Depression
*Kayla*
September 26, 2015
It’s been three weeks since Kyle Perkins was killed. And while it gets easier with every day, it’s almost as if it’s a refresh on Saturdays. I half expect him to run through my front door, his backpack hanging on one shoulder. He would have a stupid grin on his face, and his blue eyes would be exceptionally bright.
I am reminded how much I relied on my time with Kyle on Saturdays. It was foolish of me to think for a second that I’d rather read than be with him. I’m glad I never cancelled a tutoring session, even when I was close to death with the flu.
Time is precious, and so are the people we fill it with.
I sit at the kitchen table, in the seat Kyle usually occupied. I dig my nail into the faint design Kyle had crafted three weeks ago. My mother wouldn’t notice it, but I know it is there and I seek out the design. I trace it until it is more prominent, and an infinity sign is staring back at me.
This design will forever be carved into the wood. As Kyle will forever be carved into my heart.
“Kayla.” I lift my head to see Katie standing in front of me. She has our mother’s blue eyes. Her hair is dirty blonde, growing darker with age. Soon she’ll enter high school and take it upon herself to dye her hair blonde.
I personally find the natural look to be absolutely stunning. Katie has a natural beauty. Hopefully she’ll understand that she won’t need makeup or all the stylish clothing to stand out. Her personality and skill as a dancer does that all on its own.
“Do you want to go to The Village Grind?” Katie asks. I arch an eyebrow, looking at the time. It’s one in the afternoon. She has rehearsal in twenty minutes. Why isn’t she dressed and ready to go?
“What about your dance—”
“I begged Mom to let me have the day off. I told her I wanted to spend time with you. Saturdays are going to be hard for a while, and I just want to help you through some of them,” Katie says, a small smile adorning her face. She truly is the most selfless thirteen year old I know. Young teenagers usually only want to hang out with friends and think spending time with family is dreadful. However, Kyle and Katie never saw it that way. Family is important to them.
Katie knew of Kyle. They had a few classes together, but they were never friends. Katie was never here when Kyle came over, she was always at rehearsal, but without a doubt, I know they would have been great friends.
“Okay. That sounds great. Thank you, Katie.” I reach over and pull her into a quick hug before I get to my feet and search for a pair of flip-flops.
“Can we drive with the top down?” I smile, nodding my head.
It’s going to start getting cold soon. So I take every opportunity I can get to drive with the top down. Even if I have to be decked out in a coat and hat.
Getting into my Solara, I hastily lower the top and wait for Katie to get in before backing out of the garage and down the driveway.
The drive to Oswego is a good fifteen minutes; however, listening to music seems to quicken the drive.
Katie doesn’t disappoint as she belts the lyrics to Twenty One Pilots’ new hit “Stressed Out.” It is one of our favorite songs. We listen to the new album, Blurryface, every time we get in the car together. Regrettably, I admit it is not as often as I’d hope.
Katie sang along to the song perfectly, never stumbling over the words.
We get to the small, quaint town of downtown Oswego. The buildings are old fashioned, and everyone knows everyone. It is more common than not to walk down the street and be given a few hellos from familiar faces.
I park in front of the coffee shop and decide to leave the top down as we file out of the car, after locking away my I-Pass and auxiliary cord in my glove compartment.
I open the door, and a gentle jingle of bells alerts our presence. Katie orders an Iced White Mocha Moe, and I decide to get the same thing, except hot. We both grab a pastry as well, and I hand over a twenty, telling the girl taking our order to keep the change.
Katie and I take our normal spot in the back of the shop, where we can’t be disturbed.
The Village Grind is a small shop built out of an old house. It has a rustic aura, and all around are elegant knickknacks. There are assortments of different table sets, ones you’d usually find in a 1990s kitchen. Everyone is so friendly, and there is a sense of hospitality here.
“How’s dance going?” I ask Katie. She shrugs her shoulders as she takes a bite of her pumpkin cake.
“It’s okay. I’m enjoying hip hop more than ballet, although Mother wishes it were the opposite,” she answers, taking a sip of her drink.
Katie is a remarkable dancer. I usually envy her. She is talented at something, has a passion for a talent that could turn into a career. All I have are my books and no idea for the future.
“You do what makes you happy, Kate. All that matters is your happiness. It’s your happiness that will bring you a promising future. Not Mother’s.”
Katie grins, shaking her head. I take a bite of my chocolate cake, smiling back at her. Katie and I have always gotten along; however, we aren’t necessarily close. She’s always busy dancing or with schoolwork, and I am typically hanging out with Anne or locked in my room with my nose in a book.
“Thank you, Katie, for taking me away from what would have been another very lonely Saturday.” Katie shrugs again, sipping at her drink.
“I don’t mind. Besides, a day away from dance was well needed,” she replies.
We’re silent for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. She sometimes takes out her phone to respond to a message but always ends up tucking it in her pocket. Katie isn’t the type of teenager who splurges on her phone while with family. She is respectful and truly wishes to spend time with the people accompanying her.
“How’s Dallas?” she suddenly asks. I lift my head and look into her blue eyes.
“He’s struggling. He’s trying to put up a good front for everyone. But I can see the inner battle he has every day. He’s having a hard time.”
“You need to be there for him, Kayla. He needs a friend,” Katie says, scratching an itch on her cheek.
“He has friends, Kate,” I reply. Honestly, I am the last person Dallas Perkins needs. He has made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
Aside from last Wednesday, when we had an actual conversation in the courtyard, all Dallas has spoken to me are threats. I’m not sure if that one moment in the courtyard changed anything or not. He hasn’t been to school since I suggested he take the rest of the week off to help his mother.
Come Monday, will he look at me as a friend? Or am I still the girl who killed Kyle in his eyes? I am secretly dreading Psychology, where we’ll be in the same room together.
“His friends don’t understand his loss.”
“No. No. Tyler and Mikey were close to Kyle. They feel the burden of the loss on their hearts as well. I can assure you that,” I respond.
Katie opens her mouth but is cut off by my ringtone. I grab my phone from the table and furrow my brows.
“It’s Mrs. Perkins. I’m sorry, Katie. It’ll just take a moment.” I stand, answering the phone, and hold it to my ear. “Hello, Mrs. Perkins.”
“Kayla. Oh, thank goodness. Is Dallas with you?” I’m shocked by her question. Why would Dallas be with me?
“No. He’s not.”
“It’s just that I know you guys are getting closer, and I figured you might know where he is. He walked out of the house early this morning and hasn’t returned.”
I look over at Katie, who seems to sense the tension. Her spine is straight as she arches an eyebrow. I offer her a small smile to reassure her. However, I am nervous. Dallas is missing, two weeks after Kyle’s death. He’s broken and alone. He could do something stupid. He probably is doing something stupid.
“Do you know where he could be?” she asks, bringing me back to the present.
“Yes. I have an idea. I’ll drive over there now,” I tell her. Mrs. Perkins really doesn’t need to have any more stress or worries on her shoulders.
“Thank you so much, sweetie!”
We hang up, and when I look back at Katie, she’s already on her feet, drink and plates in hand. “Let’s go.” She nods to the door. I smile slightly, glad that she’s understanding as I grab my drink, and together we rush out of the shop, dropping off the plates on our way.
We hop into the car and quickly speed away. I don’t even bother to put music on as we drive toward the only place I can think Dallas would be at today.
The park only holds a young couple and a man walking a dog. The basketball courts are empty aside from a man sitting at center circle, back curved and facing us. I know it’s Dallas. I park the car and tell Katie to wait here.
Jogging over to Dallas, I stop a few feet away when I see a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a switchblade in the other. My eyes widen, and I feel chills prick my spine.
“Dallas?” I whisper softly. What is he doing? It’s broad daylight. Is he wanting to get arrested?
I look around the park and see it has cleared out. The young couple is no longer in sight. I let out a sigh and crouch down beside him.
“Dallas? Can you talk to me?” He doesn’t respond. He only looks down at the blade in his hand, twirling it around his fingers. His blond hair falls across his forehead, slightly in his eyes, but he doesn’t make a move to fix it. I notice tear stains on his cheeks, as to be expected. “Okay. Can you at least put the knife down?” I ask. He still doesn’t respond.
I bite my bottom lip and look back over at my car to see Katie is now out and standing beside it, her arms crossed.
“Can I have the bottle of whiskey?” I ask.
“Do you want some?” he mumbles, his words slurred. Dallas still doesn’t lift his head.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Is that okay? Can we share?” He nods his head and slowly passes the bottle over to me. I grab it carefully and place it behind me so it’s out of sight.
Perhaps he’s like a child. Out of sight, out of mind.
“It’s good, right?” he whispers.
“Hmm. Very good,” I say, my eyes zeroing in on the knife. What is he planning on doing with that? To use it on someone else? Or himself? “What’s going through your mind, Dallas?” I bite my bottom lip.
He doesn’t say anything, only stares down at the knife as he places a pointer finger on the tip. He twists it slightly. I see a red dollop of blood, and I reach over to grab his hand. “Dallas,” I scold, quickly applying pressure to the puncture. “Your mom is worried.”
“She’s always worried,” he says. I frown. She has every right to be worried. She just lost a son. A part of her.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Dallas uses his knife to point at something on the court. I squint over to see a bunch of scribbles made from the knife. Standing up, I walk over to loom over the scribbles to see “KYLE” scratched into the asphalt. I bite my bottom lip again and look back at Dallas.
At least the knife wasn’t for any murderous tendencies.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. And it is. Spray paint would have washed away eventually. But carving it into the pavement will ensure it will last an eternity. Just as Kyle carving his sign into my kitchen table will last an eternity.
I turn and walk over to sit in front of him, no longer worried about the knife.
“Why are you here, Kayla?” he asks.
“Your mom called. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”
Dallas scoffs and reaches over to grab the bottle, taking a swig before I snatch it out of his grasp. “Mommy sent you to check up on me. Sorry to ruin your day.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair, looking up at Katie again, remembering what she told me.
“I’m here because I want to be. I don’t want you to be alone in this.” Dallas finally lifts his head, and his watery, sky blue eyes meet my hazel ones. I almost cry at the amount of pain swimming around in his eyes.
“I’ll always be alone. And it’s my fault. I should have protected him.” I shake my head, reaching over to place a hand on his jean-clad knee.
“You can’t live in the ‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs.’ All you can do is live in honor of Kyle’s memory. You are not alone, Dallas. You have your parents, Tyler, Mikey…” My eyes flicker over to Katie. She’s in the same position. “And me. I’m always here if you want to talk.”
Dallas lets out a sigh and nods his head. “I just miss him.”
“I know. I do too.” I give his knee a squeeze, and Dallas’s lips twitch slightly, almost forming a smile.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” I shrug. “And for pushing you against a car.” I roll my eyes. “And for saying Kyle’s death was your fault.” I tsk my tongue.
“Yeah. You did some horrendous acts. Going to take a whole lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to gain my forgiveness,” I say, a teasing smile on my face as I try to lighten the mood.
Dallas seems to take in the mood, for he arches an eyebrow and continues with the conversation. “What do I have to do?”
“Well, for one, let me take you home so you can get cleaned up…and…perhaps a movie and fancy dinner. Or you could take me on a hot air balloon ride. Or jet skiing. Or flying on my first airplane flight.” I shrug my shoulders, lightly chuckling. I wasn’t actually expecting any of this to happen, apart from the first condition. He really needs to get home before someone walks by and sees us with a bottle of whiskey.
Dallas gets to his feet, stumbles a bit before he pockets his knife, and reaches down to me. I grab the bottle and then his hand, smiling as he hoists me up. “Let’s go home then,” he says. I lead him to the car, gently trying to let go of his hand; however, he holds tight, and I notice he can barely walk without my little support. I shake my head.
“He okay?” Katie whispers, hopping in the back. I nod my head and let Dallas get in the passenger seat.
I drive him to his house, where I help him out again and up to the front door. He puts a hand on the knob, and when I say goodbye, he grabs my arm. “Next Friday. After school. Pick a movie and I’ll pick a restaurant. See you Monday,” he mumbles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to my forehead before he opens the door and stumbles inside.
My eyes are wide as I watch him disappear.
As I drive Katie and me home, part of me wishes Dallas would wake up and forget about everything that happened. However, a larger part of me wishes he remembers.