The Longest Run

(This story deals with family violence and mental health issues.)

Erin hated everything about Summer, especially the bugs, the storms, and the furnace of humidity when she stepped outside her front door. That morning, she reached inside the mailbox and grabbed a bundle of envelopes. She spotted the fallen postcard near the potted ivy when she dashed out the door for her run. She received one from Aunt Linda when she visited Paris, a trip Erin missed due to her diagnosis three years before.

Erin flipped the card and read the message twice. Her gut coiled into a knot of confusion threaded with disbelief. Written in her own hand was a paraphrased verse from Ecclesiastes, What exists has already been done. What will be has happened, and you must answer to Him for what you have done.

What is it possible? Had she found one and mailed it, after all this time? Their mother often read to them from the Old Testament, mostly the book of Exodus, when they misbehaved. Maureen lied and swore, and Erin coveted her sister’s belongings. Afterwards, the girls were required to copy the passage that admonished them of the sin they committed, and they displayed the card on their desks as a reminder. The card should have been undeliverable with no return address or postmark. She never watched any of those mystery programs with Maureen on Saturday nights, before they rose early for service, and she doubted any of those episodes could explain a message from her younger self. 

A blinding haze now filled the sky. Erin slipped on her shades. She’d jogged halfway to the park when her phone chirped. At an intersection, she pulled her device from the pocket of her tiny shorts and read his latest message, Can’t wait to see you later xo. An image danced behind her eyes, Steven’s whisper soft fingertips splayed across her shoulders as she wrapped her slim legs around him. A sweet alchemy of citrus and sweat on his skin made her dizzy and wet. The bed in the boutique hotel hadn’t squeaked as loudly as the ones in seedier places where they usually met. He probably planned to slip away from them after the mini-vacation to the waterpark Maureen had planned before the girls began their school year.

Even though the time they spent together was never enough, Erin knew they had no real future. She was too in love with him to care. 

Erin jogged over to the park she visited with her nieces. She watched a young woman

in a yellow sundress damp with perspiration struggle to free a crying toddler from her stroller.

“May I help you?”

The woman swept her eyes up and down Erin. “Sure.”

Erin lifted the girl while she kicked her legs and giggled before she handed her off. “She’s really cute.”

“UP!” The child stretched her chubby arms upward and wobbled in the sandbox.

The woman propped the folded stroller against the bench. “She’s getting so heavy.” 

“What’s her name?”

“Emily, she’s almost 18 months, and barely walks.”

“Wow, sounds like you have your hands full.” Erin winced and cast her eyes to the grass. “No offense, by the way.”

She gave Erin a weak smile before she turned her attention to Emily. "Thanks for your help, anyway.”

Erin slipped on her shades and jogged the sidewalk. Beads of sweat slid down her cheeks like tears when she replayed her last conversation with Steven.

“We can’t keep doing this, Erin. I’m gonna tell her.” He yanked his shirt over his trim waist.

“Why? Things don’t have to change, Stevie. She doesn’t care.”

“Yeah, but somehow, I think she knows. And I can’t keep lying to her.”

Erin gathered her jeans and tank top from the threadbare carpet. “Never stopped you before.”

"What are we doing, Erin? Do you really hate Mo that much?" Steven grabbed his wallet and keys from the dresser.

She could have lied and told him what he wanted to hear, that she despised her younger sister and harbored a desire to hurt her.

“Stevie, if you don't get what this is, at least for me, just go. Don’t call me again, and it’ll be over, if that’s what you really want. No one has to know.”

Erin carried her clothes into the tiny bathroom and stayed until the door slammed, then checked out at the last possible moment. She sobbed until there were no tears left, and she had barely enough strength to drive herself home.

The cool, lonely nights that followed warmed into days of sweltering Summer. Now, Erin looked forward to Autumn, her favorite season, with its shorter days and soft, comforting breezes that danced across her back when she ran, the crunch of leaves under her feet. Eventually, she’d be OK without him.

When she was drenched and spent, Erin sent Steven a message, Sorry, busy later. Enjoy your week. She didn’t add and your life with my sister, so don’t message me ever again. He was smart enough to get it at some point.

Erin mopped her brow with her sleeve and walked back home. The street was quiet and filled with perfect lawns with bikes sprawled across them. The thick air hung heavily with the sharp tang of freshly mowed grass.

When she approached her own property, her breath caught in her throat. A pair of vehicles, one of which was a patrol car, were parked out front. She spotted a trio at her door, a woman in a black suit flanked by two officers, one of whom spoke into a wristband radio. Erin’s heart drummed in her ears. Cold sweat crawled down her neck.

“Miss Johnson?” The woman called as she walked up the steps.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“May we come inside and speak with you, ma’am?”

Erin’s stomach swooped. "Detective Meyers.” She offered a manicured hand, and her lips pressed into a tight line.

Erin's keys jangled against the knob as she unlocked the door. When the officers followed her inside, she leaned against the table. The mail clattered to the floor.

“I’m sorry, what’s happened?”

The detective looked back at the taller officer. “Maybe you should sit. May I get you some water?”

“Please tell me what’s going on.” Erin gripped the table’s edge. 

“You have a sister, Maureen Johnson Smith, age 34, about 5 foot 6?”

“Yes.”

The officer stepped closer and extended his large hand. “Ma’am, why don’t you let me help you to sit over here.” 

“NO! What’s happened to Mo?!”

“Your sister, and her husband, are deceased, Miss Johnson.”

 Erin wrapped her arms around herself, as if to hold inside all that threatened to spill everywhere. “How? An accident?”

“It seems there was a shooting, a murder-suicide.”

Erin covered her mouth and staggered to the kitchen sink. When she could stand

again, her throat burned and her chest heaved. “Stevie killed her?”

The officers looked at each other. Detective Meyers paused for a beat. “No, ma’am.”

Erin sank to the floor, unable to see through a veil of tears. “Do you have someone you can call?” The other officer handed her a tissue.

 “Our parents are gone, and I have no other siblings. I have no one.”

“I see. Did you know if there were any problems that your sister was experiencing in her relationship?”

“Please, I can’t speak about any of this now. Where are my nieces?” Tears flooded her face, and she reached back for her phone.

“The girls are at the station, unharmed. They were playing at a neighbor’s house when the incident occurred. We can take you there when you’re ready.” Detective Meyers laid a hand on her shoulder. “We are very sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

Erin rubbed her eyes and peered at the words on her screen. Her head throbbed, and she bit the inside of cheek to stifle a scream. He’ll never be yours. And you damn well better take good care of them. I hope it was all worth it.

An hour later, Erin picked up the postcard from the pile to reread her message during the ride. The air from the AC droned and cooled her as Detective Meyers maneuvered her car through the neighborhood. The heat rose from the pavement. Erin gazed out the window and prayed for rain.