Chapter 6 - A Million Rainbows

Kyle’s house was tucked away in some strange, rich-person oasis at the edge of our small town. It would have been a three-mile trek from Dairy Queen, a little farther than we both thought Charlie should have to walk, and he called a cab with his iPhone, so she didn’t have to.

It was no mansion. There were no actual mansions in our part of the world and that was true for Kyle, too. But damn, his house was nice.

I had never been to this part of town. I knew it existed because I knew Kyle existed, but I’d never actually seen it. His house sat on a quiet street accompanied by a few other very nice homes, all tucked away behind trees, all probably very pretty in the snow at Christmastime with their stone chimneys and front porches.

A long, windy driveway curved into the woods. Kyle’s house was far enough back that you couldn’t see it from the road, and coming out at the other end, felt like stepping out of the wardrobe into Narnia, it was so magical.

Just the lawn alone would have been enough. It was one of those lush, green lawns you sometimes see oddly placed in neighborhoods next to the dry patchy ones, and you wondered how those guys managed to be better than everyone.

But Kyle’s whole yard, at least a couple of acres in size, was covered in that green grass. So rich and dark, sweeping right to the edge of a wide paver driveway.

The entire yard was bordered with big decorative boulders and pretty flower beds, looking like the front cover of a home and garden catalog.

And the house itself was just as lovely.

A big, two-car garage sat off to the side and was seamlessly connected to the rest of the large house. The exterior was mostly painted wood, a light sage, but natural stone covered the front where the main entrance jutted and peaked. The stone veneer skirted the perimeter of the house, the edge, near the foundation, meticulously mulched and clean.

Kyle opened a side door, letting me and Charlie in first. We entered straight into a large kitchen/living room set up. The kitchen sat on the right where a hefty granite-topped island was the main attraction.

From the light ceramic tiles that swept across the entire floor, to the plush sofa and loveseat that sat in front of a natural stone fireplace at the other end of the room, to the big bright windows that looked out to the glistening river at the back of the property, it was all a dream.

And it smelled good. Not one of those cheap artificial plug-ins either. But good, like real wood, and real roses, and real homemade bread.

I tentatively stepped forward just enough so Kyle could enter. I felt so out of place and so cautious, being careful not to touch anything. It was that feeling when you’re in a store and you know nothing is yours and you can’t afford anything and the aisles are too narrow, so you walk with your shoulders tucked in.

Kyle plopped his backpack beside the wall near the door. “You can just leave it,” he said, glancing at mine. He reached for Charlie’s bag, taking it and putting it on the ground next to his. “I know we just ate, but do you guys want anything? Chips? Soda? Water?”

“Yeah, I’ll take water.” My mouth felt parched, probably from the salty fries, or maybe it was the air from this new planet I had landed on.

Kyle kicked off his shoes before going to the kitchen, and I was left wondering if Charlie and I should do the same. I was hesitant because I had been rushing this morning, and I couldn’t remember if the socks I grabbed had holes in them or not. I reached for Charlie’s feet, removing her sneakers. Her little pink socks were dingy—but no holes.

I was still worrying about the holes in my socks when Kyle got back to me with my water—filled with ice.

“Just a second,” I said, reaching to unlace my sneakers.

“You don’t have to take your shoes off.”

With my fingers grasping the ties, I peered up at him. “What would your mom want me to do?”

“She’d want you to take them off, but don’t worry about my mom. She’s not here.”

I deliberated, deciding to just take them off. She might come home.

There was a small hole in my stupid, loose, black socks (Kyle’s socks were Tide-white and snug with a Nike emblem on them). The hole was near my baby toe. I stretched the fabric just enough, positioning it at the bottom, so at least he wouldn’t see.

The first thing I noticed when placing my feet on the floor was that the damn kitchen tiles were heated. It was wonderful, and it took me only that second to realize stockinged feet were the only way to walk around this place.

We followed Kyle across the large room, passing behind the sofa, Charlie running and sliding a little on the tiles as she went; she had figured the sock thing out, too.

We entered through a door and found ourselves on a landing where a set of stairs turned down into a garage area and went straight up to a room above it. Kyle climbed up, taking the steps two at a time, and we were over the garage in a large open game room.

There was a pool table in one corner, a large sectional facing a huge-ass TV in another corner. Off to the side, there sat a small bar, complete with sparkly wine glasses hanging from a rack.

I think the whole room was supposed to look like a rough, unfinished loft, but the exposed wood was all polished and shiny and there were inset lights dimly lighting the space, making it just as amazing as the rest of the house.

Charlie had no problem making herself at home. She ran over and sat down in a big leather massage chair near the sitting area. She knew what it was because we had tried the ones at the mall once.

“Do you want to try it?” asked Kyle.

She gave him a big, bouncy, hair-flying-everywhere nod.

Kyle pressed some buttons, and the chair vibrated into action, making Charlie laugh and squirm. He turned to me. “How about you, Bree? Want a go?”

Heck no. I wasn’t going to be squirming and feeling stuff in front of him. “No. Thanks,” I said, my headshake, quick and certain.

Kyle laughed at me and switched off the chair. He moved to the TV, a big, giant, flat screen in front of a large sectional. “This is the TV that blasted on. Or I thought it did. But I saw Chris right here.” He pointed at the floor in front of the TV.

Without a word, Charlie slid off the leather massage chair. She walked over to the TV and stood facing it, remaining quiet, her eyes shut. She was like that for a good minute when Kyle twisted around, seeking guidance from me. I shrugged, not knowing what to do—this was weird, even for Charlie.

She lifted her tiny hand, reaching for Kyle’s. He squinted curiously, taking it, and they stood motionless, saying nothing.

A minute or two passed with them being quiet like that. I was a couple of steps behind them, about to say something, when I sensed an eerie static in the air, an ominous electric charge like a thunderstorm rolling in. The goosebumps forming on Kyle’s neck told me he felt it too.

Everything hushed—it was like the whole world had turned off and I was alone. Charlie and Kyle, standing in front of me, were suddenly so far away.

They stood motionless, hypnotized by something I wasn’t seeing. Kyle’s eyes flooded with tears. Heavy, rolling tears that wetted his cheeks and dribbled down his nose.

It was a few more minutes when it all came back: a rush of ambient sound throughout the room, a calm running over my skin, my nerves settling.

Charlie’s small hand squeezed Kyle’s tight, and he squeezed hers back.

“Give me a minute,” he said, letting go and exiting through a door on the other side of the room.

“Charlie, what happened?” I knelt beside her. “Did it work?”

She nodded.

“What? Was he here? Chris?”

She nodded again.

I put my glass on the coffee table and sat down, pulling Charlie with me to sit on the couch.

Kyle wasn’t coming out, and we sat there alone for a good five minutes, not knowing what to do.

Charlie tugged on my arm. “Bree, I have to go to the bathroom.”

I scanned the room, trying to decide where the bathroom might be. There was a hallway up here leading out, but maybe the bathroom was the room Kyle had gone into.

Kyle’s door opened. “It’s just down the hall there. First door on the left, Pumpkin Patch.”

Charlie turned to me with a small shrug. I tapped her left shoulder. “This one.”

Kyle crossed the room and sat beside me on the couch, his eyes red and puffy. “That was crazy,” he said. “Charlie’s something else, huh?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “So you saw him?”

Kyle looked confused. “Wait, you didn’t?”

I shook my head.

“Huh … yeah. I think it was a memory. But it was so clear like he was in the room with me.”

I nodded. “Yeah, she explains it like she can’t change things … like she can only see the past and possible futures. She can’t change anything or even change the future. And a lot of what she sees are just memories.”

“So what is she trying to do with your mom?”

“I don’t really know. She sees a different version of our mom, one that’s got her life together. I think Charlie just likes seeing Mom happy. She doesn’t have a lot of good memories with her, so …” I shrugged. “Did it help you?”

“Yeah,” said Kyle. “It was a memory from back when he lived here. Nothing profound or anything. We were just goofing around, playing with this toy basketball net that used to be hooked up on the wall over there. We were taking turns shooting hoops, making a game of it.” He looked across the room, falling back into the memory. “I don’t know. It was pretty amazing, though. It felt like he was back. Like he never died.” Kyle fell quiet.

“But you didn’t get to talk to him?”

“No, I had this weird sense that talking would have ruined it. But that’s okay. I think you were right. He obviously knew I loved him.” Kyle wiped the corner of his eyes, sniffing a little. “Can I show you a picture of him?”

He got up and crossed the room, opening the door on a tall wooden cabinet. He sat back down beside me with a photo album in hand.

“That’s us about six years ago,” he said, flipping to the first page. “Right before he left for college.”

I was looking at cute kid Kyle and his older brother, whom he strongly resembled. “You look just like him. You even have the same cute dimples.”

Kyle touched his cheek, a smile forming behind his hand. “Dover,” he whispered, nudging me with his elbow.

I decided to ignore that. “Can I keep looking?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

I flipped through the album, laughing at all the pictures of tiny Kyle having such a full life with birthdays and camping and Christmas. “Did your mom make this album?”

“Yeah. I think so. Why?”

“Ah, well, she can’t be that bad then.” I realized as soon as I said it that I shouldn’t have. Especially since I knew nothing about this woman or Kyle’s relationship with her, and if someone had said that to me about my mom, I’d want to punch them. “Sorry. I just meant … Well, the album is nice. That’s all.”

Kyle twisted on the couch. He was looking at me funny, his head tilted, his eyes squinted like he was trying to figure me out. “No. That’s okay. You’re right. She’s not that bad. That stuff with my dad has been over for a while. And I think there was more going on there that I don’t know about. You know, two sides and all?” He raised his eyebrows, twitching them up twice. “There’s always two sides, right?”

I smiled. “Does she make bread?”

“Bread?”

“Yeah, I thought I smelled bread.”

Kyle laughed. “Do you know how happy she’s going to be when I tell her you noticed her bread? She’s obsessed with that homemade shit.”

“Shit? God, you’re spoiled. I would eat that shit up.” I closed my eyes dreamily. “With warm melted butter. Yum.”

I was drooling and I think I had been licking my lips because when I opened my eyes, Kyle was just staring at me, that funny, curious look back on his face.

I shifted uncomfortably. “I should probably go check on Charlie. She likes to play in the sink. We should probably head back, anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.” Kyle closed the album.

He pulled out his phone, dialing the cab company. He was staring at me while it rang. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I failed my driver’s test, huh?” He playfully flicked his eyebrows.

I smiled.

“Oh, yeah, hey,” said Kyle into the phone. “We need a cab … Hey Bree, what’s your address?”

“Just tell them Dairy Queen. We’ll walk from there.”

“But he can take you right to your house?”

I shook my head because there was no way I was going to tell Kyle where I lived. “No. Just Dairy Queen. That’ll be all right.”