At quarter until seven the following morning, I leave my driveway and jog toward Forsyth Park. From the way Flash looked yesterday when I suggested a seven a.m. run, I know he probably won’t be there on time. But I’ll be there early, and that way I can stretch and be ready to greet him when he arrives.

I can’t remember the last time I ran with a partner. I ran cross-country in college, but that was five years ago. I’m pretty sure I haven’t run with anyone since. Trenton…he was never a runner. He kept himself in shape by working out at the gym.

Flutters of feelings so far removed from my present life begin flying around in my belly. Is it excitement? I’m excited to be running with a partner?

The idea sends immediate pangs of guilt stabbing through my chest, and I swallow down the twinges of anticipation. I shouldn’t be feeling excited about anything in my life. Not when my husband and my little boy have ceased to exist.

Swallowing down the pain that comes with that thought, I continue the jog to the park.

When I turn the corner from the side street I’m on and pause on the sidewalk across from the park, my mouth drops open in surprise. Standing in front of the gates, at 6:57 a.m., is Flash. He’s stretching on the grassy area just next to the path, the long and lean muscles of his legs prominent and flexed as he leans to one side and then to the other.

Spotting me from across the street, Nitro gives a short bark in greeting. His tail wags in excitement, and something warm and smooth envelops my heart. The dog is so sweet, responding to my affection for him with his own brand of love.

Looking both ways before jogging across the street, I stop right in front of where Flash stands stretching. He must have heard my footsteps, because he looks in my direction. It’s uncanny to me, knowing that he can’t see me, how it always feels like he’s looking directly inside me.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greets me with an easy smile.

One of the first things I noticed about Flash on the day I met him was that his mouth seemed like the type that didn’t smile often. I can hardly remember that man now. He gives me his smiles so willingly, so easily, that it makes me feel guilty I’ll never be able to return the favor.

I wrack my brain as I study him, trying to figure out what change in his life could have caused so much of his anger to ebb away. We’ve never talked about it, but I made an educated guess that he was pissed about losing his eyesight and didn’t know how to express it or manage it. That anger still stirs deep down inside him; I can see the frustration on his face sometimes, when he thinks no one is paying attention and he wants to do something a seeing person would do. I’ve seen him finger the menus printed on heavy cardstock at the shop, the expression on his face full of longing. I’ve seen him turn his face into the sun in the window, feeling its warmth. The expression on his face always lodges a lump in my throat, because he knows he’ll never see the light from it again.

His anger is valid. Whatever accident happened to make him blind, took away something precious. That feeling is so familiar to me that the thread connecting us is almost tangible.

“Good morning yourself. Why do I feel like I’ve been hustled?” I drop into a lunge beside him.

He grins. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

I snort. “You were here before seven.”

He shrugs, reaching one arm over his head to stretch the side of his body. “I’m an early riser.”

I glance down at Nitro, giving him a scratch behind his ear. “Is that true, Nitro? He’s an early riser?”

Nitro whines, tipping his head to one side, as if answering me.

“Okay, Hustler. You ready to do this?” I stand, pulling my right foot up behind me to stretch my quad.

Flash does the same. “Ready.”

“So how do we do this?” Trepidation hits me, not for the first time.

I don’t know how to be his guide. What if I fail at this?

I haven’t cared much about anything since I woke up from the coma. But failing Flash…I know he needs this. And maybe I didn’t realize it before, but I need this too. I need to help him, because heaven knows I couldn’t help Danté and Trenton when they needed me.

A mound forms in my throat, painful and large. Swallowing around it, I focus on Flash. The sun peeks over the horizon just behind him, making his short brown hair appear almost golden from the effect. His skin is bronzed, like he spends a lot of time outside, and his body is lean and muscular.

“I need Nitro on one side of me and you on the other. Someone who’s been blind for longer than I have probably wouldn’t need both. Nitro and I aren’t quite ready to do this on our own yet, and I didn’t want you to feel like it was all on you. So, I have two guides today. Okay?” His voice is gentle, yet firm, while he explains.

I nod, silently curse myself, and then answer him aloud. “Okay.”

“I have this.” He reaches into the small pocket on the side of Nitro’s harness and pulls out a thin, soft length of rope. “It’s about fifteen inches long. We’ll wind it around our hands and it’ll keep us close together. You’ll give me verbal cues while we run; if we’re crossing someone’s path or if there’s something in front of us we need to avoid. Sounds simple enough, right?”

He gives me a reassuring smile, and reaches out with the rope.

“Right.” My voice is full of doubt, but I grab hold of the rope. His fingers brush mine as I wrap it around my hand, and his touch is warm and rough. I’ve never asked him what he does for work, but I can only imagine from the rough feel of his fingers that he works with his hands.

Or he used to, before his accident.

We both pull the rope taut between us. Flash’s head turns slightly toward me. “Let’s go. You set the pace, sweetheart. I’ll keep up.”

You set the pace. I’ll keep up.

Setting the pace puts me in control. I haven’t felt like I’ve been in control of anything for a very, very long time. I pause, letting the feeling of surprise, and then comfort, wash over me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of crisp autumn lingering in the air around us.

Control.

“Hey.” Flash tugs gently on the rope that binds us. “You okay over there, Arden? You’re usually the Energizer bunny…you never stop moving. I need my bunny right now.”

My lips quirk into an unwilling smile. Giving a sharp tug on the rope, I push forward through the gates of the park. Flash utters a quick command to Nitro, and the three of us are on the path, running under draping Spanish moss and past lush, rolling hills of green. All around us, the trees are declaring the new season, their colors blazing and fiery in the early-morning sunlight.

“It’s beautiful out today,” I murmur as we run. “Slight right here, Flash.”

We take the path as it veers, and Flash’s stride matches perfectly to mine. “Tell me, Bunny. I want to see it through your eyes.”

I hesitate, but only for a second. “The trees…they’re turning colors for fall. The colors are gorgeous, blazing reds and oranges and yellows. And the walkers and runners out this morning are dressed for the crisper air, just like we are.”

Flash hums his agreement. “I was surprised at the chill when I got up this morning…it usually doesn’t get like this until later in November.”

“The path grows narrow here, so I’m going to step a few paces ahead,” I inform Flash, as we run into a small tunnel. The stone above us mutes our voices, creating a cozy, darkened feeling. “We’re in a little tunnel…it’s darker in here. I can see the sunlight on the other side, about thirty feet away.”

“I know this tunnel…I remember.” Flash seems pleased at my commentary, so I continue during our run.

When we hit the two-and-a-half-mile mark, I pull him to a stop. Neither of us are breathing too heavily, and I admire the kind of shape he’s in. “Let’s make it a short run today, shall we? This is still a trial run for me. Turn around and go back?”

He gestures, using his head, back the way we came. “Like I said…you’re leading the way.”

So we return to the front of the park, keeping the same steady pace. I continue to describe sights around the park to Flash as we run, making sure to keep a careful eye out for anything in our path that could cause him harm, or get in his way.

I’m shocked at how naturally this is all coming to me. The smoothness to which we’re both taking this guide arrangement could mean we’ve been doing it for months. Years, even. It’s easy and steady, and after we started, there was nothing awkward about it.

We pull to a stop outside the gates and Nitro plops down beside Flash as he begins to cool down, pacing the sidewalk before dropping into some simple stretches. I follow suit, bringing one arm in front of my chest, and then the other. My body is limber, keyed-up. I could probably go for another five miles, and I’m not sure where all the extra buoyancy is coming from.

“That was…fucking awesome.” Flash muses as he stands up straight and reaches for our hands. Removing the rope, I shake out my wrist and immediately feel the absence of it somewhere deep.

“So I passed the test?” I ask, my voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

“Oh, you passed the test, Bunny. With flying colors. It was okay for you? Not too stressful?” There’s a note of anxiety in his voice I’ve never heard before.

He’s worried you won’t want to do it again.

That’s one worry he doesn’t need to carry. “It was good for me too, Flash. Same time tomorrow?”

Relief flashes across his face, and I have to keep my arms glued to my sides, so I don’t reach up to see his entire expression behind his glasses. “And Nitro is thirsty. So, let’s head to the shop. We can grab coffee, and I can give him some water and a treat for being such a good guide partner.”

Flash grins. “You spoil us, Arden.”

I turn and begin walking, tossing over my shoulder, “I didn’t say you weren’t paying for your coffee.”