Suddenly, Sarah’s attention darted to the window. It was a single high pitched beep coming from outside.
“Did you hear that?”
“No. I did not hear anything.” Stephen’s head was so far under his pillow that his voice muffled through the fibers.
“I’m pretty sure I heard a beeping noise.” Sarah’s voice peaked with her curiosity.
“No. You didn’t hear anything,” the rose the voice again.
“Stephen, I think it’s a smoke alarm beeping.”
His head emerged with disheveled hair, “Is it still illegal to use a firearm in a residential neighborhood?”
“What?”
“Cause if that smoke alarm is still beeping, the only thing I haven’t tried is blowing it away.” He lifted his pillow and smashed it atop his head as if he were permanently putting himself out of his misery.
Sarah looked at her exhausted husband. She leaned over and gave the top of the pillow a kiss.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, my sweet.” She smiled and rested her own head gently onto her own pillow.
According to plan, Stephen’s alarm clock went off at six the next morning.
Towards the end of the next morning’s training run, he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. He thought about the prior night’s chaos and found himself surprised that the sleep deprivation did not affect his running ability at all. He was tired but he easily chalked that up to the fact that he was about to finish an 18 mile run. Stephen turned the final corner and began daydreaming about the International House of Pancakes he passed about five miles back. His thoughts quickly drifted toward the elaborate breakfast he had just earned. Eggs Benedict, Belgium waffles, sausage links, a Denver omelet smothered in cheddar cheese. There were so many choices to consider that his indecisiveness only made him hungrier.
“Then again,” he reasoned aloud, “after an 18 mile run who said he had to choose just one?”
Now rounding the corner of his neighborhood entrance, confidently wiping more sweat from his eyes, Stephen’s feet smoothed across the transition from the road’s warming pavement and onto the familiarity of the sidewalk. Another mile and he would be home, completing the longest training run he had ever done. Race day was a mere few weeks away and finishing this run put him right on track to be ready. The muscles in his legs surged with energy, and he knew he could push through another few miles if he had to.
The gradual incline leading to their home had no chance of standing between Stephen and the king’s breakfast he had planned. He challenged the hill and hit it hard with each burst of his legs and pumped his arms for extra measure. His head was tilted down and he clenched his jaw with the sheer determination of a victorious gladiator. He was about a quarter of a mile away when he saw Sarah standing in their front yard, apparently waiting on him. He thought it was a little out of the ordinary for her to be outside, compared to the normal post-training run greeting he typically received while dripping his way into the kitchen.
Concern began to snare him and his heart raced even faster when he realized she was standing in the front yard holding her arms together, and crying. Thoughts of training, breakfast and even the hill’s incline bolted from of his mind as Stephen sprinted towards his wife. As he got closer he could see the streaks of freshly applied mascara running down her cheeks which told him that whatever was wrong had just happened. Sarah held their cordless phone close to her chest and her chin periodically bounced against it as her body shook uncontrollably.
“Sarah, what’s wrong? Is Hailey alright?” Stephen called out as loud as he could while still sprinting up the hill towards her.
When Sarah didn’t answer, when it became obvious to him that Sarah couldn’t answer, Stephen ran straight up to her and slowed about three feet in front before embracing her. She continued to cry but the release made it clear she had been holding back the strongest of her tears. The touch of her husband’s embrace caused her to drop her resistance and her body went limp under a wave of emotion. Stephen caught her full weight and held her tightly against his own pounding chest. “I’ve got you. Sarah! I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
His own nerves tingled with panic. He tried to calm them by coaching himself. What’s going on? Keep it together. Don’t let go of her.
Stephen’s internal voice turned to shouting; he had no idea what had happened or how bad it was. All he could think about was the last time he saw Hailey in that hospital bed. Now he questioned why they thought it was alright to even leave her for even a second, much less overnight.
She was in the hospital. She was doing great when we left. What could have possibly happened?
Dark thoughts entered Stephen’s mind and he crushed his eyes shut, shaking his head as if to knock away even the hint of losing Hailey. When he opened them again, he couldn’t make out images in front of him as the pools of his own tears blinded his sight. He held Sarah tighter as she continued to cry.
You are where you need to be. Don’t let go. Just hold her.
Sarah’s hair clung undisturbed to his stubbled chin in the motionless air. Every path his mind went down ended with Hailey and dark thoughts shredded his heart. Devastated by the silent chaos engulfing him, his own emotions threatened panic and anarchy under his thin grip of control. Yet through confusion and panic, he had a sense at that moment, it was best not to say anything, best for him to do nothing. He focused on holding the weight of his wife’s grief on his chest, each splash of her tears onto his bare arms caused his own soul to plummet and plea an aimless prayer to whomever could hear the desperate cries of his heart.
Don’t let go. Just hold her.
He looked to the sky and held Sarah with the frail hints of strength left in him. His own tears made their way down his contorted face. He told himself that he needed to remain calm, quiet and steady for the moment. Amid sweat and tears, he was made fully aware of his own helplessness, and that standing there in his own self-imposed silence was the single hardest thing he had ever done.
Just hold her.
Mile 19
The twin oversized oak-stained doors, designed to give the impression of entering a grand cathedral, were reverently opened by two unassuming ushers in pressed and tailored navy blue blazers. As he crossed through the foyer, the heels of Stephen’s wing tip shoes issued a click with each step along the ceramic tile floor and echoed down the tubes of two perpendicular hallways. Embarrassed to be the one disrupting the dense silence, Stephen blushed. He escorted Hailey across the foyer in her new wheelchair. Still weakened from finishing the latest round of her treatment, they had all agreed now was not the time to test her strength. As he pushed her over the high-polish flooring, Stephen noticed that the wheelchair had a catch and was causing a periodic squeak which seemed to only draw more attention to their entrance.
He leaned over and gave a lighthearted whisper into Hailey’s ear, “Between my shoes and your chair, we’re one instrument shy of having a traveling band.”
Without looking back, Hailey gripped his hand and held on to it. Stephen envisioned her tear-soaked smile as they continued along the hallway until they met up with Sarah. He reached out to her and accepted his wife’s weary embrace.
Rebecca’s fatal heart attack had been sudden and swift. The attending paramedics suggested she likely slept through the brief ordeal and drifted into the night peacefully where she lay. They were told that she hadn’t even stirred enough to wake her husband. Apparently, this was indicative of some fast-acting, pain-concealing chemical response in the brain which allowed her to pass without knowing anything was wrong with her body. Stephen didn’t know how much of that was the paramedics’ accurate assessment or an attempted elaboration to help the distraught family members feel better. For him it didn’t matter. He had a sober reality about death. Stephen knew a quick death was far better than the anticipation of watching as the reaper slowly made his way to your doorway, or a hallway. Stephen had been through that terror before. Instead, his mother had apparently passed in the night without suffering. If it brought an ounce of comfort to anyone, and it did for Sarah and Hailey, then he was perfectly comfortable endorsing the medics’ assessment, even if they included elaborations. He rested a kiss on Sarah’s forehead and the three walked arm in arm towards the narthex of a church he knew was all too unfamiliar to him.