Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 2

Five o’clock in the morning is my time. I was never the biggest morning person, struggling to come alive before eight on a good day, but that changed once I had a child that kept me up all night long. Now, it seems no matter how tired I am at other times, I am always wide awake at five in the morning. So, starting just a few months ago I figured I might as well take the opportunity to get a bit of the pre-pregnancy me back. And I decided running was the best way to do that.

It is chilly out this morning. Not cold, exactly, but the air is hinting at a turn towards winter. Or at least what passes as winter here. We are known for our idyllic weather, sunny and warm all the time. The weathermen can really just phone it in most days. But I do miss the seasons. I’d love to see some color on the trees during the fall and a little snow on the ground at the end of the year. I definitely miss the snow. I make my way through the park and head towards the water. After the first couple blocks, my body is loose and the ache of sleep in my legs has faded. I settle in to the enjoyable bounce of my jog.

While it is early, I’m not alone in my morning routine. In the park I pass a man out for a walk with his dog. As usual, he is already dressed for his office job and is scanning through something on his phone while the collie makes its rounds of sniffing tree trunks and marking its territory. There is also an older woman who is rolling out her yoga mat in the middle of a grassy clearing. Her bright purple hair speaks to youthfulness, but her wrinkles and slow movements give away her age. By the time I pass back through the park she will have been joined by two friends and they all will have contorted themselves into one complicated pose or another, frozen there in meditation.

I know I must sound insane, not being absolutely over-the-top in love with where I live. Two miles from world class beaches and surrounded by culture and entertainment. It’s a dream destination for many and those that live here compare anywhere else they go to home, rarely in favor of the other location. For me, it was just meant to be a stop on my journey, a place I figured I would be for a couple years before moving to my forever place. My perfect place. My ‘this is what I’ve always dreamed of’ place. But after meeting Tucker and getting a job offer that I couldn’t refuse, this is where we started our life. Now, with a child, I’m finding it harder and harder to believe that this isn’t the final destination.

Halfway through my run, I stop for a drink of water and a quick break. I stand next to a concrete bench that faces out to the ocean, stretching my legs against the side and looking out to the sea. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon behind me, turning the water a purplish gray. Rolling stripes of foam rise and fall, crashing against the rocks below me. I close my eyes, feel the spray that rides on the morning breeze hit my face, and take a deep breath. Damp, salty air rushes into my nose and it catches. I cough against the stench. So close to the marina, the scent can frequently lean towards putrid. And I am usually able to block it out, focus on the view rather than the smell. But this morning, it’s especially ripe and assaulting. As is the shouting conversation coming from the car stopped at the intersection behind me.

“I just can’t do it, Nathan,” the female driver is saying. Even if her window wasn’t rolled down, I’m pretty sure I would be able to hear her quite clearly. There is a pause while the person on the other end of the phone call, presumably Nathan, responds. “I told you,” the woman starts up again. “I have meetings all afternoon and I need you to pick him up at school.” The light turns green and the woman drives off. The words “I really don’t have time for this right now…” follow her around the bend. I cringe at how miserable she seemed. And, even more cringe-worthy, how familiar that conversation feels. I take another deep breath, turn, and head back home.

Jogging back up my street, I hear the deep groan and rumble that can only mean one thing. Trash pick-up. The motorized arm of the big truck finishes dumping my neighbor’s trash into its hull and then places the can, not too precisely, back against the curb. The truck begins to move before the arm has completely released the bin, sending it toppling over on its side, top flung open and a few remnant pieces of garbage spilling into the street. I hate trash day. This whole run has been more upsetting than relaxing. I’m ready for a good run in the beautiful, clean, snowy mountains. I’m ready for that vacation.

Inside, Tucker is getting ready to take Millie to daycare before he goes to work. I have an early meeting today and have to hurry if I’m going to make the it on time. Guess there’s no time to stop for coffee. And the stuff at work is just awful.

“Hey,” Tucker says, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Did you make that appointment for Millie?”

“Appointment?” I am only half-listening as I search for the requisition form I will need in my meeting.

“Yes, the one with the specialist for her vision?” I stop and face him.

“Huh?” I honestly can’t remember discussing anything with Tucker about a specialist doctor’s appointment or the fact that Millie might have vision problems.

“August, we talked about this. I’m worried something might be wrong. Do you really not notice it?”

A good mom would notice.

You obviously don’t love her enough.

“No, no. Of course I do.” I look over at our daughter who is playing with a board book on the floor of the family room. It’s upside down and a cartoon giraffe smiles back at me, balanced on its head. “I believe you. I’ll make the appointment tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to do it? You do tend to have a bad memory with these kinds of things.” I want to argue this point, but the evidence is pretty stacked against me. And recently, with Millie, I find myself struggling a lot to keep things straight in my head. “I’ll call the doctor when I get into the office,” Tucker says.

“Thanks,” I say, slightly defeated. I go to turn back to the table and then pause. Everything is piling up. It’s starting to get too overwhelming. I can’t let the million worries swirling through my head stop us. Tucker was right. We deserve this. “Tucker?” I say.

“Yes?”

“Let’s do it. Let’s go to Banff.” He smiles.

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