Full Circle
The news plays from my phone on the kitchen island while I make breakfast. I crack another egg into the pan, listening to the reporter’s voice as I reach for the spatula.
“Calls came into Central Dispatch around eleven-forty yesterday morning reporting a semi-truck weaving across Mackinac Trail—”
My hand stops halfway to the pan.
Mackinac Trail?
“Holy shit,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at the phone.
I set the spatula down and wipe my hands on my pants before walking over to the island. Dashcam footage fills the screen, showing a fucking semi barreling down the road with a police cruiser following behind it.
The reporter explains that deputies located the truck near Mackinac Trail and M-28, but the driver refused to stop. I shake my head as the footage changes, showing police cars following an orange semi through intersections I recognize. M-129. Nine Mile. Places I’ve been more times than I can count.
“What the fuck?” I mumble, leaning closer to the screen.
Something in my stomach tightens, although I can’t quite explain why. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, almost like something is pulling at my insides, and I find myself paying considerably more attention than I had intended.
The sheriff appears on the screen.
“The amount of force behind a semi, at any speed—you get hit by a semi, it’s going to be pretty tragic.”
“No shit,” I mutter, shaking my head.
He continues explaining how officers had to get ahead of the truck to clear intersections and prevent anyone from getting hurt. Apparently, some fucking idiot decided leading the police on a six-mile chase in a semi was a brilliant way to spend his afternoon.
Then the reporter begins speaking again.
“The driver was identified as thirty-five-year-old Tanner Summit—”
Everything inside me stops.
What?
His picture fills the screen, and I snatch my phone off the island so quickly that I nearly knock over the salt shaker.
“Holy shit. No. No fucking way. What the fuck?”
I stare at his face, blinking several times as though that might somehow change who I’m looking at.
Tanner.
My Tanner.
Tears begin pouring down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. Anger, sadness, and fear crash together so violently that I can’t separate one from the other. My thoughts are racing, jumping from one possibility to another, and all I can seem to focus on is the fact that he’s alive.
Okay, he’s alive. That’s what matters, right? Except he’s in fucking jail, and I’m standing in my kitchen staring at his face on the morning news, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to feel about any of this.
I wipe my cheeks with the heel of my hand and let out a shaky breath.
“No wonder the asshat didn’t reply to my messages.”
Yeah, deflect. That’s real good, Lera.
I make my way down the hallway to Mom’s room, still clutching my phone. She’s sitting in her chair watching M*A*S*H, completely unaware that I’m about to ruin whatever peaceful morning she thought she was having.
Thank God she’s sitting down.
“Mom, you’re going to be sick.”
Her eyes snap toward me, her expression immediately changing. “What?”
“Thank God you’re sitting down.”
I walk over and hold out my phone. She takes it, looking at me for a moment before lowering her eyes to the screen and pressing play on the news clip.
The words fill the air again and I swallow hard. I don’t say anything because I don’t have to. Tanner’s face is right there, staring back at her from the news report.
Her expression crumples almost immediately.
“Oh, my baby,” she whispers, her voice breaking as tears fill her eyes.
She watches for another moment before pushing the phone back toward me, shaking her head.
“I can’t watch this anymore,” she cries.
Fuck.
I take the phone from her and stare at his picture again, trying desperately to get my own emotions under control. Seeing my mother cry over him somehow makes the whole situation feel even worse.
Tanner Summit. Thirty-five years old. On the fucking news.
That’s the same asshole I’ve known since I was seven.
Mom told me to go play at the park uptown. We’ve lived here a little while, and this is the first time I get to ride my bike all the way up there by myself. I’m a big girl now, and I’m so excited that I can hardly stand it.
I get to the intersection and stop. I look one way, then the other, just like I’m supposed to. There aren’t any cars coming, so I cross the road and look up at the enormous hill in front of me.
I’m going to ride my bike all the way to the top. I don’t care how big that hill is because I’m a big girl now, and big girls can do things like this.
I start pedaling, but it’s hard. Really hard. My legs are pumping as fast as I can make them go, and somehow I’m barely moving. I look down at my tires, watching them turn, then at my legs to see how fast they’re going. I keep pushing harder, concentrating on my feet and the pedals, determined to make it all the way up without stopping.
BAM!
Suddenly, I’m lying on the ground.
I blink, trying to figure out what just happened. Nothing hurts, which is good, but I’m definitely not on my bike anymore. I turn my head and discover there’s a boy lying on the ground beside me.
He’s looking at me, and I’m looking at him.
Then we both start laughing.
He sits up first, with a huge smile.
“Hi. My name is Tanner.”
“Hi. My name is Lera,” I tell him, sitting up.
We just stare at each other smiling like idiots. Until a voice rang out, "Are you kids okay?"
We look at each other, crack up laughing, we both yell, "Yeah!" stand up and grab our bikes, and then move off to the side of the road.
“I get to go up to the park for the first time today because MY mom said I can.”
He laughs, apparently finding this just as exciting as I do.
“My mom let me come downtown to play for the first time today. She said I can ride my bike down to the bar.” He points down the hill behind us. “My grandma’s down there. She’s waiting. You want to come with me?”
“Sure.”
I climb back onto my bike, and Tanner does the same. We ride down the hill toward the Intersection where we stop then turn down a smaller hill to the bar where Tanner says his grandma is waiting.
And sure enough, she’s there.
She gives each of us a pop, and I get a Mountain Dew. I’ve never had Mountain Dew before, but after taking my first sip, I decide it’s really good.
I stare down at the picture on my phone, feeling another wave of tears threatening to spill over.
Of all the fucking ways to meet someone who would still be in my life twenty-nine years later, running headfirst into each other on bicycles feels about right.
