If I Leave Here Tomorrow: Ugly Little Monster

8/7/2019 If I Leave Here Tomorrow: Ugly Little Monster

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by LAURA ROSE ALLEN

UGLY LITTLEMONSTER


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o my father, the one coach who has given me all thestrength, love, and support Ive ever needed. Tanks for helping me through my struggles and always encouraging me to live for

my dreams. Do what you love, love what you do.


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ts a little ironic that we decided to meet in the middle o a school park-ing lot, considering that school would later be our battleground. He wasthere to save his ass. I was there to make some sense o it all. I was 18 and

just graduated rom high school, still young and incredibly naive.A little a er 8 a.m. on June 23, 2008, I pull my black Sun re into South

Elementary Schools empty parking lot. I wait with my heart pounding anda mix o emotions rushing through me. It doesnt take long or the sexy,

little, red Mustang to pull up next to me. In it is my 28-year-old cross-coun-try coach. He steps out o his car, and I do the same.Sunglasses o , I tell him.He whips them o and replies, Im not going to lie to you, Laura.

* * *

wo years be ore I met Drew, I was an awkward 16-year-old sophomore

living in a suburb o Cincinnati. Like just about every other teenager in thecountry, I went to school and immediately began to count down the min-utes until I was ree again, which arrived at exactly 1:52 p.m. A er the nalbell rang, I rushed to my locker, grabbed my books, and made my way tothe locker room.

Since Im a runner, reedom didnt mean heading home. It meant goingto the locker room to meet my teammates, change clothes, lace up my track shoes, and head to practice. We would pile into our cars, crank Kiss107, and

swap stories about boys, dreams, and the day. We lived in our little world,and it was bliss.

I


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It was a gloomy practice in April, and the team was stretching out on thecorner o the track when a ficker o red caught my eye. Stepping out o a Mus-tang convertible was a man Id never seen be ore. He was 26 but looked muchyounger, with so blue eyes, slightly gelled, short-brown hair, and a tan com-plexion. He o en wore dark sunglasses and didnt smile, but it didnt matter.His tough, intimidating look separated him rom the high school guys. All o the girls agreed that he was incredibly attractive.

He approached Coach Martin, who introduced the team to his son: Drew, ascience teacher at the local technical school and a track coach or the middleschool long-distance team. Martin explained that since the middle schoolspractices started later, Drew would be joining us or some o our practices.Just a ew weeks later, the cross-country coach announced her resignation, andDrew was named as our coach or the all season.

Almost immediately, several o the girls me included developed a crushon Drew. He was older, attractive, and a runner. Wed o en joke about ourcrushes. At one meet, my riend Jessica told me she intended to marry him. Ilaughed, and a er she told the other girls on our team, her intentions to marry Drew became a running joke.

It didnt matter whether she could win him over. He was still our coach, andit was clear that his intentions were to turn us into winners. Any pretense wehad otherwise ended early in the season a er a disastrous cross-country meetin Harrison, Ohio. Immediately a er the meet, Drew told us to head over tothe tent to talk.

We sat on a small set o steel bleachers below the gloomy sky. We could sensethis talk was not going to be a positive one. Drew criticized us or our e orts.We ran hard, but we didnt race hard, he said, a concept I did not understand.

I seethed while he spoke. Id set a new personal record, and Im not sure what

more he could possibly want. A er the talk, I didnt want to be around any-body, so I went or a cool-down run and avoided Drew.

Curled up alone in a seat on the bus home rom Harrison, I was pissed atDrew. I couldnt get his criticism out o my head. We could do better. As thosewords echoed in my head, I started to think about my per ormance. Maybe hewas right. As I stared out at the dismal weather and zoned out to the music onmy MP3 player, Drews speech began to strike a di erent chord. Maybe I wasntworking hard enough. Maybe I was just out there running hard, but not racing

hard. Maybe I wasnt really giving it my all.Drews talk altered my attitude. I decided to push mysel as hard as I could

when it came to running. I pushed mysel at practices. I drilled Drew with


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questions about training, nutrition, and racing tactics. When I wasnt at prac-tice, I made small changes, such as giving up soda, in hopes it would improvemy per ormance.

Te talk resonated in my head as we prepared or the Greater Miami Con-erence nals in October, the event wed been preparing or all season. Drew

handed us cards be ore the season and asked us to write our team goals. Fin-ish in the top hal o the GMC we all agreed upon.

We showed up that day ready to run, but a er our seven runners crossed thenish line, we ound wed missed our goal. We nished seventh out o 10. As we

looked around at one another, ailure surrounding us, tears poured rom oureyes. We huddled in a circle in the middle o the eld, hugging and crying. Ourparents looked on in shock. Tey had never seen us react so emotionally as ateam.

Drew didnt have much to say. Dealing with crying high school girls wasnt inhis com ort zone. He o ered a ew words o kindness but otherwise remainedsilent.

Tat didnt mean we were o the hook. On Monday, with the pain o theweekends ailure gone, we knew it is time to address what happened. Wegathered in the little gazebo next to the parking lot at our home cross-country course. I sat on the bench that wrapped around the inside and stared at thewooden foor. We all knew what was coming.

I dont want to point someone out, but Im going to, Drew said. Laura, Imgoing to pick on you.

I looked up, eyes widening, panic taking over. My body went numb in theseconds be ore he spoke. I was terri ed o what he was about to say, and Ibraced or the worst.

Laura acts like a champion, Drew said. She doesnt goo o . She has the

right attitude. She was just as disappointed this weekend as everyone else, eventhough she ran her best race o the season. She couldve been like, well, Ive rana PR I can be happy with just that. But she wasnt. She wasnt satis ed.

Te ghost-white color that had overtaken me turned to a hot-red blushrom embarrassment. Drew continued with his talk, but I didnt hear it. I was

relieved that my coach recognized my e orts.Our season ended the ollowing weekend, and winter conditioning began.

Drew was more relaxed during these sessions. Tere were no goals or races.

Tere were no tough workouts, no tempo runs, and no meets to worry about.We just went out and ran. Buoyed by Drews talk, I pushed mysel every day.And every day, Drew was there, running with me.


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Our runs were un. I enjoyed talking with Drew. He teased me about my obsession with Runners World and the never-ending list o questions I askedhim. Tere even seemed to be some firting going on.

Tat must be in my head, I thought, even as I realized I was alling or my new running buddy.

Just a ew months ago, when Jessica made jokes about marrying Drew, Inever thought much about it. Now running alongside him during the winterworkouts, it seemed inevitable that Id eel this way. We saw each other every day. He teased me. He was tough but responsible. He was a challenge, a de nitebreath o resh air.

Plus, i it hadnt been or Drew, I wouldnt have this new ound love with run-ning and the satis action I ound in pushing my limits. He was the reason ormy motivation. How could I resist?

I couldnt. Yes, he was my coach. Yes, he was 10 years older than me. But itelt as i he was becoming a riend, and that blurred the lines o the stark di er-

ences between us.

he winter workouts gave way to spring training, and my eelings orDrew continued to grow. Te cross-country team had a weekly carb-loading dinner routine on Tursday, an event that Id been organizing

since the start o the school year. One day Drew overheard me telling a ewgirls about that evenings dinner, and he pulled me aside.

Why dont you ask me to the dinners anymore? he asked.Youre always welcome to join, I said, smiling, realizing that Id have to rush

home a er our run to shower and get ready.

Tat became my ritual. Every Tursday, Id speed home to shower, put on thespeci c out t Id planned or the night, make sure my hair was just right, and

nd the per ect shoes. Sometimes Drew would pay me a compliment, whichwas nice, but every now and then I swear Id catch him looking at me. When Idid, he would look away or glance at his phone.

Our relationship elt di erent a er the winter conditioning runs, but I beganto wonder i I was creating a antasy in my head, like Jessica. Hes my coach,I kept reminding mysel . Added to that, his ather was my track coach. Te

whole idea was crazy.rack season began, and Drew was still running with us at practice and

showing up to meets. As we prepared or the Ross Invitational, I kept an eye

T


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out or Drew. He promised he would come to watch. As I sat on the bleach-ers chatting with my riends, I glanced over at the parking lot, waiting or thatbright red streak to fy by. Sure enough, I saw his Mustang whiz into a parkingspot. But I also saw someone else in the car: a girl. Within a ew minutes, Drewhad walked over to the bleachers with a beauti ul woman next to him.

Her name was Joy, and there was no denying she was gorgeous petite withdirty blond hair and a sparkling smile. Cute, sweet, and charming, I couldnt

nd a reason to dislike her. Plus, she served as a wake-up call. Drew had a girl-riend. Nothing could happen between us.No matter how logical the reasoning, it was hard to stop the schoolgirl anta-

sizing. Making matters worse, I was competitive. I didnt like losing, and I likedthe idea o going a er someone I couldnt have. Te act that he had a girl riend just meant I had to work harder. He was only a ew years older than me, and hewasnt a teacher at my school. Tere were just too many reasons why it couldhappen that I couldnt come up with a good reason why I couldnt try.

I I couldnt have him at that moment, it didnt mean I couldnt be with hima er high school. Who knew i they would still be together?

Meanwhile, he was still running with me and coaching me. On Sundays, hewould invite a ew o us on long runs. We would meet at the local bike trail andcrank out eight miles. My avorite times were when the other runners couldntmake it. Drew and I would run and talk. I looked orward to these runs asmuch as I looked orward to the Tursday night dinners.

Our relationship still con used me, though. I would go back and orth be-tween needing him as my coach and wishing he were something more. Duringone o our track practices, he ran up behind me, pulled on my ponytail, andasked, How ya eeling, Barbie?

I ound mysel lingering around a er practice while the other girls scattered

home. Occasionally I even ran with his middle school team. He wasnt my coach in the spring, I thought, and our relationship elt more like a riendship.

Until I messed it up.

* * *

Te astest long-distance runner on the track team was a reshman who hadDrew as a coach when she was on the middle-school team. She had known

him longer than anyone else, and while she hadnt done anything to upset me, Iound mysel not liking her. I went out o my way to avoid her and le her out

o what the upperclassmen were doing.


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A er one dreary Tursday practice, my riend Haley and I were planning thenights dinner. A er we nalized the plans, we waited or the reshman to leavebe ore we told everyone the plan. We assumed neither the reshman nor Drewwould know what happened. Te idea o getting caught didnt even cross my mind.

But just a ew minutes a er practice ended, Drew sent me a text message.Call me back.I didnt make the call because I knew what he was going to say. What he

didnt know was that I had let my personal eelings or him get in the way o my team. Once again, I reminded mysel that he was my coach and that Ineeded to stop thinking about anything else.

Sheepishly, I called my teammate and invited her to the dinner, going so aras to o er her a ride. She declined the ride but accepted the dinner invitation.

I showed up to the restaurant and braced mysel or a night o humiliation,but none o that un olded. Drew didnt ignore me. He talked to me. He teased.Although he never said it, I realized I was orgiven, and I resolved to put my personal eelings aside.

Our track season drew to a close at the Mason meet near the end o theschool year. It was a gorgeous Friday, and I was soaking in the atmosphere asI stretched in the middle o the ootball eld. I was preparing or my avoriterace: the 3200 meters. Drew, who had injured himsel running, was there, but Ibarely ocused on him. Switching between stretching and surges, I tried to keepmysel preoccupied rom the nauseated eeling that was twisting in my stom-ach. My race started soon, and I was nervous as hell.

Te 800 meters ended, and I walked to my assigned lane on the track. Terewere at least 16 runners, a ull complement. I saw some o the competition Iwas against and elt my nerves getting worse. I leaned orward and waited or

the adrenaline to fow through my blood. BAM! Te gun went o and we took o around the bend. Te rst lap few by, and I began to settle into my pace inthe second lap o eight, ocusing on staying with the girls who were just aheado me.

As I was about to go into the second turn, I could hear someone shouting. Ilooked over, and Drew was sprinting across the eld, yelling at me to catch thegirl ahead o me. I took his orders and passed her. As the race continued, Drewwas limping back and orth across the eld. I was determined not to disap-

point.I surged across the nish line, eyes blurry with sweat. As I stumbled around

the track, Drew appeared. With a grin on his ace, he hugged me. I reeked o


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sweat, but it didnt aze him. His girl riend was over by the ence, smiling andwatching. A er we hugged, he told me my time: 12 minutes fat. A personalrecord and the closest Ive ever gotten to breaking 12 minutes in the 3200. Hetold me he was proud o me. I smiled and breathed a sigh o relie .

Te meet came to an end, as did the track season. As I curled up in a seat onthe bus, I pressed my head against the window. It might have been the endor-phins, but I was elated. Te more I succeeded in my running career, the moreattention I received rom Drew. It was a high I was learning to eed on. Eventhough I reminded mysel that he was my coach, I couldnt help but think that i I continued to improve my running, the more impressed Drew wouldbecome. One day hed stop viewing me as his little runner and as someone whoshared his passion or the sport.

I knew that day wouldnt be today. But maybe one day, I thought.

* * *

I turned 18 in the summer o 2007, but I still had another year o school. Tatmeant another year o cross-country and track and another year o waitingbe ore I could nd out i there was something between Drew and me.

At the start o the cross-country season, Coach Martin said Drew and Joy were having issues, but Drew wasnt going to share those problems with hishigh school athletes. I noticed that Joy was gone rom our practices and meets

or most o the season.It became easier to ocus on running instead o my relationship real or not

with Drew. With Joy missing, my competitive desire turned ully to running.It was my nal year o competitive running, and I wanted to go out strong. Lastseason, our team just wanted to nish in the top hal o our league. Tis year,

we had hopes o sending runners to the regional meet, which meant nishingin the top 16 at the district level.

Minutes be ore the start o the district race, thoughts o Drew and Joy weregone. As I stretched, I could eel my whole body trembling. My stomach wastied in knots, which pushed up into my throat. I wanted to puke. My eyeswelled with tears, and I didnt try to ght them as they slid down my cheeks.Drew tried to o er words o com ort, but I ignored him. Until this race wasover, my ocus was on nothing but getting to the nish line.

Nineteen minutes and 52 seconds later, I had quali ed or the regional raceby nishing seventh. As I watched my teammates nish, it became apparentthat the entire team had quali ed or the regional race just a year a er wed


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allen short o our goal. Tis time we were hugging and grinning because o our accomplishment.

Drew was thrilled. In only his second year o coaching he took a team thathadnt made it past districts in a decade and turned us into winners. As wewalked back to our tent, I saw him run up to Joy and kiss her. I realized thateven though Id tried to push thoughts o Drew out o my mind, I hadnt quitepurged mysel o those eelings. In that moment, I was reminded again.He is your coach. He has a girlfriend. You cant be with him.

Te season came to an end. We had our nal team meeting at the awardsbanquet. Te seniors sat up ront in the high schools choir room, and we oundred pillows with our names and the school mascot embroidered on them, agi rom our parents. I picked mine up and hugged it throughout the banquet.Dont cry, I told mysel . Four years o my avorite sport had come to an end,and I was trying not to let the reality that I would never be on this team againsink in.

I wasnt the only one getting emotional. Drew had been chosen to announcewho won the Jenny Evans award. Jenny was a member o the cross-country team who was in a atal car accident just be ore Christmas in 1998. Be oreDrew named the winner, he said a ew words about Jenny. As he talked abouther, he became choked up. He bowed his head and paused to regain his com-posure. Tere he was, my thick-skinned coach, on the verge o tears.

Just be ore he announced the winners, he paused. I waited, hoping to hearhim call my name. Instead he announced that my riend Kayla was the emalerecipient o the award.

A er the awards were over, Coach Martin came up to me.I just want to let you know that you had one o the best written essays Ive

ever read, he said, re erencing the essay I wrote or the Jenny Evans scholar-

ship.Tat was it. I couldnt hold my emotions back any longer. I started crying. I

cried because my season was over. I cried because I knew how much I was go-ing to miss everyone. I cried because that was the sweetest thing Coach Martinhad ever said to me. I cried because I knew I couldnt relive these our yearsagain. And I cried because I didnt know what the uture held.

I wiped away my tears and orced a smile. As my amily and I le the choirroom, Drew joined us. Walking down the hall, Drew and I began talking. I

asked him whom he would choose to be team captain next year. He said hedidnt know but that hed miss me when I le .

Id already been accepted to Ball State University, and I elt a career in jour-


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nalism calling my name. Be ore I could say yes to Ball State, though, CoachMartin suggested that i I stayed close to home, I could be an assistant track coach at my high school.

Maybe I should stay in the area, I thought.Miami University was my second choice and only a 40-minute drive away.

But I was hesitant to give up my dream o becoming a journalist. I didnt realizeit at the time, but something told me I couldnt keep living in the antasy worldId created where Drew and I lived happily ever a er. It was time or me to goout and live my li e. Staying close to home around Drew wasnt part o thatplan. I realized it was time to move on.

I I needed any more con rmation about my choice, it came in Decemberwhen Drew proposed to Joy.

He was engaged. Te idea o anything happening between us was gone.

* * *

On February 16, 2008, everything changed.It was a Saturday, and I was just leaving my job at the retail store Steve &

Barrys when my phone beeped. I checked it and ound a message rom Drew.So did you run yesterday or today? he asked.I was con used. Earlier in the week, my hip started hurting, and he told me

to take the weekend o . Was I supposed to run?I texted him back, Didnt you tell me to stay o o it?Just testing you, he said. Stay out o trouble, and be good.I breathed a sigh o relie . We exchanged a ew more texts, and I reminded

him that my teammate Haley had a play that night and he had promised to go.He couldnt make it, so I said skipping out made him a bad person. He said

he was willing to do anything to prove that he wasnt. I just had to tell him whatto do.

My eelings or Drew hadnt completely disappeared, but Id given up my schoolgirl crush the moment I learned he was engaged. Te only thing I want-ed at this point were the keys to that little red Mustang, and I told him that.

I I wanted to drive the car, he said, Id have to earn it.I never learned what Id have to do to drive the car. All I knew was that he

had ideas but wouldnt tell me what they were.

Ten he asked me to come over to his house. Te last two messages weremiss you and need you.

I asked him what he was talking about. For the rst time in three hours, he


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didnt respond.Te question o whether my coach was interested in me had been in my

heart or a year. I never thought there would really be an opportunity to dis-cover the answer. When it nally showed up, it elt odd. Instead o a rush o butterfies, there was panic and con usion. Te messages spooked me.

I raced over to the high school to see Haley. As I plopped mysel in a seat atthe Per orming Arts Center, I could barely ocus on the stage. My mind waselsewhere, replaying the entire conversation in my head. Was Drew really ask-ing me what I thought he was? I tried to pay attention to the play, but my mindkept dri ing to the messages. I couldnt put the past three hours behind me.

Haleys play ended, and I sought her out. I told her about the conversation.She could tell I was reaked out, and she looked at the messages on my phone.

Tis doesnt sound like him, she said. I dont think its him. Maybe some-one else got a hold o his phone?

I wanted to believe her, but at the same time, it had seemed like him. A erall, he was the one that texted me to ask about running. But i it wasnt him,then who was it? A er I le the play, I called my riend Jessica, the only one Idopenly con essed to about my eelings or Drew. She was concerned but didntknow what to tell me.

I started to panic. Drew hadnt responded to any o my messages, so I didsomething drastic: I called his ather.

He answered, and I could immediately tell something was wrong. I askedCoach Martin i he knew i there was something going on with his son, i heknew where Drew was, or i Drew had lost his phone. I explained what hap-pened, and how Haley suspected his phone ended up in the wrong hands at thewrong time.

No one seemed to know what was going on with Drew or his phone.

I drove to a church parking lot in my neighborhood, a place I o en went inhigh school when I needed to sit and think. Not long a er I arrived, my phonestarted ringing.

It was Drew.I answered the phone, surprised to hear his voice at the other end. He

sounded happy. I got straight to the point and asked him what was up with themessages.

He told me no one else had his phone, but when I reminded him o the last

two texts I received, the ones saying he missed me and needed me, he paused.Oh, he said, as i hed remembering something. You know what? Someone

else did have my phone. Dont worry about it.


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Are you sure? I asked.Yeah, I know who it was. Dont worry about it, he responded.We exchanged a ew more words, and I hung up. I was stunned. I returned

home, exhausted and con used, and ell ast asleep.Te next day, as I was leaving work, I decided to call Coach Martin again.

I elt bad about telling him about the messages when they werent sent by hisson.

He answered and accepted my apology, saying that it wasnt my ault. Heasked i I told anyone about it, such as my parents. I lied. I said Haley was theonly other person I told, and I was sure she wouldnt tell anyone. Im wise be-yond my years or not sharing what happened with anyone else, especially my parents, he said.

I wasnt even to my car when I received a message rom Drew.Hey, Im really sorry or what my riend said yesterday. He didnt know who

you were. He eels bad too.A ew minutes later, I received another text. When you get a ree minute I

need to talk to you.I drove to the gazebo at the end o my street and called Drew.He apologized or last night. He told me he had riends over while we were

talking, and when he went into another room, his riend picked up the phoneand started texting me. At the time, he hadnt thought anything about it until Itold him about the messages I received.

I called my riend Chad up and yelled at him a erward, he said. I toldhim, You know you cant just text whatever to anyone in my phone, jackass.Ive got my runners in there.

Had this gone another way, he said, he would have been in big trouble. Mes-sages like that sent to high school girls would be the end o his career, a act he

hadnt seemed to grasp until just now.Please dont send me to jail! he begged.I told him all was orgiven and to make sure he didnt leave his phone with

his riends anymore.Te incident slowly aded to the back o my mind as track season continued.

However, Drew was around less and less. When he did show up, he kept hisdistance.

Drew was mostly gone rom my li e, but I still had the running. At our nal

practice in May, Coach Martin told me that we wanted me to run in both the1600- and 3200-meter races at district. I was against that idea. I was stronger inthe 3200 and wanted to save all my energy or it. He pushed me to reconsider,


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but this was my nal meet and I wanted to go out with a strong per ormance inthe 3200.

Coach Martin said Drew agreed that I should run both. I was livid. Drewhas been o no help to me this season. Te coach who was once there or me atevery practice and every meet had disappeared rom my li e. Realizing that hewas an infuence on what I ran or districts sent me over the edge.

Are you kidding me? I shouted at Coach Martin. Your son doesnt showup anymore. He hasnt been coaching me at all this season. But he still has a say in what I run?

Come here, Coach Martin said to me. Teres something I want to showyou.

He pulled out his phone. On the screen is a photo o a baby wearing a Cin-cinnati Bengals shirt.

Cute, I said. Is that a baby photo o your son?Not o my son, he replied. My grandson.

* * *

I was still haunted by the text messages. I couldnt wrap my head around theidea that Drew hadnt sent them. His story didnt make sense. I decided to givehim one more chance to explain. Four days a er I graduated in June, I senthim a text message asking i he received the invitation to my graduation party.I wanted to start a conversation with him and see i things went the way they had previously.

We exchanged a ew messages, and he said I should loosen up when I get tocollege.

But you dont really party, so I dont know lol, he said in a text.

My stomach turned. I took a moment and responded, I know. Im the ste-reotypical sheltered, innocent good girl. But to be honest, Im sick o it.

He asked me about the craziest thing Id done, or which I had no answer.Ten he o ered a suggestion.

Okay, heres an idea. Send me a pic message o you and how good it is willdecide how good my idea is. A pic o , you know, in something nice or not somuch!

I took a picture o my prom photo and sent it to him. I received a text a

ew minutes later asking where it was. He hadnt received it, he said, and thatmaybe it would be easier i I just came over to his place.

Te rest o the conversation was almost identical to the one in February.


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By 2 a.m., I was still receiving messages rom Drew asking me to come over. Icouldnt, I told him, and I rolled over, uncom ortable and con used.

Te next morning, I woke up and wondered i I had imagined the wholething, but my inbox con rmed that it wasnt a dream. I sent Drew a message,asking i he was mad at me.

He told me he wasnt, but that I owed him.My thumbs raced across the keypad. My thoughts spilled onto the little

screen. He responded to them, telling me I think too much, and that he didntthink about Joy while he was texting me.

I told him that even though nothing physical happened, I elt used.What do you mean used? Why would it be using you, wouldnt you be hav-

ing un too?When I told him I didnt want a one-night stand, he said, Okay; three or

our times then. Until you leave lol.He stopped responding to my text messages. I tried calling him, but he

wouldnt answer. I wanted to talk to him, to try to understand what was goingon, but I got nothing. Finally, I sent him a note threatening to tell the school i he didnt respond.

My phone rang.We talked, and I asked him what was up with those messages. He told me he

was just joking.So thats how you joke with your ormer runner who just graduated rom

high school? I yelled.Im so sorry, Laura, he said. I shouldnt have joked around with you like

that. I wasnt thinking. Sweetie, I never meant to upset you.But he did.

* * *

A week later I was sitting on a sandy beach at a camp in eastern New York.Tere was a re glowing in the distance, providing just enough light to castshadows across our aces. I was sitting with a musician, Scott, and one o my camp leaders, Chelsea. A er a guilty conscience started sinking in earlier in theweek, I nally had the guts to tell these two what happened. I originally wantedto talk to Scott alone, but the camp rule was that a emale leader needed to be

present. A er I spilled my secret, I anxiously waited to hear what Scott, a totalstranger with an objective viewpoint, had to say.

You already know what to do, Scott said. You dont need me to tell you.


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I returned rom camp on a Saturday morning. I tried to get in touch withDrew, but he said hed be at the Kings Island amusement park all day. I knewotherwise. He was swimming at one o the other coaches house.

I drove over. Nobody answered the door or picked up the phone when Icalled. I took a deep breath and walked along the side o the house. Drew, Ishouted as loud as I could. I saw him standing on the deck with his son in hisarms and Joy next to him. He handed his son to Joy. He climbed over the enceand walked out to the ront yard. In a low voice, almost a whisper, he asked,What do you want, Laura?

I said he knew why I was there.Tis isnt the right time, he said.My parents know about this, I said. My parents know and other people

know too, Drew.Well, I need to go then, he said. Im going to lose my job, and so I need to

gure out what Im going to do next.Guilt gripped me. I elt horrible. Maybe this wasnt his ault. A er all, I was

the one who started the second text conversation. Maybe this was all my doing.It may not be too late, I said. I dont want to go to the school. I just want to

know whats going on.He agreed to meet on Monday in the elementary school parking lot be ore

conditioning.A little a er 8 a.m. in late June, just three weeks a er Id graduated, I was in

the South Elementary Schools empty parking lot. It wasnt long until the redMustang pulled up.

Sunglasses o , I said.He whipped them o and replied, Im not going to lie to you, Laura.It didnt matter. I needed to see his eyes. I needed to see the look on his ace.

I needed to be able to read him. It was the last opportunity I had to trust him.I dove into the same conversation we already had too many times. Te samequestions popped up. I asked my whys and he gave me the same answers.

It was a joke, he said.I didnt believe him, and he knew it. Tere was a look o desperation writ-

ten across his ace. He stared at the ground. He kept saying he would lose hisancee, his kid, his job.I didnt want this to happen. I had been chasing eelings or my coach the

past two years, and I longed or the chance to be with him a er high school.Te reality was starting to set in or me, though. I was going to Ball State. Hewas engaged to a woman who just had his child. And because o a ew text


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messages, his li e was going to change.I elt guilty. I didnt want him to lose everything.Our conversation ended, and we drove away. I went to my avorite park to

start the conditioning season with the girls who were still on the team. As wegathered in a circle on the parking lot to stretch, I looked at all o them and aterrible eeling swept through me. Tey were all beauti ul. All young, bright,and bubbly. Im not sure whether I was jealous o them or whether I was eelinglike a big sister, but something told me that Drew shouldnt be their coach.

I returned home and paced in my backyard. I didnt want to go to the school,but a eeling o guilt built up inside o me. Tat eeling rom the park as Ilooked at those girls wouldnt go away. I took a deep breath and went inside. I

ound my parents and said, Okay, lets go to the school.

y mother called the school right away and said we needed to speak tothe principal. An assistant principal agreed to meet with us.

....I asked my parents to let me go in and speak rst. While I wasollowing my gut, I still couldnt shake the idea I was betraying a riend. I told

the principal my story and repeatedly let him know how this wasnt completely Drews ault. I could see the look o concern growing on the principals ace,and I hoped that what I was saying might lessen whatever consequences Drewwould ace.

I my pleas were working, they vanished as soon as my parents entered theroom. Tey told the principal what they thought o Drew. While they respectedhim be ore, they dont trust him coaching the team.

My parents word was Drews ate. Drew was red.

* * *

Somewhere in the greater Cincinnati area, Drew moved on with li e. Joy lehim not long a er contacting me during my rst semester at Ball State. Shewanted to know why I showed up to the pool that June. I learned that Drewnever told Joy what happened.

Joy said she had almost gone to the school hersel . Drew had done this

be ore. Hed asked other women to send photos and to come over. When Ishowed up at the pool that day, she eared the worst.

His own ance didnt trust him around high school girls.

M


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In early 2010, Drew requested to be my riend on Facebook, then he pokedme. I sent him a message asking what he wanted. We exchanged a ew mes-sages, and or the rst time, he apologized.

I orgave him a long time ago, but it was nice to hear.Te last time I saw him, just be ore we le the parking lot, I asked him i it

was possible that one day we could be riends. Even though my crush was overand my view o him was changing, I still had a hard time accepting that puttinghim in my past meant I was losing a riend. At the time he said, Yes, I wouldlike to.

As we chatted on Facebook, I thought that perhaps we could put the pastbehind us and return to being the running buddies we once were. Instead, Iwent over to my privacy settings and blocked him. He may have been a big parto my li e be ore, the running mentor who helped me nd my stride, but I nolonger needed him.

Now I am my own coach. I no longer run to set personal records or to com-pete in races. I run or the independence, the exhilaration, and the reedom.My crush may have died and I may have lost my coach, but my passion orrunning was real.

And nobody can take it away rom me.


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If I Leave Here omorrowby Te Invictus Writers is licensed under a CreativeCommons-Atrribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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Photo by Lululemon Athletica, available through the Creative Commons License. Seethe original picture: http://www.fickr.com/photos/lululemonathletica/5197327623/.

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If I Leave Here Tomorrow: Ugly Little Monster