“The average heart beats eighty times per minute, which means that, in any given day, your heart will beat approximately one hundred thousand times. In a year, it will have beaten forty-two million times, and in a lifetime it will beat nearly three billion times. All the while, it is taking in blood and expelling it to the lungs and throughout the body. . . . It does not rest It does not tire. It is persistent in its drive and purpose.”
—Dr. Kathy Magliato, Heart Matters: A Memoir of a Female Heart Surgeon
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“GET UP.”
I don’t need to open my eyes to know Ryan’s standing next to the bed. She pulls my covers off, and I scramble to get them back. “Are you crazy; what time is it?”
“Six,” she says. “It’s gonna get hot early, so get up. We’re going for a run.”
I squint at her, already in her running gear, in the pale morning light. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I don’t have any running shoes,” I say, reaching for my covers.
“Really?” Ryan crosses my room, opens the closet door, and climbs into the back, where every Saucony I’ve ever owned is piled. Shoes start flying, one after another, each landing on the carpet with a thump.
“I’m sure two of these will work,” she says. Then she heads to my dresser and pulls out shorts, a tank top, and a sports bra. Tosses them on the bed. Next, my sister crosses the room, pulls up my blinds, and lifts the window wide-open, letting the cool morning air in. She pauses a moment to breathe it in, then grins at me. “C’mon. Get yourself up, it’ll feel good. Dad’s waiting.” Then she leaves the room—her favorite way to end a discussion.
Dad’s waiting? It’s been even longer since he’s gone running than me. Longer than 403 days. The number comes to mind automatically, but not with its usual weight. Today feels different because yesterday was different.
I stretch my arms above my head, wincing a little at the unexpected soreness in my shoulders. And then it all comes back to me: paddling with Colton, the sunshine, the water, his hand waving out the window as he drove away. The empty feeling that good-bye left me with. And then later, the dinner discussion with my family about going back today.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I jump at the sound. I reach for it, hoping it’s him, and telling myself at the same time not to hope, that I’m being ridiculous. But when I look down at the screen, it’s a text from a number I recognize now. I freeze. Stare at until it buzzes again in my hand, and then I swipe it open.
So I was thinking. Yesterday was a really good day, but I bet today could be even better. What do you think?
I smile, and my first thought is that it already is.
Another text buzzes through:
Working at the shop this morning, but maybe later we could see?
I read the words over again, trying to think of how to answer.
“Quinn.” Ryan pokes her head through my doorway, and I jump again, not sure what to do with the phone in my hand. “What are you doing, let’s go.”
I put my phone back on the nightstand. “Nothing. I was just turning off my alarm.”
“Well, come on; get up. We’re waiting on you.” I know she’s not going to leave again until I actually get out of bed, so I do. Answering Colton’s texts will have to wait, because my sister does not.
Mom’s in the kitchen, dressed for work, when I get downstairs. “Good morning,” she says brightly, setting down her green juice and reaching out her arms for me.
“Morning,” I answer.
I shuffle over and give her a quick hug. She kisses the top of my head. “It’s so nice to see you up. And dressed. Your dad’s going to be so happy. This’ll be his first run in years.” I can see how hard she’s trying to contain how pleased this makes her. Never the runner, but always the cheerleader, she’s beaming, back in her old role.
“They’re waiting outside,” she says. “I’m heading in to work early and won’t be back until around five. Have a good day, and have fun running and kayaking!” She gives me another kiss on the head and squeezes my arm, and I can feel the hope in it.
“Quinn!” Ryan yells from outside. “You coming?”
I don’t answer, just head out to the front porch where she and Dad are waiting. She’s got one leg slung up on the railing, and she stretches over it, grabbing her toes easily.
Dad laughs when he sees me. “Well, good morning, Sunshine. Looks like your sister’s powers of persuasion worked on you too, huh?” He gives my ponytail a tug.
“Something like that.” I shake out my legs and stretch a little, but it feels like I’ve forgotten how.
My dad looks from me to Ryan, and then wraps an arm around each of us, pulling us out of our stretches and into him for a hug like he used to when we were younger, so close our cheeks almost smoosh together. “This is a treat for your old man, you know that? Like the old days. Except now you two are gonna have to wait up for me. I’ve been walking with your mom, but I don’t even wanna think about how long it’s been since I’ve run.”
I know exactly how long it’s been since I’ve run, but I don’t want to think about that. Instead I go back further, to before I ever knew Trent, to when Ryan and I started running with our dad. She was fifteen and I was thirteen, and those runs with him were special. They were for summer and weekend days, when he still had the time. He’d get us up and out the door early, never telling us where or how far we were running, but he always made sure there was a cool destination involved. Something to show us, like the top of a ridge where you could see all the way to the ocean, a tunnel made of oaks and hanging Spanish moss, vineyards that stretched and rolled for miles with bitter little grapes we’d pick as we went, a trail off the beaten path where we’d see deer, and wild turkeys, and rabbits. Ryan and I always made a big deal of groaning about getting up, but we both loved those runs with him and the things he showed us.