Life was good and he was beautiful. It was all I could think the first time he asked me out. We were both sophomores and both sixteen, though I was older than him by a few months. He was waiting for me by my locker after lunch and looked more bashful than I had ever seen him. The tips of his ears were red with his blush when he told me he'd really love it if I went to the spring dance with him. Of course I said yes.
I met his family before the dance. He lived with his mom and his ten-year-old twin sisters just a few blocks from the high school. Mel, his older sister, came home from college between semesters. His good for nothing father had walked out when Kyle was eight, his mom told me when Kyle was posing for a picture with Lucy and Abigail. They stuck out their tongues and crossed their eyes while he posed like a Charlie's Angel. His mom laughed and teased him about needing to feather his hair.
I asked him to go steady three weeks later, standing in my kitchen with my dad in the other room trying to listen in. He lifted me off the ground in his excitement and gave me a noisy kiss. I took that to mean yes.
He took me to dinner to celebrate the end of our sophomore year. He made reservations for us at the one dress-up restaurant in a fifty mile radius. I wore my favourite Sunday dress; he wore a sports coat from the second-hand store his mom worked in on the weekends. I was so nervous about using the wrong fork or not minding my elbows that I barely talked the entire drive to the restaurant. Once we figured out we were both too nervous and too inexperienced for fine dining, he scrapped the reservations and turned the car into the closest McDonald's. He bought me a Happy Meal with a Hot Wheels and let me try to toss fries into his mouth from across the table. We were the best dressed diners in McDonald's that evening.
He was a camp counselor for nine weeks that summer and wrote me a letter every day. He talked about the kids, the pranks, the activities, and about how much he missed me. When he came home I was waiting for him in his driveway with his sisters and mom. He was taller than I remembered and more tan than before, and I was in his arms the second he stepped out of the camp van. I never knew I could miss any one person so much. He kept his arm around my shoulders as he greeted his family.
Fall brought football season and football games, and I found myself sitting in the stands bundled against the cold, wearing our school colours and cheering him on at the very top of my lungs. He would wave to me from the field just as soon as he spotted me in the crowd and my face would split with a smile every time.
I met him at the hospital close to midnight one snowy night in November. His mom had been in a rush to get home from work and her tires lost traction on the slick road. She had slid off into a ditch and flipped her car and her condition was uncertain. I found Kyle in the waiting room with a sleeping blonde head pillowed on each thigh. He looked utterly lost. I helped him rearrange the twins and held him while he cried. His mom was released from the hospital two days later.
Christmas our junior year was the last for my nana, who died from lung cancer just a few weeks later. We watched her waste away in front of us, getting thinner and smaller in her bed by the day. Kyle spent a hushed and somber Christmas Eve with my family. He helped my mom mash the potatoes and helped my Dad hang the stockings. He was long gone by the time I found the locket with the inscription in my stocking on Christmas day. I was crying so hard when I called him that I'm not sure how he heard my, "I love you, too."
We fought in February, barely making it out with our relationship intact. He'd heard from a friend who'd heard from a friend that I'd been flirting with Brad, a boy I'd dated briefly freshman year. Kyle was sure I'd been flirting, that I couldn't wait to get out of our relationship, and chose to accuse me wrongdoing loudly and in the middle of the lunchroom. I hadn't done anything wrong and felt betrayed and humiliated. I hid away in the bathroom and cried my eyes out for the rest of the lunch period, not sure how someone who said they loved me could treat me so poorly. It took him a solid week to corner me long enough to apologize and beg me for forgiveness. It took me a good three weeks to accept his apology and take him back.
I went out with his family for Lucy and Abigail's birthday in March. I sat with his mom while I watched Kyle chase the girls around the Chuck-E-Cheese. It was obvious in the way they looked at him that they idolized him. Kyle's mom and I talked a lot about Kyle, and she told me in confidence that he had been more like a father than a brother to the twins since they were so young when their dad took off. My heart broke at that, but I was also incredibly proud.
He rented a tux for prom with money he'd saved from working as a counselor the summer before. My mom helped me make my dress, a pretty little thing in blush pink. Kyle bought me a corsage that matched it exactly and took me to dinner at the fancy restaurant we couldn't manage the year before. We were in the restaurant exactly three minutes before he spilled his water into the bread basket and all over the table. After that, the evening got easier and we weren't so concerned with using the correct fork.
We were standing in the parking lot enjoying the sun on last day of school when he hijacked my yearbook. He took up nearly a page writing, "Kyle and Beth 4ever." I ignored the cheesy kissy faces he drew around it and held onto the idea of forever.
I talked him into staying home that summer instead of going to camp so we could spend some time together. After a little searching, he got a job as a lifeguard at the town pool. I visited the pool nearly every day to ogle him with his shirt off. It was all I could do to keep my hands off him while he was working. He saved a boy from drowning that summer. Barrett couldn't swim and was knocked into water too deep for him to touch by some kids his own age. Kyle was too shocked to be proud and climbed right back into his chair the second Barrett's parents took him home.
The days were cooler and we were back to school by the time we decided to take our relationship to the next level. We parked his mom's station wagon as far into the woods as we dared and made good use of the big back seat. His muscles were hard and his skin felt amazing against mine when we peeled off our shirts. His kisses were urgent and excited and I found myself returning them with gusto. He tasted delicious and I was hungry for him. I wanted more, he wanted more, and I rolled myself on top of him so I could give us both what we wanted. The next thing I knew, I was waking up and he was dead beneath me.
I'm not sure how I managed to check his pulse, climb out of the car, and pull my shirt on with my chest being ripped open from the inside, but somehow I managed. I also managed to make it home, though I don't recall the trip. After less than an hour I was on my way, but I hardly remember the specifics. All I knew was that Kyle was dead, Beth was dead, and I was Bo - fugitive, murderess, and wanton hussy.