Hannah Gersen - Home Field

“Do you want to get pulled from the play?” Dean said. “Because you could just as easily come with me after school and go to cross-country practice, like Bryan does.”

“That would be so fun!” Bryan said.

“Oh my God, why are you always such a dork?” Robbie said.

Bryan frowned suddenly and tearfully, like he used to do when he was a baby, and Dean had to get him out of the room fast, taking him downstairs and setting him up in front of the TV with a bowl of pretzels. When he came back upstairs to Stephanie’s room, Robbie had turned off the TV and was lying on Stephanie’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“You need to be nicer to your brother,” Dean said.

“I’m sorry, but he’s, like, always around,” Robbie said. “I have no privacy. At school all the teachers spy on me.”

“You created that situation.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I should be able to go places. I’m not some little kid.”

Dean hated that Robbie saw himself that way, as no longer childlike. He remembered feeling the same way when he was Robbie’s age, after his mother left his father. It had given him comfort to think that he was more grown-up than others, and that he was somehow well suited to the difficult circumstances he found himself in. But as an adult he saw what a delusion it was. And he thought there was something pathetic about a deluded child. Delusions were for adults to cling to; children were supposed to be innocent scientists, peeling back the layers of the world.

“Look, I know you’re responsible, but other people don’t,” Dean said. “Your teachers don’t want you having special privileges.”

“And you don’t, either.”

“Actually, I vouched for you. And so did Ms. Lanning.”

“You told them I should do the play?”

“Yes, I did. I want you to be happy, and I want you to do the things that make you happy. So don’t mess that up, all right?”

“All right.”

Dean headed back downstairs and watched the rest of Jeopardy! with Bryan, grateful for his company but also horribly lonely. He had mixed feelings about Robbie going to the high school every day for the play. On the one hand, it wasn’t that big a deal; on the other, it was further evidence that Robbie wasn’t going to grow up to be someone he could easily relate to. He’d always imagined his children would be his comfort, his companions.

It stormed that night, and the next day it rained on and off all afternoon, the beginning of bad weather. Dean drove the girls to the junior college, where there was an indoor track. Something about being indoors — the novelty, the cooped-up feeling, the sound of the rain on the skylights — helped the girls to run faster. At one point the rain was very heavy, and the muffled sound of the wind seemed to drive the girls. They had energy to burn at the end of practice and wanted to try the hurdles that were set up in the far lane. But Dean said no, they might get injured. That was when he realized he believed in them.

On Thursday, his niece showed up at practice. It was a sunny day, crisp, like the weather was trying to make up for the previous day’s tantrum. Dean stood at the gym door, waiting for the girls to arrive. He could see the football team jogging in the distance, doing their warm-up laps around the field. This weekend he was supposed to attend a Boosters’ fund-raiser at Garrett’s house. He’d asked Joelle to babysit as a way of forcing himself to go.

“Uncle Dean?”

He turned to see Megan standing tentatively near the gym bleachers, a pair of new sneakers on her feet. They were bright white with a teal swoosh and a kind of peekaboo window to showcase the air bubble within the thick soles. They looked like small appliances on her feet.

“Aileen said to meet her here for practice,” she said. “She goes to my church? She says you need runners?”

“Does your mom know you’re here?”

“My dad dropped me off.” Megan glanced down at her new shoes. “He got me these.”

“I don’t want to get in the middle of something.”

Just then the other girls showed up, entering the gym together, not one at a time like they had the week before. When Aileen saw Megan, she sprinted ahead, waving. “You came!”

Megan looked to Dean, expectantly.

“Promise me you’ll tell your mother?”

“As soon as I get home!” Megan said. “Thank you, Uncle Dean!”

Dean had planned a fartlek workout, a training method he’d gotten from one of his old xeroxed articles. It was a long, untimed run, during which the girls would take turns setting the pace — fast or slow depending on how they felt. It was a team-building workout, and so it was slightly awkward to have his niece randomly in the mix, especially since she didn’t know her way around the high school campus. When it was her turn to lead, she made unpredictable turns, forcing the other girls to stay close to her. Her foot strikes were fast and even with her new shoes flashing white, teal, white, teal, back and forth, back and forth. It took Dean a moment to think of who she reminded him of: Adrienne Fellows, the championship runner. They had the same small, efficient build.

When the workout was over, the other girls asked Megan the question that Dean wanted to know: Could she come to the race on Saturday?

THAT NIGHT JOELLE called Dean. He assumed it was to chew him out for letting Megan attend practice, but instead she wanted to know if she could take the boys to church on Sunday morning. Since she was planning to babysit them anyway, they could stay overnight. It would be easier, she argued.

“Okay,” Dean said. If he gave a little on this, maybe she would give a little on Megan.

“Really? Oh, Dean, I’m so happy. I think they’ll like it. We have this new minister. He’s very young, very inspiring. You know, I think you might even like it, too.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean said. Give Joelle an inch . .

“How’s Stephanie?”

“I haven’t heard from her since she visited.”

“Oh. Well, maybe that’s good. She’s probably busy at school. It’s good she’s getting on with her life.”

Joelle had said pretty much the opposite thing before Stephanie left, but Dean chose not to mention it. Instead he told her that Megan had shown up for practice. And that she was gifted. And that she wanted to run on Saturday.

“She told me she was with Aileen this afternoon,” Joelle said.

“Aileen’s on the team,” Dean said. There was no point in mentioning that Ed had dropped her off. She would figure that out on her own.

“I can’t believe she would lie to me.”

“Kids lie. They just do. But as far as lies go—”

“This one is not going any further! She can’t run, I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’ve seen what happens with other families. One of the kids gets really into a sport and then all of a sudden they aren’t showing up at church on Sundays and they’re missing prayer groups during the week, and that isn’t what I want for my family.”

“But this is just running,” Dean said. “And she’s doing it anyway. The meets are on Saturdays—”

“Dean, stay out of this. All right?” Her voice was sharp.

“All right.”

He got off the phone. He had the urge to call Stephanie to complain. She was the only person in his life who would understand. But he’d been trying her room every day, and he always got the meek roommate. It was getting embarrassing.

The next day, one of his students reminded him of Stephanie. He noticed her during the timed mile run, which he was required to administer every year, for the President’s Fitness Challenge. He liked to do it early in the semester because it helped him to learn names. The girl had Stephanie’s long legs and broad shoulders, but it was her attitude more than her physique that reminded him of his daughter. The way she held her large head high, her chin jutting forward, ever so slightly, in subtle defiance. She didn’t like the fitness test and when he called out to her that if she kept her fast pace, she would be in the 99th percentile, she gave him a look like What do I care? But she didn’t slow down. In fact, she went faster. That was like Stephanie, too.