Free Here For You by Denise Muniz Page B

field by the local high school until it grew dark out. By the time I made it home there were police cars in front of the house, sending me into a panic. I thought something had happened to my mom so I stormed inside to finally realize that they were there for me. My mother had called them because she thought I’d run away. I did run, but I didn’t run away, I just needed to alleviate the anger I was feeling. She was shocked when I told her I just went out for a run.
    From then on, whenever I woke up I made sure to start my day off with a long run. I noticed that when I did run, the rest of the day seemed to flow a lot better.
    With my legs going, the sweat was dripping from my body. As the wind breezed on by me, I caught a little chill and finally come to a rest. My lungs burned, but it was an awesome burn that I had under control. As my breathing slowed I saw a little stand that sold water. I purchased a bottle and downed it in a second. Purchasing another bottle, I emptied it onto myself. Damn that felt so good.
    Since the beach was right in front of me I made my way to it. Getting close, I sat down and just watched as the rolls of waves come in and went back out, just to repeat. A lot like life. Life is a big repeat of your daily day. I mean, how many people could say that they do something different every single day? Not many.
    You get up, you go to work, you eat, maybe you go out with your friends sometimes, and then you go to bed. Then it’s the same thing for the rest of the week, month, maybe even year. Before you know it, your whole life has passed you by. That’s how it would’ve been if I’d stayed back home. I loved my mother, and life back there wasn't too bad, but I needed to get away. I needed to get away from what I knew and do something for myself. I wouldn’t be co-owner of my own business if I hadn’t have moved. I wouldn’t be able to help my mom either, not the way I’d been able to since I’d moved to Florida.
    As I continued to just watch the beauty painted before me, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Taking it out, I saw a text from Asshole.
    Asshole: Hey son, I know you don’t want me to text you but I won’t give up. I have a lot to explain. Please give me that chance to explain it. Love you (6:34am)
    I didn’t bother to text him back. I just pressed delete. I wished my mother didn’t give him my phone number. I could have cared less what he had to say. If he thought he could text me and I’d respond then he had another think coming. I told my mom I would try, but that was just to ease her worry. I didn’t want to speak to him.
    Not then. Not ever.
    He wasn’t a real man. A real man wouldn’t have left his family the way he had. Just left us, like we were yesterday’s garbage. I remembered that when I was young, whenever he’d had an argument with my mom he would leave and be out half the night. By the time he got home he would be stupid drunk. What a fucking loser.
    Standing up, I dusted the sand from my shorts and made my way home. I only did five miles so the jog back was steady and mellow, just what I needed to end a great run.
     
    *
     
    “Paul, you girly son of a bitch, are you ready yet?” I swore the man took longer getting ready than any girl I’d ever known. Well, most girls, because Becca could be ready in five minutes.
    I heard things getting knocked over in his room before he opened the door. “I’m ready, dickhead.”
    He was dressed in long, white - almost see-through - pants, the ones where the wind was suppose to go through them and help cool you down. He matched that with a beige, dressy shirt, almost all unbuttoned, and these ugly ass brown sandals that I couldn’t stand. His hair was not styled at all, just tossed across his face. What was he, Justin Bieber? He almost made me feel over-dressed. I was wearing black jeans that were rolled up a little at the bottom, a grey loose button up which I’d left the top few buttons open, not tucked, and paired