Painted Boots (7 page)

KyleKDTlovesyou

10:03
AM(2 hours ago)

To me

Hey
Aspen,

I’m glad I thought to get your email before we went down for pie.  It’s Sunday morning, about eight, and Mom’s been packing.  Last night on the way home I talked to my dad, like I told you I would.  The news was rough for him.  I’ve only seen my dad cry once, when Evan died, but this was worse somehow because I know he was crying for me.  He’s plenty furious with Em, enough to call the cops or maybe even an attorney, but I don’t know.  We talked in his truck until four-thirty in the morning when my mom came to see why we hadn’t come in.  So I started over and told her too.

Right there in the truck she made me take off my vest and my shirt.  Then she went crazy with tears, weeping and hanging on me and combing her hands in my hair until I broke down and cried too.  She decided to take me to Salt Lake to a therapist she knows, so I can talk things through proper, which explains the packing I mentioned before.  We’ll be on the road by the time you read this, seeing as she’s been hollering at me for the past five minutes to get into the truck.  I guess what Mom’s doing is good, but I don’t want to leave you.  My dad said he’s having coffee with your dad on Monday.  He said he’d come visit you, so that I know firsthand you’re doing okay.

p.s.  Did you notice I made a new Gmail, just for you?

Aspen Brand
[email protected]

To
KyleKDTlovesyou

Hey Kyle,

I love the
Gmail you made for me, so I made a new one for you, too.  I like the idea of all our email together with nothing between them.

Your mom is doing the right thing.  I think it’s smart, to give you time away from everything and everybody.  Even me.  It’s healthy, you know?  After you left last night my dad was super tired, but I asked him if we could talk, and we did, though we both struggled for words.  I get that from him, I guess, ‘cause my mom always had plenty to say.  But I talked a little about Mom and how much I miss her and how it doesn’t hurt as much as it did for her to be gone and how sometimes that makes me feel guilty.  I told him I’d been blaming myself for her death, because she had to drive me to school.  I told him I felt like if I’d only been on time that morning Mom would still be alive.

He said ‘Thinking backwards will make you crazy, Aspen.’  Then he told me he never once thought Mom’s death was my fault or her fault or anybody’s fault.  It’s hard for him, talking about Mom.  I could tell.  His voice cracked a lot, and he fought his tears.  He told me to let the guilt go and just remember the good stuff.  ‘If your mother’s anywhere,’ he said, ‘she’s expecting both of us, me and you too, to go on and live happy lives.’

I told him about you, Kyle.  I told him what you’d gone through with Em.  I hope that’s okay. I kept your music secret like you seem to want it right now.  But you know you have about a million views on YouTube, right?  Chances are some of those views come from Gillette.  I guarantee at least a thousand of them are mine.

I admitted to Dad how Em keeps herself busy trying to figure out my clothes.  He said her little clothing habit might be amusing if she wasn’t a dangerous girl, and that I should stay clear of her.  Which I’m planning to do.

I was on my way to bed when Dad turned to me and said he can tell I like you.  A lot.  He said ‘take it slow, baby.’ I have no choice in that, seeing as you’re so far away.  Kissing you,

Aspen

KyleKDTlovesyou

7:10
AM(9 hours ago)

To me

Hey
Aspen,

It took thirteen hours to get here, which is why I didn’t answer you yesterday.  I thought about you though, every inch of every mile.
  I talked about you over most of that distance, too.

It’s okay by me you talked about us with your Dad.  And I like what he said to you, about how your mom might be feeling in heaven, or wherever people go.  Seems natural that with all the love she had for you she’d want you to live a happy life.

I don’t know if you’ve been to Salt Lake, but I’ll tell you.  It’s a beast compared to Gillette.  A load of urban sprawl.  We’re staying in a Marriott, up by the University of Utah, and I can see across the valley from my window.  Buildings and roads and junk go on from one end of this place to the other.  It’s never quiet.  You can always hear helicopters or airplanes or cars.  And I don’t think it’s that pretty, though the mountains are great.  There’s so much light at night it washes out most of the stars.

The doctor I’m seeing works at the University hospital.  His name is Dylan Barnett, which is a name I like since it has me thinking of Bob Dylan.  (An oldie-but-goodie, in case you don’t know.  Classic 60s rock.)  My first appointment is today, 10:30.

I wish I could call you.  Or text.  I almost have, three times.  It’s that I don’t think it would be smart, at least not for a while yet.  This will sound paranoid, but I don’t want my number captured on your phone.  If Em got hold of your cell somehow and saw my number there she’d turn your life upside down.  My dad called her parents and I’m sure it made her furious.  She’ll be looking for me this week.  Knowing her she’ll extend that to anybody she thinks connects to me.  Em likely knows we danced together.  She wasn’t there that day, but her friend Evvie was and those two talk.  It’s my hope to protect you, is what I’m trying to say.  So I listened to your YouTube again, just to hear your voice.

I loved singing with you, the way we did Saturday.  I was thinking we could sing together, like a duet, and then I’ll post it.  Maybe this summer, after graduation, we could tour.  I’ve been wanting to try touring, and having you along would seal the deal.  Say yes, and I’ll find us places to play.

If
we were face to face you’d hear it in my voice. I’m spooked nervous about talking things out with a doctor.

K

KyleKDTlovesyou

3
:01 PM(1 hour ago)

To me

Hey
Aspen,

At first I got worried, seeing as you
haven’t answered.  Then I remembered it’s Monday and you have school.  I want to know everything—what went on in class, what you talked about at lunch, if Em bothered you any.

I had a good meeting with Dylan, my doctor.  We talked about my brother and what happened there.  After the session I went running, up along a trail called Bonneville Shoreline.  I had to think about things and make a decision, because at first I didn’t know whether I should tell you the stuff about Evan.  But I decided secrets are why I’m down here, talking my way through things I’ve let get too big.  If I keep stuff from you it’ll get big too, and eventually it’d settle into bricks between us.  I don’t want that.  So here’s how it happened with my brother.

Two years ago I woke up early, on a Saturday, and went running like I always do.  On my way home I noticed Evan’s truck parked a ways down a dirt road, off by a field.  I thought maybe he’d come looking for me, like I was needed at home or something.  But when I got close I saw blood on the driver’s window.  Inside.

I should have stopped there, you know?  I should have pulled out my phone and called my parents or 911 or the cops.  Instead I went to Evan’s door and opened it.  I don’t know what I expected, like maybe he was hurt and needing help.  He’d rigged his shotgun and I don’t know if you know, but a shotgun can make a mess.  Blood was everywhere.  His body was slumped back, and the only thing looking at me was what was left of his face.

All the love I had for my brother left me that day, like I puked it out right along with my breakfast.  After that, I don’t remember.  Maybe I passed out, ‘cause it was a while before I had the wits to call my dad.  He came with Mom, and an ambulance came and a lot of other people, too.  I ran off into the field and stayed there, scared as shit, dry puking and crying and screaming at the sky until Evan was cleaned up and gone.  Then I let my parents get close enough to take me home.

Evan didn’t leave a note.  Dylan asked me would a note matter and at first I said ‘sure.’  But while we talked I came to see that Evan’s reasons for taking his life, whatever they were, wouldn’t hold weight to my thinking.

Maybe Evan was depressed, or angry, or lonely or struggling with something, like drugs.  But even with what I’ve been through since, and I mean the stuff with Em, I never once considered ending my own life.  Dylan told me that one problem with suicide is that the people left behind can’t find a reason—any reason—worth dying over.  So we don’t get why someone we love would do it.

Dylan called suicide a dual-edged sword.  On one hand, the person choosing to die has burrowed into a place in their head no one else can be and on the other, because we can’t be there, we can’t ever understand.  It renders us helpless and Dylan warned me.  That helpless feeling never really goes away.

Being in Salt Lake, in a place so different it feels like another planet, puts me far from the problems that brought me here.  It’s easy to think all the stuff that goes on in Gillette is nothing; like one ant hill never knowing that another exists.  Like Evan’s death was nothing in the scheme of things.  Like I’m nothing in the scheme.  Does that make sense?  It was a good session, like I said, but it left me feeling blue because Dylan is right.  I’ll always feel helpless when it comes to Evan dying.

Here in the hotel, typing out this email at my laptop, is as close to you as I can be right now.  And I’ll tell you girl, it isn’t near close enough.  I want to hold you something fierce, but my mom says we’re here until the Monday before Thanksgiving.  Mom says if I need hugs she’s here for me, but beyond that I need to be patient.  Then I start thinking on your kisses and stuff and you know.

I miss you
Aspen.

K

Aspen Brand
[email protected]

To
KyleKDTlovesyou

Hi Kyle,

D
on’t fret or anything!  I’m here, and missing you, too.

I’m so sorry about your brother.  What you went through with him is horrible, I can’t even imagine.  I cried when I read what you wrote.  I’m crying now.  I know how you felt, out there in the field alone, angry and scared.  I went there in my own way, over my mom.  How you got through seeing your brother like that, all bloody and messed up, tells me you’re strong. I hope you’ll understand when I say this, but it would be good to find a way to remember your love for him.  I mean love for the person he was before he killed himself.  Then maybe you won’t feel as helpless.  My mom always told me we have all the power over how we feel.  I’d forgotten she said that, until now.

I think suicide is a huge betrayal.  It’s selfish.  But I thought about what Dylan said to you.  I guess one way to view it is the person killing themselves has exhausted their logic.  They aren’t the person you love anymore.  They’re trapped in their thoughts, and can’t see out.  My guess is Evan lost sight of his love for you and your parents.  If he hadn’t, he would still be here.  So maybe it’s okay to love who he was and at the same time, hate what he did.

I was out at the curb today a good three minutes before my dad pulled up.  I gave him the lecture: ‘If you’re not going to get me a car then be early!’  I mean, I ran out there knowing the chances were good you had sent me an email while I was at school.  I couldn’t wait to get home and then !!!!  Dad wasn’t even there.  But I eased up, ‘cause on the way home he told me about having coffee with your dad.  I can tell he considers your dad a friend.

I’ll sing with you.  Sure!  It’d be fun to share a post on YouTube.  Touring sounds scary, but I’d do it with you.  I’m flattered you want me to, because you’re really good.  I listen to your songs all the time right now because I’m craving you like crazy.  It’s like I’m thirteen for how often I want to kiss my computer screen.  I’m always amazed that you have so many fans.  I added up all the views from your twelve songs: 1,798,331, total.  You’re a view millionaire!  Clearly, I’m not alone in adoring you.

I didn’t see Em today, which is out of character for her.  It’s also good, because I don’t know how I’ll handle it now that I know what she did to you.  Even thinking on her starts a fury in my stomach.  I saw Lindsey in the hall and she walked up close to me and said ‘I still want my aunt’s pin.’  I didn’t know what to say at first. I bought the thing and now it’s mine.  Giving it to her seems weird, like if I give Lindsey that pin then it will get around and pretty soon everyone will be making a game out of getting me to give them stuff they think is theirs.  It’s already bad enough that they’re always guessing who my clothes came from.  In the end I told Lindsey if she wants the pin so bad she can buy it by paying me what I paid.  Forty-five dollars.  She just laughed.