Joan:

Two days. That’s how long we ended up waiting. Two frickin’ days of gut gnawing anticipation and I was close to losing it. Hank was sitting at the kitchen table making origami crane. I tried to do a few to pass the time but sitting for so long was setting me on edge. Standing up from the wood kitchen chair, I went over to the window for the hundredth time. It was dusk, nothing around but g ass and rocks. In this line of sight, there wasn’t another creature to be found Bonking my head against the pane, I let out a sigh.

“Quit sighing so much, it won’t help your frustration,” Hank muttered gruffly.

I scowled and huffed without turning to face him. He was right, but that did nothing to alleviate my pissed off mood. We’d both been irritable and snappish all day. The pressure was getting to us, as was the sleep deprivation. The logical part of my brain realized that spite and angst would do nothing to help our present situation. Despite that, I felt the urge to hurl something at the wall, if only to liven things up a bit. Logic and desperation came to a compromise. I felt propelled out the front door by both. There was a certain satisfaction to shutting the door roughly behind me. I had the crisp, twilight air all to myself. I took a deep breath, so deep it hurt and let it all out in a rush. I could feel my wound-up stress begin to unravel. Walking the perimeter of the house, I noticed how overgrown the drive was. Little dandelions and wild grasses poked through. Parking the car behind the house had been a great idea. Anyone passing by would still think the place was abandoned. Maybe that’s why B.D. wasn’t here, maybe we’d done our job too well. I sighed aloud again, less dramatically this time, and continued walking with my hands stretched overhead. Then I broke into a run. I had to get the pent-up energy out somehow. I awkwardly sprinted a circle around the house. The rough terrain didn’t make it easy. Good, I thought, pushing myself to maintain a faster pace. I need a challenge, something to physically grapple with.  After the second lap I was breathing hard, but no less determined. The fourth lap almost saw me face plant into the gravel, damn gopher hole. Random thoughts flittered in my mind as I ran. Thoughts about Hank and Kamal. Thoughts about my family. And thoughts about making canned food and jerky more appetizing. I entertained the idea of a peanut butter and jerky combo. Maybe if the jerky was cut into crumbly bits and tossed with sugar or maple syrup. Might go well with scrambled eggs. Or spread peanut butter on half a banana and sprinkle the sweetened jerky chunks on top. That could work. I should patent this. Seventeen laps in and my body started slowing down, knowing the end was so close. I kicked myself back into gear for the last three. A split was in my side. “Not yet,” I thought, “no quitting yet, “I reprimanded myself. Finish what you started. The last lap felt twice as long. I slowed to a walk and put both hands on my head. I was breathing hard and sweating but I felt better.

“Fuck, I hate running,” I said aloud to the dusk and the grass.