i saw them pull up, following a moving van. they moved in on a thursday, which struck me as an odd day to move in.

i sat on my porch, and watched for a minute. then i put on my headphones, tucked the walkman into my shorts, and took off running.

i wanted to play in high school. that was the one thing i always wanted to do. it was what my dad expected of me. so i spent that summer getting in shape. running, pushing my body in any ways i could. mowing lawns just to build some kind of endurance.

i ran in the rain. it didnt matter. every morning. six am, i would run. one morning, i took off. raining. a little lightning. listening to joe crocker move into bonnie raitt move into the eagles move into the box tops on my tape. and as i ran past her house i saw her, sitting on her porch. drinking from a cup. i ran on by.

by mid afternoon it cleared up. i sat in a lawn chair, under the tree, feet propped up on the bird bath. listening to the country station. reading ee cummings.

that was the summer i fell in love with him.

i didnt know she was there until i felt her against my leg. i felt skin on skin and looked up. she was there, against the bird bath, belly exposed a little. i fell backwards.

we began talking. her name was sarah. she was from georgia. moved because her dad got a new job.

she was beautiful. she had such an open, innocent look. but she could curse with the best of them. tell the greatest dirty jokes.

it became i would see her every morning when i ran. she would be there, on her porch, leaning against a post. i would finish running, take a shower, go back out. talk with her.

her dad would pay me to mow their yard. saturdays, after finishing our yard, i would roll my mower up the street two houses and across. whenever she thought i needed a drink she would come down and punch me.

i was falling for her.

the first night i kissed her it was in her bedroom. she had told me, earlier, that she wanted me to make her a tape. not a request, but an order. after running, i had spent the day in my bedroom. going through cds, through old tapes, some records.

i laid next to her on her bed. we listened to that tape, together. when it was time to switch sides i jumped out of the bed, went to her stereo. when i turned back around she was standing there.

she kicked me. told me i was an idiot. then kissed me.

school started. i took to calling her at night. she would ask what i was listening to. ask what i was reading. tell me i was odd.

not many jocks in georgia listened to billie holiday while reading whitman.

i would ask her something, and then just listen to her talk. she had the most beautiful voice. often i couldnt even focus on what she said. i just listened to how it flowed. how it rose and trembled and pulsed.

she would ask me to read her something, so i would. and then we would hang up.

i made varsity my first year. she came to a game or two. i didnt play much, i was more a utility player than anything else. if someone was injured, i would take over. if they needed a sure hit, just to get the ball into play, i would step in. i never started a game.

but i was varsity.

one night, after a game i was almost knocked unconscious by the catcher falling onto me during a slide, we drove by this wreck. a car had slid off the street, wrapped itself around a telephone poll. i didnt think anything of it.

she didnt call that night. i was nursing a sore head and sprained neck, so i didnt call her. the next morning i woke up unable to move my head without pain, so my mom decided to take me to the doctors. just in case.

thats why i wasnt in school. thats why i didnt know she wasnt in school.

when we came back home, there was a message. it was her dad. he had just gotten home from the hospital. there was nothing they could have done. nothing more.

i didnt go back to school for a while.

i dont like running now. ive tried to, but ill start and look to my side. thinking maybe she'll be there. maybe she'll be leaning against that post.

everything i have just written has been a lie.