This probably should have been a short story

Run


I wake up with a start.
I don't even have to look
At the clock. I know what time
It is, the pounding of the war drum
In my chest tells me. It always happens
Like this, every damn time:
it's midnight.

I pack what things are small
And quiet; I can't afford to
Wake her up, so I'll leave whatever
I can't live without. I try not to
Look at her while I do it, no reason
To make this any worse. Only one
Glance, before I go out the door.

It's almost 12:30 by the time
I get to my beat-up pickup, a
Starless night offering no guidance.
It's gonna rain by morning, it always
Does. One deep breath, then gun it,
Get away, and hope I got out
In time.

I feel bad for Charlotte.
I always feel bad when I do
This, but Charlotte was probably
The best woman I ever met. Too
Sweet for this world, and way too
Good to be abandoned by a guy
Like me. She deserved better.

But I can't help it. It always
Goes like this, find a nice girl,
Get a place to stay, maybe even
Sometimes fall in love. But then
I wake up at midnight, and I know
I have to get the hell out of there,
No matter what, as soon as I can.

It's not that I don't want to commit,
Rather I can't. If I don't get out fast,
If I don't listen to the feeling and run,
Something terrible will happen.
So this is what I do, a couple of months,
A handful of kisses, and I'm gone
By morning.

It's 6:30 and I've just stopped driving.
My chest feels less like imploding
Now, I can finally breathe. I hope
I've gotten far enough away. I enter
A small, dusty diner and order some
Rubber eggs and soggy toast. It's
raining. It always rains.

When he comes in, I don't even
Look up. I take a sip of coffee,
Wait for him to sit down. He stares
At me a while, waiting for me to talk,
But I don't say a thing to. A pale man
In a black raincoat. He's soaked,
And he's smiling.

“Record time, m'boy,” he says,
A voice of oiled gravel. He smells
Of tobacco and paint thinner, and
He watches me like he'd watch
Roadkill. “You sure got out of there
fast, eh? I wonder, was it fast enough
This time?”

One time, a few years ago,
I didn't leave. I thought I
Could beat it, thought Rachel
Was worth staying for. I resisted
The beating in my chest, let the chills
Pass, told myself this was it.
Rachel's dead now.

I let him see my eyes now.
“Is she okay?” I ask, try to
Sound in control. He smiles
Wider than a person should
Smile, and he licks his lips.
“Don't mess with me, old man.
Tell me if I made it.”

“Charlotte is alive, my friend,”
He says and tilts his head. I shut
My eyes and breathe deep. I got
Out in time. Good.
“Are we done here?” I spit,
And he eats up my hate.
“Yeah, we're done. See

You in a few months, pal.”
He grabs a slice of toast
Off my plate, and gets up
To leave. I try to bite my tongue,
Try hard not to ask him
When I can stop this, stop running,
And never see his cracked old face again.

As if on cue, he turns around,
And beneath his dripping cowl
Shows a mouth of jagged teeth.
“You stop when I say you can stop,
And I'm not even beginning to get
Tired. Be seeing you.” He closes the
Door, and saunters into the storm.

As the dark day starts, I climb
Back into my car, start down the
Road. I don't know where I'll stop.
I'll find a nice girl, move in,
Be happy for a while. And then one
Day, I'll wake up, and run.
Always running.

It's not fair to them. Sure as
Hell wasn't fair to Rachel. If I
Could end the cycle, never
Have to see that bastard again,
I would. But damned if
I can stop it, and damned
If I'm ready to die.