Page 50 of Run
“Well, then, pick something that can be shortened to Ari. Like …” Sophie’s eyes narrow and I see them bounce around as she thinks. “Ariana, Armani, Arissa.”
“Aries.”
“Aribella.”
“Oooo … Aribella.”
We both mull it over, then Sophie looks at me and scrunches her nose, and I shake my head. “Yeah, no,” she says.
“Veto,” I reply.
“OK, so Aribella is out. What about Arrow? Oh, or Arlo?”
“Arlo is the name of a dinosaur.”
Sophie blows out a breath through puffed cheeks. “True. What about the Real Ari? Like, the Real Slim Shady.” She breaks into Eminem.“Will the Real Ari please stand up, please stand up …”
I give an eye roll. “Maybe I’ll just be Ari. Just shorten it.”
“That works,” says Sophie. “Ari. The real Ari.”
“Ari for Real.”
Sophie smirks. “Ari-real … Ariel.”
We lock eyes. “Ariel.” I try the word out on my tongue.
“Ariel,” she repeats.
CHAPTER 17
ETHAN
It was always strange when I came back here, but being back permanently is almost surreal.
I adjust the contrast on an image I’m working on in the back corner office at work. It’s cool here. The people are chill, and I’m pretty much left on my own, designing ads and layouts. And while there’s the pressure of deadlines, it’s pretty relaxing.
Funny, I never saw myself as someone who could work a desk job. I thought I’d go out of my mind. Now, I’m thankful for the cover of these walls. It means I won’t run intoher.
The first time I came back to town—not my hometown—but back to the greater Rochester area after Dad was diagnosed, I was physically ill. My stomach was in knots and my skin in goosebumps, afraid I would run into Ari. Or maybe I was a littlehopeful I would. But after I got the call from Mom saying Dad had stage four prostate cancer, I got on the first plane home. They assured metheywere going to put uptheirbest fight, even thoughtheywere divorced.
Mom left Dad shortly after I left for college, but they were pretty amicable up until the end. I guess when someone gets sick, like, really sick, you bury all the bad shit between you and just move forward.
Anyway, I went back to Georgia to finish my last year with the Army, flying back north frequently to visit my dad while he underwent treatment. Then I came back permanently and got a few months in before Dad passed. I lived with Mom in her small craftsman-style home just outside the city until I bought my own ranch house in the suburbs.
I was fortunate to come across an ad for a graphics position just before making the move.
Adingdrags me out of my thoughts, and I glance at the phone on my desk to see I have a message from Fonz.
Drinks at nine?
After confirming with him, I save the image I just finished working on and email my coworker, letting him know it’s finished, then grab my jacket and helmet and head out.
I immediately spot Fonz at the corner of the honky-tonk bar on the outskirts of the city—our usual spot—and make my way over to him, placing my helmet on the bar top and slinging my jacket over the back of the stool as he stands and gives me a real hug, not one of those bro hugs that are half a handshake, half a hug.
“Good God, have your muscles gotten bigger since the last time I saw you.” Fonz pulls away and pinches my nipple through my shirt. I slap his hand away.
“Nah. I told you, I work out. And also, I saw you last weekend.”
