The Ballad of Mia and Stephen

“I’m…”

“You’re Stephen.”

“You think I look like a Stephen?”

“You look nothing like a Stephen. That’s the point.”

“Uh, I don’t…”

“Look, I come here to get away from the world. I bet you do, too. And neither of us can do that if you bring all the baggage of who you are out there. So you’ll be Stephen, and I’ll be…”

“Mia. You definitely look like someone who wouldn’t be called Mia.”

“You’re catching on, Steve.”

1.

Bobby ran. Ever since he was a boy, the city streets had offered him an opportunity for escape. He would run with wild abandon, then, flinging himself across rooftops, in front of traffic, anywhere and everywhere he could possibly go. In recent years his daredevil nature had been restrained by age and circumstance. His body was resisting what it had once loved. One six-mile run would leave him winded at its end, and aching the next day. His job did him no favours, either, leaving him free time only in the early hours of the morning when the light was grey and the air cold.

The run, on paper, was a four-mile round trip, going along by the river for a good mile of that distance. The river had seemed a romantic destination when he was young, when the journey was effortless. Now he saw it for the cold, murky place it was. The run itself had become figures in his head: distance, speed, heart rate. He ran, and thought about anything but running.

With that in mind, it wasn’t so surprising when, one morning, he hurtled around a corner and smacked into another runner, sending both her and her walkman to the frosty pavement. Bobby was all apologies as he helped her up. She didn’t seem to mind: gave him an embarrassed smile, tossed a brown ponytail over her shoulder, and got to her feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked, just as he was about to ask the same thing.

Bobby grinned. “I’m a big guy. I’m fine. But maybe I need glasses.”

“Even glasses don’t let you see around corners,” she said, picking up her walkman and dusting it off. “Going my way?” she called, setting off at a fast pace towards the river.

Bobby decided he was, and hurried after her. “I’m…”

“You’re Stephen,” she said with a smile.

2.

“Come on!”

Bobby was bent over at the side of the pavement, hands on his knees, trying his best to breathe. He looked up to see her in front of him, jogging on the spot, urging him on. Her energy was amazing, and a little infectious. He willed protesting limbs and lungs to cooperate, and caught up with her as she ran off again.

“You’re going to kill me.”

Mia laughed. “You’ll thank me one day. You’ve no idea how many men hit fifty and end up with nothing but heart disease and cancer for the rest of their lives.”

“I have some idea.”

She had a thoughtful look in her eyes for a moment, and then shook her head. “Race you to the pier?”

“I’m going to be sick,” he protested, but sprinted after her anyway.

Mia was waiting for him when he got there, irritatingly not out of breath, sitting on a bench sipping from her water bottle. Bobby sat down beside her and gulped down his own water. If he could have talked, there was really nothing to say. There had been two months of early morning runs with Mia, when four miles had stretched to eight, when his alarm was being set earlier and earlier, when his body kept telling him that it couldn’t take anymore. Eames had even started joking that he must have a sadist for a girlfriend. Two months, and he had nothing but guesses about her. All he knew was that she ran, and sometimes she smiled, and she seemed to like him. Perhaps that was all he needed.

“Stephen?”

He looked up and saw her there, studying him with those hazel eyes of hers. “Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

Bobby blinked. It was the first question she had ever asked that seemed remotely personal. All his questions, or tentative attempts at questions, had met with her disapproval and disappointment. “Uh, I’m forty-four.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Of course.”

“You need to get your heart checked. You shouldn’t be this beat after two months.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, businesslike, but by the time he tried to reply, she was already on her feet. “Come on, we have to go back now.”

Bobby got stiffly to his feet. “I suppose walking would be out of the question?”

“You’re a funny guy, Steve.”

3.

He got his heart checked: went to the hospital and ran as they asked him about his family medical history and watched lights on a screen. They told him he was fine, told him to get lost and make way for the line of people who couldn’t run eight miles every morning. He found it funny, but found something more interesting as he pulled on his jacket and made for the exit, phone glued to his ear as Eames demanded to know where he had been.

She should have been just another doctor in a sea of white coats, in an ocean of people swarming around the corridors. But, after so many months, he knew the fluidity of her movement, knew it even under unfamiliar clothes, even with her hair tightly pinned back, and a chart in her hand instead of a walkman. He stood and watched her for a moment, before she disappeared in the direction of the oncology wards, before he could wonder if he even wanted to know what she was like in the real world.

The next day, he waited for her on the corner where they had agreed to meet, rubbing his hands together to keep warm in the crisp winter air. She was on time, as usual, and didn’t even stop running to say hello. He caught up with her a little more easily than he had done in the past. “I want to take you out to dinner,” he said as they ran.

“No.” She didn’t look at him. “That’s against the rules.”

“Why are there rules?”

“You know why. So we can be ourselves.”

“Fine,” Bobby agreed. “So I decided I like you. I want to take you out to dinner. Just you. Not any of your baggage.”

Mia smiled and shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not being influenced by any of the things you might be worried about. I don’t know your politics, or if you have money, or what you do. I don’t even know your name,” Bobby argued. “I just know you’re friendly, and beautiful, and you care. You’ve no idea how many people just don’t care.”

She sighed. “I have some idea. Stephen…”

“Please.”

“No.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t want to argue with you, so don’t ask me again.”

She turned away, and he reached out a hand to her. “Mia.”

“No!” She grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed him away.

Caught off balance, he fell, twisting his knee and crashing to the ground. Almost instantly, she was at his side. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Bobby sat up, tried to flex his leg, and grimaced in pain. “It’s nothing. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not nothing.” She lightly touched his knee through his pants. “Can you stand?”

He struggled to his feet, using her shoulder for balance. “I think our run’s over for today, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” Mia said, bracing a surprisingly strong arm against his back. “I’m headed that way anyway.”

“I know,” he muttered, putting his weight on his injured leg as carefully as he could.

She looked at him curiously. “You know?”

Bobby winced. “I saw you there. You probably specialize in something that affects young people – leukaemia, maybe?” He glanced at her face for confirmation. She gave nothing away but surprise. “You can’t help but get attached to them, those kids. No one could. You can’t help getting to like them, even though you’re supposed to just pretend to be their friend. And you can’t help…”

“Stop it,” she said sharply. “Stop it or I’m leaving you here.”

He did stop, turned and took her hand in his. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way, Mia. It’s what makes you human, and a very kind, loving woman.”

The fear was stark on her wind-chilled face, as she pulled her hand away. “My car’s right here,” she said bluntly, and left him to limp the rest of the way. On the ride to the hospital, through streets jammed with rush hour traffic, she sat in a stony silence while Bobby closed his eyes and tried not to move his leg.

When they reached the hospital, Mia seemed to have remembered how to smile, as she gave him a hand out of the car. “I guess this is the end of our runs together.”

He couldn’t tell whether she was joking. As he filled in the admission form in ER, leaning on the desk, she stood and watched.

“Robert,” she said when he had finished. She looked a little disappointed. “I never thought you looked like a Robert.”

And then she was gone, lost amid tens of orderlies in a maze of corridors. Bobby collapsed into a chair. It was the one time he couldn’t run after her.

4.

Eames handed him the card, weeks later – just a postcard with a picture on one side and careful handwriting on the other. He took it with the expectation that it would be yet another picture of Maui or the Bahamas from those of his friends with less work and more money than him. Instead, it showed him the river, blue and clean. He flipped it over, and read:

Robert,

I’m sorry.

I do want to get to know you.

You know where to find me.

Eames looked up from her work to see him grabbing his coat from the hook. “Meeting an old friend?”

“No,” Bobby said with a smile. “But maybe a new one.”