The Therapist Chapter 3

Ryan woke early like he always did, didn’t seem to matter if he went to sleep at nine or midnight. His internal alarm clock always went off just before five. It was Friday, the last day of classes for the week. He could tell by the sound of the cars and the birds singing it was a warm morning.

September offered some of the best running weather. In two weeks he would run the Middleton Half Marathon. This week he’d take it easy. Eight miles this morning and a few four to five milers after that to keep the legs loose and he would be good to go.

He threw on his running shorts, shirt, laced up his sneakers, and was out the door. People often asked him how he did it. What they didn’t know was there were lots of days he didn’t want to do it. The easiest way he’d found was not to think about it. Just do what he’d just done. Throw on the running stuff and go. You just completed the most difficult part. Today was an out-and-back course.

As he ran everything started to work itself out. At the half-mile, he crossed the intersection of Allen Street and headed up towards Mill Road. His head started to clear. At the mile, his natural running motion began to flow and his thoughts became focused.

By mile five he had made his turn and the endorphins were flowing. This is what he called the rubber band effect. He had gone out four miles and now each step was bringing him closer to the finish. His legs moved as of their own volition and he felt like he could keep this up forever.

He came past the farm at this point. It was a small operation, mostly beef cows, some horses, and a few chickens. There were barns on either side of the road. The slate roof on the small white house nearby had a design that read 1880. The horses and cows stopped eating long enough to stare at him. Probably wondering what that thing is doing.

The sweat was pouring out of him. Down behind the house were old quarries holes full of water. Ryan and his friends used to swim in them a lot when they were in high school. They would leap 40 feet from the ledges into the water. He knew they were lucky there were only a few stitches and nothing else.

He felt really good. Life was a wonderful thing. He knew a lot of people saw him as a pessimist. He wouldn’t disagree with them either. He guessed it was part of his nature but that certainly didn’t stop him from realizing how amazing life really was.

Tim and Julie would be back on Sunday. He missed them when they were with their mother. The house seemed empty. No life to it. He was thirty-eight when Julie was born and a couple of months shy of forty-two when Tim was born. It was fun watching them grow up. You got to relive a little of your own childhood with them. He spent a lot of time with them. He remembered getting up in the night with them, feeding them the bottle, teaching them to ride the bike, and building snow forts in the winter.

It was the three of them together. Their mother didn’t often take part in those things. It was just them. The kids must have sensed it even then, the loosely guarded animosity that always ran just below the surface between their parents.

He knew the marriage wouldn’t last. Knew at some point they would divorce. He just kept hanging on for the sake of his children. He couldn’t imagine not waking up and having them with him. When they were young he was afraid the courts would give full custody to her and he couldn’t live with that. So he just hung on and tried to be the best father he could be.

He was into the last mile now and his body felt like a machine. He crossed the bridge over the highway that took you west to New York or East to Manchester and Barton. He’d be on that highway in thirty minutes.

The sun was up. It was going to be a beautiful day. Running at a six minutes pace he moved down the hill, back through the intersection, and down Main Street. The street was lined with homes on each side. Most of them had slate roofs.

If you knew what you were looking for you could pick out the different designs. Some had graduated slate roofs, others were diamond-shaped, some had the year, usually the year the house was built. He passed the grade school where Tim went, crossed in front of the park, and quickened his pace as he turned onto Maple Drive. He eased up as he reached his house and began the cooldown.

He showered quickly, put the coffee on, and grabbed an English muffin with peanut butter. He popped on the television and watched some of the morning news.

The newscaster was saying, “Another man has been found dead in Manchester. The body was found around eleven o’clock last night by a security guard making his rounds.”

Another anchor picked up the thread. “Steve Grabben, thirty-two years old was found in his car in a downtown parking lot. Police are ruling it a homicide and believe it’s connected to two other killings reported in the last three months. Grabben had served time for sexual assault on a minor and was listed on the sex offender registry.”

There it was again, sexual assault on a minor. Grabben had repeatedly raped the boy for months, damaging his rectum. Yea, he guessed sexual assault sounded better to the viewing audience.

The voice continued, “Detectives assigned to the case are now saying the previous two victims had also served time for sexual assault on minors and were listed on the sex offender registry. The people involved in this case are asking anyone who might have information to please come forward.”

Ryan switched the channel to a cable news network. According to new polls, Congress had an eighteen percent approval rating. Ryan was a political junky. Eighteen percent approval rating, he laughed, most of them would still get reelected. It was a damn joke.

The country was in a bad recession. Unemployment was higher than reported. The national debt was fourteen trillion dollars and climbing and they were involved in two wars Ryan didn’t think they could win.

He loved politics and history. He’d served in the military and it had taken him to many countries in Asia. He loved to travel. But for him, there was no place like America. Unfortunately, it currently lacked strong leadership and had for decades.

The invasion of Iraq had made a few businessmen rich, killed and maimed thousands of people, and bankrupted the United States. No WMD had ever been found. He clicked the off button on the remote. He was still pumped from the run. Wasn’t going to let what he had little control over ruin that. He grabbed his computer bag. Time to get Friday started.