Emotional Baggage

Chapter Four

"What the hell, Carl? When did signs stop being just signs?" Daniel grumbled.

Carlo snickered, cradling his phone between his shoulder and ear as he took another bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. "Hey, you're the one with the man-bun, dude. This hipster stuff should be right up your alley."

Daniel growled. "Run that list by me again?"

"Small chalkboards, wooden crates, burlap sacks, twine, twinkly lights—"

"Twinkly lights?" Daniel burst out.

"I'm kidding." Carlo chuckled, wiping some mustard off his chin. "Relax, man. You worry about watching our crops grow and I'll worry about all this branding stuff. We've got lots of time. Just remember what I told you, okay?"

"Yeah," Daniel mumbled.

"What did I tell you, dude? C'mon. I wanna hear the words."

Daniel sighed. "Tight shirt," he growled.

"Tight shirt, man."

"You're an ass."

"Hey, I'm just protecting my investment."

"Dickhead." There was a long silence.

"You still there?" Carlo frowned. "Hey, I was only half-serious about the shirt. If you're not okay showing that beer gut of yours—"

"Shut up. You know my gut is so much sexier than yours." Daniel cleared his throat. "You went to see Vince's mom?"

It was Carlo's turn to fall silent. He wiped his hands on a table napkin and leaned back. "Yes."

"About fucking time." Before Carlo could cuss at him halfheartedly, Daniel went on. "How was she?"

"Good," Carlo murmured. "Not a word about you, though, so I guess she's sick of your ugly mug."

"She makes her revel bars every time I visit, dude. Every. Single. Time. And she makes a second batch for me to take home. Did you get any goodies?"

"No," Carlo muttered.

"She's always loved me best, dude. Remember that."

"Goodbye, shithead."

"Asswipe. Talk to you later."

"And don't shave!" Carlo demanded, but Daniel had already hung up. Chuckling, he set his phone on the kitchen table as he turned to dump his plate in the sink. He made his way out to the living room as he inserted his phone in his sports armband. Lounging on his dog bed, Hunter lifted his head up off his paws, his tail wagging as Carlo approached the front door.

He bent to pat the top of Hunter's head. "It looks like rain, Hunt. I'll take you with me tomorrow, okay?" The dog whined and lowered his head, resigned to being left behind.

* * *

He ran. His knees were shot to hell, his lungs were shit; but still, he ran.

The sound of his feet hitting the ground emptied his mind. Even as a child, sports had kept him from getting antsy. It was a place to let that sometimes wild, occasionally angry, completely crazy part of him loose. The rules should've been a complete turn off, but those rules had contained him just enough to feel free. To give the demon a safe space to stretch his legs.

And running was the safest sport of all. It was simple, uncomplicated: shoes, road, one foot in front of the other. Sometimes he felt like he was dying, but always, after, he felt alive.

He could be light. He could simply be bone and muscle and sweat. He could leave it all behind.

failed marriage

halfway to death's door, middle-aged joints and all

how the fuck he was going to handle it when Chloe became a teenager because he was fucking sure she was going to be beautiful and shit maybe he should get a shotgun

and a baseball bat definitely a baseball bat

* * *

Lily pressed her hands together, palm to palm, her thumbs resting on her sternum. She could feel the beat of her heart.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to mass. But this, to her, had become a kind of prayer. Not the hymns and creeds of her youth, words and songs she'd memorized as a girl; but it was still her mind speaking to her soul, and her soul finding some measure of peace. She stood, sat, and lay down. In between the stretch and bend, she sought to bring a stillness to her body—to find space between breath and bone.

She moved a lot, never stayed somewhere long enough to grow roots again. It was both a choice and a need. And yet she...clung to so much, to things and people that were no longer there. In her mind, thoughts rattled and bounced around, a scurry in the ceiling.

But here, on her bright purple yoga mat, just for a little while, she felt as solid as the earth, as light as a leaf in the wind. She could let it all go.

it didn't work out

you can't be like this forever

what are you going to do with your life

what the hell are you going to do with your life