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Authors: Miranda Kenneally
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climb in. Water rains down on me and I pray it will make me clean. “Forgive me,” I whisper.
Guilt changes as you get older. I cheated on a spelling test when I was eight and beat myself up over it for months. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I kept imagining the correct answer was still written on my hand in black ink. Then, freshman year, Kyle touched me down there for the first time on the school bus on our way back from a field trip to the Cumberland Science Museum. He draped his jacket over my lap, unzipped my jeans, and made me feel like a totally new girl. It was exciting until I got off the bus and started freaking out mentally. Was Kelsey looking at me funny? What if someone saw us? What if a rumor went around and people at school made fun of me? What if it got back to Nick? What if he told Mom? What did it say about me that I let my boyfriend touch me in a public place? Was I dirty?
There are levels of guilt, and today I entered the big leagues.
I lean my head against the shower tile as water pounds my back.
I doubted I’d stay single forever. I mean, I want to have kids one day, and that generally requires a partner, but I never thought I’d nearly have sex with a stranger. And that I’d do it on the trail where I’m training to honor my boyfriend.
I turn the water up as hot as it will go, burning my skin scarlet red.
Today’s run forced the thoughts out of my head, but they’re screaming back now. Jeremiah. Kyle. I wish I could go back in time to that Sunday night. Silent sobs begin to shake my body.
When I first heard, I couldn’t sit still. Scrubbed the dishes. Poured Halloween candy into a dish. But an hour later, the shock wore off and I cried hysterically. Mom and Nick took turns holding me, to rock me to sleep. But the sleep didn’t come.
To get through the funeral, Nick gave me a tiny white pill. It calmed me down enough to sit through the service and hold Mrs. Crocker’s hand as they flashed pictures of Kyle on the wall. I’ll never forget how his six-year-old brother Isaac asked his father why I was crying so bad, and his father choked out, “Because she’s never gonna see Kyle again.” He was too young to understand what was happening, and the more I thought about it, I didn’t understand it either.
Nick never told me what the pill was exactly or where he got it. As homecoming and Thanksgiving came and went, I begged him for another tiny white pill because I was so sick of crying. But he said it was a one-time deal. That winter, every time tears filled my eyes, they leaked into my throat and caused a cold. I was sick from November to January. Then I decided I wasn’t going to cry anymore. I was too angry. Angry at Kyle for leaving me here all alone, for not taking me with him. Angry at the universe for not hearing my pleas: Take me, not him. If I can just have him back, I’ll say yes this time. Yes, I’ll marry you.
Angry I didn’t get to say good-bye.
Today is the first day I’ve truly cried since. I feel guilty for having shivers when Jeremiah smiled at me. I like how he took care of my blister. Made me laugh. Mostly I loved that glimmer of hope I felt for just a second.
That second before I remembered Kyle would still be here if I hadn’t refused him.
PART II
The Last Summer
CROSS-TRAINING
Four Months Until the Country Music Marathon
“Today, I want y’all to do the entire run without walking.”
At this announcement, a few people gasp and two women who always run together give each other looks. Matt is giving our team instructions for today’s nine-mile run by Marks Creek. Sure, we’ve gone that far before, but we were allowed to walk. Even so, an older man quit our team after the ten-mile training session. It’s getting more and more intense.
“I can run that far as long as I’m chasing him,” the lady next to me mutters.
I laugh. We’ve been running on Matt’s team for three months, but I didn’t gather the courage to ask her name until a couple
Guilt changes as you get older. I cheated on a spelling test when I was eight and beat myself up over it for months. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I kept imagining the correct answer was still written on my hand in black ink. Then, freshman year, Kyle touched me down there for the first time on the school bus on our way back from a field trip to the Cumberland Science Museum. He draped his jacket over my lap, unzipped my jeans, and made me feel like a totally new girl. It was exciting until I got off the bus and started freaking out mentally. Was Kelsey looking at me funny? What if someone saw us? What if a rumor went around and people at school made fun of me? What if it got back to Nick? What if he told Mom? What did it say about me that I let my boyfriend touch me in a public place? Was I dirty?
There are levels of guilt, and today I entered the big leagues.
I lean my head against the shower tile as water pounds my back.
I doubted I’d stay single forever. I mean, I want to have kids one day, and that generally requires a partner, but I never thought I’d nearly have sex with a stranger. And that I’d do it on the trail where I’m training to honor my boyfriend.
I turn the water up as hot as it will go, burning my skin scarlet red.
Today’s run forced the thoughts out of my head, but they’re screaming back now. Jeremiah. Kyle. I wish I could go back in time to that Sunday night. Silent sobs begin to shake my body.
When I first heard, I couldn’t sit still. Scrubbed the dishes. Poured Halloween candy into a dish. But an hour later, the shock wore off and I cried hysterically. Mom and Nick took turns holding me, to rock me to sleep. But the sleep didn’t come.
To get through the funeral, Nick gave me a tiny white pill. It calmed me down enough to sit through the service and hold Mrs. Crocker’s hand as they flashed pictures of Kyle on the wall. I’ll never forget how his six-year-old brother Isaac asked his father why I was crying so bad, and his father choked out, “Because she’s never gonna see Kyle again.” He was too young to understand what was happening, and the more I thought about it, I didn’t understand it either.
Nick never told me what the pill was exactly or where he got it. As homecoming and Thanksgiving came and went, I begged him for another tiny white pill because I was so sick of crying. But he said it was a one-time deal. That winter, every time tears filled my eyes, they leaked into my throat and caused a cold. I was sick from November to January. Then I decided I wasn’t going to cry anymore. I was too angry. Angry at Kyle for leaving me here all alone, for not taking me with him. Angry at the universe for not hearing my pleas: Take me, not him. If I can just have him back, I’ll say yes this time. Yes, I’ll marry you.
Angry I didn’t get to say good-bye.
Today is the first day I’ve truly cried since. I feel guilty for having shivers when Jeremiah smiled at me. I like how he took care of my blister. Made me laugh. Mostly I loved that glimmer of hope I felt for just a second.
That second before I remembered Kyle would still be here if I hadn’t refused him.
PART II
The Last Summer
CROSS-TRAINING
Four Months Until the Country Music Marathon
“Today, I want y’all to do the entire run without walking.”
At this announcement, a few people gasp and two women who always run together give each other looks. Matt is giving our team instructions for today’s nine-mile run by Marks Creek. Sure, we’ve gone that far before, but we were allowed to walk. Even so, an older man quit our team after the ten-mile training session. It’s getting more and more intense.
“I can run that far as long as I’m chasing him,” the lady next to me mutters.
I laugh. We’ve been running on Matt’s team for three months, but I didn’t gather the courage to ask her name until a couple
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