Chapter 16 - A Million Rainbows

Kyle warned me by text that his mom would be at the house Saturday night. Something I should have expected—kind of did expect, but still—I was half-hoping she’d have some fancy country club thing to attend.

I almost texted back to cancel. But I reminded myself that Sue had seemed nice. And she had been making me delicious bread for over a month now. I had to say thanks in person.

Plus, I really didn’t want to cancel with Kyle.

Emily came with me and Charlie to the nursing home on Saturday. The ladies at the home loved it when she tagged along because she would give them mini makeovers, painting their nails and faces and making them feel like radiant movie stars.

I usually played poker with the same small group. That included Mary, a former nurse, Sarah, who used to work as a mail carrier, and Gerald, who, according to the women in this joint, had been a bona fide stud back in his glory days. Now, he was just a bona fide player, and I think he only hung out with us because he was trying to get into Sarah’s pants.

She would have been my pick, too. She was cute, with a lovely smile and silky, white, chin-length hair. And Emily had just done her makeup, so today, she was looking especially lovely. Gerald was taking notice.

We were in the large rec room. It was an open space with a scatter of round tables placed throughout. Big open windows looked out to a garden patio, letting natural light shine through on this sunny Saturday morning.

A good crowd had gathered after breakfast, and the room was buzzing with lots of senior fun.

I was holding a pair of aces when I noticed Charlie was no longer at the table with Emily where I had left her.

“Hey, Em. Where’s Charlie?”

Emily shrugged, throwing a worried glance over her shoulder.

A fear-filled second passed as I scanned the large hall. I relaxed when I spotted a puff of red across the room.

Charlie was sitting at an upright piano against the far wall. She was with a lady named Nancy, whom I didn’t know too well, but I recognized her as the petite, silver-haired resident with Alzheimer’s, who sat quietly at the piano every day.

I folded my cards, placing them on the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said to my group. “I’ll be right back.”

I pushed out of my seat and crossed the room. The blurry vision of Charlie and Nancy at the piano, becoming clearer as I got closer.

They were sitting with their eyes closed. Their bodies slanted into each other. Their legs, forming an apex at the knee. They were holding hands, Nancy’s, reaching and resting in Charlie’s small lap.

Tears trickled down Nancy’s cheeks as Charlie gave her a memory. I knew that was what she was doing because they had the same stiff, hypnotic posture she and Kyle had had when she’d shown him the memory of his brother. And the hair on my arms pricked the same way it had before.

I hesitated, my mouth falling open, getting stuck, because I didn’t know whether I should intervene.

Nancy’s aide, a young, slim, blonde woman, was standing nearby watching with curiosity but without the trepidation that had left me unnerved. That was because she didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to tell her.

Poor Nancy, with her fading memory, was being reminded of the life she was losing. It seemed cruel, and I almost stopped Charlie. But despite the tears in her eyes, a peaceful smile was growing on Nancy’s face.

I inched closer, keeping my worried gaze on the odd duo in front of me.

Charlie opened her eyes. She lifted Nancy’s hand, guiding it onto the piano. Nancy gingerly pressed down. One lone, high note resonated throughout the old wooden box. Then, of her own accord, Nancy lifted her other hand and played the low C at the opposite end.

Nancy’s posture straightened as she held the harmony, letting the notes naturally fade. She then pressed with both hands, and a mélange of sound resounded.

Then, finding the music somewhere in her soul, she continued to play, moving her fingers over the keys with grace and skill, the room filling with a song of hope.

It was a beautiful, classical piece I didn’t recognize, but it captured the attention of everyone in the hall, and the audience grew quiet and subdued as they listened.

“They said she hasn’t played in years,” said her aide, standing at my side. She was staring at Nancy with a look of awe.

I reached and touched Charlie’s shoulder. She twisted around to me. “Bree,” she whispered, “Nancy isn’t sad anymore.”

I squinted curiously, wanting her to explain, but Nancy’s aid was right beside us. I bent down and spoke into Charlie’s ear. “What did you show her?”

Charlie’s smile beamed. “I reminded her she still has something she loves.”

I was feeling pretty easy with my decision to leave Charlie on Saturday. After coming home on Friday and seeing that she had been perfectly fine hanging out with Mom all night, I figured I could chance it one more time.

Mom was still working on her story. She had laid off the bottles for almost an entire week now. I knew that meant she would soon be crashing, falling down the very steep, impossibly hard to climb, sober mountain.

I was waiting for the inevitable crash. But the intermediate stage was still nice.

It was growing dark by the time six o’clock rolled around. Instead of going to Dairy Queen, I waited for Kyle down the road near the streetlight he had dropped me off at the night before.

I hadn’t been there long when the Cadillac rolled up beside me. Kyle was driving, and he was alone.

I got in, sitting on the passenger side, scanning the quiet interior of the car. “What’s going on?” I asked. I had expected his mom to be with him.

He was smiling, pushing a piece of paper in my face. “Check it out.”

“Oh my god, you got your license!” I stared at the photocopy of his temporary driver’s license. It was a great picture, perfectly capturing Kyle’s sweet, charismatic smile. I made a note of his birthday: May 12th. “Did you do this today?”

He nodded, checking his side-view mirror, and pulling onto the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Eh, just playing it safe. I didn’t want to have to tell you I failed again.”

I handed his license back. “That’s awesome. I’m jealous. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to come up with the money for driver’s ed.”

Kyle wrinkled his nose. “Don’t be jealous. It’s no good for another six months, anyway. Legally, I’m not even supposed to be driving you yet.”

“Oh really? Shit. Then why are you?”

“Eh,” he said, shrugging it off. “It’s like I told my mom, it’s just this one time.”

We turned onto Main Street and Kyle stopped at a red light, glancing over at me. “So you’re really all right with my mom being home?”

I inhaled, blowing the breath out nervously. “Ah yeah, it’s fine,” I said, figuring it was best to be polite about it.

Kyle frowned, a look of regret in his eyes. “Nah, I’m sorry. It probably won’t be fine. She likes you. She’s not going to leave you alone tonight. I’ll do my best to keep her away, but …”

“She likes me? How does she like me?” We had literally talked for that one minute. I sat quietly in her car, saying nothing to her after that.

Kyle sent me an incredulous smile, pressing the gas with the change of the lights. “Dover, c’mon? Of course, she likes you. You’re like a mother’s dream girl. Smart. Quiet. Nice.”

“I am?” I had never had a mother to worry about before, and that was absolutely news to me. It made me nervous because now all I could do was disappoint her. I slumped, blowing a worried puff into my cheeks.

“Don’t worry about my mom,” said Kyle, reaching across the console with a reassuring tap to my arm.

“Is she really going to bug me all night?”

He grimaced. “Well, yeah. She’s going to talk your ear off, but don’t worry about it.”

He slowed the car, taking a left where I thought he’d continue straight.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I want to show you something.”

Kyle drove down the street, exiting the busy heart of Ellis, finding the more rural parts of our small city, where the land started to stretch, and the houses had more breathing room.

He turned again, following a long stretch where the woods deepened, then he slowed, taking a sharp turn onto a winding gravel road. A sign at the entrance gave our destination away, naming it Madison Hill Park. The surrounding forest thickened as we climbed the sloping ground. We, at last, came out of the trees and into a clearing.

Kyle came to a stop in a dirt parking lot. He got out of the car and moved to my side, and I stepped out into the twilight night with him.

It was a small hilltop park with a playground and picnic tables. But the main attraction was the tall iron structure that rose from the center of the hill. It was a soaring observatory tower, rising a few hundred feet above the ground, standing a rooftop taller than the trees that covered the sloping hillside around it.

“Have you ever been here?” Kyle asked.

I had faint memories of this place. Very faint memories. Someone must have taken me here at some point in my life, but that had been a long time ago. “Maybe,” I said. “I don’t remember it very well, though.”

Kyle led me to the base of the structure. We climbed a metal staircase going up the center. The tower was divided into several layers, with each section having its own small lookout spot. We climbed to the very top, where it resembled a gazebo with a spacious viewing area and a pitched rafter roof.

We moved to the edge, holding onto the steel railing for balance as we looked out.

From up here, we could see the city lights, the hint of sunlight that lingered near the horizon, glimpses of the silver, serpentine river in the distance, and the lone houses in the dark forest closer to us, their glowing windows giving them away.

“My brother used to take me here,” said Kyle. “It was one of his favorite places.”

“Yeah,” I uttered, completely understanding that.

I lifted my hand and placed it on top of Kyle’s. We were both so cold. He flipped his palm up and interlocked our fingers, warming me with the touch.

I inhaled, long and deep, taking in the moment. I was overcome with emotions, and I was struggling to keep them to myself. “Why does the world seem so amazing when I’m with you?” I asked, gazing out at the stars and the city lights. “I mean, this is the same shitty town I’ve lived in my whole life, and you’ve turned it magical somehow.”

Kyle nodded, his expression somber and sincere. “The feeling’s mutual, Dover.”

He gave my hand a light squeeze and let go. “So,” he said, turning to face me, “I’ve brought you here for a reason.”

“Yeah?” I said with a nervous swallow, thinking I already knew the reason.

He laughed. “And it is not to kiss you.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, glancing away, letting that news sink in, finding I didn’t like it much. It seemed like a great place for a kiss, and I really wanted him to. “Why not?”

“Because I’m saving it.”

“Saving it? But this is perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s too perfect. My kiss wouldn’t live up to this.” He made a regretful, smacking sound with his lips. “I’m sorry to tell you that. But it’s probably best you know now.”

I laughed, shaking my head at him. There was no way that would be true. “So why did you bring me here?”

Kyle faced forward, looking out at the darkening sky—stars popping and growing brighter every second. He grasped the railing, then closed his eyes. He pulled in a long breath, holding it for a second.

Then he screamed.

The sound came strong and deep from his diaphragm, reverberating inside the small enclosure we were in and hitting the cold air outside in a thunderous roar.

He bellowed loud and steady, emptying his lungs, letting the oxygen and his voice fade out together. He took a breath, relaxed his shoulders, and turned to me. “Do it,” he said.

“What?” I took an anxious step back, shaking my head. I wouldn’t be able to scream like that if that’s what he meant.

“You need to, Bree.”

I met his gaze, tears pricking my eyes, threatening to brim like they always did when Kyle was around. What the hell was that all about, anyway?

He put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Scream.”

I stood, looking out at the stars. My chest, tight and unsure.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Forget I’m here.”

I laughed at that.

“Try,” he said.

I teetered on the edge of uncertainty. Kyle stepped back, placing himself out of my vision. I focused on the brightest star, trying to find a tiny sparkle of courage. I gripped my wrist, pressed into my tattoo, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

With a powerful raging roar, I exhaled.

I didn’t hear the scream. I felt it.

A tightness released from around my chest, a thick shell of sediment breaking and cracking, coming undone. It crumbled and fell, and with the desperate cry, all the sludge, all the built-up anger, and frustration spilled from my heart, emptied from my soul.

I let it out, screaming until there was nothing left.

I fell forward, my head between my knees. Grasping. Hanging on.

Kyle had told me not to cry, but a release of emotions poured from my eyes and salty streams ran down my cheeks. My body trembled as I gasped for air, my chest, heaving and convulsing uncontrollably.

My legs gave way, and I caught hold of Kyle’s arm for support. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He put an arm around me and helped me to the ground. “Bree, look at me.”

I met his eyes, trying to focus.

“Breathe,” he said. “Like this. Do it with me. Through your nose.” I followed Kyle’s direction, taking a slow, deep breath with him, releasing it in the same controlled manner. “Good. Again.”

He continued to breathe with me—in and out—until my nerves had settled and my breaths eased.

We sat motionless, letting a couple of silent minutes pass. “I don’t know what that was,” I mumbled.

Kyle reached for my hand, pulling it into his lap. He brushed his thumb over my tattoo. “Uh, that was a lot of stuff you shouldn’t be dealing with,” he said. “And you can’t keep it bottled up like that. It’ll kill you. And you don’t have to, not with me.”

I let go of his hand, bringing mine together nervously.

I knew I could trust Kyle. And it wasn’t like it was some kind of gut instinct I had about him, having only known him for such a short time. He wore that virtue on his sleeve. It was just another great aspect of his endearing personality; anyone who knew him would see it.

But what was I supposed to trust him with? Everything? That thought made me nauseous.

“Hey,” said Kyle, leaning into me, bumping my shoulder. “That was just a public service announcement. You can take it or leave it. I don’t expect anything.”

I shrugged, feeling unsure. “I want to take it,” I said. “I don’t know if I can, but I want to.”

Kyle put an arm around me, squeezing me to his side. He pressed a kiss to my temple, sending a splash of warm rainbows over my skin. He stayed like that, just holding me, kissing me. The feeling was so calming, being by his side, in his arms, that I just closed my eyes and let it be.

A few minutes passed, and Kyle finally released his lips. “Dover,” he whispered into my ear, drawing my focus his way. I stared into his eyes. He smiled, his dimples so close, his lips so close, his heart so close. “Just so you know. That also does not count as our first kiss.”

I laughed.

He got up, offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. It’s shit cold, and my mom has food.”