Kimber (2 page)

“I
stopped by Amber’s and gave her the spare key. She’ll be here in the morning to
go with you in the limo.”

My
muscles tense with anger. “You said you’d be going with me! Now you’re not?”

“There’s
something I’ve got to take care of.”

My
temper is not a hard thing to trigger these days. Life had taught me a lesson
in skepticism and suspicion and I took notes. What was coming out of Leo’s
mouth was textbook shadiness.

“Don’t
you dare tell me you won’t even be there tomorrow. I could care less if no one
shows up. In fact, I’d prefer it. But you’re the one person I can’t do this
without.”

“I
don’t define who you are Kimber. No matter who is there tomorrow no one will be
in the place you are. No one will feel what you will. In that you’re alone.”

“Is
that supposed to make me feel better?” I snap.

“What
I’m saying is that no one can give you closure. You have to find it yourself.
I’ll do all I can for you. I always will. But I can’t guide you through
something I haven’t experienced.” Heavily, Leo sighs. “It kills me to see you
in so much pain, sick with grief and here I am kept at a distance. I don’t know
what you want from me anymore. Being with you, without actually being with you,
it feels unnatural.” His eyes come to meet mine.

 I
have no strength to fight him nor do I want to. I sigh and sit down on the bed
next to him.

“Everything
is turned around. I can’t think half the time. The pain I feel is unrelenting.
You’re the only light I see in all my darkness. You’re the only memory I have
of the way it used to be. My only hope of a happier time to come.
You
define me because now,
you’re
the biggest part of me. If you’re trying
to pull away from me now because I put us on hold—”

“No.”
He interrupts.

“Then
what?”

I
can see the hurt in Leo through his bright blue eyes. I know he is keeping
something from me.

“I’ll
be there.” His lips form a smile. It’s not genuine. It gives me an odd feeling
of something else bad to come. I hope he knows I cannot survive anymore. “I’ll
stay ‘til you fall asleep. Lie down.”

I
do as told and place myself on the bed next to him, resting my head against his
chest.

“Leo.”
I whisper in the dark.

 “
Hmm
.”

“Please
don’t leave me.” I plea with sincerity.

Leo
kisses my head as he runs his hand up my arm to find my face. “
Ouch
!” I
cry out and grab my head feeling as though thousands of tiny needles are giving
me electric shocks. I know I am lying on the bed but I feel the weirdest
sensation as if I am falling backwards unable to hold onto anything.

My
eyes closed, I see quick visions coming at me like a TV rapidly surfing through
channels. It starts when I am a small child, when my parents were still
together. I see flashes of family trips to the zoo. Our winter vacation to
Vermont. Suddenly it fast forwards two years later, after my father had
abandoned my mother and I. I see my mother and me shopping for school clothes,
eating Chinese at the dinner table and sleepovers with friends.

As
I lay helpless in my own body unable to move or fight against what holds me
captive, I surrender and watch my life unfold before my eyes.

            The last
thing I see in this vision is me lying on my bed, in the dark, alone. I cannot
find Leo. He should be right next to me but I cannot see him.

 With
a sense of urgency, I fight harder to wake. I fight harder to pull myself out
but it’s useless. I’m frightened, trapped and as the image of me alone slowly
fades to black, I make one last effort to struggle free. I will my eyes to
open. Nothing happens. All I can think to do is call out to him not knowing if
he will hear me. I force the air into my lungs. Whether it is only in my head
or not I scream out to Leo.

            Seconds
pass without any response. Just before I give up and prepare for whatever it is
taking me I hear his soft voice covered in sympathy.

 “Please
forgive me, aroha. I can’t. I’m sorry.” He whispers in my ear.

Just
as I slip away into a deep slumber and everything fades to black, I feel
something I have not felt for the past four months…PEACE!

             “KIMBER.
BABE. YOU have to get up now. It’s time.”

I
open my eyes to the sun shining through my bedroom window. It portrays a false
vision of happiness. I have been drained of happiness. I wish the sky held the
feral storm from last night. The day does not deserve the tranquility it
portrays.

 Amber
clears her throat, reminding me I am not alone. Her aqua blue eyes puddle with
tears. I’m doomed. If my best friend cannot hold herself together, how am I
going to make it through the day? She looks absorbed in the black she wears, a
color that swallows her smooth pale complexion. Her straight blond hair, tucked
behind her ears, falls against her shoulders. Her lips, holding the only trace
of makeup, shimmer like pink champagne.

Then
I realize something. “How did you get in here?” I mumble.

“Spare
key.” Her soft voice sings.

Had
I actually had the brain capacity of a normally person, I would not have asked.
Amber always had my spare key and I hers. After twelve years of friendship, we
practically lived the same life. We shared clothes, secrets and parents. Her mom
had walked out on her like my dad walked out on me. We tried to hook our
parents up with each other but they were content as friends. We alternated
weekend sleepovers and in an unconventional kind of way, we made our own
family.

She
wipes a tear from under her eye. “I’m going to let you get up and get ready.
The limo will be here in a couple hours.”

“Yeah,
ok.” I reply as I sit up.

Before
leaving my room, Amber takes my hand and places it in hers. Her smile succumbs
to sadness. “I love you. I know it’s not head lining news, but today,” she
shrugs her shoulders, “you should just know.” Amber is no Edgar Allan Poe when
it comes to words but I get what she’s saying. With a false countenance I nod.
She stands and closes the door behind her as she leaves.

Bathroom,
teeth, shower, hair, closet. I’ve done the routine a thousand times before.
Today it’s all foreign. I place my feet on the floor and lose my thoughts in
the beige carpet below them. My mind turns in to an empty void and images fade
into a blur. For the last four months, I have endured the icy grip of grief and
succumbed to its will. My heart, dead and barren, merely decorates the
emptiness. 

I
shove myself from the bed and make my way to the shower. I stand under the
cascade of water. It’s warm and penetrates down to the chill buried in my
bones. My muscles respond to the heat, loosening and relaxing under the cascade
of water.

For
six whole minutes, I’m just any other girl taking a shower. For six whole
minutes, my mind wonders away. It takes six minutes for eighteen years of
memories to hunt me down. A guttural noise escapes from my lips. Exasperated by
fate, I lean against the shower wall. My legs become flimsy as insurmountable
amounts of agony imprint against my soul. With no energy to fight, I falter and
collapse on the shower floor. I hug my knees against my chest as I rock back
and forth. As the water rains down upon me, I lose all sense of myself. I
holler to a God I’m sure has forsaken me. My pleading and begging bring me to
volatile state. Creating the destruction I have been caused becomes my
ambition.

 I
stand and slam my hands against the shower walls, throw the shampoo and
conditioner bottles, grab the temperature handles as tight as I can and try to
rip them free. Against my best attempts, they stay in tacked. I twist the water
off, exit the shower and continue my rain of fury. Nothing escapes my grasp. I
slam my blow dryer to the tile floor pleased with the pieces it breaks into. In
one swift glide of my arm, I clear the countertop of its litter. I turn to the
silver towel holder mounted above the toilet. I grunt, pull and yank with every
ounce of vigor I possess. When it finally gives, taking a small piece of
drywall off with it, I stumble backwards. By the time I catch my breath I am
worn out and depleted of power.

It’s
by accident that I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It turns my
stomach. I am frail, much thinner than I remember and sickly pale. Through my
wet nakedness, I despise the girl looking back at me, no life in her dull
daunting eyes.

 “Kimber
what’s going on in there? Are you ok?” Amber asks twisting the locked doorknob.

I
take a step back and thrust the towel holder towards the wan smile the image
wears on my face. The impact sprays shards of glass towards me as I cover my
head.

“Kimber!”
Amber yells pounding and kicking on the door.

Several
small scratches and cuts cover my torso. Most are surface wounds but some
bleed. I grab the towel hanging from the shower, shake it out, wrap it loosely
around me and unlock the door.

 “Kimber,
you’re bleeding! Don’t move, I’m calling nine one one.” She rushes out of the
bathroom. 

 The
sudden throbbing of a headache makes for more discomfort than the shards of
glass. Maybe it’s the whole trading one pain for another. I sit on my bed and
listen as Amber tells the emergency operator I had an accident and need medical
attention.

              When the
ambulance arrives, I refuse treatment from a male paramedic named Max. Since I
was naked when the glass cut me, I needed to be somewhat naked when examined.
Max kindly sends in his partner Nicole.

 I
lay on my bed watching as she pulls a tweezer like tool from her big red
emergency bag. Her hair is auburn and high on top of her head in a bun. She
appears to be in her early twenties but the stress of her job shows on her
tired face giving her a more middle-aged appearance.

 “How’d
this happen?” Nicole asks looking me over. She starts pulling what little glass
there is from my body and places a disinfectant solution over each cut.

“I
slipped and tried to grab the towel hanger. It came free and hit the mirror.”

Nicole’s
brows rise in a questioning manner. She knows I’m lying by the look of the
bathroom alone.

“I
know who you are. You’re the daughter of the murdered State Defense Attorney, Marie
Knowl.”

“Yeah
and?” I snap. I didn’t realize paramedics specialized in self-help. What is
next? Is she going to accuse me of self-mutilation?

“I’m
sorry for your loss. I read the funeral is today. Would this have anything to
do with that?”

 Even
if these questions are a part of her job description, I am not mentally stable
enough to bite my tongue for much longer. I’m not surprised she knows who my
mother and I are. The story was all over the news hours after my mother went
missing. The fact that she was a Defense Lawyer for the State of Florida had
everyone thinking some disgruntled ex-client had her killed. That might have
been true if not for one huge factor. My mother was the best at what she did.
She never defended someone she thought was guilty. My mother always said it was
unjust to only look at things one sided and that everyone needed a voice.

 “Are
you done yet?” I ask with heavy sarcasm.

“You
did quite a number on yourself. Hold still a few more minutes.” Nicole replies
retaining her professional demeanor. When she is finished, she follows Amber
out.

 
I look in my bedroom mirror, pleased the glass had not cut my face. Pleased
that no one other than Amber, the paramedics and I would know about the glass.

“Should
I remove that one before you break it?” Amber quips from the bedroom entrance.

“It
was an accident.” I know she won’t buy it but I say it anyway.

“Break
it, burn it, freak out if you need to, but don’t lie to me. You’re not ok. Talk
to me.”

I
run my hand through my tangled hair. “I just want to put this day as far behind
me as I can. I want to be able to think of her without it ripping me apart.” 

Amber
takes me in her arms holding me so tight I could break and part of me does. I
wrap my arms around her, burry my head in her shoulder and sob. I try not to
snot on her black button down blouse. I hold onto her until the tremors stop
and I’ve eradicated a modicum of inner pressure.

“You’re
not alone. You’re never alone.” She glares at me until I except it and nod in
response. “Is it safe to leave you alone?” Amber asks skeptically. I nod,
promising to behave.

I
walk to my closet pulling from it a black designer pantsuit with matching
jacket. It’s form fitting and very businesslike. It reminds me of something my
mother would have worn to court. I open my ballerina jewelry box and retrieve
the necklace I gave her last Christmas. A solid white gold heart shaped charm
hangs from a delicate white gold chain.
TOGETHER ALTHOUGH APART
,
inscribed on the back. I close my fist tightly around it, wishing it were her
neck I’d fasten it around. I run some anti-frizz cream through my chocolate
brown hair and let if fall loosely against my back. I forgo another run in with
a mirror, preferring to walk past it, avoiding the girl I wish I had not become.