Thou Shalt Run For Your Life

On Monday, I started to run.

I got up early--after setting three different alarms and paying my brother Danny five bucks to throw a glass of water on me if I wasn't awake by 8am--and I ran.

Ten blocks up, ten blocks across, then back again.

Lately, I've been thinking it would be good for me to incorporate a little exercise into my everyday life. And even though I'm so scrawny the last thing I look like I need is cardio, running is something everyone can do without a Bowflex.

(I actually own a Bowflex, but I use it as an ironing board.)

After I finished the run, I expected to feel exhilarated. Instead, I felt...blah.

ADAM: What do you mean 'blah'?
ME: I felt...upset.
ADAM: About how out of shape you are?
ME: No--Well, that, but also...I don't know. I just didn't feel good about it.
ADAM: So forget about it. Go to the gym instead. Thursdays are unofficially 'Gay Day' at the one I go to. Major treadmill hotties.
ME: Tempting as that sounds, I'd like to be able to have the kind of spiritual experience other runners talk about.
ADAM: Then grow up in a war-torn African country and learn to run as a means of escaping the tyranny; other than that, you're just going to feel sweaty.
ME: You know, a running buddy might help. Maybe--
ADAM: I don't run.
ME: But--
ADAM: Not if a man with a knife was chasing me and singing arias from Naughty Marietta.

Before walking in my house, I looked across the street to see what was going on at the Model House. It was kind of hard to tell since the view of the living room was skewed from my front door. I wanted to know if there had been any developments in the Blondie/Punky cheating scandal, or if Odd Guy had said anything to The Greek or Linda Cardellini about it.

From what I could tell, Odd Guy wasn't even home. Then I glanced up at the roof and saw him with his legs dangling over the edge.

Just as I was about to scream "Don't do it! You have so much to live for! I'm not sure what, but even so," Rory came running out the front door nearly knocking me down. I forgot that he was heading to school--partially because he avoids going at all costs.

RORY: Sorry Kev, I didn't know you were out. Ha ha, that's funny actually.
ME: I was just about to stop Odd Guy from taking the plunge.
RORY: Don't worry. He spends a lot of time up there. I think he's trying to figure out whether or not he should tell his friends that his other friends are cheating on them.
ME: Poor Odd Guy.
RORY: It must be rough living in that house.
ME: Yeah, all that tension. Discomfort...

Just then my mother screamed from inside--

MOM: Rory, I told you to do the dishes before you left!
RORY: Do you want me to educate myself or do you want me to scrub dishes like an illegal immigrant? Anyway Kev, think of it this way, he gets the opportunity to see beautiful girls walking around in their pajamas every day. His life can't be that bad.

With that, he headed to the bus stop.

Danny was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Mom was doing the dishes Rory was supposed to have done, and Roger was reading the newspaper in the living room.

ROGER: How was your run, Kev?
ME: Awful. I think it sucked something out of my soul.
ROGER: That's nice.

Roger is pretty much oblivious when he's reading the newspaper, even though he only likes articles that deal with pumpkin growing contests and dogs that call 9-1-1 to save their elderly owners.

MOM: You shouldn't be running. You have a heart condition.
ME: I do not have a heart condition. It's a prolapsed artery.

Bascially it means that I have to take medicine before going to the dentist--seriously, that's all it means. But ever since being diagnosed with it, my mother has been convinced that stress, eating poorly, or overexerting myself is going to send me into cardiac arrest.

MOM: Sit down and catch your breath.
ME: I'm not even breathing heavily.
MOM: Danny, get your brother a chair.
ME: I'm standing next to a chair!
DANNY: I need to start eating breakfast in my room.

I sat down and grabbed a piece of bacon. Maybe Danny would be the right person to advise me on why I was feeling so down after my run.

ME: Danny, is it normal that I'm sort of...morose right now?
DANNY: Kevin, what you're doing is a very solitary thing. You're running by yourself with nothing but your thoughts. That can be very upsetting if there are emotional things you're dealing with right now. Why don't you pray on it?
ME: I'd rather not, but I see what you're getting at.

Nick's disappearance--Harry's Baby--The Decline in Quality of Desperate Housewives...

ME: You're right. I probably need to learn to zone out while I run.
DANNY: Or zone in.

Before I could untangle that little gem, we received a pop-in visit from my grandmother. She was holding at least three pineapples in her arms.

GRANDMOTHER: I brought fruit!
DANNY: His name is Kevin, Grandma.
MOM: Danny, that wasn't nice. Funny, but not nice.
ME: Grandma, pineapples aren't even in season.
GRANDMOTHER: Don't worry about it. Just take one.

This is common with my grandmother. She'll show up with a trunk full of pineapples, Kleenex, VCR's, a Huffy bike--you just never know.

GRANDMOTHER: I have eighteen jars of Heinz tomato sauce in the car.
MOM: Ma, we don't need tomato sauce.
GRANDMOTHER: Maybe if you cooked dinner once in awhile--
MOM: You know, these pop-ins are getting a little--
ME: Grandma, you walk, right?

I thought this would be the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone. Have an activity my grandmother and I could do together (Bingo didn't pan out) and get some exercise without going crazy.

GRANDMOTHER: Every day.
ME: Would you mind if I joined you? We could chat about things--like Dancing with the Stars and why young people are spoiled.

I was trying to make it sound as appealing as possible to her.

GRANDMOTHER: Honey, I'd love to have you join me, but we wouldn't do much talking. I listen to Earth, Wind, and Fire while I walk.

Well, as much as I love "September" and "Let's Groove Tonight," I figured it would just end up defeating the purpose.

After I breakfast I headed to the library. On my way to work, Beth called, and I filled her in on my predicament.

BETH: Do what I do--bike. I just put a new ashtray on my handlebars.
ME: I don't have a bike.
BETH: What are you a communist?
ME: That doesn't even make any sense.
BETH: Sorry, Carlos has been riding me all day.
ME: I didn't know he was interested in that.
BETH: Not funny.

Beth's boss Flamboyant Carlos had been getting on her nerves for awhile. She had threatened quitting, but then remembered that she needed money in order to live. (Studies have shown that 90% of Americans stay in jobs they don't like for that exact same reason.)

Once Carlos realized that Beth realized she couldn't quit, his antics only got worse.

BETH: As we speak, I'm cutting up a meatball sub into five pieces, because Carlos likes to eat it in sections so that he doesn't feel like a pig.
ME: Are you aware that what you're doing may be one of the most demeaning things on earth next to snapping photos for US Weekly?
BETH: I'm aware! That's why I try not to think about it. If I think about it, I'll get sick to my stomach and heave all over the little a**hole's meatballs, so I just don't think about it.
ME: That might be my problem with running. My brother says I have trouble being alone with my thoughts.
BETH: See, it's the exact opposite for me. I love my thoughts. Mostly because they involve putting this cigarette out in Carlos' Dolce cookie bag.
ME: Carlos has a--No, you know what? I don't need to know.

When I arrived at work I could barely find a parking spot. I had forgotten that it's Fall Fest, which means apple pie eating contests and little children running around with poorly constructed paper masks on their face.

One of them ran up to me and screeched--

LITTLE KID: Guess what I am?
ME: Um...a Wiggle?
LITTLE KID: Ewww--No!
ME: Captain Planet?
LITTLE KID: Who's that?
ME: Never mind, I'm old. Are you Sinead O'Connor?
LITTLE KID: I'm an apple picker!
ME: Apple pickers don't wear masks.
LITTLE KID: Yes, they do!
ME: Why would an apple picker need a mask?
LITTLE KID: To protect himself from fire!

Is there an apple arsonist nobody's telling me about?

Just then I heard a voice call--

VOICE: Richie, get over here.

I looked up to find Library Boy, love of my life, walking towards me.

ME: Hi!
LIBRARY BOY: Hey, how's it going?
ME: Great. Do you know this little...apple picker?
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, he's my nephew.

He's an uncle! How adorable is that?

LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: Uncle, can apple pickers wear masks?
LIBRARY BOY: Sure. I don't see why not.
LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: (Pointing at me accusingly.) He said they don't!

Oh great.

ME: I was just kidding. Of course apple pickers can wear masks. My Dad's an apple picker actually. He wears masks--and gloves!

Library Boy laughed. He could see I was trying to bail myself out.

LIBRARY BOY: Your Dad sounds like an interesting guy. Like father like son, I guess, huh?

Truly, madly, deeply...

LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: Uncle! You promised!
LIBRARY BOY: I told him I'd let him get his face painted.
ME: How is he going to get his face painted while he's wearing the mask?

Oh my God, I am such a moron! Luckily, Library Boy just smiled.

LIBRARY BOY: That's a paradox we'll have to deal with when the time comes, I guess. See you later.
ME: Yeah...nice seeing you.

I went inside feeling like a tool. All the Girls were sitting at the Circ desk eating apple pie.

ME: Weren't those for the pie-eating contest?
MARTHA: They already had the contest. These are the left-overs.
ME: Don't kids stick their faces in the pies when they eat them?
MARTHA: What do I care about germs? I'm going to be dead soon.
ME: Speaking of being dead, how do you all feel about exercising? Why don't we start a walking group?
DAISY: I don't need to exercise. I have a naturally slim figure.
MARTHA: Doing a lot of drugs in your youth will help you with that. She's practically embalmed already.
MILLIE: I do yoga.
ME: You do?
MILLIE: I go with my daughter. It's fun. Plus, the instructor looks just like Robert Redford.

I couldn't imagine Robert Redford doing yoga. Not even Barefoot in the Park Robert Redford.

ME: So nobody wants to go walking with me?
MARTHA: I'll go.
ME: Really, Martha?
MARTHA: Sure. Where are we walking to? The market? I have some things I need to pick up anyway.
MILLIE: That reminds me, Martha, when are we pushing you into a very late retirement?

The library is right next to a park. So I decided to go for another walk on my lunch break. The park is always filled with people, so I figured it would be a great place to kill my feelings of isolation.

No dice.

The weather was beautiful. There were plenty of people. But as soon as I settled into a nice pace thoughts started rushing at me.

HARRY: You're going to be an uncle--
NICK: I just need some time...
UNCLE WILL: We're thinking of adopting.
LIBRARY BOY: Nice seeing you again--
MOM: What are you doing all this for?
ODD GUY: I'm so...odd.

And before I knew it I had walked back to the library in a rather upset state. I didn't even notice when some little kid walked into me with his newly painted face and got most of his visage over my shirt.

But what was I going to do? How do you stop thinking about things that are stressing you out and just relax? That night I could barely sleep. Once again I was alone with my thoughts. The ceiling seemed to be filled with images of things that needed to be taken care of, and eventually I gave up sleep altogether and settled for a late night phone call.

JOEY: Hello?
ME: Sorry Joey, did I wake you up?
JOEY: No...Well, yes...That's okay though. What's up?
ME: I'm worried I'm losing my mind.
JOEY: This is Kevin, right?
ME: Yeah.
JOEY: Kevin Broccoli?
ME: Joey, yes!
JOEY: Ooohhh...it's late.
ME: I'm aware. Are you sure you can you talk?
JOEY: Sure. What do you want to talk about?
ME: The depths of isolation.
JOEY: Is that a musical I don't know about?
ME: Yes, it's a Jason Robert Brown piece, actually.
JOEY: Really?
ME: No. Go back to sleep, Joe. I'll call you tomorrow.
JOEY: Okay. Night Poppy.
ME: Who?
JOEY: Hey hey, shiksa goddess...
ME: Never mind.

Since I still couldn't sleep I decided to go online and see if there was any Nick news. I had put the word out that I was interested in finding out why Nick disappeared so suddenly. After about five minutes, I got an instant message from my buddy Dylan.

DYLAN: Hey Kev, I heard you've been asking about Nick.
ME: Yeah. I just can't understand why he left the way he did.
DYLAN: I've been meaning to ask you if we could get together sometime.
ME: Why? Do you know something?
DYLAN: I'd rather talk to you about it in person. It's kind of private.
ME: Is everything okay? I ran into Juan at the club and he seemed to be kind of dismissive about the whole thing.
DYLAN: Let's just say things aren't what they seem to be at all.
ME: Okay, should I cue ominious music now or wait?
DYLAN: I'll be in touch, okay?

And he signed off.

...WHAT?!? What was that? When did my life become The Maltese Falcon?

So much for sleep.

The next day I had dinner at my Dad's house. I thought I'd try getting him to come running with me. My Dad's notoriously bad when it comes to taking care of himself, and I couldn't think of anything better than getting him back into shape.

DAD: Pass me the gravy.
ME: Dad, I've been running lately and I thought it would be fun if--
DAD: J.R., I don't need to go running. Your father's in great shape.

I should probably mention that since my father is Kevin Broccoli Sr., I'm referred to as J.R. when I'm at his house. I don't mind it, really. After all, it is the name of the most amazing soap opera villain in history.

ME: Oh really? Is that why you were in the hospital six months ago barely breathing?
STACEY: Kev!
ME: Sorry. I'm not trying to upset anyone. I just think he needs to take care of himself a little better.

Actually I was being selfish. I wanted Dad to come along to break the quiet of my mind, but if he happened to get healthier because of it, where was the harm in that? Dad, Stacey, my little sister Annie and I were all sitting down for family dinner when I heard the downstairs door open.

DAD: Who's that?
VOICE: Hello?
STACEY: Oh, I invited Deana and Harry over for dinner.
DAD and ME: What?

Harry appeared in the dining room with Deana looking all smiles, while Dad and I just gaped. Harry was not commonplace at family dinners at Dad's house. Stacey was grinning. Clearly she thought this was a fantastic idea.

I knew better.

DAD: Well, if it isn't the unwed parents.
ME: Oh God...
ANNIE: Harry!
HARRY: Hey, there's the little Auntie!
DAD: Jesus Christ!
STACEY: Kev, watch your mouth!
DAD: They made an 8-year-old an aunt, Stacey.
DEANA: I thought you said J.R. wasn't going to tell him?
ME: I didn't tell him. He guessed. I.Q. over here asked for baby clothes.
HARRY: Yeah, so the secret's out. Oh well. Who cares?
DAD: You should care! You should care about the fact that you can't afford a baby!

Deana looked upset at this suggestion, and Annie was starting to look around wondering why voices were being raised.

ME: Look, why don't we just try and enjoy our dinner?
DAD: Who's going to be taking care of this kid anyway?

Clearly, Dad didn't want to change horses in mid-stream. Stacey swooped in for the save.

STACEY: Annie, why don't you show Deana your new table set, huh?
ANNIE: Daddy's going to yell?
STACEY: Yes, Daddy's going to yell, and then J.R. might yell, and then Harry might yell, and then Mommy will yell at all of them, and pretty soon everybody will be yelling and when we're done you can come back and we'll eat dinner, okay?
ANNIE: Okay.
STACEY: You don't mind Deana?
DEANA: Not at all. Yelling makes me nervous.
STACEY: That'll all change once you have kids, honey. Trust me.

Once Deana and Annie were gone, Stacey looked at all of us with utter disappointment.

STACEY: All right, have it out.
DAD: Why didn't you tell me?
HARRY: Because it's none of your business.
DAD: I'm your father.
HARRY: Starting when?
ME: Low blow, Harry.
HARRY: It's true.
ME: It's also true that bad though he may be, you've borrowed money from him--
HARRY: Here we go.
ME: --And you'll be borrowing money from him again, I assume. But that's not the point. The point is, you're going to be a father. Dad's going to be a grandfather. I'm going to be a gay uncle. And we all need to accept that and move on from it.

Quiet.

ME: And Dad's going to come walking with me.
DAD: Absolutely not--on all counts! She's giving up the baby.
HARRY: No chance.
STACEY: Maybe I should just bring dinner down to Annie and Deana since this is leading to a standoff.
DAD: And don't invite people over here without telling me!
STACEY: They're not people; they're family. And I'll do whatever I want so long as it's not 1782!

Stacey stormed out of the room, followed by Harry.

ME: Congratulations, Dad. You cleared the room.
DAD: That's fine by me. I prefer eating alone anyway.

Like father like son...

ME: You prefer doing a lot of stuff alone, huh?
DAD: Lovemaking tends to be a little difficult, but other than that--
ME: Annnnnd I'm not hungry.

On the way home, I stopped off at my old school. They had a track outside. I was determined to conquer this. I would not be someone who couldn't be alone. I would not be that lame guy who clings to people everywhere he goes. Yet as soon as I stepped out of my car, the anxiety hit me, and I ended up driving the rest of the way home instead.

I never used to be like this. I used to go to movies by myself. I used to sit in bookstores for hours reading and having a great time all by myself.

So what happened?

CARLY: You got used to having someone there. It happens.
ME: Terrific. I'm a codependent.
CARLY: Not so fast. I've got the perfect solution to your problem. We're going to get you dating again.
ME: Carly, every solution you have to any problem I mention to you involves me dating again.
CARLY: Because there isn't a problem you getting a little action couldn't solve. By the way, I see you're a kiss down. Ninety-nine to go, huh?
ME: Not a chance.

Carly has a genius idea that involves me kissing one hundred boys and then crowning a winner. I don't have anything against a little competition--after all I am a Bravo reality junkie, but Tim Gunn never has to make out with anybody--although I think we all saw him making eyes at Kayne last season--not that I blame him.

CARLY: Too bad, because I have a new guy who wanted to throw his hat in the ring.
ME: Really? You're playing matchmaker now?
CARLY: God no, who has time for that? I'm just passing along the message that my friend thinks you're cute--I showed him your facebook--
ME: Of course.
CARLY: And I told him what an amazing catch you are, and now he would like to meet you.
ME: Carly, I'm in the midst of a mental collapse. Now's not the time to be dating.
CARLY: He has great pecs, dark brown hair, and a degree in Poly sci.
ME: Give him my number.

Hey, I'm only human.

Derek called the next day. We agreed to meet up later. The funny thing is, when he mentioned how much he likes working out--I worked out something of my own.

ME: How do you feel about going for a run?

We met at the high school near his house. I'll admit Derek was everything Carly said and a little bit more. When I got there he was in cute blue shorts and a sweatshirt.

DEREK: You must be Kevin.
ME: I must be.

I was a little nervous. Not just because Derek was so cute, but because that newly found anxiety was rearing its ugly head again, even though I had finally found a running buddy.

DEREK: You ready to run?
ME: I'm ready.

Once we got going, I let our conversation distract me from my nerves. Derek turned out to be incredibly well-versed in lots of areas, not just politics. He was very well-read and had an undying passion for Fleetwood Mac.

DEREK: I knew all the words to Rumours by the time I was thirteen.
ME: That's awesome. I frequently sing along to 'You Make Lovin' Fun' in my car on the way to work.

We went around the track twice, which caused us both to break a sweat, then Derek asked if I'd like to get something to eat.

ME: Like this? I'm sweaty--and not in a hot way.
DEREK: Did you bring a change of clothes?
ME: Yeah. I have my work clothes in my car.
DEREK: So you can come use my shower. I live a couple of minutes away.
ME: Okay. Great.

So, a few minutes later, I was pulling into Derek's driveway. He owned a decent-sized house, showing off that in addition to being handsome and brilliant, he was also pretty well off. Part of me wondered whether I was going to be participating into the latest rose ceremony upon entering his house.

DEREK: The bathroom's down the hall. You can hop in the shower. I'm going to go grab some clean clothes from the laundry downstairs while you're in there.
ME: Okey doke.

I went into the bathroom, put my duffel bag with my library clothes onto the counter, and proceeded to shower. About three minutes in, I heard the bathroom door open.

DEREK: How are you doing in there?
ME: Um...good, thank you.
DEREK: Excellent.

The door closed. Then I heard footsteps.

ME: Uh...you're not planning on reenacting any of Norman Bates' greatest moments, are you?
DEREK: I can't. My wig and muumuu are at the cleaners.
ME: So then what--

But before I could say any more, Derek had hopped into the shower alongside me. (And like most people jumping into a shower, he was naked.)

ME: Whoa, I...uh...
DEREK: I hope you don't mind. I thought this could save us some time.
ME: Yeah, I guess I should have seen this coming.
DEREK: Carly said sometimes you're the more passive one.
ME: In what sense?
DEREK: The pursuit.
ME: There was a pursuit? I didn't get any memo about a pursuit.
DEREK: She also mentioned the kissing contest.

F**k me. (Actually I shouldn't be saying that in this situation.)

ME: That's actually something that she--
DEREK: Mind if I throw my hat in the ring? It'll be pretty hard to beat a first kiss in the shower now, won't it?
ME: I don't--um--never mind. I can't win this argument.

And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to--I mean, how often do random spontaneous opportunities to be slutty come up?

So he kissed me...then we kissed some more...

VOICE: Well, that was fun.

I opened my eyes. I was lying in bed with nothing on but a towel feeling incredibly happy and fairly tired. He stood in the doorway, the indescribeable Mr. Right.

MR. RIGHT: You look like you're going to fall asleep.
ME: Showering tends to tire me out.
MR. RIGHT: I bet.
ME: Where are you headed?
MR. RIGHT: I'm going to go for a run. Then we need to pick up your nephew.
ME: You sure you don't mind him staying here this weekend?
MR. RIGHT: Are you kidding? I'm thrilled. I hate having to send him home.
ME: Well, maybe we should get one we wouldn't have to send home.
MR. RIGHT: You have a nephew we could keep?
ME: I mean, a child. Like--of our own.

Mr. Right sits down on the edge of the bed.

MR. RIGHT: You realize there are things you have to give up when you have a kid of your own?
ME: Like whoopee in the shower?
MR. RIGHT: Like whoopee in general. At least until they're older.
ME: I want a family. I can't help it.
MR. RIGHT: I'm not asking you to.
ME: I'm years older than my parents were when they had me.
MR. RIGHT: I thought you wanted to wait?
ME: Until I found the right guy, but now I've found you. So--
MR. RIGHT: So...I'm going to go for my run.
ME: Okay.
MR. RIGHT: And when I come back, we can talk more about this.
ME: Any chance I can get an answer before you take off?

Mr. Right laughs then leans over and kisses me.

MR. RIGHT: How about a great big 'Yes'?

I smile and pull him onto the bed with me.

MR. RIGHT: Why am I having deja vu right now?
ME: Quiet you, I'm amending your exercise routine.

We both laugh and kiss and...

All I could hear was the sound of his breathing. I wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but I couldn't follow suit. I kept staring up at the ceiling, and after awhile it became pretty clear that I just needed to get out of there.

I texted Carly:

TEXT FROM ME: I just showered with Derek.
TEXT FROM CARLY: You slut. I'm so proud.

I didn't want to be the guy who takes off after...you know, so I wrote him a note explaining that I had a great time and it would be terrific if we could hang out again--perhaps somewhere a little more public than his shower. Something told me I wouldn't be hearing back from him any time soon--thank God.

On the way home, I got a call from Uncle Will and Jeff.

JEFF: Bryce or Bryant?
ME: I'm sorry.
UNCLE WILL: Which is a better name?
ME: For what? A retirement home?
JEFF: The baby. Our baby.
ME: You're already picking out baby names? You just decided to adopt.
UNCLE WILL: We were just discussing it casually, and then Jeff got all crazy--
JEFF: I did not get 'all crazy.' You want to name our son after a college.
UNCLE WILL: And you want to name him after your ex.
JEFF: I just like the name Bryce. I can't help that he was an ex of--
ME: I just hooked with a guy after knowing him for less than three hours!

Silence.

UNCLE WILL: Are you--uh--okay?
ME: Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not fine. I mean, I just--
JEFF: Kevin, it's not the first time someone's done something like that.
UNCLE WILL: It sure as hell isn't the first time you've done something like that.
JEFF: Will!
ME: I know, but I'm trying to be better, remember? Be a better person? New rules of my life?
JEFF: This doesn't make you a bad person, Kev.
UNCLE WILL: If anything it's a minor slipup if your quest to be perfect. It's not that big a deal. By the way, was he hot? Ow!
JEFF: Oh sorry, was that my elbow in your ribs?
ME: I'm also having trouble running.
UNCLE WILL: Running from what?
ME: No, not from what. Just--

Wait a second.

Running from what?

Exactly.

That's why I was having trouble. That's why being alone was freaking me out. That's why even moments of quiet like the one I experienced lying next to Derek unnerved me. I felt like I was running away from something that I knew was going to catch up with me. I felt like I was biding time.

But biding time until what? What was chasing me?

JEFF: Kevin, is it possible that you could be running from who you used to be? Who you're trying to stop being? Are you afraid that old person is going to come back and ruin all the work you've done?
ME: Yeah...Yeah, I guess that could be it.
JEFF: Why don't you stop running from that guy and face him? Face him head on.
UNCLE WILL: Great. You're encouraging him to develop multiple personalities.
JEFF: Whatever, Bryant.
UNCLE WILL: Bryce sounds like a ranchhand!
JEFF: What's wrong with ranchhands?

After a spout of bickering, Uncle Will and Jeff managed to bid me good-bye just as I was pulling into my driveway. I looked across the street and found Odd Guy sitting on his roof. I wanted to know what he thinks about when he's up there, but another part of me already knew.

He was probably telling himself what was right and what was wrong. What he should do and what he couldn't. Thinking about all the things he knew and the things he'd never understand.

I decided it was time to have a little talk with someone I haven't spoken to in the past few weeks.

ME: Hey Old Self.
OLD SELF: Hey Kev, I guess you're ready to talk.
ME: Yeah, I'm ready. No more running.
OLD SELF: You know, we used to have some good times.
ME: We did, but...
OLD SELF: No more?
ME: No.
OLD SELF: I don't get it. What was it about me you didn't like? I'm strong. I'm passionate. I'm determined.
ME: You alienate people. You're controlling. Manipulative. Selfish, petty--
OLD SELF: At least I don't let people walk all over me.
ME: And at what cost? You walk all over everybody else instead.
OLD SELF: It's dog eat dog out there, Kev.
ME: Yeah, well maybe I'm sick of being a dog. Maybe I want to be something else.
OLD SELF: Like what?
ME: I don't know. A good friend. A good boyfriend. A Dad...someday.
OLD SELF: So this is good-bye?
ME: Afraid so. Good luck.
OLD SELF: Thanks. I'm thinking of moving to L.A.
ME: I think you'll do well there.

After the convo, I got out of my car and started walking down the street. The walk turned into a jog. And the jog turned into a run. And this time all I could hear in my head were the sounds of my foot falling on the ground, going somewhere I didn't know and couldn't wait to get to.