Every moment that passed, and he watched every moment on the clock, he waited. He always made sure he was cautious like that. He definitely always watched the clock. If the minutes went by, he reasoned, at the rate they were supposed to, that's one click every second for sixty seconds to make up a whole minute. He figured if he watched all sixty minutes go by, that'd be thirty-six hundred ticks that he'd witness. He sat there Indian style in front of his bed. He still had his shoes on. He wore red running shoes and forgot what brand they were. Those kinds of things didn't really matter to him anyway. His mother bought him a new pair every year at Easter ever since he could remember, let alone fit into running shoes when it mattered, which was when he was actually able to be running around. He liked short shorts for the simple fact that it made him feel retro. That was it. He understood they weren't in style anymore and he even was fully aware that they may have even looked kind of silly, but still, those kinds of things didn't phase him. He wasn't concerned with how people thought of him while he was running. He figured during the time he went running, which was usually somewhere between the time the first rerun of All in the Family ended and right before the second rerun of My Three Sons came on which, since there were two episodes of All in the Family and the two of My Three Sons, he had a good hour of a run and was still able to watch at least one of each. He almost never changed the television channel from TV Land. Again, this had something to do with the retro feel of old television shows. He liked living through a time he never actually lived through. Vicariously or not, in a weird way it was a kind of escape from the now and a chance to actually imagine himself as someone from that time. With the old television shows and short shorts, he didn't know anyone else like himself. That, in its own way, was another calming thought somehow. He saw there in front of his bed, watching the ticks, tick after tick, waiting. For a brief second he thought he almost forgot what he was waiting for. Then he'd remember and the brief stint of raging anxiety would flee and he could focus on the ticks again. There was rumbling going on downstairs. Probably his parents getting ready for dinner. He hadn't heard his sister come home yet. He could always tell when she'd come home because there was this incessant chatter and banter that took up what he'd imagine would otherwise be what you'd call silence. Since there were still moments of silence between the rumbling his parents were creating, this made a good case in his mind that his sister hadn't come home yet. He didn't have time to think of the reasons for her continued absence. Whatever the reason was he was sure it had nothing to do with him. She was a year and a half older than he was and she never went running. In fact, he thought, he didn't think he'd ever seem her love faster than maybe a brisk walk and that was probably, he figured, was because she was being chased or something. This brief thought have him one of those slight smirks across his face just picturing her being chased by someone. He let the thought go and focused on the ticks. He didn't know if it would be the first ten minutes of the new hour or what ten minute period when they'd run the story but he was sure he wasn't going to miss it. He even figured he'd miss dinner, whatever it was, just to not miss it. He glanced down briefly at the VCR underneath his television to make sure the little red light was on indicating there was in fact a VHS inside ready to record. The red light would be on no matter what VHS was in there, but he knew it was especially ready to record because he used one of his old videos and put little pieces of tape across the little indented ends to allow the VCR to recognize it as recordable. For some reason, and despite his curiosity, he never researched the reasons why a VHS needed to have those little plastic pieces in place for recording to happen and when they were missing, you simply weren't able to record. He figured this out on his own and this brought him a brief bit of pleasure thinking about it. He realized the record button, no matter how many times he'd push it, with a tape inside, would not light up to record, if those little plastic pieces were missing. And the ones that were new, if he could find some new ones at a garage sale or yard sale or something, they'd have the pieces in place still, those were the ones that when he hit record, they'd actually record. He tested this out with an episode of I Dream of Jeanie which he loved. Just knowing that he had everything in place when the time was right gave him comfort because he knew he didn't have to worry and could sit back, catching his breath from the run still, letting the sweat that had beaded up on his brow, under the towel-like head band, and streaming down his cheek, dry and no longer be an issue so he could watch those ticks go by... There was a nice breeze that day he almost immediately took notice of. Despite the probably something around eighty-five degree heat crushing from the sun, he thought it rather nice and even refreshing when the breeze would come along. He always thought of a Leave it to Beaver type neighborhood whenever he went running down his street. He thought all the houses looked the same and the homeowners must have had some kind of community meeting to decide which shrubbery and foliage would be most accessible and appropriate even for their quaint little suburban locality. He sometimes wished he knew what the different trees were and always let the thought go as he figured he already knew a lot about a lot of different things and simply didn't have the time to learn that much about something else so seemingly unimportant. It wouldn't matter anyway, he thought, whether he knew what their names were, they'd be what they were either way. He was probably only three blocks down outside of his commonwealth and approaching anything remotely resembling some other kind of less than suburban urban kind of area. There were stop lights and a nice wall of various shops just up ahead. If you looked up from the ground he held his focus on while he ran you could actually notice the exact point the wall of shops came into view and if he didn't know better he would have, at least on that day, turned around and redirected himself. Keeping his eyes on the ground had gotten him into trouble in the past too. His knees were almost entirely healed now, but the spill he hadn't so easily forgotten about. And yet somehow for some reason he hadn't learned any kind of lesson since from it and he felt it too natural to just focus on the concrete pavement his feet scuffled upon. He wasn't a particularly fast runner. He really only ran because he heard once on an episode of Three's Company that Jack ran to keep his body tight and appealing for the ladies. He had never been one to be what some would call a ladies man, but certainly didn't want to absolutely count himself out of any possibility. So he figured the least he could do was run and keep his body somewhat tight. He didn't even really have a gage on whether or not it was tight, he just trusted Jack's encouragement and advice and for lack of better terms, ran with it. Since the fall and wretched knee scraping, he forced himself, when he'd think of it, to look up. He tried to time it, by counting the blocks of cement sidewalk, when he'd be able to catch the first glimpse of the street light and wall of shops. He missed it this time and shrugged it off, better luck tomorrow 'ol Tripper' he'd sometimes refer to himself to himself for some kind of self motivation as he ran. He started seeing cars wisp by and then start coming to a stop as the light went from green to that orangy yellowish kind almost resembling a creamcicle he thought. He started up a small uphill slant and as the wall of shops came into view more and more he flattened out and had to halt himself at the light doing one of those running in place so as to keep your pulse rate the same. He figured if he stopped to take a quick red light break, as he called them, he'd be unable to muster up enough energy let alone motivation to start back up, and so it was better for him to just run in place. He wasn't particularly fond of running per say but wanted a tight Jack Tripper ladies man body, so he ran. There were probably a good six cars in line at the light. Three lanes at each of the four intersections. He noticed another runner across the street doing one of those jog in place almost looking like an odd kind of dance if he didn't know any better. From his corner he thought she must've been the most beautiful woman in the world. She had dark hair, a white tank top, wife beater type of shirt, and those really tight black, almost yoga type pants. He noticed she glanced down to check her watch and then adjust her headphones and this gave him a quick sense of anxiety as he wondered what time it was, and if he was gone too long and would miss My Three Sons. He never wore a watch himself and didn't even have a good reason why other than he simply didn't own one. He remembered owning one once but that was too long ago to even count now. The light on the perpendicular street crossing the intersection turned creamcicle and he heard it first and then saw the dark blue Toyota start to pull forward. The two cross walk signs switched from the red hand screaming STOP at all who approached to the nice little white stick figure telling everyone it was okay to start crossing the street. As the car pulled forward slowly, the light on the perpendicular street turned red and the green arrow on the opposite side flipped on. While he and his distant lady runner friend began to cross, the Toyota hit full speed in what he assumed must have been a momentary laps of assuming his light was next to turn green and he'd jump the gun and go. It hadn't and the row of cars across the way who in fact did have a green go ahead began to make their turn. As he stepped out to cross the first of three rows of cars, so did she and met the Toyota at an instant. As he sat in his room cross-legged waiting for the news to come on he sat silently running over the small little details of the scene he had just witnessed. He had already missed his episode of My Three Sons and wasn't even really concerned about that now anyway. He wished he could erase the image of that beautiful girl colliding with the front end of the Toyota, but no matter how much he closed his eyes and tried to think of I Dream of Jeannie to distract his thoughts, he kept seeing Jeannie with dark hair, white tank, top wife beater and black yoga pants jogging in place. He wiped his cheek of the sweat still slipping down from under his head band and sighed in an anticipation for how the news story would go. He would say it felt like everything went into slow motion but thought that sounded terribly cliche to say in a situation like this. But maybe, he reasoned, that was why it was cliche because it actually seemed quite fitting. When the Toyota connected directly at the side of her knees there was an abrupt jerking stop as he looked up from the pavement to see her lifted into the air something like ten feet almost, he figured, clearing at least a few tumbles in mid air. She dropped to the street similarly to how a rag doll would collapse to the ground if you held it up and just dropped it. She flew up, flipping head over feet several times and ended up lying face down on the pavement. The traffic turning had all come to an abrupt stop as well also causing a slight rear end that seemed all too irrelevant at this point considering. He stopped running and stared at the woman he felt for a brief moment, as they were jogging in place on their own corners, he must've fallen in love with, or at least what he imagined love was, and she laid there motionless. Some people started exiting their cars running over to her to see if she was alive, if not at the very least, okay. The driver of the Toyota seemed more in shock than anything and didn't even slightly move. He watched one woman in particular with one of those irritating blue tooth devices clamped onto the side of her face start calling for what he assumed was an ambulance. As all rows of traffic remained at a stand still there was a guy that took it upon himself to deem himself, in a brief moment of civilian duty, the crossing guard. He began waving on one row and with a hand held upright halting another. It almost surprised him how the traffic took to the man's direction so unquestionably and so immediately. There was almost no delay and it was as if everyone was even waiting for someone to take the initiative and do as this man was now doing. So traffic began moving along and he made his way backwards to his corner. He stood there watching the scene in front of him but focusing on the poor beautiful well fit woman lying there still motionless. He wanted to go back home but felt conflicted to stay until he could see some confirmation that she was in fact still alive. Even if it was the slightest movement of a limb or even raising her head a little he figured that'd be enough and he'd be released to go home then. He sat there cross-legged flapping his legs in anticipation, watching the television and then down to the VCR to double check that it was set to record. The image of her lying there seemed almost burned into his memory and the sight of when she finally did raise her head and the flush of relief that rushed over him, and he felt, at the time, like he could breathe again. He was surprised at how quickly the ambulance had come. It was almost like a parade scene as the ambulance, fire truck and two police vehicles came almost simultaneously. A police officer relieved the self appointed cross walk guardian of his duties and there was a strange sense of sincerity now in the directing of the traffic now that there was someone official in uniform. The paramedics jumped out and attended to the unfortunate woman immediately as he watched three firemen, well two men and one woman, at a more unhurried, take your time, kind of pace. Probably, he figured, since the beautiful unfortunate woman was already being attended to by the paramedics. The firemen carried what looked like clip boards and the paramedics carried a large red duffle bag. As they attended to her and she was now finally responding to their nudges, the woman who had initially called 911 directed the other police officer to the Toyota. The officer had the driver step out of the car and began, from what he could tell from where he was standing and surveying, questioning him about what happened. He stood there motionless himself watching everything before him. He wondered if the numbing, almost full body tingling he was feeling was a form of shock. He'd heard of shock before and wondered since he himself hadn't been in the actual accident if this could truly be considered shock as well. He watched the officer speak further with the woman and then saw her point over to him. He didn't have an immediate reaction probably because of the shock. There was another ambulance and two more police cars that had come along now and there were flares lit and another officer began directing traffic making two. The police officer that had been, what seemed like conducting the investigation part of it, started across the street towards him. He finally swallowed hard and wished he had in fact gone home. An intense sense of anxiety flushed over him and he felt cold. His heart was racing and pounding what he could only imagine was just about to beat right out of his unsuspecting chest. As the officer approached he started asking him about what he in fact did witness. He fumbled his words a bit and felt like he only got out the already obvious 'she got hit by that car'. The officer asked him if the Toyota had the right a-way or was the red light in fact still red? He fumbled some more as he started to feel himself unable to pull in enough oxygen to continue the interrogation. The officer thanked him for his statement and asked for his name and age and a contact phone number if they were to need any further information on the incident. Naively, he gave them everything they asked for and immediately regretted it. He figured now that since he wasn't technically a minor they could use his testimony and he dreaded the thought of being mentioned or linked with this tragedy at all. As a news van pulled up on one of the side streets he used that as a good exit and turned around to make his way home. He would walk this time and he thought his tight body would have to wait for that woman's sake now since he most certainly did not feel like running. He could feel himself calming a bit now. He rubbed his hands up and down his shins several times and closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly to speed up his calming down. He opened his eyes as he heard the intro music to the news begin. "You're watching YNN Syracuse. Your News Now!" He thought the man was yelling at him. The screen cut to a shot of the intersection he had just come from and he glanced down quickly to double check if his VCR was cooperating and actually recording. He held his breath as he waited to see if he was mentioned. The woman wasn't there on the ground anymore as far as he could see and he figured the ambulance must have thankfully taken her to be further checked out. He sat there listening intently. He could've turned the volume up but didn't want his parents to hear what he was listening to and then realized in an instant that they too had a television downstairs and would from time to time have the news on. He feared that if he did in fact hear his name mentioned there would be more questions he most certainly did not want to answer. He finally let himself breathe again as the story seemed brief. He saw the officer that had questioned him about what happened interviewed by the media as well as the woman with the terrible blue tooth clawing at her face and he let himself laugh for a second at the thought of his escape before he too would have inevitably been questioned. The last thing, he thought, that he'd want was to be on the news. He finally heard the update that the woman was in the hospital with only minor scrapes and bruises. He felt relieved and thought what would Greg Brady have done if he'd been running along that day to see what he saw? He leaned forward to turn the VCR off and turn the television back to TV Land. He took a deep breath of relief again and slid his head band off finally and set it down beside him on the floor. He began to untie his red running shoes and for the first time noticed they were Nike's. He sat back against his bed and saw Sanford and Son come on and almost forgot entirely of the incident and smiled.
