6:30 a.m. — The monotone sound of Amazing Grace jarred him out of yet another restless sleep. He grabbed the phone and sighed heavily when he saw the caller ID. It was six-thirty. The call always came at six-thirty.
He read the incoming text: “Delivery, 942 Lakehurst Drive, 8:37.”
He replied, “Got it.”
Exhausted, he sat up in bed and stared at himself in the mirror. Waking up no longer gave him pleasure. When he was younger, he hated when bedtime rolled around. He’d feared going to sleep, always afraid someone would break in and kill him and his little brother while they slept. Every morning when he woke, he’d done so with more relief than joy.
Nowadays he’d sell his soul to Mr. Sandman for a good night sleep. Insomnia ruled his nights; fatigue conquered his days. With a shake of the head, he slapped his hands on his thighs and exhaled deeply, readying himself for another long day.
6:50 a.m. — After a quick shower, he dressed and headed downstairs. Over a breakfast of cold bran flakes and bananas, he swallowed his daily dose of anti-depressants.
He washed his dishes and gave the kitchen floor a quick mop. Last thing he needed was another scolding from Mom about leaving her kitchen a mess.
7:15 a.m. — His cell phone alarm sounded. He grabbed his backpack, two bottles of water, strapped his iPod onto his arm, stuck the earbuds in his ears and headed out the door. He configured his Fitbit settings, took a deep breath and slowly jogged out toward the main highway.
He’d always enjoyed running, ever since he was a little boy. Running gave him time to think about life. It gave him time to break down complicated situations one footfall at a time. That’s why he loved running marathons; they gave him plenty of time to think through problems.
He bounced up and down in steady rhythm with his music. Sweat soaked his short-sleeved shirt. He was sure he reeked by now, but something about his run rejuvenated him.
He thought about his beloved mother and brother, and everything the family had been through in recent years. His heart pounding, he increased his speed and lengthened his strides, determined to reach his destination.
7:47 a.m. — He slowed to a walking pace as he passed the church. He waved to Sister Jodi and she motioned him over to help her carry some packages into the church. She asked him about his family. He smiled and said mom was doing better, and they’d both enjoyed the service last Sunday.
After promising to help with the children’s Christmas pageant, he thanked Sister Jodi and continued to his destination. Along the way, he handed his extra bottle of water to Mrs. Wilson, who was always tending her garden when he jogged by. She told him to stop by tomorrow for a slice of her delicious banana bread. He promised her he’d be there with bells on.
8:17 a.m. — He reached his destination. His heart pounded and every part of his body ached. He gasped and felt like collapsing. He took four deep breaths then guzzled his entire bottle of water in one swallow. He checked his Fitbit. He’d made excellent time, despite his rendezvous. He had twenty minutes to get ready.
8:36 a.m. — He checked his watch. Any moment now, any mome— there! He saw the exit the taxi. He watched as the man threw money at the taxi drive and laugh. The smugness irked him. He watched as the man arrogantly strolled toward the door. He waited until the man was two feet from the door.
The man suddenly stopped. The man senses were always on high alert. He searched around as if he could feel someone watching him. Chuckling at himself, the man lit a cigarette and let out two slow puffs.
The adrenaline flooded his system like it’s on an intravenous drip – right into his blood at full pelt.
8:37 a.m. — He heard the screeching horn. The raucous, metallic shriek heralded the passing of the Lakehurst Express train.
Right on time!
10 a.m. — He rested his head again the cool metal of his front door. He ferreted the key from his pocket and entered his home. He’d expected to find the house full of rambunctiousness upon his return. But deep inside he knew. He knew this house was destined to live in silence forever.
He made tea and slowly carried the tray up the stairs and entered her room. The blackout curtains kept the harsh sunlight out, but even so, he could see her as she lay there and his heart warmed.
When she saw him, she smile weakly and painfully sat up in her bed. He sat on the edge of her bed, like he’d always done as a child. He smiled as he handed her a cup of tea. Her hands were frailty and caution, shaking gently as she took the teacup.
“How was your run?” she asked.
“Great, mom. Sister Jodi wanted me to tell you happy everyone was to see you at Sunday service. Oh and did I mention I’m directing the children’s Christmas pageant?”
“That’s wonderful. I remember your first Christmas pageant, you played a sheep,” she recalled.
“Baaahh,” he mimicked. They both laughed and enjoyed their tea, reminiscing about days gone by.
12 p.m. — His mother had been asleep for about an hour now. She tired so easily these days and every breath she took was a struggle. He made a mental note to speak with her doctor about adjusting her medication.
He flicked on the television to catch the midday news.
“Our lead story — the owner of a local insurance firm was killed early this morning in front of his office. Police arrived at Greyson Insurance, located at 942 Lakehurst Drive, after an employee of the firm called 911, saying when she arrived at work this morning, she found her boss dead at the front door of the office. Police are still examining the scene. They are also very reluctant to state whether this killing is connected to the murder of a local banker two days ago. We’re have more on this story on our six o’clock broadcast.”
He flicked off the television and grabbed his copy of The Green Heist. Unwinding on the couch, he was halfway through the novel when his cell phone blared the familiar monotone sound of Amazing Grace.
“Everything go okay?” the text read. He replied with a simple “Yes,” and went back to his book. A moment later, he texted, “See you at Sunday service, Father.”
He took no joy in killing, but the need for revenge gnawed at his soul. He knew this was the cause of his insomnia.
He’d lost part of his humanity the very moment the drunk driver sped through the red light and smashed into his car, leaving his beloved mother paralyzed and killing his brother. He’d buried the remnants of his empathy the moment the judge said not guilty, letting the drunk driver off scot-free.
He’d sold his soul to the devil the moment the insurance company refused to honor his brother’s life insurance policy, and canceled his mother’s medical insurance.
He’d accepted he’d have no restful nights until he settled the score. If that meant he’d have to run every day of his life, well — he’d always enjoyed running, ever since he was a little boy.
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