The Return

Chapter Thirty One

Saturday April 29th 2021.

Mayra's park was packed when Holly and Kyle got there in the evening, the setting sun softly glinting off the slide, kids running around pretending the floor was lava. There were babies in strollers kicking and wrangling and some crying. There were Dads on benches and Mom's stretching from the Pilates group that met up every Saturday.

They walked in pace; Kyle's hands stuffed in the pockets of his faded jeans. She more than once stole a glance at him and the plain black shirt he was wearing with the sleeve cut right over his bicep.

"Again, I'm sorry about ghosting you." He said as they walked along a trail. There were birds that hopped out of their way.

"Why did you do it? I went through all that trouble to get out—" She paused; a frown etched on her face. She shook her head as if second-guessing herself. It didn't matter. She was the one who ghosted Iris despite how much the girl went through. She wasn't going to judge Kyle for doing the exact same thing.  "You know what, forget it." She forced a smile and looked at him. In his eyes this time. "You're here now and we're talking and that's all that matters."

Why did she get the feeling he wasn't ready to drop it?

Reluctantly, he nodded.

They continued walking in a silence that wasn't awkward but felt... charged.

"I should have thanked you for getting me out of that dingy cell." He whispered hoarsely. "And I know that means you went to my Dad and he must have told you about my Mom and how I lied to you and..."

She thought back to the woman's picture over the spice rack. She didn't know the full story of what happened to Mrs. Lawrence, but she knew what Kyle wanted her to know... and what she found when she went through his website's archives. He had an article titled; My Dead Mother where he wrote extensively about the pain, he felt burying her.

"I shouldn't have lied... I just sometimes when the flashbacks and nightmares come, I can't tell the fucking difference and sometimes it's easier to give into the belief that she's still with me and if I try hard enough, I can stop her from getting on that plane." He continued.

"It wasn't her fault." She said quietly.

She took it upon herself to research PTSD and its symptoms. Just as a way to better understand him and the way his mind worked.

His head jerked in her direction. "She wouldn't have died if she hadn't gotten on that plane." A long pause. "She left everything behind all because she was chasing a better future."

Georgia left everything behind when she left Nigeria for the first time. She was lucky to survive the trip and build a life in Chicago, Kyle's mother wasn't as lucky and it wasn't because she chose to leave in the first place.

"What could have been better than what Dad and I could offer?" He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

He stopped.

She rubbed her arm watching him and the pain in his eyes.

Holly couldn't imagine what it was like to lose a family member. She was still grieving what she had with Iris.

"People hate it when I fall down the rabbit hole of what ifs. But what if I cared about her dumb newspaper company? Maybe then she wouldn't have gotten on that fucking plane looking for someone who cared."

She remained silent letting him vent. The least she could do was be a listening ear. He needed someone who wouldn't judge him for feeling, for grieving and something told her no matter how much Norman Lawrence wanted to he was too desensitized to do that for Kyle.

They walked again, up to a bench beneath a basswood tree. It cloaked them from onlookers with the way the branches reached out; overgrown.

The soothing scent of freshly cut grass from the trimmed foliage beneath Holly's feet was working wonders on her rattled nerves.

Kyle sat with his legs apart and elbows propped on his knees. He buried his face in his hands and sat there like that for several seconds, almost as if he were putting the pieces back together.

"I miss her. I miss how she would ramble over breakfast about what newspapers were likely to make a comeback..." His mouth opened and shut like he needed to say more.

Holly bit down on her bottom lip not sure what to do.

And then, she saw it.

She wanted to believe it was a reflection of light, her eyes playing tricks on her. It wasn't. Tears were welling up in his brown eyes and she felt a jab in her chest seeing them there.

He sat up, his back pressed against the bench. She had a better view of his face and his lips had a slight tremble. "It was hard when she left," He paused, his chest rising and falling with an effort like he was fighting a battle only he knew. "Dad was hardly ever home. We didn't talk about it much either." She couldn't miss the fact that he was still referring to her death as her leaving.

"What was her name?" Holly asked out of the blue. She needed to skirt the conversation to safer grounds. Happier grounds. She didn't like seeing this side of him. The broken side.

"Laila." He smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile that said no one has ever asked me that.

"What was she like?"

"Old fashioned. You would love her—" He paused. "Would have loved her."

"I'm sure I would." She placed her hand on his knee and smiled. It was a real smile. A warm and fussy I-forgive-you-for-ghosting-me smile. "And I can't speak for her, but anyone would be proud of who you've become. I am proud of you, Kyle." He looked at her hand and covered it with his. "I mean it. You're going out of your way to do this for her, to give her newspaper company a reason to live even if she's not here to see it. Not many people would do that in this day and age." That she knew for a fact. People were hardly in touch with their feelings anymore let alone willing to do sentimental things like posting a senior year article in a school newspaper that will live on for decades after they graduate.

She scooched closer to him relishing in the feel of his hand on hers and the way he was dragging it slowly up her bare arm.

For the first time, she was glad she stole Heaven's white tube top like they used to do when they were kids. How could she forget all the times she would simply walk into Heaven's room and take what she liked. She found herself reminiscing the days when things were simple.

He cupped her cheek and she leaned into his hand; her eyes fluttered shut. 

"Thank you," He whispered letting his tongue brush her lower lip.

"For what?"

"For being by myside."