That Year

That Year: Conclusion

22

I’m in an endless area surrounded by bright white light all around me. Confused I continue to walk with no clear destination in mind. The ground below me transforms into bright lush green grass. I continue walking. The area above me transforms into a cloudless blue sky with the sun so bright that I have to shield my eyes from it with my arm. I continue walking until I trip and fall onto the grass. From the ground I turn around to see what I tripped over. “Are you okay,” Kayla asks me lying on her back holding back laughter from my fall. The moment doesn’t feel authentic because I’m aware that Kayla has died from the accident. I don’t even think about questioning where I am because I don’t care. All I know is that I’m with Kayla now.  I move closer to her and like her lie on my back looking above at the blue, cloudless sky. She takes my hand and grabs it. I want this to last forever, but it doesn’t. Abruptly, I don’t feel her hand against mine. I turn and she is gone. Fighter jets fly past me from above, leaving a trail of white streaks in the blue sky. I hear sounds of bombs going off in the distance. I open my eyes. My parents look down at me. I lay in pain on a hospital bed. “What happened,” I ask. “You were in an accident, you been out for two weeks,” my mom responds. “Kayla died, didn’t she,” I ask. My mom and dad both look down at the floor beneath them.

With crutches I walk down Kayla’s driveway. When I reach the front door, I knock. Kayla’s dad opens the door. “I’m so sorry,” I say tears crawling down my face uncontrollably. He opens the door wider to let me in. I close the front door behind me, and follow Kayla’s dad into the living room. I take a seat on the green linen couch placing my crutches at my side. “It wasn’t your fault. She loved you, you know. I never seen her that happy before,” he says taking a gulp from a can of beer clutched in his hand.

I let the natural silence ensue between us. I know it wasn’t my fault, someone in the car behind our limousine fired something in his hand and it all happened so fast after that. I’m certain the outlined figured I made out that night whom fired at our limousine was Joey Fontane but I don’t know for sure. “I loved her,” I say unable to hold back tears. “Let me get you a beer,” Kayla’s dad says getting up from the couch and into the kitchen. His body language is of a man who is defeated. He hands me a can of beer. “Kayla is buried at Hill Cemetery.” “Or that’s what we try to tell ourselves because her body,” he says before I interrupt him. “I understand,” I say. He takes another gulp of the beer in his hand. “Do you need directions for where it is,” he asks. “No. I know where it is”. I only know because it’s the same cemetery where Mrs. Snow was buried. I hear the front door open. I grab my crutches and walk toward the front door to Kayla’s mom. I drop my crutches on the floor and hug her. She hugs me back while she sobs. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her ear.

I stand in front of Kayla’s grave covered with an abundant amount of flowers. In silence I look down. If this is what life is, I want no part of it.

I walk with the assistance of my crutches among a crowd of students all heading toward the front entrance of the school. “Matt,” someone shouts at me. Caroline walks toward me. “I heard what happened, I’m sorry,” she says. “What is it Caroline,” I ask. “You been gone for two weeks, I should get you caught up,” she says. I continue walking saying nothing. “The rest of the team is dead. Fontane attacked the school. This time it was more personal.” I scratch an itch on my scruffy beard. The physical and mental pain and being out for two weeks hasn’t given me the motivation or the time to care about my appearance. “What are you talking about Caroline?”

 “Joey Fontane and his gang roamed the hallways took out our team and randomly shot and killed students in classrooms and hallways.” I throw my crutches and toss them to the side in anger. “Don’t you need those,” she asks. “Forget me show me the footage from the surveillance cameras.” “Matt I checked the footage, that’s how I know what happened,” she says. “I limp slowly away from her. She catches up to me. “I want to see it so I could feel the pain of what happened,” I say.