Now it was July and school was out. Denny hung out with me on Cedar Drive. Sandy and I texted en español. And I sat in the Car a lot. Sometimes I’d sit there reading and when I’d find an interesting fact, I’d read it aloud. Or sometimes I’d text a fact to Sandy, Mysti, and Rama. I couldn’t help it. I have the blood of nerds and Revolutionary War heroes running through my veins. I figure I’m a Revolutionary Nerd.
And I was fine with that. But something was still missing, and it had nothing to do with the flag. I had traveled so far. Gone to another country. Finally earned my citizenship. I guess I wanted to keep moving forward. Keep using my new voice.
So on the first Saturday of July, I called the Flee.
Mom and Tim LeMoot were in the kitchen getting ready to grill cheeseburgers for lunch, and I started to feel feelings.
About a cheeseburger.
New topic.
Did you know Debra LeMoot, daughter of the Texas Boot, was in my kitchen, too?
“Debra, this is Wayne,” Tim LeMoot said. “Wayne’s hobbies include fact-finding, skateboarding, and redesigning inflatable snowmen.”
Tim LeMoot smiled at me and winked.
Debra LeMoot had hair the color of a shiny penny and wanted to work at her dad’s law practice.
She did not recoil when she met seventh graders with scarred faces.
She was also a nice distraction from the sadness of cheeseburgers.
I was supposed to help her with the salad, but then I remembered I needed to feed Hank Williams. That was when I saw the Flee get out of his car.
He was about two hours earlier than I’d told him to arrive, which was strange for the Flee. I’m sure he thought it was about the money. I don’t know how the Flee thought he was entitled to any portion of the airline settlement all that time. His brain just worked that way. I knew his brain also worked in other odd ways. Maybe he had the kind of brain that liked messing with people he thought were weak and scared and wimpy.
So I finished feeding Hank Williams and then I fed Dolly Parton.
And then, because I’m an action-oriented person like my grandfather, I got ready for a mission. I just had to get past Mom and the Texas Boot. They were deep into a conversation about movies.
As it turned out, Tim LeMoot was also a Jane Austen fan and has watched many movies with Mom. (How do you say ugh with a British accent?)
Or maybe he just knew how to be a good boyfriend and be interested in what his girlfriend liked. Anyway, he made Mom happy and he showed up when he said he was going to show up.
Those were two things I liked in a person.
Do you know when it’s fun to watch TV with Mom and Tim LeMoot? It’s when the Tim LeMoot commercial appears. I challenged him to a dare the other night.
I dare you to mute the TV and perform the commercial with a British accent, I said.
And he did. Tim LeMoot stood up and said, I would very much like to kick the money into your pocket, if you please, and I’m terribly, terribly sorry that you’ve been in a serious auto accident.
It was the funniest thing I’d seen in weeks. That was, until I saw the Flee coming up the walk wearing a T-shirt that said WINNER in bright, bold blue letters. As far as I knew, he hadn’t won anything for years.
True story.
The doorbell rang before I could reach the door.
“Doug, I already told you to please call before you come by,” Mom said.
“For your information, Wayne called me. Told me to bring my running shoes so we could jog or something.”
“Is that a fact?” Mom asked.
“That’s a fact,” I said, pushing through Mom and Tim LeMoot.
“Wayne, what’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Mom, did you know that before you take the bull by the horns, you should make sure it’s your bull?”
I made her smile. A good fact will do that to a person. And my mom had a great smile.
“Yes, I think someone once told me that, Wayne.”
“This is my bull now.” I kissed her head and opened the door. My bull was in the front yard doing stretches that could’ve frightened squirrels and small children.
“So, you wanted to talk to me? Run or something?”
I nodded.
“Wayne, don’t waste my stupid—”
“I have something to say to you!” I interrupted.
“Well, say it.”
We were the exact same height now. Exactly the same. Our eyes were level. Straight on. My stomach quaked a little, I admit. But I’d practiced my words. I wasn’t going to let another summer go by without speaking my mind.
“When I see your face sometimes, I see the red taillights of your car. I see myself scared. Terrified. Alone. You laughing and leaving me behind. I don’t like what I see. I don’t want to see that anymore. What you did was full-out wrong.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He broke eye contact with me then, but I held firm, looking straight at the top of his head.
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Well, now you do.”
“So, what is this?”
“I guess I’d just like an apology, Dad.”
He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.
His voice turned low. “I didn’t realize all that, Wayne. I’m sorry. I’m no parenting expert.”
“Don’t do that to Carrot, either. When I come over, he’d better be a happy kid. And I’m thinking of going out for track and field next year, but I’ll let you know what I decide.”
The Flee smiled a little. “We’d like it if you came over.”
I put my hand out for him to shake. “I’m going to come over.”
“I’m sorry, Wayne. Real sorry.” My dad shook my hand.
“And I would like you to stop saying you’re just messing with me. For the record, I do not like to be messed with.”
“Well, any more requests, then?”
“You brought your running shoes, didn’t you?”
“Have you been practicing? Are you going to outrun me?”
“Maybe.”
Definitely.
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve changed!”
Truer story.
“Well, I’m proud of you, you know. Proud of the young man you’re becoming.”
I was about to spit out a fact about rubber-soled shoes. I was about to. I’m glad I didn’t.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, and I took off down Cedar Drive.
The sky was clear blue, and the July sun wasn’t too hot. I fell into a solid pace, my feet beating out a heartbeat against the cracks along the sidewalk. Our pace was matched as we turned up onto the smooth streets of the Estates, running side by side in unison. I stepped up my pace as the street rose and fell. The tall cottonwood trees of the park swayed in the distance over the rocket ship. After another half mile, I tuned out his complaining. All I heard was the wind rushing past my body, through my hair, through my fully restored left eyebrow. I turned and saw him huffing and puffing it up the street.
He shouted, “How long we going to run, Wayne?”
I jogged backward and shouted, “Until I get tired. And I’m not tired yet.”
I turned around and kept running, leaving him in my wake.
Full of bottomless energy.
Thunderous hope.
After another half mile, he turned back.
“Okay, I’m turning back,” he shouted. “I’m not deserting you, but my knee is killing me.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and kept going. Moving forward. I couldn’t help that a smile took over my face. I checked the wide blue sky for planes and, sure enough, there were two. Crisscrossing a section of sky, leaving behind white foam trails.
And I got a burst of energy and felt like my muscles were full of jet fuel.
So I launched into a sprint.
Sprinting.
Running.
Smiling.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Running without fear.
Running out in the open.
Running because I wanted to.
Do you know what that kind of run felt like?
I’ll tell you.
It felt an awful lot like flying.
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