A Demon Made Me Do It(62)

We reach the parking lot, and although it’s not as chaotic as yesterday, several students, parents, and teachers are gathered in small groups, talking. I see another news van set up, where a pretty reporter is speaking into a camera.

Kieron stands beside me as we survey the scene. I look for Corinne, but don’t see her anywhere. A girl named Marcy wanders by looking dazed, and Kieron reaches out and grabs her arm.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asks.

She pauses and shrugs. “They cancelled classes until Wednesday of next week, but they’ve set up a bunch of rooms for students to talk to grief counselors if they want to.” She looks at Kieron when answering, ignoring me completely. “I guess the police will be questioning students at some point, but the parents have to be there, too, so they’re getting it all organized.”

“Thanks.” He drops her arm and she walks away. He turns to me. “Do you want to talk to a grief counselor?”

I shake my head. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“Yeah, me too…guess we’re hoofing it again?”

“Sorry I made you walk all this way just to turn around and go back…”

He smiles. “Don’t apologize. I can’t think of a nicer way to spend the day than walking through the woods with you. If you want to go back and pick up my truck we can go somewhere and just chill…I brought something for you…something I hope you like…”

My face brightens. “You did? Something for me?”

He nods. “Just a little something…I was looking at it and thought of you. But let’s get going before we get lassoed into some group therapy session,” he says as we both spot a teacher heading in our direction.

We aim back toward the woods.

******





I lean up against a headstone and take the small leather book from his hand. “This is for me?” After Kieron and I had made our way back to my cabin, we hopped in his truck and drove out to the cemetery. For some reason, both of us felt it was the right place to be today.

He does that cute thing with his mouth where he smiles out of one side. “Yeah, well, it’s for you to borrow…if you want…for as long as you like. I just thought you might enjoy it. You mentioned you liked poetry. I made this collection earlier this year. It has all my favorites in one place.”

I gently open the brown cover, turning to the first page. A table of contents lists several of my favorite poets: Robert Browning, William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Emily Dickinson…

“There’s a few in there that make me think of you…” he says, quietly.

My heart starts the thudding thing it does when he looks at me with his sweet eyes. I love this feeling…the one where we are the only ones alive on Earth, where no one else exists, and no one else matters. It’s just the two of us, talking, laughing, being.

“Which ones?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear. I pull up my knees and rest the book on them, thumbing through the pages.

“Well…there’s a couple in particular. Want me to tell you one?”

My skin tingles as I nod, handing him the book. But he shakes his head, holding up his palm. “It’s okay…I have it memorized. And I’m sure you’ve heard it before…”

“Tell me…”

He takes a deep breath and leans back on his arms and begins speaking in dulcet tones.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

He looks toward the ground as I stare at him wordlessly, unable to believe what I’ve just heard. Of course I know that poem; it’s one of my favorites. But to hear Kieron speak the enchanting words of Lord Byron directed at me…

“Thank you, that was beautiful,” I whisper, not knowing what to say. How does one properly express the euphoric, dream-like state I’m in?

He glances up, almost shyly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t think it was totally corny. Certain parts really struck me as…well...I hope it’s all right I shared that with you.”

“It’s more than all right, I love it.”