Moving in Rhythm Read Free

and pace every day but Sunday.
    As he ran, Mark planned his day to the comforting rhythm of his pounding feet. There wasn’t much to plan. He’d already lifted weights for an hour. Monday meant upper body. After his run he would feed Belle, shower, eat and settle in for a long day at the computer. Fortunately the minutia of teaching college math online consumed a great deal of time. Grading today. He needed to write a quiz, but that could wait until Tuesday.
    He tried not to think beyond the workday to the long evening alone with Belle. Maybe a novel, a movie? He should take up a hobby. Something manlier than old poetry or chess. No room in the apartment for woodworking. Collecting sounded cluttered. What did normal men do with their evenings? He was pretty sure they didn’t spend their nights trying to convince themselves that celibacy was the answer.
    No. What other men did with their evenings was simply not an option for Mark. No Father-knows-best tableaus in his future. Ruth had offered him that and he’d been cruel enough to lead her on for years. To continue the farce with a marriage would have been sadistic. Who was he kidding? Ruth was only a convenient foil to fool his homophobic father. The need to keep pretending had died with him. Now Mark was free to be his true self, if only that self was capable of enough communication to start a real relationship.
    Belle looked at him with concern as he surged forward. It was too early for speed, of course, but Mark needed to pound through the surge of guilt that followed the mental image of Ruth’s pain the last time he’d seen her. He cursed himself as a selfish ass and sprinted toward the park entrance. Belle loped behind him. At least she was one female he would not betray.
    Mark picked up more speed. Self-recrimination before breakfast was a bad sign. Maybe if he pushed a little harder all that self-loathing would settle back into his subconscious where it belonged. Mark tucked his head and charged forward. Belle followed, a pale, graceful shadow.
    * * *
    The phone rang just as he stepped from the shower. Mark wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the kitchen to answer. Glancing at the caller ID he smiled. Pete. Somehow he always called on bad mornings. When you’ve pared down your human contact to the bare bones, it’s good to have a brother who knows when to call.
    “Hey, bro, how’s it going?” To Mark’s ear Pete’s voice sounded way too tense.
    “What’s up?” Mark kept his tone light. No need to add to the tension.
    Pete inhaled and paused. With a long exhale he said, “Something’s come up and I need your help.”
    Mark opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. It sounded like the beginning of a long conversation. He might as well start breakfast. “What do you need?”
    “We’re getting deployed.”
    Mark leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. This was definitely turning into a bad day. “When?” he asked as soon as he was sure his voice wouldn’t betray anything. The last thing Pete needed was to hear disapproval in his anti-war brother’s voice.
    “Next month.” Pete sounded resigned.
    Mark blinked. “Whoa, nothing like giving you notice.”
    Pete chuckled drily. “That’s the army for you. We’ve known it was coming for a long time, but I was hoping for a few more months.”
    “What about Lisa? Isn’t she due in June?” But Mark knew it wasn’t like Pete had a choice. The army had put him through med school and he had two more years in the reserve to fulfill his end of the bargain.
    Pete sighed. “That’s why I was hoping for a few more months. And it’s also why I’m calling. Can you come up here to stay with her?”
    “Come to Lacland?” He put the eggs down the counter, afraid if the conversation went any further he’d drop them.
    “Just until I get back? Look, Lisa’s a trouper and she’s doing great with this, but I’m pretty freaked out. Childbirth is…” Pete’s voice trailed