Enlightened

by Charlotte Michelle

  I’m always blushing with him.

  When Dallas slows the car to a stop and shifts it to park, I take it upon myself to see where we are. A cemetery. I whip my head back around to Dallas to see him give me one look before he slides out of the Jeep. He walks around and opens my door, offering me a hand.

  I cautiously take it, letting him help me down. Dallas pulls me close and wraps an arm around my shoulders to keep me warm in the cool December breeze.

  Is he wanting to see Kyle’s grave?

  Dallas leads me, keeping me close. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. It feels right to be in silence, in honor of the dead.

  We walk for a few minutes until he stops us in front of a familiar headstone. Chills run down my spine as the hairs at the back of my neck stand. Tears shamelessly roll down my cheeks as I pull away from Dallas and step forward so I am directly in front of my father’s grave.

  Jason Williams

  Beloved husband and father

  B. 4.11.1967 D. 9.9.2013

  I fall to my knees, not caring that its uncomfortable because of my boots or that the ground is cold. I sit there, staring at the headstone, wishing that my father could be here to meet Dallas. I haven’t been here in nearly a year, and I’m now realizing how much I have needed him.

  Dallas stays back, doesn’t make a move to comfort me. He allows me time to grieve and reconnect with my father. It’s exactly what I need, and I’m grateful that he’s giving it to me.

  “Hi, Daddy. I have someone here with me. Someone I want you to meet. His name is Dallas. Kyle’s older brother. I’m sure you know who he is; you were always current on Waubonsie’s basketball season. He’s my boyfriend, and I want you to meet him.” I brush the back of my hand across my cheek, a feeble attempt to stop the tears. “I love him, Dad. And I wish you had the chance to know him.” I get to my feet and look over at Dallas.

  His own eyes are watery as he looks at me, his lips parted at my confession. He tilts his head, and with a simple blink, I see a tear roll down his cheek. He doesn’t say anything.

  I turn back to the grave and lean down to place my hand on the tombstone. “I miss you, Daddy. And I love you so much.” After a long moment of silence and stillness, I step back and walk over to wrap my arms around Dallas’s waist. He holds me tightly, pressing his cheek onto the top my head.

  I am so blessed to have such a generous, selfless boyfriend. Dallas planned this whole day for me, buying me a book that means the world to me, taking me to a restaurant that connects to our first date, and now bringing me to my father.

  He had asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

  “I just want to be with my friends and family.”

  Dallas gave me something I didn’t even know I wanted. I was honest when I told him I only wanted to be with the people I love. But I never knew just how much I wanted and needed to talk to my dad.

  “Merry Christmas, Dallas,” I whisper into his chest.

  Dallas places a kiss to the top of my head. “Merry Christmas, Kayla.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Trigger

  *Dallas*

  December 23, 2015

  I hold Kayla tightly in my arms as she cries softly into my chest. I was expecting this kind of reaction; it is only normal considering how close she was with her father. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her crying in front of me.

  It twisted my heart strings when I saw her fall to her knees, sobs running through her body. When she started speaking to her father, it was beautiful; she even brought me up. I was surprised when she claimed that Mr. Williams came to our games. How odd, considering Kayla didn’t.

  It was only when Kayla said those four words that something within me broke.

  “I love him, Dad.” The fact that she was confessing her feelings to her father made them so much more real. She meant it. Kayla Williams is in love with me.

  After feeling all the sympathy I had when she cried in front of me and spoke to her father, her small confession pushed me over the edge, and a stray tear rolled down my cheek.

  I am not embarrassed that I cried for her. I will never be embarrassed for feeling the emotions that I do when I’m with Kayla. She has shed a new light on me, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that light is not snuffed out.

  Kayla gathers my shirt into her hands, clinging tightly to me as if I am her only chance of living. It hurts me to see her like this, my brave, sweet, strong Kayla. I place a kiss to the top of her head, lifting my eyes for the first time to take in our surroundings.

  The cemetery is empty, apart from us. There are hundreds upon hundreds of tombstones lined across the field, all different shapes and sizes. Lincoln Memorial Park, the same cemetery where my brother is buried. I look to my right, my eyes following the path that leads to his grave.

  But today, we’re here for Kayla, I remind myself.

  Snow falls lightly around us and sticks softly to blanket the ground. It’s a beautiful scene that could have been picked out of a movie. If only that were the case, for then Kayla’s father would only be an actor and would still be alive and well after the scene is filmed.

  Turning my eyes to the left, back the way we came, I notice something familiar and out of the ordinary. I instantly tense, my fingers digging tightly into Kayla’s waist. She lets out a gasp of pain before she pulls away from me and looks at me with her questioning gaze. “Dallas? What’s wrong?” she asks, quickly wiping away her tears.

  Oh, Kayla…why can’t you just be given one day? One day to mourn, one day to forget.

  “It’s him. It’s the car,” I whisper, my eyes moving back to the large black Ford Expedition. The windows are tinted, just as before. It is parked, sitting idle but still running as large puffs of exhaust escape the pipe under the car.

  “What?” Her voice quivers as she moves closer to me, looking across the cemetery to see the SUV parked beside my Jeep Wrangler. I instinctively wrap my arm around Kayla’s shoulders and pull her close to me.

  Who is he? Who is behind the wheel? Kyle said we know him…but he also said we didn’t. Who is he?

  “Stay here.” I quickly detach from Kayla and jog between the graves, ignoring as she calls for me to stop.

  I quicken my pace as I get closer to the SUV, and for a quick moment, a rational thought crosses my mind. He most likely has a gun.

  The same gun that killed my brother. A blind rage that I’ve never felt before takes over, and I am sprinting toward the car now. As I exit the cemetery and enter the parking lot, I am a few feet away from the car. I can scarcely see through the windshield, my eyes squinting to get a better look. All I see are two males sitting side by side, one with dark hair and one with lighter hair. They’re both wearing sunglasses. Before I can see anything else, the SUV screeches away, blowing up smoke and the smell of burnt rubber.

  They drive past me, and I skid to a stop, worried for a split second that they will shoot me. But they don’t; they just drive away as if their tail is on fire.

  Letting out a growl of frustration, I turn to see Kayla slowly jogging toward me, her arms wrapped around her small body. “What are you doing?” I holler, running over to meet her. Kayla’s eyes are wide with fear as she looks up at me, absentmindedly rubbing her cold arms.

  “What were you doing? You could have—”

  “I told you to stay! Do you know what could have happened—?”

  “You could have gotten shot! Dallas, what we’re you thinking?” Her voice rises as I see anger burn behind her eyes. Well, that makes two of us. I told her to stay put. How could I live with myself if something had happened to her?

  “I was thinking that those were the pricks that shot Kyle! I was trying to see who they were! I told you to stay put, Kayla…”

  “Dallas…” she whispers, bringing a hand to her mouth as I see tears gather in her eyes. She shakes her head and turns away from me for a moment. “I died a thousand deaths just now, Dallas.” Kayla’s voice is so small as she twists to
look up at me again. Just like that, all my anger dissipates as I see her fight tears again. “Did you even think what would have happened to me if you were shot? Do you think I can live through that a third time? Someone dying on me?” My throat closes up as I feel the sudden urge to cry with her. Her pain is so strong, so pure, it almost feels as if it is my own.

  “Kayla, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just reacted.” I don’t know what to say, how to make it up to her. While I was too busy worried about who was behind the wheel of that car, Kayla was staring wide eyed at a scene that could have ended very badly. She could have seen what I saw three months ago.

  “I want to find them too, Dallas. I want to find justice too. But not at the expense of your own life. Don’t act so irrationally again. Promise me.” Kayla steps forward so she’s nearly a foot away from me now. She keeps her arms wrapped around herself. Her lips are turning blue, and I can hear the clatter of her teeth as they rattle.

  “You have my word.” And she does. I wasn’t thinking about her. I was being selfish, and I thought about my own wants and my own needs. What Kayla was feeling and experiencing didn’t cross my mind, and I’m ashamed to admit that. “And I am sorry for yelling at you. I have no right telling you what to do.” I reach forward to grab one of her cold hands and bring her even closer. I gather her second hand and cup them between my own. I lift our joint hands and blow hot air onto her chilled fingers. Kayla lets out a sigh of relief. From my promise or my attempt to warm her up, I do not know.

  I lead Kayla to the Jeep, my eyes instinctively darting around our surroundings, in search for any form of danger. Kayla climbs into the passenger seat, and I take my spot in the driver’s. I turn on the car and blast the heat before I turn and gather her in my arms. I rub my hands up and down her back, trying to cause friction to warm her.

  “It was silly of me not to bring a coat,” she whispers, her words shaky as she shivers.

  “I should have warned you. It’s on me as well.” Even though I am only wearing a button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, I am not cold. The adrenaline rush ensured that I was well heated.

  When Kayla’s shivering subsides, I decide to drive her home. She stays seated in the car once I shift into park. Kayla looks over at me. “This was by far the best date ever, aside from the little mishap. Thank you so much, Dallas.” She leans over the console to place a brief kiss to my lips. I close my eyes and savor the feel of her kiss. I could live off that one kiss.

  “Anything for you, Kay.” I lift a hand and touch her cool cheek. It’s still not warm, even though the heat is on full blast. I silently pray she doesn’t get sick. I rub my thumb over her cheekbone as I stare into her beautiful hazel eyes. “I love you, Kayla.” The words are a soft whisper, yet they are the truth. After everything that has happened today, I know that they are.

  “I love you, Dallas Perkins. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” With a final kiss, Kayla slides out of the Jeep and runs inside. I see puffs of air surround her as she breathes through the cold air.

  I’ve always hated winter.

  “How was it?” my mother asks as I drop my keys in the dish that we use to keep our car keys on the kitchen counter. I give my mom a hug, and she gives me a tight squeeze.

  “It was great. Perfect, actually.” I decide not to tell my mom about the black SUV. I don’t want to trouble her during the holidays. “I told Kayla I love her.”

  My mom gasps, her eyes wide as she clasps her hands together. “Oh, Dallas! That’s great! Did she say it back?”

  “Yes. She loves me too, Ma,” I say, rolling my eyes. My mom lets out a squeal of joy, and I’m astonished to see her so happy. I haven’t seen her smile this widely since before Kyle’s death. It’s refreshing and well needed.

  “Oh, bless that girl. How she puts up with you, I will never know.” Her joke is nothing short of the truth. I’m still shocked that Kayla puts up with me as well.

  I don’t deserve her.

  “Well, I’m going to bed. Thanks for waiting up.” I had told her not to wait for me when I was on my way out, knowing that she goes to bed around 8:00. But I am surprisingly happy that she’s here and I was able to tell her about my evening.

  I place a kiss on my mother’s cheek and run up the stairs until I enter my room. I very quickly unbutton my shirt and pants, pulling off my clothes. I neatly fold them and set them on my dresser to deal with tomorrow. Dressed only in my boxer briefs, I peel back my covers and slide into bed. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.

  Once my head hits the pillow, I drift into a tossing dream.

  “Dallas, no!” Kayla yells behind me, but I don’t listen. I completely ignore her pleas, even though a voice in my head tells me to do as she says. Stay with her. But I keep running, weaving through the tombstones, even leaping over some of them as I charge to the gate of the cemetery.

  I shove it open and sprint to the parking lot, where the large SUV sits, waiting for me. I look into the windshield and see two males sitting in there. One completely unrecognizable and one familiar. But I tell myself that it’s not possible. There’s no way it could be him.

  As I sidle up next to the SUV, I open the driver’s door and grab the faceless man. I throw him to the ground and then fall to my knees to punch him. The punches are fast and ruthless. I can hear the thumping echoing through the cold December air.

  I can hear the cries of Kayla, begging me to stop and come back. But again, I ignore them. I continue to punch the man until my hands are bloodied, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or his. Remembering the second guy, I spin up to my feet and make a step to the car only to stop as the barrel of a 9mm is aimed right between my eyes. My body freezes. My blood runs cold, and I am faced with the frightening reality that I am going to die.

  My eyes flicker over to who is holding the gun, and right when I take in his face, the trigger is pulled, and a loud, resonating boom sounds.

  I gasp, throwing my twisted comforter off my bed, panting as sweat drips down my forehead. I’m overheated; however, goosebumps rise on my skin as chills run down my spine. Eyes wide, I look at the foot of my bed to see Kyle standing there, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. Kyle nods his head. In confirmation? In understanding? “Kyle…” I go to ask if who I saw in my dream was correct, but I don’t get a chance. With one final tear shed, Kyle disappears in front of me.

  I feel my breathing become short as I begin to hyperventilate. I look around my room, trying to figure out what to do. I’m having a panic attack. Of course I’m having a panic attack. Anyone who just dreamed about their best friend killing their brother—killing me, actually—would be having one.

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  3:17

  *Kayla*

  December 24, 2015

  My phone alarm goes off, pumping out the lyrics of “Radioactive,” by Imagine Dragons. I groan, rolling over to throw my hand onto my dresser, searching for my phone to answer whoever is calling. There’s only one person who would be calling me so late at night.

  “What’s up, Anne?” I mumble into the phone, not caring that I most likely sound as if I am dying.

  There is silence at the other end of the phone, apart from ragged breathing. I feel my brows dip as I begin to assume the worst. Is her mom in the hospital? Did Tyler break up with her? Is she dying?

  “…Kayla…” I quickly sit up as my heart begins to pound at the shaky voice on the other side of the line.

  “Dallas?” I whisper, looking over at my night stand to read my clock. 3:17 AM. “Are you all right?” I ask, already knowing that he isn’t. Why else would he be calling me at this hour? It surely isn’t to talk about this awful weather.

  “No. I-I…I had this dream…c-can you—” I am already throwing the covers off of me and swinging my legs off the bed. I bolt toward my closet to grab a sweatshirt and sweatpants. I slip on a pair of Bearpaw boots, pressing the phone between my sho
ulder and ear as I do so.

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes.” I hang up and shove my phone into my sweatpants’ pocket. Without hesitation, I run out of my room and try to be as quiet as possible as I hurry down the stairs. Grabbing my coat, keys, and purse on my way out, I exit the house, shivering at the cold air.

  Once I get into my car, I jam the key into the ignition and start the car. I don’t even bother to buckle in as I back out at an unsafe speed and throw my car into drive. I race to Dallas’s home as if I have a time limit. And if I don’t make it, I’ll never see him again.

  What happened? What made Dallas so shaky? Why is he crying? My heart tightens. I don’t like it when he cries, because Dallas isn’t the crying type. So when he does, he becomes so vulnerable and insecure.

  I pull into his driveway the same moment he runs out of the house. His head is bowed, jogging to the passenger side of the car. He slides in. “Drive,” he whispers. I quickly oblige, backing out and driving us somewhere private.

  The park.

  Once I park the car, I turn to Dallas to see him staring down at his clasped hands in his lap. I open my mouth to ask what is wrong but then snap it shut.

  He’ll talk when he’s ready.

  Instead I reach over and gently grab one of his hands. I rub my fingers over his knuckles, just like he’s done to me so many times. I hope I am bringing him comfort through this small action, the same comfort that he always brings me.

  After a few minutes, Dallas lifts his head and looks over at me, his eyes watery. “I think Mikey killed Kyle.” My thumb ceases movement as I become stock still. My eyes widen as I suck in a breath, staring at Dallas with complete and utter confusion.