Life After Kyle
chapter one.

I was sixteen when I got the worst news of my life.

I went to bed that night like I’d been going to bed the entire week. I was at camp, it was late, I was exhausted. I feel into a deep, dreamless sleep curled up in my sleeping bag and pressed against the smooth “cabin” wall.

“Alyssa, wake up.” I groggily rolled over, tangling myself in my sleeping bag which was sticking to the bare skin of my legs. “Alyssa, you have a phone call.”

“Call?” I heard myself ask, my voice sounding thick with sleep and disjointed from my body.

“Yes, a phone call. Get up, Alyssa.” I reached for the zipper of my sleeping bag, sliding it down and put my feet on the ground and stood up, nearly stumbling to the floor as my body searched for balance. I felt like a newborn foal; I knew it would fit my appearance well considering that I had had long, knobby legs my entire life. Nothing like a girl’s. The woman who had woke me up wrapped an arm around my waist for support and we started out into the dark.

Tomahawk Peak was one of the more popular places to camp and there was a small church camp that I attended every summer. There were no city lights as the moment camp curfew hit, the lights went off with the exception of the Main Building, the Bathrooms and the Gym. Those three places had little outdoor lights with just enough light for you to see. The owners didn’t want Tomahawk’s natural beauty ruined by artificial lights.

I let my head roll back, eyes at the sky, and I could see so many stars that I never saw at home. Orion, Cassiopeia, Cancer…I didn’t know my constellations, but it was always fun to see if I could. I could see the Big Dipper with the Northern Star shining brightly. It was constant and I smiled.

The woman led me to the office and as I passed the camp’s speaker, she looked at me sorrowfully. “I’m sorry.” She said, softly, and I shot her a bewildered look. What was she talking about?

The phone was handed to me, I was told it was my mother. “Mom, why are you calling me?”

“Alyssa?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“Oh, God, Alyssa. You need to come home.”

“What? Why? Mom, it’s Wednesday.” I was surprised I was this coherent.

“It’s…” My mother trailed off and her voice sounded choked. “It’s…”

“Is it Dad?” Fear struck me across the face, my heart fell to my feet and my stomach lurched up. “Is Dad okay?”

“Dad’s fine.” Mom said, sniffing loudly. “He’s on his way to get you right now.” The silence, the awkwardness. It was tangible across the line. “It’s Kyle.”

“Kyle?” I asked, softly. “What’s wrong with Kyle? Is he ok?”

“I…I don’t want to tell you over the phone, Alyssa. Dad should be there soon.”

“Mom, what’s wrong with Kyle? Is he ok? Mom? Mom! I need to know!” Kyle and I were close. He was four years older than me and I looked up to him like nothing else. He was always there for me. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t. I guess you could say he was my pillar. “Mom?”

The line was dead.

I gently placed the phone back into its cradle and I don’t quite remember what happened. I believe I was led back to the cabin where I packed my things by flashlight and gave my counselor a hug, before being led down to wait for my father. When he arrived, we put my things into the back and I sat in the passenger seat, dreading the ride home.

--

It was three thirty in the morning and the air was thick. I was worried sick about my twenty year old brother; was he sick? Was he in the hospital? Was he in a car crash? Or was he…dead? I didn’t want to think about it. I really did not want to think about the possibilities. I simply tried to sleep instead.

I woke up, at home, and my mother rushed out to greet us. Even though, what she had to say wasn’t much of a greeting. “Mom,” I said, as she pulled me against her body, fingers in my hair and hands pressing my head against her chest. “Mom, Mom, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle.” She said again, suddenly letting go and gravitating to my father. I scuffed my nearly bare foot in the ground, wondering if I could break the strap of my flip flop if I kicked any harder. What was my mother hiding from me? “He’s…”

I turned to my dad for answers instead, wishing for sunlight instead of the dark, midnight blue sky. “Daddy, what’s wrong with Kyle?” Dad didn’t say much, but reached for me in the dark and pulled me close beside him. “Daddy?”

“Alyssa, sweetie,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Kyle’s dead.” As he said those words, I blinked, disbelieving.

“Kyle’s dead?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “No he isn’t. I just talked to him this afternoon, right. He said hi and we were talking about the baseball game last Saturday. We always talk about baseball, Dad. He said he’d talk to me tomorrow; when it gets lighter, I’m going to call him and tell him that you and mom think he’s dead.” I said, laughing bitterly. Dad sighed and slowly began to usher my mother and me across our manicured lawn.

“No, sweetie,” Dad said, once again, pushing our heavy front door open. “Kyle’s dead.”

I didn’t know whether I was to believe him or not.