Page 31 of Get Me to the Starting Line
The food is divine, the flavours exploding on my tongue. The naan is perfectly warm and both soft and crispy in the way only a stone oven can achieve. Paired with the masala spice and pepper, it’s hitting the spot, the paneer melting in my mouth.
I try to savour it and not scarf it down. It’s a difficult feat, but I manage.
As my stomach fills, I feel like I’m coming back to myself. The tension leaves my body as it finally gets what it needs. I usually get two meals out of this, but I’m eating the whole damn thing tonight.
My day replays in my head like it usually does. I linger on the mistakes I might’ve made, things I wish I’d said better or differently. As I dwell on the typo one of my students pointed out in my slide presentation—a simple one I should’ve caught when editing—my face heats again.
I tried to laugh it off with my students, but it’s eating me up inside. One stupid little mistake probably makes them think less of me. I should have caught it. I haven’t had any breakthroughs with my current research yet, and every day that goes by with no progress, it’s like a cable in my body snaps and I’m in danger of collapsing.
To counter the negativity of my previous thoughts, I remind myself I ran twelve minutes without stoppingandI apologized to Julien.
Who knew I could be so amenable? Not me. My mind keeps going back to the run.
Back to Julien’s quiet presence, his infuriating insistence that he stay with me. It was only the second time, but something tells me it’s going to become a regular thing.
There’s something else eating at me. Something he said has wormed its way into my consciousness.
Running is a mental sport.
Not that Paige isn’t smart—she is—but if there are any genetic contests where I won the lottery, it’s in my academic prowess. I flew through school, barely having to try. My memory is almost classified as eidetic, though not quite Sheldon Cooper level.
My academic success propelled me into one of the toughest fields: Engineering.
As one of the only women in my program, I had to work hard to prove myself. And now, even though I’ve been working years longer than most of the other bioengineers, I still have to work twice as hard to get the same recognition as my colleagues.
In my head, Ian’s voice tells me I won’t be able to do it. Not without him. Damn him. I’ve done so much work to get him out of my brain, and I hate that he still has the power to affect me.
But if I don’t start something new soon, my funding could get cut, and I may even lose my position here. And if I lose my position, I lose my work visa, and I’d have to move back to the States.
With Paige playing happily with Levi in the kitchen, their giggles reaching me even through the closed patio door, I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.
I sit back, my stomach full and my mind still whirling as I watch the city from above.
Running is a mental sport.
And that is where my strengths are—in my mind. I can outstubborn anyone—except Levi, apparently—and if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s the challenge of mental fortitude.
I’m going to kick running’s ass.
Full of resolve, I stand and collect all the garbage. Back inside I see Paige and Levi hunched over a broom, cleaning up the cereal from the floor together. My heart melts at the sight, and I pause before I join them.
My sister and I work side by side cleaning up the kitchen and getting Levi bathed and into bed. It’s a full hour before she pours us each a glass of wine and plops down on my couch.
She barely lets me sit before she starts in on me. “You could’ve asked, you know.” Her brows lift in a gentle reprimand.
I sigh, taking a sip from my glass. “I know. I just ...” I don’t know how to explain it. There’s nothing either of us wouldn’t do for the other. Hell, I moved countries to be closer to her so she could live her dream life. But there’s a disconnect between us as older and younger sisters.
She wants to help because she loves me. I love her and want to help, but there’s also this feeling of responsibility—Ihaveto help. She needs me. I’m hit with the image of her crying in the bed across the room after Dad died. Her nightmares used to be so bad, I started sleeping with her so she’d know she wasn’t alone. I didn’t get much sleep because she was fitful, kicking me all night, but it was worth it because it helped her.
Except she doesn’t need me anymore. She has Adam and his family.
“Thank you for coming,” I say sincerely.
“I’m here for you, anytime you need. But I don’t always know when you need me, so you have to figure out how to ask.”
“I know.” It’s true, I do know. It’s hard for me to do.
“You are not a burden.”
