Kyle's Struggle

"Julie!" five-year-old Kyle exhaled
excitement. "Julie, come here." He had found a
nest on the ground--the first he'd ever seen up
close. Was that some of mom's yarn twined through
the straw?
He looked around the pond, but he didn't see
his little sister. "Come on, Julie. Olly olly ox
and free! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
Kyle ran around the little water's edge, but Julie
was nowhere to be found. That made him angry. He
ran the hundred yards or so to the house. "Mommy,
mommy, Julie's hiding from me! She's being mean."
Six hours later--Kyle had never seen his mom
so worried--the policemen pulled Julie's body out
of the pond. _She's so blue,_ Kyle thought.
*****
Kyle's mother, though grief stricken, never
blamed Kyle for his little sister's death. She
didn't need to; Kyle knew it was his fault. It
should have been Julie that lived a wonderful life
rather than his pathetic underachievement of one.
Kyle, at thirty-five, was an entry-level
solderer at a sweatshop. No benefits; it was more
than he deserved. He shook his head, sweat
breaking free and sizzling on his fresh solder.
It was his final board of the night. He took some
time to make sure his work was solid--he'd only
had one defected board come back to him in the
whole two months he'd worked there, and it had
been his first. His station was coming up on the
record for no defects in the small plant.
_Big whoop-de-do,_ he thought. _It's not
like I'm going to get a raise or bonus out of the
deal._
_God, I wish I were dead._
This time his head shaking was vigorous. He
shouldn't think like that. What would Julie say?
Thoughts like that, however, are hard to shake
after thirty years. He looked up from his perfect
work, noticing every pretty girl in the station--
there were three very different ones, all
beautiful--and sighed. He felt very single.
Thirty-five, very single, and wishing that he'd
have drowned. Julie would have had five kids and
a smile on her face. Maybe even a career.
Sometimes--well, for most of his life--Kyle
wished that he could die valiantly. Maybe while
saving the life of a baby or stopping a raping.
Something to end the self-torment _and_ say that
his life meant something.
But, as is the way of the world, babies died,
women got raped, and he was always at home, both
ignorant of the happenings and feeling sorry for
himself. What a pathetic loser. A self-made
loser.
He needed to get out of there. He left the
work where it lay, rushed to his locker, grabbed
stuff--he didn't really look to see what, only
that his car keys were there--and nearly knocked
Julee, one of the three beautiful women, in his
haste at the time clock. "I'm sorry," he mumbled
lamely.
"Oh, that's okay, Kyle." He hated it when
beautiful women looked at him like that; couln't
they see that his hands were tied? She'd be
better off without him. "Me and Leslie are going
to Smithy's and have a few beers." She didn't
notice his discomfort "Would you like to come?"
Kyle had no idea what his face looked like, but
Julee quickly added, "Well, you're the only guy in
the place that never tried to pick either of us
up."
Flustered is such a small word. "I, uh--"
Julee brightened. "Oh, come on. We do it
every Friday. If we don't want you around, we'll
tell ya."
_Julie, Julee. Keep it together, man!_ "Uh,
sure, I guess." He could feel his red face. Just
from a beer with a couple of co-workers? It had
been a long while since any woman showed attention
to him. He'd made sure of that. "Yeah, I'll
come." A long time.
"Great!" She sounded like she really meant
it. "We'll see you there."
Leslie had just come up and Julee (damn her
name) explained the invitation. Kyle got out of
there before he could see her reaction; he didn't
deserve the praise and didn't want to see the
disappointment.
His Celica sat in the back of the parking
lot. The body was an ancient yellow, except for
the dull green of the hood and front quarter
panels. He got in, praying that it would fire; he
wasn't up to push starting it today, though he did
park facing downhill. It sputtered to life. This
piece of junk was what he deserved.
_Dammit,_ he thought, pulling out of the
factory's lot. _Why is she dead? Her life would
have meant so much more than mine. She'd probably
have three kids by now, and a nice husband. A
smile on her face._ The damned unpredictable
tears trickled down his cheeks. He stared at the
windshield, seeing his little sister's face. Not
the two-year-old's, but as she would have looked
now. It didn't help to slow the tears at all.
"Sir? Sir?"
Kyle brought his focus back to earth, and
found himself staring at a uniformed clean-shaven
face. "Sir?" Police car lights were flashing in
the rear view mirror. How could he have missed
that? "Sir, excuse me for asking, but have you
been drinking tonight?"
Just then Julee and Leslie drove carefully
by. "See you at Smithy's," Leslie said, smiling.
The cop turned slightly; Kyle took the
opportunity to wipe at his face. "No, officer.
Not yet."
The policeman got close, sniffing, then
nodded his head. "Sir, you've been sitting at
this intersection through two red lights." The
cop must have noticed the tear tracks, but he
didn't mention them. "I need your license,
registration, and proof of insurance. Then I'm
going to ask you to pull over up there," he
indicated the side of the road, "and turn your
vehicle off."
Kyle fumbled in the jockey box for
registration and insurance slip, then felt for his
wallet. It wasn't there! In his haste, he'd left
it in his locker at work. He explained as much to
the officer, then pulled over as directed. He
shut the car off while the policeman looked him up
on the computer. Kyle knew what he'd find;
nothing. _Pretty much sums up my life,_ he
thought, then shook his head. Another tear leaked
past.
"Here's your papers, sir."
The tear leaked out of his right eye. Maybe
the cop wouldn't notice it. Kyle took the papers,
keeping his head slightly turned. "Thanks,
officer. Sorry about the license."
"I'm just going to give you a warning on
that." The officer looked down the street; Kyle
wiped the tear. "You going bar hopping tonight."
"No, sir." He said it too quickly, earning
him a strange look from the cop. God, it'd been a
long time since he'd been out. "I mean, I'm
meeting some friends," the word sounded funny to
him. "It's close to home. I'll park it and
walk."
The cop nodded. "I was just going to warn
you not to drink and drive. We're out in force
tonight. Full moon." He looked up to where it
was just coming over the horizon, huge and orange.
"Tell your friends." He added in a note of
conspiracy, "I don't want more hassals tonight
than necessary." He smiled, friendly like, then
went back to his car.
Kyle went home, parked the Celica, and cried
in the bathroom. _Julie, Julee._
*****
The full moon acted like a sun as Kyle
walked the two blocks to the bar. Going out--
finally, after two years--and he still had to talk
himself into it. He washed his face with cold
cream, bought specifically for hiding tear tracks,
and it made his face feel cool in the slight
breeze. _Is the moon ever full,_ he thought, the
glowing orb grabbing his attention more often than
the road. He stumbled over a parking median at
Smithy's, staring at it.
A couple of guys hanging out outside
snickered. Kyle watched his step, looking at the
ground. A long time since he'd been out. The
guys continued their conversation, ignoring him as
he entered.
"Kyle, over here!" Julee waved
enthusiastically from one of the rear tables.
Leslie smiled.
Kyle's heart raced. _A long time._ He tried
to smile, settled for a grin. "Hi," was all he
could think to say. He felt his pockets for
money. Maybe enough for a pitcher, no tip. "I
don't have long to stay . . ."
"Oh, pish-posh. It's Friday night!"
Kyle opened his mouth to explain his lack of
funds, and warn them about the cops out in full
force, but Leslie overode him.
"What, you gotta work tomorrow?" Her teasing
smile was delicious before disappearing behind her
glass. Her eyes showed humor, still looking at
him.
_Am I being set up with her?_ Kyle cautioned
himself not to get fanciful. He excused himself
for the restroom. Inside, he splashed some water
on his face, then stared at the mirror for what
seemed like the first time. There was no evidence
of tear tracks. Also, he almost seemed handsome;
face looking younger than his age, hair, though a
bit messy, full and wavey. Almost a good-looking
man.
He shook his head. _A long time._ He
smoothed out his hair; or rather, he tried. Maybe
he ought to start carrying a comb. He shook his
head and truly smiled. It didn't last long--it
made the muscles in his cheeks hurt--but his teeth
were straight. He couldn't get over the beauty of
that smile. _Why has it been so long?_
Oh, yeah. The image came back to him. He
had the worst day of his life when he was _five!_
He had not earned any social skills. He'd wasted
his whole life feeling sorry for himself. How he
wished it was him instead of Julie. The thought
of heroically ending his life came back, and he
tried to dismiss it. _Come on, Kyle, go enjoy
yourself._ He _tried_ to dismiss it.
The girls had another glass brought over and
filled it. Kyle tried his true smile again, but
could feel the falseness of it. It seemed to
work, though. Leslie beamed back, never taking
her eyes off him as she took a slow sip. He
grabbed up his glass, both to hide the fact that
he couldn't hold the smile any more and the blood
coloring his crimson cheeks. He drained half the
beer before he dared set it down. Her eyes kept
the color in his cheeks, and her eyes showed
amusement.
Julee--damn her name--was bending over the
jukebox. Kyle's gaze couldn't help but linger.
His face got even redder, but Leslie smiled back
without anger. "It's okay, Kyle. She does have a
great ass."
Kyle went beet-red, stared at the table. To
cover his embarrassment, he mumbled, "Gee, how
close are you two?" Silence in return. Kyle
looked up, and she was looking at the table. And
were her cheeks red, too? "Sorry, it was a joke.
Been a while since I been out," he added lamely.
"Oh, that's all right. I knew you were
joking." If she'd been embarrassed, she sure
recovered quickly. "I guess I shouldn't have said
that, but, you know, guys are guys." She looked
back to the jukebox; so did Kyle, letting himself
be a 'guy' for a moment. The way Julee's butt
wiggled--
'FM' by Steely Dan started playing. "You
wanna dance?" Leslie asked quickly, catching his
stare again.
"I . . . uh, don't really dance . . ."
"Oh, come on," she said, grabbing his wrist
and pulling him to his feet. "You just shake your
ass. How hard can that be?"
Kyle was pulled, red from head to toe, to an
open area. He couldn't help but glance at
Leslie's great butt on the way. If she noticed--
the stare was longer than he normally allowed
himself--she merely flaunted it more; started
dancing as she walked. Kyle fought back arousal.
It had been a _long_ time. Leslie turned around
to dance, and he kept his eyes on her face,
feeling like everyone was looking. _Come on,
Kyle, just do this._ Leslie smiled and offered
encouragements. She twirled loosely. How many
beers had she had? Kyle ought to warn them about
the cops tonight. When he sat back down. He
danced woodenly.
Then a ruckus was heard. Kyle stopped
dancing, following Leslie's gaze to the jukebox.
Julee was arguing, hands on hips, with a greasy-
haired kid of maybe twenty-five. He couldn't make
out most of the words, but heard something about
money. Julee was shaking her head adamantly.
"Fucking bitch!" the guy yelled, slamming a fist
on a table and spilling drinks everywhere.
"Hey!" the owner of the drinks yelled from a
pool table.
The greasy-haired guy stormed out, eyes
blazing alcohol.
"Asshole," Julee muttered, a tear sneaking
past her lid. She wiped it away as Leslie rushed
to her, comforting. Kyle made his way back to the
table, unsure of what to do. He watched the two
girls whispering to each other, forcing his gaze
to the table before he could notice any anatomy.
He'd always avoided conflict; conflict made you
noticeable.
Leslie finally came by. "I'm sorry about
that." She gestured at the jukebox.
"Exes are like that," Kyle mumbled, then
judging by the look on Leslie's face, wished he
hadn't said anything.
"We have to go, Kyle." She flashed him a
quick, weak smile. "Thanks for part of a dance.
Maybe we'll try again next Friday, huh?"
Kyle nodded as she got their purses. Who was
that guy and why would Julee have anything to do
with him? _None of your business,_ he reminded
himself. _Be happy with the invitation and let it
go at that._ He raised his glass to the departing
girls, though niether looked back.
They left half a pitcher. He downed his
glass quickly and poured another. Bars made him
nervous when he was alone. He did most of his
drinking at home. Feeling sorry for himself.
_Don't start that here,_ he berated himself. _It
wasn't your fault._ He realized how much better
his life would be--would have been--if he truly
believed that. If only--
No, no, not supposed to go there. He looked
down at his empty glass. He really should watch
how fast he drank. He poured himself another,
slopping foam to the table. The bartender came by
to pick up the empty pitcher. "Need another?" she
asked, her eyes darting to the door.
Two beers in ten minutes would make him slur,
he knew. He shook his head. After she left, he
threw a couple of ones on the table for her.
Oh! He forgot to warn the girls about the
full moon; the police out in force. He hoped they
weren't too drunk. It figures that he forgot.
_A hero's death._ The thought seemingly came
out of nowhere, though he knew it had been there
all along. Julie, Julee. Dammit. _Where are
you, Julie? Is there a heaven? Wish you were
here._ He slammed the third beer down, too, and
rushed for the door. He could feel every eye on
him as a tear leaked past.
The parking lot was abandoned, except for a
couple standing by the road. That's all he saw
before a wave of dizziness hit and he had to
steady himself on a car. Vision came back
quickly--he must have gotten up too fast--and he
saw that it was Julie's car he leaned on. _Good,
they're not driving._ He didn't think he could
handle losing another Julee, no matter that he
barely knew this one.
The couple, a pair of girls--_Julee and
Leslie?_--were getting ready to cross the street
when he saw headlights come on down the block.
Tires screeched and the car launched--straight at
the girls crossing the street! They had their
heads together, not even noticing.
Without thought, without feeling sorry for
himself, without caring who the pair were, Kyle
broke into a sprint. He felt their ribs with his
palms as he shoved, diving.
*****
_Death came quickly,_ Kyle thought, looking
down at his empty shell of a body. A hero's body.
Its head lay in a pool of dark red.
The girls, getting up from the sidewalk and
inspecting bruises and scrapes, saw the body with
screams muffled behind their hands. The El Camino
turned a corner and was gone. The girls ran.
Kyle floated after them. After rounding a
couple of corners, Julee , head next to Leslie's,
asked, "What are we going to do?"
"I'm going home," answered Leslie. "I'm on
probation. There's nothing we can do." She wiped
tears from her eyes. "Do you want to talk to the
cops? Explain to them who did it, and why?"
"That asshole tried to kill us!" She looked
too angry to cry. Kyle hoped she was referring to
the drunk in the El Camino.
Leslie gave her a hug, then ran to an
apartment building. Julee watched her go in.
"Oh, shit! My car!" Sirens could be heard; panic
crossed her face. A newer Cadillac drove by and
she hailed it down.
The driver was a man near his middle years.
He stopped, appraised her--who wouldn't?--and
asked, "How much?"
Kyle felt disgusted.
"Two hundred for the night," came Julee's
immediate reply. She got in the passenger side
and the car left.
Kyle hung in the air, shocked. _A hooker. I
saved the life of a hooker! He sulked back to
where his body lay. _Out in force,_ he
remembered, seeing the flashing lights of the
police and ambulance. The full moon reflected off
his blood.
"Any ID on this one, Joe?"
"Nope," the other paramedic said, face
showing a twinge of disgust at searching through
pockets. "Another John Doe."
_My wallet's at work!_ Kyle didn't think the
girls would come forth to identify the body.
_John Doe, the unsung hero that saved the life of
a hooker!_ "What a waste of life," he said aloud.
He began weeping; a cry that wasn't going to stop.
Kyle felt familiar arms hugging him. Julie
whispered in his ear, "You never tried to hurt
anyone." Her breath felt warm. "Life is
precious, even--especially--yours. And hers. It
wasn't a waste."
After an eternity of sobbing, she led him
away from the flashing lights. Towards the full
moon.