Enlightened

by Charlotte Michelle

  “W-what?” I stutter, my own fear of his accusation taking over. He thinks Mikey killed Kyle? But how? Mikey loved Kyle. He absolutely adored that kid.

  Kyle would always tell me about how “awesome Dallas’s friends are” and how “Mikey is another big brother.”

  “I saw two people sitting in the car at the cemetery. I didn’t exactly recognize them, since I was so blinded by rage and adrenaline. However, when I was dreaming, my subconscious recognized the person sitting in the passenger seat. The driver was completely blurred out. Kayla…Mikey shot me in the head…” Dallas’s voice catches at the end as a sob wracks through him. I reach over and sink my fingers into his short hair, bringing him close to hug him. Dallas wraps his arms around me, crying into my shoulder.

  It is common that dreams shine a light on what we personally can’t perceive. It’s our brain remembering what was right in front of us, something we were just too naïve to register.

  “But Dallas…” I cup his face between my hands and lift his head, looking into his beautiful, shimmery blue eyes. “Mikey doesn’t have a tattoo…” I whisper, trying to find a way to clear Mikey’s name. I don’t want Dallas to have to think that his best friend killed his brother. I don’t want that kind of pain for him. There has to be some other reason that Dallas dreamed Mikey was the murderer.

  “I thought about that too…” Dallas wipes his tears away. “But remember what Kyle said. We do and we don’t know who the killer is. There were two people in that SUV, Kayla. We know Mikey. Perhaps we don’t know the other man.” Dallas’s logic leaves me silent.

  I have nothing to say to deny him. His reasoning makes perfect sense. Everything that Kyle had told us makes absolute sense.

  He’s here. Mikey was at Lake Michigan with us.

  Yes and no. We know Mikey. We don’t know the second guy.

  He’s dark skinned. Perhaps from being in the sun too much. From what I can tell, he’s stocky.

  “What did the second male look like? What was his build?” I ask Dallas. He frowns, looking out the windshield as he tries to recollect the memory.

  “Broad shouldered. Looked as if he was security for the President of the United States.”

  Well, that’s a good way of saying he’s stocky…because Mikey definitely is not stocky.

  So Kyle has been telling us about Mikey and this unknown killer the whole time. Does Kyle know who the second man is? Is there a reason why he would want Kyle dead? Is there a reason Mikey would want Kyle dead?

  I just don’t get it…It doesn’t make any sense…

  “What are you going to do?” I ask Dallas. He just shakes his head and leans it back against the headrest. His eyes droop closed, and I know he’s tired. Crying usually leaves one exhausted.

  “He’s been my best friend since elementary school, Kayla. He practically watched Kyle grow up. Why would he kill him?” Dallas turns his head to meet my eyes. I sigh and shake my head. I honestly don’t have an answer for him. I desperately wish I did, though.

  There is only one way to find out if Mikey really did kill Kyle. And that is to ask Kyle himself. However, we cannot summon Kyle whenever we want to speak to him. We must wait until he shows up. Who knows how long it will be until his next visit?

  I reach over and grab Dallas’s hand again, bringing it up to kiss the inside of his palm. “We’ll figure this out. But we have to be certain before we accuse him. We have no evidence,” I say.

  No matter how much I want justice for what had happened to Kyle, we have to be able to prove it was Mikey. We can’t very well say that the ghost of Kyle Perkins told us.

  “I know. But I will find the evidence needed. I will make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life.” My throat closes at Dallas’s words as tears well in my eyes. I can’t imagine the pain he must be feeling. Mikey was his friend. His brother. And now he’s nothing to him. Nothing but his brother’s murderer.

  I dropped Dallas off at his house around five in the morning. We spoke for nearly two hours, trying to find solace in the new information.

  How am I going to enjoy the holidays with this new revelation? All I can think about is Mikey and the gun he aimed at Kyle’s chest. How could he pull the trigger? Does he feel any remorse? How could he have continued to act like Dallas’s best friend, knowing he’s the one who brought on his grief?

  I growl, gripping my fork tightly in my hand until I feel the metal slightly bend at my force. I am seething.

  “Kayla!” I drop the fork and look up to see my mom standing in front of me, her eyebrows arched in concern. “What are you doing?” she asks. I return my attention to my half-eaten pancakes and bent fork.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, flicking my eyes to the left to see Katie staring at me with a horrified expression. I bet I’m just a sight right now. I probably have bags under my eyes from the five hours of sleep I got. I haven’t even showered yet. I woke up to the smell of pancakes, and for a moment, everything else was forgotten.

  “I was asking if you would mind taking Katie to see the Naper Lights next Thursday. I have to work, and it’s the last day they have them,” my mom says, sitting down at Kyle’s usual spot.

  My eyes instantly zero in on the infinity sign carved into the table, and I feel a new set of tears rising. I nod my head to clear my thoughts. “Yeah, sure.” My voice is hoarse with emotion, and I quickly take a bite of my pancakes, desperately trying to get in check.

  “Great. Well, it’s Christmas Eve. I invited the Perkins over for dinner again,” my mom says, and I jerk my head in her direction. Why am I just now being told about this?

  “You did?” I mumble the same instant my phone buzzes. I look down to see a message from Dallas.

  Seems like we’re having Christmas Eve dinner together. I’ll be by early to help set up. Thank you for last night. Love you. XX

  A small smile tugs on my lips, and I let out a sigh, telling myself that it will be okay. We can forget about Mikey for the next two days. Christmas is about family, and Mrs. Perkins definitely needs us to be there for her.

  “Well, we might as well start getting ready.” I rise to my feet and dump my food in the trash before I set the plate in the sink. I exit the kitchen and head upstairs to get ready for Christmas Eve dinner.

  I have exhausted all my choices of clothing. Apparently, I only have three fancy outfits. The rest are casual or down right bum-worthy. I need to go shopping and restock my closet, especially if my mother is going to insist on having more “Perkins-Williams dinners.”

  Running a hand through my damp hair, I sigh and exit my closet. I’ll have to raid Katie’s wardrobe. We’re practically the same size…

  I find a black and white dress that is two sizes too big for Katie—the perfect size for me. That being my only option, I rip it off the hanger and sulk into my bedroom. This dress is just too fancy for me. I prefer the sweater dresses, not the silk strapless Homecoming-styled dress.

  The dress is beautiful, I have to admit. Katie has marvelous taste. The top is two layered and black, the front layer forming a “V” while the back is risen so no cleavage is shown. The waist is narrowed with a sewn-in belt. The skirt is white with black crisscrosses, looking similar to a tic-tac-toe board.

  Okay, I’m not doing the dress any justice by describing it. I’m not good with this sort of thing. Dresses typically all look the same to me.

  I curl my hair, just as I had for Thanksgiving, and apply light makeup. I put on black flats before I head downstairs, seeing Dallas sitting on the bottom step. His head is placed in his hands, and I feel my heart drop to my stomach.

  My sweet, troubled Dallas…

  From behind, I can see his hair is perfectly gelled into his usual style, off to the side with a subtle wave. He’s wearing a maroon dress shirt that is tucked into black slacks, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He certainly prefers that style.

  I sit next to Dallas on the step and wrap an arm around his waist. He leans into me, resting his head on my shoul
der. He silently cries, for I feel him shake against me.

  My broken Dallas…I place a kiss on the top of his head and then press my cheek into his slightly stiff hair. Dallas loops an arm around my waist and holds onto me.

  This is not how Christmas Eve is supposed to go.

  “It’s going to be all right,” I whisper softly into his ear. I try to comfort him. I don’t want my mom or Katie to see him like this. They’ll ask questions, and Dallas isn’t ready for that. How could he be? What would he even say? The truth would lay heavy on his tongue. He’ll want desperately to tell the truth, to throw Mikey into prison.

  “I’m sorry that I’m such a mess. I’m ruining the holidays.” Dallas sits up straight and brushes his tears away, looking across the hallway into the living room.

  “It’s all right, Dallas. Never apologize for crying.” I rub my hand up and down his back, trying to soothe his hiccupping sobs. No tears are being shed, but he keeps shaking and jerking as if to release another current.

  “My mother deserves a carefree Christmas. I just had to cry it out. I’m good now. Everything will be perfect for her. Thank you for being my safe haven, Kayla.”

  A sad smile forms on my lips as I lean over to kiss his cheek. “You’re welcome, Dallas.”

  Mrs. Perkins got her perfect, carefree Christmas. By the time dinner came along, Dallas had cheered up a bit, and some of his normal self was shining through. Mr. Perkins was silent the whole time, as usual. Katie maintained a conversation with Dallas and me while the two mothers chatted.

  It was just like Thanksgiving dinner.

  Except Kyle didn’t show up this time.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Two

  Confrontation

  *Kayla*

  December 31, 2015

  Christmas was monotonous. After Christmas Eve dinner with the Perkins, nothing really happened. Christmas morning, we opened presents, and even though I was thankful for everything I was given, my heart didn’t seem to be in it. Or maybe it was my head…I often drifted into thoughts of Kyle and Mikey, trying to piece everything together. I tried to come up with so many different scenarios as to why Mikey was in the SUV at the cemetery.

  Why was he involved in Kyle’s death, if he was involved?

  Perhaps Mikey had nothing to do with it. What if he was just driving the SUV and the passenger—the blurred man—decided to shoot Kyle? Or maybe Mikey was threatened? Did he have to kill Kyle? Was something hung over his head, forcing him to do it?

  Even the heart-wrenching thought of “maybe he wanted to kill Dallas and shot the wrong person” crossed my mind.

  I quickly dismissed that thought, however. I didn’t want to think of anyone wanting Dallas dead. There has been too much death in my life, and I don’t want to think about anyone else leaving me. That is why, when Dallas ran toward the SUV, I was faced with the possibility of him getting shot just like Kyle, and it scared me. Even though Dallas told me to stay put and it was the safest option for me, I had to follow him. I had to make sure he was going to be okay.

  I don’t want to live in a world where Dallas doesn’t exist.

  After Christmas, Dallas and I have gotten together to visit some of Kyle’s favorite locations so that he would reappear. We were surprised he never showed up for Christmas. It was always his favorite holiday, and we were all together, so why wasn’t he there?

  Kyle hasn’t shown his face since the night Dallas had his dream. We haven’t been able to get closure on what Dallas saw. Was it real? Or was it just a dream?

  Today is Thursday, and I promised my mom I’d take Katie to see the Naper Lights. It has been a tradition to go see them every year, and I wasn’t going to deprive Katie of that. I did, however, rope Anne, Tyler, and Dallas into coming with us. Dallas agreed willingly; we have spent nearly every waking hour together since that night. Anne was a little difficult. She said she would go, but we had to speak first.

  So I’m sitting on my bed with Anne standing in front of me, her hands on her hips. The look on her face has me worried. What does she want to talk about? I feel as if I’m about to be punished.

  “So…” I say, nodding my head and pressing my lips together, trying to subtly tell her to get on with this conversation. As much as I enjoy having her shoot daggers at me, I really would like to get to the Naper Lights.

  “Does Dallas…has Dallas…” Anne trails off, biting her bottom lip. “Has Dallas ever hit you?” My eyes grow wide at her question, and I stare at my best friend with complete and utter shock. Why would she ever ask something like that?

  “What?”

  “Hear me out. A few times, I’ve seen bruises on your arm. It’s usually just one, but when I saw you at the Dairy Queen, you guys were arguing, and you were holding your fists so tight that you started to bleed. Dallas must have said something, done something that made you mad enough to do that. And then there’s the fact that you’re always crying. I heard about him shoving you against the car, Kayla. I know how curt and rude he was to you after Kyle’s death. It’s a safe assumption to say he has a dark side. I just need to know if he has ever hurt you.” Tears roll down my cheeks as I look at Anne.

  Oh, sweet Anne. She is so innocent and selfless. But she’s got it all wrong. The bruises…they must have been from the times Kyle had punched me in the arm. Apparently ghostly punches can leave bruises. And the Dairy Queen scene…did it really look like we were arguing? I was holding my fists too tightly because Kyle just told us he knew who killed him. It angered me. And jeez, the crying. I feel like an emotional pregnant lady. I am crying nearly every day and again, the main reason is Kyle.

  “No. No, Anne. Dallas has never raised a hand to me. He loves me, Anne, and I love him.” I shrug my shoulders, smiling softly at her. She arches her eyebrows for a moment before she nods her head.

  “Okay. Here’s another one.” Anne grabs my desk chair and rolls it over so she can sit directly in front of me. Now I feel as if I am at a therapist meeting. “Why do you keep talking to thin air?”

  My jaw grows slack, my mouth falling open as I stare at Anne with disbelief and a little bit of fear. Fear because I don’t know how to answer her question.

  I wish Dallas was here. It’s his secret to tell as well…should I quickly call him and ask if it’s okay to tell Anne the truth? Because I desperately want to. I want an outsider to know what has happened to Dallas and myself.

  No, I don’t need to ask Dallas. He’ll be okay with it. I know he will be, because I’d be okay with him telling Tyler, if he so wished it.

  I bite my bottom lip. “You wouldn’t believe me,” I whisper.

  “Try me,” Anne defies.

  Sighing, I run a hand down my face and then blow a long raspberry, as if warming up for a long speech. “I’m not talking to thin air. I’m talking to Kyle. I know that doesn’t make any sense, and I’m sure you think I’m crazy. Believe me, Dallas and I both thought the same thing the first time we saw him. Kyle is dead, and yet we have been having conversations with him. He’s the one leaving me bruises…they’re just playful punches. And he’s the one who Dallas and I were having a heated conversation with at Dairy Queen. He said something frustrating, and it caused me to squeeze my fists too tightly. Kyle is the reason I cry all the time. Dallas and I have been trying to find his murderer because Kyle can’t find peace until we do so. And you probably think I am raving mad, don’t you?” I let out a gusty sigh and feel my shoulders hunch in relief. I never knew I had such weight on them, but telling this secret to Anne definitely lifted it.

  I watch Anne as her features turn blank. She doesn’t say anything, only turns her head to the side, and I see her eyes flickering around my room. The cogs spinning in her head are practically visible. What is she thinking?

  Probably that I am a lunatic and that I need psychiatric attention.

  “I knew it…” Her words are a hushed whisper, and I almost miss them. I lean forward, arching a brow.

  “What?”

  Anne t
urns her head to look at me, as if forgetting that I was there. I did just provide a lengthy explanation; how could she forget me being here?

  “Kayla, this is going to sound crazy…er…perhaps not, considering your situation. But I…I saw your dad.” For a long moment, everything goes still around us. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan provides a small noise to fill the silence as I stare wide eyed at my best friend.

  What did she just say?

  “What?” I ask again.

  “It was two years ago. Sophomore year…basketball season. I went to a basketball game. I was dating Travis, the small forward on the team. And God, I could have sworn I saw your father standing at the edge of the court. But there was no way…he was dead—” Anne cuts off, shaking her head. It’s as if a revelation has fallen over her, a new light shown.

  “What do you mean? You saw my dad at a basketball game? W-why? Why would you see him? Why at a game? Why?” My voice trembles as I look up at her, tears welling in my eyes. She saw my dad? Does that mean there was an opportunity to say goodbye to him? And I missed it?

  My bottom lip shakes as I try to keep tears from falling. I don’t want to cry; I have to get my answers.

  “Well, I wasn’t the only one to see him.”

  My head snaps up at her words, and I nod my head, telling her to continue.

  “Mikey saw him. They sort of locked eyes, and then your father left. Turned on his heels and walked out.”

  Mikey. Why would Mikey see my father? I can vaguely understand why Anne would; she practically grew up at my house. She was close with my father…he had a talent of being the “fun dad.” Everyone always preferred him over their own dads.

  What does Mikey have to do with my dad? What sort of connection was there? I know my father enjoyed watching the basketball games…Did they perhaps speak after games? Did they have some sort of loose friendship?