More Than A Memory

Kayla and I watched from the school from a distance, waiting for the recess bell to ring and all the youngsters to go inside. Even teenagers can enjoy a spin on a merry-go-round, sliding down a slide, or trying to fly higher than one another on swings. Who says we have to grow up so fast? This was our daily routine.

“Smells like rain,” Kayla commented taking deep breaths of air and smiling. I nodded my assent.

“Looks like rain,” I murmured, observing the dark gray sky overhead. Thunder rumbled, sounding close. “Sounds like it, too.”

Kayla squealed and clapped her hands together. Playgrounds bring out our inner child, but playgrounds mixed with rain and you get inner child on a sugar high. I smiled, her excitement contagious. She began to nearly bounce in place as the loud ringing bell sounded and children started to line up. I laughed, even though I was almost just as excited.

Once all the kiddos were gone, all doors to classrooms were shut, Kayla and I ran towards the tall, chain link fence surrounding the school. We climbed quickly and nimbly, having years of practice at climbing this particular fence. I think we started this tradition of ours six years ago, when Kayla was ten and I was twelve. I hope this tradition stays with us forever. Kayla is my best friend.

Kayla and I jumped from the top and started an unspoken race for the swings. Kayla was smaller, and a much faster runner. She was very athletic in school; part of track, soccer, and on the softball team. I was more of the brainy nerdy sister. I got almost all A’s, I didn’t get into trouble too often, and science club was my niche.

“I win!” Kayla sang as she jumped in a swing.

“You- always- win!” I gasped as I got to the swings. She just laughed.

“Betcha I can go higher, too!” she challenged.

“You are so on.”

I slipped onto the swing next to hers and on three we began to pump our legs as hard as we could. We stayed at a fairly even height until her lightness in weight became her advantage. She began to practically fly. She looked so free.

“You win, you win!” I shouted and laughed.

We both let our heights drop to a certain level before leaping out of the swings and landing in a pile of laughter. When we were able to stand again, we ran to the middle of the field where the kids played things like soccer and kickball and just laid there. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sounds and smells around me. I heard the wind blow through the trees and grass, Kayla’s even breathing, and the steady rumbles of thunder. I smelled the clouds and impending rain they held and the sweet scent of the grassy field.

I gasped and opened my eyes as the rain began to fall. It was so sudden, even though I knew it was coming any moment if the volume of the thunder was any indication. Kayla started laughing again and got up to just dance in the rain. Her energy was just too infectious not to join in.

“Rain, rain stay and play! Don’t you ever go away!” Kayla sang as she twirled and whirled around. It was raining fairly hard and we were both already soaked, even though it had been rain mere minutes.

“Kayla, I’m going to pop into that bathroom real quick,” I told her. She just nodded and continued to dance.

I sprinted to the bathroom and made use of a stall. When I came out to wash my hands, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and had to laugh. I looked ridiculous! I began to make faces at myself until I heard a sound that made my blood run cold. Five loud gunshots rang outside above the sound of the rain. I tried to tell myself it was only thunder, but my logical side told me there was a distinct difference in the noises.

Immediately, in the span of seconds that passed after the shots, my mind went to Kayla. Was she okay? I ran out of the bathroom and overlooked the field; not a soul in sight. My heart literally stopped beating and time slowed down to a stop as I saw a familiar lump in the field.

“Kayla,” I whispered shakily. The whisper turned to a scream. “KAYLA!”

I ran towards what was unmistakably my sister’s unmoving body. Her light gray shirt was soaked with a mixture of blood and rain. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she was sleeping. Desperately I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, my mind and emotions running on two separate sides. She had to wake up.

“Sweetie, sweetheart come here,” said a voice in my ear.

I was pulled into the arms of an older woman, rain pouring down on us. I tried to push her away, I had to wake up Kayla. I was too weak, though. I realized I was crying. I furiously wiped at the tears and turned my head to look at Kayla.

“Wake up!” I screamed. “Wake up, this isn’t funny!”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t move. My heart was pounding in my ears and sticking in my throat all at the same time. This was all so surreal; it couldn’t be happening. I had to be dreaming. My best friend, my little sister.. That’s not her lying on the grass covered in blood.

There were people talking, shouting, all around me. I was so confused. Words and sentences blurred together until I didn’t know who was talking to who anymore. I was just a third party observer. A living statue.

“Have you found out who the victim is?” The question came from a man in a black uniform. He had a badge pinned on his chest. Police officer.

“I tried to ask her, but she’s clammed up. I think it’s the shock setting in. From the looks of the two, I would guess they’re sisters.” The woman who answered was the same who pulled me away from Kayla. I noticed now she wasn’t so old, early thirties at most. She had an arm around me. “Is the other girl going to be ok?” she asked.

“Paramedics have done all they could. The gunshots were fatal. One skimmed the heart, another punctured a lung, and the third ruptured her stomach.” The officer frowned and shook his head.

I wanted to scream. They were all talking about Kayla like she was dead. She’s just playing a joke, a horrible joke. Anytime now she will just pop up and say, “Gotcha!” Any minute now. I just have to wait for it..

“Honey, it’s time. Are you ready?” my mother said from the doorway to my room.

“Ready for what?” I asked, a smile on my face.

Mother frowned and gently led me out of my room. I followed her all the way to the car, where Dad sat behind the wheel. She buckled me in, like I was three and couldn’t do it myself. Vaguely I wondered where Kayla was and why no one thought to go get her, too.

Next thing I know, Mother is pulling me in a church. Strange, I thought. I wasn’t aware it was Sunday.. We sat in the first pew on the left. People filed in and sat down. Everybody was wearing black, like it was some sort of funeral. Reverend Phillips took the podium when everyone was seated and began talking about Kayla’s life. I snorted mentally. I could tell everybody about her better.

A slow confusion began to set in. Why did Mom leave the house without even asking about Kayla? Why is Reverend Phillips talking about her as if she was dead? My heart started pounding painfully. I concentrated very hard on breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t hyperventilate. There was an open coffin in the center of the stage, where Reverend Phillip’s podium normally stood.

Without warning I stood and ran to the coffin. My mouth fell agape when I saw Kayla lying in it. Somewhere in the church someone was screaming, loudly. The shrill noise was hurting my ears, my throat.. I was screaming. It was me.

“No, no, no, NO!” I screamed. Dad caught me midair as I tried to jump in the casket. “She’s not dead! She’s not dead! Not my sister!”

Things seemed to slow down, like someone hit the slow-motion button on their DVD remote. All sounds were cut off to my ears, though I was aware that I was still screaming. Mother was crying on the floor where I once stood. Dad was dragging my screaming and thrashing body from the church. I felt again like I was dreaming. I had to be.

“Darling, I think you need to visit a therapist,” Mother said sitting on my bed. I lay there, curled in a ball, waiting to wake up from the nightmare of my life.

“Why on Earth would I do that, Mother?” I asked, my voice void of emotion. Lifeless. Like Kayla. Like this strange alter-reality I’ve fallen into. Like me.

“To fix whatever is wrong with you!” Mother threw her hands up in exasperation. “You lay in bed all the time. You hardly eat. You’re not living. You’re not coping. I just think some therapy can fix this.”

“You can’t fix me, Mother!” I shouted, glaring at her. She jumped at my sudden outburst. “I’m not broken! I’m not some little trinket you can have fixed! I’m a human being!”

I was crying before I’d finished yelling. It was like it had dawned on me: I’m not dreaming. This isn’t some practical joke of Kayla’s. She’s gone, buried deep in the ground. Mother held me as I sobbed. Kayla’s gone and I’m still here, all that’s left are memories.