Chapter 3

I awoke to the bleep, bleep, bleep of my alarm clock. I groaned and looked at it—5:30 in the morning. Some days, like today, I wished I could get myself to break up my routine once in a while. It was Sunday and unlike the majority of the civilized world, I still awoke early on the weekend. It's a military thing; you wouldn't understand unless you've served.

I got up and dressed in running attire, checked to ensure the coffee maker was set to make my coffee before I got back and then stretched for my run. Even though I was 43, I couldn't fathom letting myself go. While I did like to indulge in some posterior-sculpting edible delicacies, I worked my butt off—no pun intended here, folks—to ensure I didn't flab out. The back and knee injury from my ejection made running difficult and painful some days, but I still kept at it. Too damned stubborn, I guess.

I stepped out into the cool May morning, did one more quick stretch and figured I'd make a quick lap through the neighborhood before hitting the main road. Setting out at a quick pace I made the lap in a matter of a couple minutes. As I rounded the last corner I eyed a pleasant sight—Shiloh warming up for a run dressed in form-fitting yoga pants, athletic shoes and a tank top. I jogged up and pulled the ear buds out of my ears.

"Well, good morning!" I smiled at her. "Want some company?"

Shiloh looked up at me surprised. "Oh, I didn't see you run up, Gary. Sure. Think you can hang with me? I'm one of the top runners in district for cross country, not to toot my own horn." A mischevious grin played across her face.

"Alright, darlin', let's see what you got. How far do you usually run?"

"I try to get in about five miles each morning. Think an old fogey like yourself can handle that distance?" Such a sarcastic and witty streak!

"Oh, I dunno. We'll never know 'til we try. Just try not to bash my fragile male ego too horribly," I laughed. Little did she know that I'd been running almost every possible day for over the past twenty years. As the saying goes, "old age and treachery make up for youth and exhuberance". I couldn't help but mentally chuckle at my own deviousness.

We set out at a brisk pace for the first mile as we chatted about everything and nothing in particular. After the first mile, Shiloh winked at me and stepped up the pace. Imagine her surprise when this old fart was keeping pace and barely breathing hard. At three miles, I picked up the pace a bit more. Shiloh attempted to keep pace with me for the next quarter mile but started lagging behind. I finished our five miles with enough time to be sipping on a cool bottle of water.

Shiloh slowed to a walk as she reached my driveway. Her small boobs heaved as she breathed heavily. I grinned at her like a Cheshire cat. "What's the matter, a crippled-up old fart too much for you?"

"You flippin' snookered me, Gary!" She took a proffered bottle of water from me and started sipping from it as she walked around in a circle getting her breathing back to normal. "I shoulda known it when I didn't leave you in my dust at the first mile mark. What the hell gives?" She grinned at me knowing full well that she'd been conned and bought said con hook, line, sinker and tackle box. Then she realized that I'd said crippled and asked, "Crippled? Whatcha mean by that?"

"Shiloh, darlin', you're looking at the three-time state champ in the two mile. Well back in the day, anyway. I've been running damned near every day since my sophomore year in high school. As for the crippled comment, I've got a couple compressed vertebrae in my back and a jacked up knee."

"Jeez, what happened?"

"Got shot down right after takeoff during a deployment in Afghanistan. I'm lucky I'm still here." I felt the grip of anxiety ratcheting up as the old memories flooded my mind.

"I'd say so, Gary. So do you run competitively?" She leaned up against the truck next to me.

"Nah. I did fun runs while in the military, but nothing serious like marathons or half-marathons. I'm just in it for the healthy living. So, you have any races coming up?"

"Yeah, here in two weeks we have districts and a week after that is state." By this time she'd gotten her breathing under control.

"Well, if you want, we can go running together in the morning and I'll help you get ready for districts. If you're interested, that is," I offered.

"Sure! I need someone to push me just that little extra bit."

"Ok, deal! Meet me out here every morning during the week at 5:30 and 6:30 on the weekends."

"'K, Gary. Well, I better get going. See you later!" she said and flashed me that bright smile of hers.

I leaned against my truck and watched over the bed as she walked to her front door, glanced at me with another smile and went inside. I crumpled my empty water bottle, screwed the cap back on it and walked back inside to shower and fix breakfast.

A cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast later, I set about gathering up the refuse from the previous day's unpacking. It almost felt like Christmas day, you know, where after everyone's unwrapped presents you gather up all the wrapping paper and haul it out to the trash. Just like that.

And it got me thinking about my little girl. Aside from moving furniture into her room, I hadn't even touched the boxes. There weren't many; just enough to give it a young woman's appearance. I don't know how other non-custodial parents do it, but God, it killed me to know that she wouldn't be there every morning with her blonde hair, blue eyes and bright smile. Eventually I found myself sitting in her room on the floor leaned up against her bed, eyes closed, trying not to get depressed. I failed quite miserably.

I'm not sure how long I'd been sitting, but a soft, delicate voice called out to me. "Gary, are you ok?" I opened my eyes. Shiloh. "Your door was open and I knocked but you didn't answer. I just kinda assumed you didn't go back to bed. Or something."

I took a deep, steadying breath and slowly got up. "Yeah," I sighed. "I'm okay. Just lost in thought is all."

Shiloh stepped closer to me. Softly, "Wanna talk about it?"

I drank in those emerald green eyes momentarily. A guy could get lost in those eyes. Easily. I blinked and broke eye contact with her. "Nah. I don't want to burden you with my problems, Shiloh." I looked back up at her. "You're always so positive about things and I don't want to bring you down."

Another step closer. I could smell the light, fruity smell of her perfume. "I don't mind, Gary. Really. Sometimes people need to talk and vent. Even old goats like you." She smiled at me.

"I know. I appreciate the offer, Shiloh. Maybe later, okay?"

"'Kay," she replied and, surprising me quite a bit, gave me a hug. I froze momentarily and then hugged her tentatively back. I didn't really know what to do, honestly. I decided to just go with the flow.

She had her head on my shoulder and whispered, "Sometimes it just takes a caring friend to bring some sunshine into a dark room, Gary." And she sighed sadly.

I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. Instead of replying, I just drank in the smell of her perfume. As with all things, there is an end. And our ending of this shared sad moment was her hesitantly stepping back.

"So," she said, her happy tone back, "what I came over here for was to see if you needed any more help."

"Sure, I guess. I need to haul those trash bags of moving crap to the garbage bin outside. I was also planning on trying to get some pictures hung." By now we were in the living room grabbing bags full of paper and used tape.

I fumbled the door open while trying to keep the armfuls of bags out of the way. Right away I was assaulted with the sound of Rudy arguing with Shiloh's mother. Loud, obnoxious and all-around annoying. Shiloh's sentiments mirrored mine when I heard her groan.

"Not again!" Her southern twang really came out in those two frustrated words.

"Should we be worried?"

"Nah, Gary. Rudy's just being an obnoxious ass this morning. He gets this way when he's hung over."

About that time Rudy graced the neighborhood with his presence. And not all that surprising, he was still dressed in yesterday's grubby clothes.

"Gawddammit, Mattie. You can't cook fer shit!" he hollered through the door. "I'm goin' to get me some food that won't kill me." The door slammed. "Stupid-ass bitch!" he muttered loud enough for the both of us to hear.

I heard two bags drop behind me. I caught sight as Shiloh, fists clenched took a step towards Rudy. To do what? Kick his ass, or at least try to, I guess. I didn't let her get that far to find out though. Feisty one that Shiloh, I'll give her that. Instead I lunged for her and grabbed the first thing I could get a grip on—the back pocket of her cut-off shorts—and pulled her back. "Ain't worth it, babe," I whispered.

"The hell it ain't," she growled.

Rudy noticed us. Wonderful. "What the fuck you lookin' at, bitch?" he challenged Shiloh. It was her turn to grab me and pull me back. I'd only known Shiloh a day-and-a-half, but I sure as shit wasn't going to let this sorry sack talk to her like that.

"Ain't worth it, babe" I hear parroted back to me.

"The hell it ain't," I replied without thinking.

"Yeah, you don't want a piece a me, boy," Rudy smugly flipped at me. Boy? I probably have a good 8 or 9 years on this guy if I had one. Satisfied that he wouldn't have to defend his redneck masculinity, such as it was, Rudy hopped in his truck and peeled out of the neighborhood in a cloud of smoke.

A few seconds later we both broke out laughing after realizing just how silly we were for being so hypocritical in our actions with each other. Shortly we were joined by Juan.