The Runner

He wore his favorite pair of shoes that day — a pair of grey and red sneakers which he bought a couple of years ago from Zara during a sale. He only takes them out of their box on special occasions. This day was a special day. He could feel it in his gut.

He put them on and he stood up. They fit his feet quite snugly. He walked up and down the living room before the big mirror against the wall to see how he looked like. Contented by the look and feel of his shoes, he went out of his condo and headed down the basement.

He drove in a very unhurried manner. He was already late for his meeting with Ava, but he was not worried. Ava, though very particular about time and punctuality, was also very patient and forgiving.

He drove around I.T. Park and he tried to recall the last time he wore his shoes. Ah, he thought, it was during his last meeting with Ona, a month or so ago. Before that, he wore his shoes during his last meeting with Ivana, a few months before meeting Ona. Before the last meeting with Ivana, he wore his shoes during his last meeting with Monica. Before the last meeting with Monica, he wore his shoes during his last meeting with Crystal. And so on and so forth.

He entered the cafe at half past three and the door chimed as it slid open.

“I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m very late for our meeting,” he said.

“‘Meeting’?” she burst out laughing. “Is this what this is? Why are you always so formal?”

He smiled shyly at her and took his seat across the table from her.

“So anyway, I called because there’s something I wanted to ask you,” she said.

His heart leapt.

“Sure,” he said.

She lowered her glasses and placed them over the book on the table, flipped a lock of hair over her ear, and looked at him intently in the eyes. “Brian.”

He felt his throat quickly drying up. He wanted to order a drink.

“I want to be frank with you,” she said. “I can be frank with you, right?”

“Of course,” he said, signaling the waiter for a drink.

“You know me, I’m always frank and I always want to be open and honest about my feelings, especially with you. Above all, with you.”

“A glass of water, please,” he said to the waiter.

“Bottled water, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Just service water, thanks,” he answered.

“And I feel that today is the best time to ask you this,” Ava continued, without blinking. “What are we?”

He stared at her, perplexed.

“What are we?” she repeated. “You and me, what are we? What is the nature of our relationship?”

It was, simultaneously, a very simple and complicated question. Not the first time he heard it, though.

She reached for his hands slowly across the table and her touch jolted, stunned, and electrified him. Her touch was the very thing he most wanted and the exact same thing he feared. “Please tell me,” she said.

He felt weak and nauseous. He withdrew his hands from hers gently and stood up.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I just want to stretch my legs a little,” he said.

“Stretch your legs?”

“Yeah, I just want to stretch my legs a little and see whether a dose of fresh air will do me some good.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s just, you know, I don’t feel,” and he pulled the door open and stepped outside the café. It had begun to rain earlier and now a gust of wind sent drops of water streaking down his face.

Without hesitating, he hopped onto the sidewalk and fell on a pool of muddy water. He started walking. A few moments later, he picked up his pace and started jogging. Then he ran. He ran as fast as he could without stopping. He ran as fast as he could, even as he started losing his breath, and he did not look back.