“No,” he said.
“What?”
“No, I’m not sure I have normal human emotions. I did with Lauren. But . . . not so much anymore.”
Sarah’s face softened, becoming quite pretty and not like she was going to spit acid anymore. She opened her arms, so he had to hug her, which he did, but not too hard and not too long.
“I’m forgiving you for her sake. Let’s have dinner sometime, though, and really talk.”
More talking? Shit. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
“The race is starting. Let’s go.”
Thank God. He joined Lauren’s family. Sebastian and Octavia were gleeful at being pushed in running strollers decorated with blue and green streamers. Darius, the former football player, was in admirable shape, and Jen was, too—they both did that kind of exercise where they threw truck tires and did one-handed push-ups till they vomited. Sarah had run cross-country in college, if he remembered correctly. And he ran, too, so it wasn’t like he was a slacker.
Except, apparently, he was. Within a quarter of a mile, he was working hard to keep up. Sarah’s legs were inches longer than his, and Darius and Jen had a game going on where each kid got to be in the lead for a few strides before the other overtook them. Josh, on the other hand, was hurting. Leg cramps. Side pain.
At the one-mile marker, his face felt tight and fiery. Why was this so hard? He should be able to do three miles in his sleep. He ran five almost every day.
Ah. He hadn’t eaten today. Or last night, now that he thought of it. Had he had anything to drink other than coffee this morning?
No. “You guys go ahead,” he called. “I’ll catch up.”
Sarah didn’t pause, her braids swinging as she continued.
“You okay?” Jen asked over her shoulder.
“I didn’t drink enough this morning. See you at the finish line.”
“I’ll slow down for you, Josh,” Darius said.
“No, Daddy! Run faster!” Sebastian demanded.
“It’s okay,” Josh said. “You go ahead. Pebbles needs a drink, too.” Yes. Blame the dog.
He swerved to a water station, accepted a water bottle and drank it, watching them get farther and farther ahead. That was fine. He’d never mastered talking and running at the same time anyway.
He gave Pebbles the rest of the water, then continued running. The heat, the thickness of the air . . . ugh. He hadn’t thought to put on sunscreen, either. No baseball cap to cut the ruthless glare of the sun.
A woman was running at about the same pace. She was pushing a tiny stroller that could only fit a newborn. Should she be out so soon after giving birth? Josh wondered. Scientific curiosity got the best of him, and he angled over to look at her child, peered in, then flinched.
Not a baby. A very ugly dog with a bald, fat stomach and scraggly, grayish-white fur.
“Hi!” said the owner.
“I thought your dog was a baby.”
“Oh, he is. My fur baby! Hey! I know you! Don’t I? Have we met?”
It was the woman from the vet’s. Rather a shock that her dog was still alive.
“We both use Dr. Kumar.”
“Right!”
Also, he’d seen her spill a tray of drinks on someone. The night he’d met Radley, and punched the rude man.
“So this is . . . ?”
“Duffy, remember? Duffy, say hi!” Duffy didn’t move, lying on his side, his tongue hanging out. Josh was tempted to ask if he might have died, but then again, the poor woman would find out soon enough. “What’s your dog’s name again?” she asked.
“Pebbles.”
“Oh, right. Like Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm?”
Josh had no idea. “Yeah.”
“This is a great cause, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Again, the running-and-talking thing . . . difficult.
“My brother has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. You know . . . the one where your joints are loose and they dislocate all the time?”
“Uh-huh.” The rhythm of his feet on the pavement was hypnotic, echoing a little, almost soothing.
“So he’s doing okay, but there’s no cure. Yet. He needs pain relief, mostly. He doesn’t seem to have the vascular part. Thank God.”
“That’s good.” Was it because Josh was running that he couldn’t quite see the people lining the streets? Or was he—
“He’s only twenty-two, poor kid. And you know what? People think he’s an addict, because he’s really thin. The pharmacists won’t fill his pain meds because they think he’s a junkie, and even though his doctor called—” She glanced at him. “Are you okay?”
Nope. No, he wasn’t. “I . . . uh . . . I think I need a breather.”
And then his knees buckled, and the pavement was gritty against his cheek. Pebbles licked his ear with great vigor.
The woman’s face appeared suddenly, her dark ponytail touching the ground. “Yikes,” she said. “Should I call 911?”
“I think . . . I fainted.”
A medic on a bicycle was there almost instantly. “Stay where you are, sir,” he ordered, kneeling next to him and taking his pulse. “Another one down,” he said into the radio on his collar. “Told you we’d have at least a dozen.” He looked down at Josh. “Sir? What day is it?”
“Saturday. I didn’t eat this morning,” Josh said. “I’m fine. I’m dehydrated.” He tried to get up.
The guy pushed him back down. “Stay here. I need to assess you. You people make my job hard. A 5K in this weather isn’t for everyone.”
Faint-shaming. Not cool. “Sorry.” Then again, Josh and his ilk also kept the guy employed, so maybe the EMT should be a little more gracious.
“Do you know where you are, sir?” People ran past, gawking, telling him to hang in there.
“Yes. I’m in Providence, Rhode Island, home of the fourth-largest self-supporting marble dome in the world, doing a run to raise awareness for rare diseases. Can I at least sit on the sidewalk?”
The medic and Duffy’s owner helped him to his feet, and one of the spectators quickly offered him a chair. He sat, and the medic took his blood pressure. “Ninety over fifty, sir. You are definitely dehydrated. And running on an empty stomach? That’s just dumb.”
“Thanks. I know. Sorry.” It was embarrassing to be the subject of so much attention. He petted Pebbles’s head, and she licked him some more.