Page 49 of Kisses

Chapter 18

Sullivan

Finally, it’s the last day of class of the semester. I have been counting down the days. Seeing her three days a week since the breakup has been excruciating. I would find myself constantly looking at her. The professor in me kept it professional. However, the ex-boyfriend tested that professionalism.

I just don’t get her. She would show up with a smile on her face. It felt like what happened between us was a joke. I know my whole demeanor has changed. I have had colleagues tell me as much. Let’s not talk about the students who have the balls to ask if I was okay. Yet, she comes in smiling and laughing with Kandace. Maybe her inexperienced self doesn't realize break-ups are hard and not easy to just move on from. That makes me question a lot.

The laughter comes walking through the door. Yep, it's Kandace and Lyla. This bothers me that she can be all smiles coming into my classroom.

I slam my laptop on the podium. All the students look up at me. This is great. My anger showed in front of my students. I look over at Lyla and her smile fades. Great, I made this obvious. Quickly, I direct their attention from the scene I made. I said, “Now that I have gotten your attention.”

The entire class quiets as they look up at me.

I continue, “I’m going to make this class easy today. I just want you to turn in your paper and be done. I will begin reading each and every one of them. Final grades and comments will be posted by the end of next week. You have one week after that to discuss any questions or concerns on how I graded your paper. That is all. Please set your paper on the table and have a good rest of the year.”

The students start to stand and make their way over to the table. I thank each one of them and say goodbye. Kandace and Lyla are the last ones. Kandace sets her paper down. Then Lyla. Lyla’s and my eyes lock into one another. Her laughter and smile fade away when she turns in her paper. I grab a hold of the stack, brushing her hand. I take a deep breath because I haven’t touched her in weeks. I miss touching her. I miss her touching me. Her hand pulls away quickly.

She muffles, “Um. Thanks.”

Both Kandace and she quickly leaves the classroom. I take another deep breath. I look down at her paper just sitting there. The title states, “The Day the Silent Killer Killed my Mother.”

I knew she had a lot of research on Gregory Maddox. I am just a little shocked she took a different path on talking about him. I quickly pick up all the papers and head to my office. I am very intrigued by what Lyla has written. There is no doubt in my mind that her paper will be good. Hers will be the first one I read. I’m going in.

Lyla’s paper

It was just like any other day with my mom. She wanted me to play the part of the daughter who cared about winter formals and such. I hated shopping. My mother, on the other hand, loves it. I just felt completely awkward. However, I loved spending time with her. She was always so busy putting criminals in jail. When she was not being this powerful female attorney, she was helping women gain confidence in protecting themselves.

She strongly believed that women didn’t need a man to protect them from all the ugliness in the world. If something was to happen, she was going to fight to the very end. Just like she did the day that Gregory Maddox’s demented mind decided to shoot up a department store on one winter evening. This is the true story of that tragic day.

My mother. My hero. Not only did she save me, but she saved several others. Despite being humble, my mother was a force to be reckoned with. My mother killed The Silent Killer. This report is not about the killer but about the people who lost their lives that day and the one person who stood up to his cowardly ass, my mother. Instead of discussing his poor and pathetic life, this report will be about the victims.

We as a society need to stop emphasizing the troubled individuals these assailants are. By discussing everything that happened with their life, we are giving them exactly what they want. The attention. Not anymore. The attention needs to be geared toward the survivors, victims and the heroes.

Again, my mother. My hero.

The true story goes…

I continue to read about what happened the day of the shooting. The information that Lyla is providing has never been discussed or presented. She gives graphic details of the killer’s final moments. She was there. She witnessed everything. Her mother killed Gregory Maddox. The police covered up what truly happened that day because of Anastasia Hart’s last words. She told her daughter that she didn’t want to be a hero. She did everything for Lyla and Lyla’s safety. I cannot believe Lyla witnessed all of it. She was a survivor. My woman has been through hell. A hell she had no control over. She lost her mother who had secrets that needed to be protected for Lyla’s sake. The one person Lyla loved more than anybody in her life was her mother. She lost her mother and lost herself. The one person that made her happy was the person she spent the most time with out in public.

I made her feel loved. Her way of loving was to spend as much time as possible without hiding. Our failed relationship was about losing the one she loves to be with. She just wanted me. Fuck!

I shake my head to get Lyla, the love of my life, out of my head. I need to focus on the student that is Lyla.

Her paper continues to discuss each one of the individuals whose lives were taken away. The impact on their families. Her writing is so prolific yet delicate. She turned her words into a masterpiece of emotions on paper. The interviews she completed with the survivors rocked my entire research on Maddox.

She painted a picture of what they said and how it has changed their lives. They all have some form of PTSD. A lot of them carried on with their lives doing things for others in remembrance of the ones who lose their lives. It is truly remarkable.

My woman exceeded all expectations. She is a survivor making sure the victims will never be forgotten, especially her mother. Damn…

After reading her entire paper, I am overwhelmed with emotion. I want to call her. I pick up my phone and look at her name in my favorites. I want to hit call so badly. Something is stopping me. I look to the side of my desk and see my research sitting there. I need to share her story with the world.