Fix You Read Free

they get detained by the TSA.” I give her a big hug, and I probably squeeze a little too tightly for the light conversation we just had.
    She pulls back and looks in my eyes. “Take care of yourself. That’s what this trip is for. Run lots, sleep lots, rest lots.”
    “I promise.” I sling the bag over my shoulder and head into the terminal.

3: One Morning Run
    I W AKE U P T O A D IM R OOM . Soft, blue light comes from a monitor. I sit in a chair in the corner.
    I see Peter. He sleeps in a hospital bed. His skin is gray; his face is thin. I shiver at the sight of him and pull the blanket more closely around me.
    I am still trying to center myself, orient myself, when the wind howls.
    It grows to a roar, and the window blows open. I feel the ice cold air bite at my skin. I try to shut the window, but snow flies in. It’s everywhere, settling on the chair where I sat, filling the air of the hospital room.
    I turn around. Peter is covered in snow.
    I rush to him, brush the snow away from him. I uncover his face just as the monitor starts to beep loudly.
    Peter’s face is blue. It is the face of a frozen corpse.
    I sit up in bed. The alarm continues to beep loudly. I smack it off and turn on the lamp.
    Sitting on the bedside table is my wedding ring. I pick it up, feel it between my fingers. I don’t know why, but I can’t put it on. I set it back down and try to focus on finding my running shoes.
    I like to run now. That’s a big difference between me before and me now. I used to run on the treadmill when we all went to the gym. I did it because I should. Now I do it because I will go stark raving mad if I don’t. It’s become very cathartic for me. It helps me work through stuff that I might not even realize is a problem until I’m out there breathing hard and sweating.
    I have a loop I like to run when we’re here in California. From my parents’ vacation condo in Indio, I run south to this little coffee shop, about two miles, and sometimes I stop and get tea. It’s a holdover from living in the South, home of sweettea —all one word—which is iced tea with bucket-loads of sugar in it. Only now I try to redeem myself and drink green tea since everyone is under the impression it’s good for you.
    Running is good today. I feel strong. The Indio sun is warm in a very crisp, blue sky. The desert air is dry and cool. I feel so full and happy until suddenly I’m crying. Grief catches me by surprise then hits me hard. Tears stream down my face. After that dream this morning I should’ve known I was in for something seriously cathartic. It was there, lying dormant as I put on my shoes and told the boys and my parents I was heading out.
    I’m just outside the little coffee shop when I have to stop. I bend over, elbows on knees, and there’s definitely some heavy sobbing going on. But I’m also trying to catch my breath so I can get it together enough to stop crying.
    There’s a light touch on my shoulder. Oh shit.
    “Are you all right?”
    I look up from my bent-over position. I was kind of hoping it looked like I had a side stitch and was trying to work it out. Clearly it just looks like I’m losing it.
    “I’m fine.” The sun is behind the person’s head from my position. I can only see that it’s a guy, and he’s wearing jeans, a coat, and a baseball hat.
    “Are you hurt?” He’s still standing there. He has a coffee carrier in his hand, with two cups and a white bag balanced on it. He’s not leaving, so I guess I’m going to have to stand up.
    I pull myself up and wipe my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my shirt. He’s much taller than me, and he has sunglasses on. I feel my hair kind of flop back into place from being upside down.
    “No, I’m okay.” I step a little to the left, partly because the sun is still shining from behind him and partly because I have a head rush from standing up so fast.
    He does not take this as a sign that I am okay. He steadies me by the elbow. “You should