ANGELS AND GHOSTS

EPILOGUE

New York, November 1st 2015

Mia shivered with the excitement of it all.

The day was overcast, and Mia was happy with that, because she knew that if it was sunny and warm, she’d struggle to finish. She was going to struggle anyway, although she was determined.

One of her goals was going to be crossed out on this day, running in the New York Marathon.

Mia gazed around, taking it all in, breathless already by the electric atmosphere, people everywhere; smiling, laughing people, thousands and thousands of them.

Mia assumed that they started the race at Staten Island, because the area just made you feel good about being there, and it took your mind off the twenty-six miles in front of you. Mia knew that she was going to love every single step of the twenty-six miles, because this was a long-held ambition that was going to be realised. She did acknowledge that she hadn’t met the qualifying standards to compete in the run, she had snuck in through the back door, although technically, she did have a brain injury, and anyway, her goal next year would be to gain entry through her actual times. Because right at that moment, this was most thrilling experience of her life, and she vowed to do this every year, every single year until she wasn’t physically capable of doing it.

The wheel-chair participants were already off and rolling, and the officials called the female participants up to the line.

Mia trembled with excitement, then reached for her cell.

This would be only the second message she’d sent her in over three months. The last one was a month ago, the message short and simple; I’m very excited because my NY marathon application was accepted. She hadn’t been expecting a response, yet she was still disappointed when a response didn’t come; and she assumed that the chances of receiving a response to this new message would be very remote. She had to tell someone how excited she was, and it made sense to tell her, because she had been the inspiration behind the whole exercise.

Mia typed in the message.

Don’t want to disturb you, but I’m here, I made it,

I’m just about to start in the NY marathon. I might come

last, but I’m determined to cross the finish line.

I’m so excited.

Mia pressed send, then waited.

Hustle and bustle all around her, women smiling, women laughing, women limbering up, and then an official roared over a loud-hailer, “Okay ladies, thirty seconds!”

Mia shook her cell, hoping to shake a response out it, but no reply came. She closed her eyes, blew out a disappointed breath, then tucked the cell into the pocket of her shorts.

“Ladies, three, two, one … go!”

And Mia giggled, squashed in a throng of women, some of them sprinting forward, others shouldering past her, and she settled into stride, her heart pumping so hard that she thought it was in danger of exploding.

Mia tried to wipe the smile off her face, because she thought she must look like a grinning idiot. The smile was going stay though, because she was doing it, she was there, and she noticed with a hint of relief that there were thousands behind her in the early stages. Whether it stayed that way, only time would tell.

Original hip and knee were coping well, and even though Chicago hip and Chicago knee seemed to be doing okay as well, Mia knew that they would be screaming at her tomorrow, though such is life; achieve an ambition then pay your price. The price could be physically painful for a few days, although the memory was always going to sparkle and shine.

Mia watched the serious runners break away, and a negative thought hit her; she had wanted to be one of them, had wanted to sit just behind the pacemakers and finish in the first few hundred, although she knew that in a few hours, she would be limping over the line with the last few dozen.

The serious runners were almost out of sight already, and Mia dropped her head and pounded through, trying to keep pace with a defined line of four others, one lady, who must have been fifty-plus, running shoulder-to-shoulder with her. Mia cocked her head and panted, “Hi, my name’s Mia!”

The lady, in serious concentration, panted out, “Meg!”

“Where you from?”

“New York gal!” Meg panted.

Mia was feeling fantastic, and she felt like she could breeze past her, but for the moment, she was content to run alongside fifty-year-old Meg from New York.

Staten Island was out of sight now, and Mia smiled, so alive, so invigorated. Bye, bye Staten Island; see you next year!

Thirty minutes in, and Mia couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be more behind her than in front of her, and she concentrated on her rhythm, concentrated on her breathing … and her cell beeped.

Mia knew that marathon etiquette meant that you shouldn’t dive for your cell as soon as it beeped, but the last message she had sent was in her mind. She pulled the cell out, then gasped, her rhythm slightly off-set as she stared at the number.

Marathon etiquette meant that …

The message was from her though, so sorry marathon etiquette.

She looked at the message, then froze.

R u no 46,186?

Mia shook her head in confusion, then she realised that the first number on her chest was a four. She looked down, stunned; 46,186.

Fifty-year-old Meg from New York had broken away from her, and Mia, confused, yet expectant, shuffled across to the side of the road and fumbled with her cell. The marathon was televised on a community channel, and maybe the message sender was watching, so she typed in a message.

Are you watching, can you see me?

A nervous minute, a minute where hundreds swept past her, then a reply.

Yes.

Mia wasn’t sure what to do. Should she wave? Maybe the cameras were already off her, although something caught her eye.

Somebody else standing by the side of the road, a hundred yards behind her, and she gasped.

The girl waved, and began trotting up, then the girl nudged Mia with her elbow and said gruffly, “Come on Jiminy, run. I don’t wanta come last!”

With involuntary tears spilling already, Mia shook her head in disbelief, stuttering, “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“Jesus, come on, run!”

Mia fell into stride, crying now. “Rachael, what’s going on?”

“Duhhh, I’m running a marathon.”

Mia coughed, cried and laughed, then said, “You, you haven’t got a number!”

“Yeah, I kinda snuck in,” Rachael replied. “Don’t tell anyone though.”

Bewildered, Mia grabbed her arm. “Rachael, why are you here?”

Rachael wrenched her arm free and mumbled, “Fuck, I wanted to run in a marathon, and, and …” the two and’s were dripping with emotion, as Rachael gulped, then said, “And you know, I miss you.”

Mia heard her, but she needed confirmation, so she grabbed her arm again and pulled her to a stop. “What?”

Rachael bowed her face, so uncomfortable, not good at this, and she mumbled, “I miss you.”

Rachael slowly lifted her face, and Mia gasped as she saw the tears welling in her eyes.

“Rach, Rachael …”

Drawing in a breath, Rachael was going to lay it on the line, she was going to tell her, although her attention was caught by one of the runners sweeping past her, and she pulled on Mia’s arm and snorted, “Did you see that bitch? Come on, let’s catch her!”

Stunned and bemused, Mia scrambled up next to her as Rachael ran up behind the woman and called out, “Hey Grandma, the Angels suck!”

Crying and laughing, Mia noticed the woman turn around in surprise, and she also noticed the baseball cap on the woman’s head; LAA.

More important matters needed to be addressed from Mia’s point of view, and she spluttered, “Really, you’ve missed me?”

“Fuck Mia, we’re running!”

They passed a few, Rachael setting a solid pace as she cocked her head and asked, “Your knee okay?”

“Ummm, yes, fine!”

“Your hip?”

“Good, good!”

“Okay, let’s pick it up a bit, because I don’t want a suck-hole Angels supporter beating me!”

In disbelief, in ecstasy, Mia stepped it up, then slapped her arm, “Rach …”

“What?”

Mia had to wait until her brain and her vocal chords were aligned, then she spluttered, “Dear Diary, I think this is the best day of my life!”

Rachael glanced at her and said hesitantly, “Dear Diary, don’t tell her, but I think, I think I’m in …”

Confusion, ecstasy, disbelief; Mia waited for the end of the sentence, then tingling all over she asked breathlessly, “What?”

“Dear Diary, I was gunna tick box A, and box A was saying that I’m not in love with her,” Rachael puffed out and then she tried to compose herself, because the next statement was a huge statement for her; it was the big declaration, it was quite possibly the biggest phrase she would ever utter in her life. She glanced at her and muttered, “But I didn’t tick box A.”

Mia shivered, and sobbing, she asked, “What are you saying?”

“Fuck!” Rachael snorted. “I’m in love with you, you fucking moron!”

And Mia stopped, both hands plastered over her mouth, and a few runners ploughed into her, the runners shrieking in annoyance.

Rachael tracked back and grabbed her arm, then pulled her into motion, “What are you doing, you fucking idiot?”

Mia felt hot adrenalin pump through her, though her running was suddenly clumsy and unco-ordinated. “Wha,-what did you say?”

Rachael didn’t reply, instead she dragged her up to the woman in the LAA cap, then she turned to the woman and shouted, “The Angels are a bunch of freaking pussies!”

The woman clearly wasn’t expecting to get verballed in the New York Marathon, and she shook her head in confusion.

“Sorry about her,” Mia apologised, “She doesn’t like the Angels!”

Mia sprinted up to Rachael, and with her vision blurred by her tears, she cocked her head to look at the woman as she said, “They are a bunch of pussies though!”

Rachael howled out a laugh, then they settled into stride. Mia was focussed on completing one of her life’s ambitions, but she was still in shock that she was going to complete it alongside the one true love of her life.

“Rach, Rachael Terina …”

“What?”

“I love you!”

Falling into a comfortable stride, Rachael gazed at her, then muttered, “I got a room at the Hilton, so let’s get this freaking run over and done with, because …”

Mia heard the emotion wavering through her voice, and she asked, “Because what?”

“I want to get back to the room and fuck your ass off!”

Mia blurted out a gasp, then a laugh, and she felt so invigorated, that she thought it would be acceptable to be a little rude, “Rach …”

“What?”

“I’m, I’m a horny slut, so I’m gunna fuck your ass off too!”

Rachael laughed, and as tears dribbled down her cheeks, she made herself a promise. The last month had made it bleedingly obvious; she was in love with Mia Coombes, and she knew, she just knew it was love, because she had experienced the feelings before. Time to stop running, or more correctly, time to stop running away.

The nightmares would still haunt her, she had no doubt about that; and unfortunately, there were more of them to try and cope with now; but run … run this race, then run into her future and crash through all her fears and phobia’s, or at the very least, face them.

“Hey …” Rachael panted.

Mia had settled into a more composed rhythm, which she was pleased about, because she was crying like a baby.

“What?” she sniffled.

“Will you make me breakfast in bed?”

“When?”

Rachael waited for the lump in her throat to piss off, then she declared emotionally, “Every morning!”

Mia was crying so much that her vision was blurred, and Rachael wiped her own tears away, feeling like a bit of a goose, because she could imagine a few runners speaking to their friends after the race. I was running behind these two women who cried throughout the whole race!

Rachael knew that more tears would come, because getting into a relationship with Mia would be strange, scary even; but God, seeing her now, looking at her, seeing her wet eyes sparkle like jewels, she couldn’t wait to kiss her.

Right at that moment, Mia felt so pumped, that she thought she could run five hundred miles, but she just had to hear it again, so she blubbered, “Ummm, you and me, you wanta be with me?”

Confused, emotional, Rachael blurted out, “Fuck Mia, I just wanta hook up with someone who’ll make me breakfast in bed every morning!”

Rachael cringed at the statement, then hung her head; No, not true, stop running … Rachael gazed at her and said, “No, actually, I do wanta be with you.”

The smile that blazed across Mia’s face was infectious, so Rachael sucked back a gulp and said, “Yeah, and I didn’t mean to call you a fucking idiot before, and if we’re going to live together, I’ll try and cut back on my swearing.”

Mia shook her head, so hyped, so alive, and she blurted out, “Fuck me!”

A few of the runners in the area turned around to look at them, and Rachael said, “You mean gosh!”

“No, no!” Mia replied, laughing and crying as she bellowed, “I meant Holy fucking shit!”

Rachael was beginning to wonder whether they might be the first runners to ever get escorted out of the marathon in straight jackets, then she shouted out, “Jiminy Cricket, you’re rude!”

Rachael could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, and she smiled, thinking that she’d laughed more in these five minutes with Mia, than she had over the last four months, and yeah, maybe this could work, maybe this could be it. Strangely, Rachael thought about the ending of the Melanie song, Look What They Done To My Song.

Maybe, it will all be alright Ma,

Maybe, it will all be okay …

Rachael felt so alive and energised, because maybe, for the first time in her adult life, she had a future.

Briefly she looked to the Heavens, and as another lump caught in her throat, she whispered, “Thank-you Jenna … thanks for saving me.”