Kimberly's Story

That Sort Of Person

My thin fingers slap against my bed-side drawer, searching for the alarm clock button. I hit it, and then groggily rub my eyes. The after-effects of the drugs from Sam's place was definitely hitting me right about now. I stand to get ready, splashing ice-cold water on my face to wake myself up.

It was Saturday today. Thank God.

After getting ready, I quickly grab an apple off the kitchen table and sneak outside. It was such a pleasant morning. The sky was clear, and the air was slightly chilly. Having always been a Fall and Spring sort of person, this was as perfect as it could get.

Suddenly, I wonder if I should have somehow told Keith that I was sorry for standing him up after school yesterday. I simply couldn't go to him while I still probably smelled like Sam's cigarettes and liquor. It would crush me to have him think I was that sort of person.

Aren't you already that sort of person, though?, whispered the intimidating voice at the back of my head.

I ignore it, and then decide to walk over to his house. It was early, but I wasn't quite sure I would have the same early-morning confidence if I waited until later on. I walk up his stone pathway, and hesitatingly knock on his front door. It was quiet from the inside, no banging of pots or stomping footsteps. So different, I thought to myself.

The door swings open, and a middle-aged woman with the same dark chocolate hair and light brown eyes as Keith smiles at me. "Well, hello," she says, her voice clear and pleasant.

I swallow and say, "Um, hi. I was wondering if I could talk to Keith." I smile at her, nervously. It was the first time I had ever knocked on someone's door and asked to talk to someone like this.

The woman nods slowly and then her smile slowly disappears. "Ah, you must be the girl who lives next door," she says. Something in her tone suggested that she knew something about what went on inside my house. And I didn't like it, not one bit. Keith had promised that he wouldn't tell them anything that I had told him that morning before school. Then again, he had told me that they already had their suspicions.

Straightening my spine, I nod at her, waiting for her to lose the pitiful look she had smoothed onto her face. "So, is Keith here?" I ask with as much confidence as I could muster.

She nods slowly, again, and then tells me to wait a moment.

Exactly one minute and fory-five seconds later, Keith walks up to the door. His hair was slightly disheveled and he was wearing a simply gray t-shirt with casual baggy jeans.

I feel a strange sensation creep it's way up to my chest. "I'm sorry," I blurt out.

Keith raises an eyebrow and then closes the door behind him, gesturing for me to follow him to the large tree stump up the small hill. He doesn't say anything as we walk up there, and I immediately start jumping to conclusions.

Unable to bear the silence anymore, though I usually embraced it at home, I say, "Are you mad?"

He sits down at the stump and shakes his head. He looks up and it is then that I see the gentle smile on his face. "Why would I be?" He lets out a soft chuckle .

I feel my forehead crinkle and then say, "But I...I stood you up yesterday."

He leans back against the tree and takes a deep breath. "You did," he says sadly, "but I'm not angry at you for it. You obviously had a good reason for not meeting me. I understand that." Then he looks at me with his soft brown eyes, and I feel my confidence shake. "But I'd like to know what that reason is."

I look away from him, unable to think clearly with his too-gentle eyes gazing into mine. "I-I was..." I trail off, cursing myself over and over in my head for considering lying to him. To Keith, one of the most important people in the world to me. Maybe the only important person.