The Brandywine Prophet

3.5 Whitaker & Reid

In the golden-hour of evening, where the sun was just behind the horizon but its glow still bathed the world in shadowless light, Hyde pulled himself home. His house was only a hop-skip-and-a-jump from Will’s, but he killed time by meandering through the most recent development of homes, admiring the subtle differences in the layouts and petting the Johnson’s Sheltie. “Do you smell Giggles on my leg? Do you smell girl-dog?” he said in a baby voice and pet the dog’s head vigorously through the fence.

The Brandywine neighborhood had so much potential. There could be block parties, garage-sales, community wide philanthropies... Before Easter, he had big plans to invite his block to a barbecue; to organize a new poker night and a new bible study. 

His yard was green and needed a haircut. He liked the sound his sneakers made when he walked through the grass; a kind of swish-swoosh swish-swoosh that distracted him--momentarily--from the bad news he had to tell Kayla.

She wouldn’t be asleep. She never slept anymore. She would be pacing the living-room with The Food Network keeping her sane. Every so often she would try to calm herself with a puzzle on the dining room table, sorting first by edge pieces, then by color, then twisting those little cardboard pieces until they slid together and she would “ah ha” every single time. Pacing and puzzles became new sports in the Whitaker-slash-Reid household, and Kay earned the gold every night. 

He took the shortcut from the driveway through baby trees held down with twine and stakes by hopping from one stepping stone to the next. He passed Kayla’s Garden of Engraved Phrases; twelve stones and counting. She found phrases and expressions that were meaningful to her and carved them permanently in stone with that fancy machine. One said: Always laugh when you can. It’s cheaper than medicine. Another: Life is not the amount of breaths you take, it’s the moments that take your breath away. Or one of her favorites: A smile is the beginning of peace.

One glance through the window and he knew his prediction was right. The fifty-two-inch LCD screen played The Food Network in glorious high definition while Kayla--dressed in pink pajama pants and white robe--walked circles around her thousand-piece Noah’s Ark puzzle. Her hair frazzled away from it’s tight curls.

“Tell me you love me,” she said and greeted him at the door. Her frail arms touched his face and dragged down his shoulders.

“I love you,” he said.

“Do you mean it?”

“Do you really need to ask me that?”

“Tell me you did it. Tell me you convinced him.”

Hyde took her hands in his and pulled them away from his face. “You’re overreacting.”

“Tell me you made him stop.”

“I--”

Kayla beat her balled fist against his ribs, just once. “Tell me this is over.”

“I tried, but he won’t stop.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You’re overreacting, sweetie.”

“If this stage... if Will...”

“Breath, Kay.”

“If I have to spend the next six months watching him build that stage, afraid that he’ll find out...”

“He won’t.”

“Why did you let it go this far? Why didn’t you stop it when you could?”

Hyde kicked off his sneakers by the specified shoe-mat. “We’ve been over this. I thought it would die down. After he announced it at the piano bar... what could I do?”

Kayla pulled his shoulder and spun him around. “When he finds out it was you... when he finds out it was my voice... when he finds out it wasn’t God that spoke to him...”

“What’s the worst that could happen? He’ll be pissed. He’ll be mad at us and his feelings will be hurt. We didn’t do anything illegal, Kay. We’re not going to jail.”

“He’s pouring millions of dollars into this project based on a prank!”

“It wasn’t a prank.”

“What if they all find out?”

“You’re being paranoid. Breathe, honey.”

“I am breathing!”

“Do I need to get the pillow case?”

“I’m fine!” 

Hyde grabbed her wrist and led her to the couch. “We’re not talking until you calm down.”

“Those...” she gasped for air.

“Calm, Kay-Kay.”

“Those...” A cluster of succedent breaths stopped her again.

“Kayla. Honey. Look at me.” He grabbed her cheeks and held her gaze. “Breathe normal or I’m getting the pillow.” He held his hand against her chest as if he could somehow steady her breathing.

A minute passed. Kayla was calm. “Those speakers are still in the stables,” she said.

“They’re small. I showed them to you.”

“But if he finds just one...”

“He’s never in the shed anymore. He’s too busy with the new plans to work on the piano. When I get a chance--”

“Tell him we were drunk. We had a bottle of wine and you were testing out some new equipment--”

“I can do that if it’s what you want.”

“It’s that easy?”

Hyde watched the seconds on the antique cuckoo clock. “No. It’s not that easy.”

Kayla’s eyes clamped together and her mouth formed a silent “o” as if she was howling some painful song. Her neck curled down, her face fell into his chest, and Hyde felt tears searing through his shirt and onto his skin.

“Tell me you love me,” she said.

He watched the clock. In thirty-seconds, that bird would spring out of his tiny wooden box and announce eleven.

“Hyde?” she said again. “Tell me you love me.”