Kimber (3 page)

              I walk
downstairs and find Amber vigorously wiping down the kitchen counter and closing
the newly emptied dishwasher.

            “What are
you doing?”

Her
body involuntarily twitches from the unexpected sound of my voice. Seems I’m
not the only one on edge.

 “Oh.
Um. It doesn’t seem like something you should worry about. And now you don’t
have to worry about the place if people come over.”

“Why
would anyone come over?”

“Well,
Dad said sometimes after funerals everyone goes back to one place to reminisce
and tell stories.”

 Immediately
I decide against it. There is no closure to be made. My mother was stolen from
me and murdered. Receiving her ashes does not provide an ending. If people want
to reminisce, they should do so after they discover her murderer and prosecute
the person.

“No.”
I answer as I scan the living room for my purse. I can’t remember the last time
I had it. I look around the large square glass coffee table, black leather wrap
around couch and in the cubbyholes of the tall black book cases that stand on
either side of the plasma TV. I walk to the foyer and find my purse on the
narrow wooden table.

 As
I turn back into the living room, I’m struck with an odd sensation. A panicking
pulse spins my stomach.
Forgotten. What am I forgetting?
I center all my
energy on pushing through the question and to the answer. Instead I find myself
swaying to my left. I heave air into my lungs and brace myself against the
couch.
You’re finally losing it,
I think to myself.

 Amber
comes to my aid with a bottle of water. I feel stupid for being so weak. Why
can’t I pull myself together?

 “I’m
sorry you’re babysitting me.”

“”Don’t.
I’m totally here for you and if it makes you feel better Tommy, Joel and Luke
said they would be your body guards today.”

 I’d
laugh if I had it in me.

 I’ve
had the same group of friends for most of my life and I know well enough that
Tommy, the motorcycle enthusiast rebel, and Luke, though never looking for a
fight but willing enough to finish it, would be good bodyguards. Joel on the other
hand is anything but a violent bad boy and was currently going through an indie
chic fashion phase. I have always thought of Joel as the level headed one that
keeps Tommy and Luke from doing anything, nine to life, stupid.

I
know my friends are aware of the media attention my mother’s mysterious murder
stirred up. Even though her memorial is invitation only, I know walking in will
be no simple task. I’m grateful for my friends support. 

            Before I
feel ready to, I hear the honk of the limousine’s horn. I literally feel my
face becoming pale. I look to Amber hoping she will tell me this has all been a
horrific dream, a dream I desperately wish to wake from.

I
lock the door behind us and duck down into the limo through the door the driver
holds open. I could have been crawling into a coffin. The dark tint on the
windows keeps almost all of the sun light out. The leather seats are cold to
the touch. Even with Amber and I being the only two in the six passenger limo I
feel claustrophobic. My hands become clammy, my breath quickens and my heart
beats against my ribs. Fear, panic, and flashes of heat smother my skin.

“Kimber,
you look like you’re going to be sick. Are you ok?”

My
throat tightens. I could try to speak but I know nothing will come out. I shake
my head vigorously.

“Take
a deep breath. Focus on my voice. Look at me and focus.”

I
do as she asks.

“You
remember our ninth grade gym teacher, Coach Cole?” I nod. “You remember the
senior Jake Long and the prank he played his last day of gym?” Not seeing where
Amber is going with this but feeling less tense from the sound of her voice I
nod. “Tell me what he did.”

 I
close my eyes and think back to the last day Jake and I shared in gym class.
Jake was sick of Coach Cole and how he thought everything Jake did was wrong.
He harassed Jake his whole high school career. If it was because he really
thought Jake wasn’t worthy of his time or only wanted to push him to excel I
will never know. Nevertheless, four years of relentless taunting had put the taste
of revenge in Jakes mouth.

“The
last day of senior year while everyone was at lunch, Jake snuck into his wood
shop class and grabbed a can of adhesive. He went into the gym and sprayed down
the rope that hung from the ceiling as far up as he could reach.” I say.

Jake
did it because Coach Cole told him he would make him climb the rope on the last
day of school probably with the intent to humiliate Jake one last time. Jake
was not the nerdiest of the nerds but he was an easy target for the muscle
jocks. Coach Cole, you could say, was the leader of the stupid muscle jocks.

“Two
periods later when we had gym Coach Cole attempted to show Jake how climbing
the rope was properly done. As he jumped up, grabbed the rope and wrapped his
body around it he found himself suddenly stuck to it.” I chuckle for a moment
at the visual of Coach Cole beat red and furious.

Jake
become a hero that day.

“I
heard someone snapped a picture with their cell phone and it’s somewhere on the
internet.” Amber says doing her best impression of Coach Cole.

It’s
not until now that I understand the reason for such an odd memory. I’m grateful
and calm when I feel the limo come to a stop. Amber had distracted me and in
the process pulled me right out of my near panic attack. With a smile, I lean
over and wrap my arms around her.

“Thank
you.”

 “Just
doin’ my job.” She smiles but it fails to light her face up.

As
promised, Tommy and the boys have arrived early. They stand waiting for Amber
and I. Tommy opens the door before the driver can. With a warm smile on his
face, he holds his hand out to help me from the limo. I step out and get a full
look of Joel and Luke.

“Wow!
Who knew you guys could clean up so well.” It’s a lame attempt at a joke and
the pity laughs confirm it.

The
boys nearly match in their all black suits and white tuxedo collared shirts.
Their ties are the only thing to set them apart. Classic Joel went for a black
eighty’s skinny tie. He even gave up the short spiky red hair for a more tamed,
faded forward look. Tommy traded his normal jeans and tight shirt for a black
suit with a black and white pin striped tie. Luke looks ever so handsome in a
black suit that falls perfect against his slender muscular build. His light
brown hair styled messy in a tamed casual way.

In
the breast pocket of all their jackets is a yellow rose. My mother’s favorite.
I reach out and touch the full petals on Luke’s chest.

“We
all miss her. She was a great woman.”

Looking
into Luke’s blue eyes, I smile. “This means more than you know.” Is all I
manage to say before my voice weakens.

“Great
you’re on time! We just checked everything. It’s all set up and looks
beautiful.” Tiffany says as she walks into view with Robin.

Amber
and I met Tiffany in Home Ec, eighth grade. She is spontaneous, full of life
and fit right in with Amber and I from the get go. Robin, who is Joel’s
fraternal twin, had become the final member of our friend family. Robin has
always been shy, a little under spoken and would give up a hot Friday night
date to keep her GPA up.

I
notice Robin dressed like Amber and I. Long black dress and her red hair pulled
up in a bun. Tiffany opted for a short black dress that is considerably longer
than her normal attire. To Tiffany less is always more. I have always admired
her free spirit. Today in all her black, she looks almost gothic. Black dress,
black hair falling down around her shoulders and her brown eyes outlined with
black eyeliner.

“Guys,
bring it together!” Tommy calls out as my friends form a hugging circle around
me.

Together
we stand as Luke speaks. “Today Kimber isn’t the only one who says goodbye to a
family member. Marie may not have been blood but she was as much of a mother to
us as she was to Kimber. We will always think of her and miss her dearly. Today
we gather around as a family to show our love and support for Kimber.” To
lighten the heavy sadness in his speech Luke ends with, “Kimber on three!”

“One!
Two! Three! Kimber!” Everyone yells out.

We
all laugh but it’s short lived. Together we all head toward the large gathering
of mourners and news crews. My friends surround me and keep me safe from the
reach of microphones labeled with the logos of their news channel.

Walking
through the mob of reporters is not as difficult as having to listen to them
scream questions at me over one another. Not to mention the dizzying strobe
light effect of their flashing cameras.  

“Kimber!
Fox News! Can we get a statement?”

“Kimber!
Channel Eight News! Any new leads in the case of your mother’s death?”

            “Kimber!
Channel Four Reports! Do you feel the SPPD (Saint Petersburg Police Department)
could have done more in your mother’s case?”

“She
has no comment!” Luke and Tommy call out as we ascend the steps of Wood Lawn
Memorial. 

I
notice upon entering a small white stand at the end of the entrance hallway. A
book that requested friends and family to sign in sits on top next to a pile of
prayer cards with my mother’s name, date of birth and date deceased on them. I
reach down and grab the black pen with a large black feather sticking out of
the end. I am the first and the only one to sign under the family side of the
book. My hand does not stop from shaking as I try to make my name legible. I
pass the pen off to Luke.

I
walk over to a small table covered in pictures I had lent the funeral home. I
trace the framed picture of my mother on her graduation day from law school. I
have seen this picture a trillion times before but its significance is so much
greater now. My mother, with her incandescent smile, completely oblivious of
how it all would be taken in such a short amount of time. I slump my shoulders,
take my head in my hands and comb my fingers through my hair.

 “You’ll
be ok. Maybe not now but soon and tomorrow, it’ll hurt a little less.” Luke
whispers to me. I don’t believe in his words but they are all he has. I turn
into his arms that offer safe seclusion while the grief overwhelms me.
Physically my body aches and breathing becomes a luxury I cannot afford.
Silently I scream into Luke’s chest. He fastens his arms tighter around me.

  Finally
the sobs escape me, rushing up from my lungs, flying past my tongue. “No— let—let
it—be a dream.” I hiccup like a five year old having a fit taking in gasps of
air unwillingly. I moan from the pain in the empty space my heart once filled.

I
have all but forgotten that Luke and I are not alone when a hand from behind me
begins stroking my hair.

“Kimber?”

“Robin,
give us a minute.” Luke’s tone boarders being annoyed.  

“I
know, I’m sorry Luke. I’m not trying to rush. It’s just that, well, Kimber
there’s a man in the viewing room asking for you. He says he’s your father.”

My
father and I were once thick as thieves. I was daddy’s little tomboy princess.
We did it all together, from fishing to football. I never cared to wear the
frilly dresses or pink lace skirts my mother would buy for me. I always opted
for jean shorts and a sport related shirt. Eventually my mother started buying
me pink jerseys.

 I
was nine when my father pulled the rug from under my mother’s feet. My father
had been the junior editor at our local newspaper. When his normal nine to five
became nine to ten, my mother suspected he was having an affair with his
secretary. She never confronted him on the matter. Maybe she didn’t want to
believe it. Either way, my father had stolen the love and life out of her.

On
that day, at that moment, I screamed and begged him not to go as he closed the
door behind him. A part of me died that day and I swore I would never be my
father’s daughter again. No matter how many times the pain of his absence cried
me to sleep, I know I hated him as much as I did because I had loved him even
more.

 “None
of us know what he looks like so I thought I would tell you.”

 “Should
I ask him to go?” Luke questions.

I
turn back to Luke, shaking my head. “No.”

I
walk up through the hallway lined with pictures of nature and flowers. The
viewing room is soft pink, the lights are dim and chairs are arranged in two
rows of five. The room is half full with older women in dark dresses and men in
business suits. Whether they are co-workers or ex clients, I will never care to
know.

 I
scan the room looking for my so-called father. I find him in the first row
third chair in.

 “Kimber,
you see him?”

 A
man turns at the sound of my name, looking over his shoulder. When he finds me,
he pushes up from his chair and walks down the aisle to me. Seeing my father
fills my mind with long ago memories. Every time my mother held me while I
cried myself to sleep was because of him. All the times my mother cried and
questioned herself, thinking I could not see it, was because of him. It’s all
there fresh in my mind.