They Call Me Crazy by Kelly Stone Gamble

early, not because I am a morning person but because I get a little town gossip on the way. Running five miles in a town that has a main street half that length pretty much has me covering the entire area, at least the interesting parts. And I never miss a Sunday morning. It gives me the opportunity to see where everyone’s parked after Saturday night.
    One mile down East Avenue, I cross the highway that’s the main drag. I find myself searching for Roland’s pickup. I run down Shawnee Street and pass Daze’s place then circle around to Wyandotte and check Pet’s. No blue truck. It will still be early by the time I get back to my house, but I already know I’ll be calling Clay to find out if he’s heard anything. I know Roland never went to work last night. After getting what I wanted and leaving what’s-his-name passed out with nothing on but his mismatched socks, I made a second run through Tina’s parking lot on my way home.
    And Roland didn’t show up again for coffee this morning, though he rarely misses a Sunday. He says it’s a good day to repent for his sins, which he never does. He likes to talk, needs to talk, and I guess he figures I owe him one. I wish all those rumors about him and me were true. Sure, we once had a thing, but now, he just comes for the coffee. I’m still hopeful, though, even after last Sunday’s conversation.
    He walked in the back door, still in his pink neon T-shirt from Fat Tina’s. He went straight for the coffee without a word then plopped onto one of my dining room chairs. I could tell something was wrong. He’s rarely silent.
    I sat down, already dressed in my running clothes. “What’s up?”
    “I’ve changed my mind.” He took a sip of coffee and didn’t look at me.
    I stifled a snicker. Roland changed his mind more often than some people changed underwear. “About what?”
    “The house. Us. Everything, Maryanne. Everything.”
    Roland was saving money to build a house on the hill he owns outside of town. He’s been working two jobs and putting up with Cass at the same time. He’d said once he had given her a nice home, he’d feel better about leaving her so we could be together.
    “What are you saying?” I heard my own voice crack, and I tried to control it.
    “I’m taking the money and moving her away from here. Maybe get her some real help.”
    The heat rose in my face. “Damn it, Roland! You promised. You said once Shaylene was off to college, we could be together. You don’t owe her anything!”
    He stood and put his coffee cup on the counter. He stared out the window over the sink. “Fuck, Maryanne. She’s my wife, and she’s getting worse. I lose my temper all the time, and I ain’t cool with that.”
    “And moving her away also means you’ll be moving away from me. Damn you, Roland.” I hurried out the front door and took off at too fast a pace. All these years, he’s been promising we would be together, and finally, I realized he was playing me like any other game.
    I ran faster, needing to get away, needing to get far away from him.
    Now, just thinking about last Sunday makes me mad as hell. “Damn him!” I scream it so loud, I almost fall. Got to focus on my step.
    “Damn him.” Another thing great about running alone is that I can talk to myself, curse, mumble under my breath, or whatever else I want to do. Damn him. How could he even consider what he was thinking? How could he do this to me?
    He slunk in again on Thursday. He said he’d heard of a decent place for mentally unstable people up near Omaha, and he was going to talk to her about it this weekend. He hasn’t had the balls to show up since. Maybe he changed his mind and just decided to slither off on his own and leave us both behind. I wonder if he’s mentioned it to her. I could go out there and ask.
    “Not hardly.”
    I pass Dr. Kenney walking his dog. He nods, thinking I was speaking to him. His little white dog yaps. No, I wasn’t talking to you, either.
    And I