hear is Nature’s stupid, stupid song – what do I do?! I open the passenger door and sit beside her limp body. I push her long black hair off of her neck and I feel a very light pulse, she’s alive. Wait, she’s alive! 

“Miss!” I yell, lightly shaking her, but nothing other than her unconsciousness is present. 

I scan the car for a cellphone to call for help, but my eyes meet a white envelope laying on her right thigh that I hadn’t noticed until now. There was a name written in the bluest of ink on the front. It reads the name, BJ Benjamin Harvey. My heart seems to be acting on it’s threats of erupting in my chest, because I’m beginning to feel that same unconsciousness fold over me. I know this name very well, but how does she know his name? Who is she? No one knows this name, or has spoken this name in this town. No one knows that I had a son who was murdered a year ago that went by the name, BJ Benjamin Harvey.

To be continued…

Written by Tamica Nicole © 2016

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s