Chapter 22 - A Million Rainbows

“Hold still.” I had an open safety pin in my mouth and another open one at the small of Charlie’s back. And she was about to get pricked by it if she didn’t stop squirming.

She held still for two seconds, just long enough for me to stick and close the pins, securing the fabric in place.

“Okay, let me see.”

Charlie stepped back, immediately falling into a dance, twirling around in the middle of the living room. Her homemade Elsa dress looked exactly that—homemade. But Charlie was happy, and that made me happy.

“You look amazing. Just like Elsa.” I waved her back over to me. “Now, let’s do your hair. We’ve got to hurry.”

“I want to show Mom.”

I sighed. “No, Mom’s sleeping. We’ll show her when we get home today.”

Charlie’s shoulders fell glumly. She made no attempt to manipulate me with pouty lips; the sadness was real in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, kneeling beside her. “She’ll see the dress later. She’s coming trick-or-treating with us, remember?

“She’s not coming,” mumbled Charlie.

“What do you mean?”

Mom always went trick-or-treating with us—bottle or no bottle, she came. It was the one thing she was consistent about. I figured it was because she felt comfortable amid the dark and grim Halloween crowd. She fit right in with the zombies and other creatures of the night. Plus, no one cared if she carried around spiked coffee.

Charlie shrugged, not answering with words. But I knew what she was saying.

“You can see that?”

Her nod was small, but the tears in her eyes were big and they were breaking my heart.

“Hey,” I said, lifting her chin. “Don’t be sad. We’ll still have fun. And you look too beautiful to be sad.” She was making me want to cry.

I pulled her into a hug, then let go, checking the time on my phone.

I had gotten up early to get Charlie ready for her Halloween party at school, but we were cutting it close now.

“We’ll still have a blast trick-or-treating tonight,” I said. “I’ll make sure of it. Okay?”

“Can Kyew come with us?” She meant Kyle. She loved Kyle. Perhaps as much as I did.

“Yeah, maybe he can.” Kyle was officially my boyfriend. He had been my boyfriend for four whole days now; I could ask him. “Will that make you happy?”

Charlie nodded, her eyes brightening a little.

“Okay. Let’s do your hair, then we’ll go show Mom real quick before I go.”

Mrs. Patterson was late with her text again, and when I came into math, Kyle was already sitting at his desk.

He was facing the back of the room, talking to a kid named Jason. Jason was another one of his many friends, and I was starting to wonder how he kept track of everybody.

I walked up to his desk, feeling a little weird about cutting into their conversation, feeling very weird about talking to Kyle at school in the first place. But I was doing it for Charlie—that’s what I kept reminding myself of.

Except for the much more crowded lunch scene, this was the only time of the day I saw Kyle.

He hadn’t responded to the text I sent, which meant he hadn’t seen it. And it was Friday. Kyle and his many friends didn’t stay home alone on a Friday night. Not on purpose. He would have plans that he'd have to cancel for me.

“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat, fumbling a little.

Kyle turned in his seat, his expression brightening when he saw me. A funny hey-look-who’s-talking-to-me-at-school look sparkled in his eyes.

“Hi, Kyle,” I said, shuffling my feet and floundering like the dork I was.

He folded his hands in his lap and twitched up his chin. “Hello Brianna,” he said, so obvious and so fake I wanted to slap him.

But he was just responding to my awkwardness. Any bad that came from this interaction was on me.

Kyle was holding back a big grin. I saw it in his eyes. Mostly in his eyes. But his dimples were kind of giving him away. It was difficult not to smile back, but I was doing my best. The room wasn’t even empty. Lyndsay was definitely watching us.

I was sorry to her. I was sorry to myself. But I was doing this for Charlie.

I stepped a little closer, keeping my voice low, well below the level of the classroom chatter, which would, hopefully, drown us out. “Hey,” I said. “I don’t think my mom’s gonna be able to make it trick-or-treating tonight. Charlie was wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

Kyle’s smile stretched. “Yes, I want to come trick-or-treating with you guys.” He looked completely ecstatic over the idea.

“So there’s a chance my mom still might come,” I said, backpedaling a little. I hadn’t expected him to be so happy about it, and I felt bad since I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if Mom was coming or not.

“Well, I could meet your mom.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

Kyle didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I want to meet her.”

I was okay with him meeting the walking-around, living version of Mom if she were to come with us.

“So do you want to meet up at the elementary after school?” he asked.

“Um, well, we’ve got to go home first and drop off our bags and eat and stuff.”

Kyle’s smile disappeared. “And you don’t want me tagging along for that?”

He knew I didn’t. He knew the house stuff was still hard for me.

Kyle was being difficult.

I guess that came with us being official.

I knew I was being difficult, too, but all I wanted to do was keep my garbage away from Kyle. It seemed unfair that everything he had to offer was golden and perfect. Why did he have to know nothing about me was?

I shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to understand.

Mr. Lord rounded his desk and sat on the edge facing the class, his signal letting us know it was time to start.

“Do you want to meet up at Dunkin’s to get coffee?” asked Kyle.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Five o’clock,” I said, and I left him to find my seat.

Charlie and I came home to an empty house. Mom wasn’t even in her bed.

Charlie knew this was going to happen, but it didn’t stop her from crying about it. The tiny little princess, with her pretty blue Elsa dress, went straight into our room and wept quiet tears into her pillow.

I wept silently at the door, wishing I could help her, but Charlie didn’t want me right now.

Mom’s room was messy. All the drawers on her dresser had been left open. Several articles of clothing were strewn about on her bed—outfits she had discarded while trying to find something nice to wear. She was at the bar.

I sat at the edge of her bed.

She had cleared some space among the assortment of pill bottles, and a stack of composition notebooks sat in the corner of her nightstand. Seven in total. I picked up the top one.

Mom drafted her books by hand. We didn’t have a computer, but putting pen to paper, in the very literal sense, was her preferred method of writing, anyway.

Her handwriting was nice, consistently nice on every page. She didn’t scribble or cross out. She just kept going.

Writing was Mom’s thing. It was where she shined. If only she could carry that same spark of confidence, that drive and hunger for something other than her own self-sabotage, to other areas of her life, then she’d be the radiant star Charlie believed in.

I turned to the last page in the notebook, to the very last line where she had written: The End.

She had finished her book, at least. She should be celebrating. But I knew Mom. She wasn’t celebrating; she was mourning. She was mourning the loss of her characters. Mourning the loss of a world where she was free of all her real problems. And now that her book was finished, she no longer had a place to escape to.

And she was drinking again.

I placed the notebook back down and lifted the stack, pulling out the bottom one—the first part of her book.

I took it with me and exited the room.

It was a mild, somewhat warm night for late October, making the half-mile walk to the coffee shop easy.

That was good because I needed the time to clear my head, and the fresh breeze that pushed past me was helping me relax.

Except for a few local bars, our small city didn’t have much of a nightlife to speak of. But it came alive on Halloween, and the streets were crawling with creepy creatures, brave superheroes, and many sweet Elsa princesses, which helped to cheer Charlie up.

We crossed the street, making our way over to the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

The coffee shop was packed, everyone picking up a hot drink before heading out to knock on houses.

Kyle was inside, sitting at a small table near the window, probably saving it for us.

I smiled when I saw him.

It wasn’t just a smile. It was an all-encompassing warmth that filled me, wrapping my heart in a big hug. It was love, I guess. And to me, love meant Kyle.

And Kyle meant safety. Trust. Hope. In the short span of time I’d known him, he had secured that faith in me. Kyle made me believe in good things. He kept me dreaming, kept me holding on … I knew the moment that I walked up to him, he would do something, say something that would turn this night around.

I knew that. It was just a truth about him. I had no doubts, no questions in my mind.

We shuffled past the crowd lining up in front of the register, making our way over to the dining area where he was sitting. “Hey,” I said, coming up behind him.

Charlie and I had been sobbing messes since Mom’s disappearance today. I couldn’t help it. Her crying made me cry, and then seeing all the moms with their little Elsa’s on the walk over had started it all up again.

Kyle didn’t say anything. He took one look at me and got up from his chair. He reached for me, pulling me into a hug. With both arms.

We were in the middle of a crowded coffee shop, but Kyle didn’t care. He squeezed me tight, crushing the sadness for me. He held me like that, not saying anything, ignoring Charlie, who was tugging on his coat, calling his name. But he was about to acknowledge her … any second now.

He kissed my forehead, taking and squeezing my hand, then he knelt beside Charlie. “Pumpkin Patch, that dress. Wow!” he said. He let go of my hand and took Charlie’s, twirling her around.

“Bree made it,” she said as she came to a stop. She pulled on the fabric, fluffing out the skirt with a happy smile.

Kyle looked up at me. “You made that dress?” He stood up and wrapped an arm around me. He pulled me to his side, kissing my cheek. “You’re incredible, Bree. You know that, right?”

I didn’t know that, but Kyle made me believe in things.