Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson

to be high school age, dressed in t shirts and shorts, lying facing the road, a backpack in between them.
     
     
"Bra," one of them says (in Hawaiian, that's your friend, not something a woman wears), can't you get that thing set up? He'll be here any second."
     
     
I get "he." "He" has to be him, er, me, er, you know.
     
     
"We're only going to get one shot, he's too fast for another try. I don't want to have to wait two more Fridays to try again." They know my schedule. This is bad.
     
     
Some light comes from one of them, not inner light mind you, but a human thing generating light. It takes me two seconds to realize they have a video camera, and just popped the LCD screen on. If I had not been properly warned, I'd be on the Internet by morning.
     
     
I decide to play a trick on them that they will never know about. Does that make it not a trick? Anyway, there are lots of molecules in the soft dirt, I play with them for an instant, and gently push off. The two kids are looking for the world's fastest man to run by, while he is flying away a few yards behind them.
     
     
Staying low, just at tree level, I get back to the Kamehameha III road, make a beautiful three point (two feet and my ass) landing on a piece of ground that gives way as I swoop oh so not gracefully onto it.
     
     
Not waiting for the light to change, I cross on the red and head back down the hill. It occurs to me as I do that I might be on their fucking camera now, but at human speed. I should have gone sideways and crossed further down the street, or something. Fuck me. At least it's dark out and they are a fair piece down the road.
     
     
There is a scenic overlook part way down the hill. I stop at it and spend the next hour or so sitting on the rock wall, letting my feet dangle over the side, watching the ocean move in the darkness a mile below, the lights of Kona town reflecting off its surface, wondering why I'm so stupid.
     
     
Not getting any answer, I trot the rest of the way back to the hotel and stand on the balcony of my room until dawn, not thinking about anything.
     
     
I go for a real run this morning, as me, heading up to the KTA in Keauhou to buy an orange juice and then back to the hotel. I pass a flight attendant on the way back, and happily exchange a "hey." It's nice to be recognized.
     
     
The flight back is uneventful, as they mostly are. Captain Amos gives me five hours of crap over my golf game, and I promise to have my dad spend some time with me working on my swing.
     
     
Jen's waiting for me when the shuttle bus arrives back at our parking lot. She hasn't done that in two months. I hop in the passenger side of her car, and give her a kiss with all the feeling I can muster.
     
     
"I'm glad you're here," I say and mean it. Then I say something I never thought I'd say. "Whatever it takes to fix it between us, I am willing to do."
     
     
She says nothing, but heads down to the 105 and then south, exiting toward my place not hers. We get there, get into the elevator, spend 10 floors making out, get naked and get our groove on, and she never says anything other than the "f" word while I've got my head between her legs. I get to drift off to sleep wrapped around her for the first time in two weeks.
     
     
Tonight's fog is neither cat nor mongoose nor any other animal I can identify. Whether it's some new trick or just a treat I'm not sure. It looks and feels like real fog, stationary, cold, wet. There's actually a light out tonight as well, or even a set of them, tracing the path in front of me. It looks like London in a Jack the Ripper movie, though only the grass is evil in this flick. I hear the boots, and then see Fog Dude. The fog doesn't even part for him, it's playing the role of real fog nicely.
     
     
The gentle, grandfatherly voice is gone, tonight he has an edge, three months of patience perhaps evaporating or exasperating into the voice that your dad would use to call you into the house when you were