The Girl in Black

There was something about her that everyone noticed. Maybe it was the waves in her hair, the sparkle in her eye, or the kindness in her smile. She was the mother of our little town of Le Roy, Michigan. She cared for the young and the old, the rich and the poor. Her love for Jesus shined through her like rays from the sun.

She sang in our church choir. Not everyone was a Christian in Le Roy, but everyone came to church when she sang. Her parents both died early in her youth and she grew up an orphan, but somehow she remained the happiest person in Le Roy. Her famous saying was, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Her adage is still thrown around in the town today. Unfortunately, there did come a day where she must have grown strong enough.

Grace Kindle was murdered May 28, 2010. She was stabbed three times in the chest. The murderer was never found and probably never will be. The little town of Le Roy had never experienced a death like that before. No one understood why it happened to her. She was the most tenderhearted of any person in the town. It hit me the hardest out of everyone because Grace Kindle was my mom. My mother named me Destiny Joe in hopes that God would provide a unique destiny for me. I barely survived my senior year of high school after the murder of my mom. Her death was like losing my best friend. We used to sit out on the porch every evening looking up into the night. She would take that time to tell me all about God, and always brought attention to all the individual stars He made.

My school wasn’t very big and I never really fit with any particular “clique,” which is why I acquired such a strong relationship with my mom. She accepted me for who I was, and never accepted me for what the world wanted me to be. She thought I was beautiful even though I knew I wasn’t. She told me my dark complexion and sparkling blue eyes were showstoppers. She loved my hair more than I could ever love it. She brushed my long, dark waves and played with them any chance she got.

My mom’s absence changed everything. I no longer had anyone to talk to, and no one to tell me I was beautiful. My dad and I grew further and further apart. It didn’t take me long to realize that, it was my mom who had kept us all together. I was lonely. My dad took it pretty bad, too. He just stayed out in the barn with his horses. He spent all day cleaning and caring for them, and by the time I arrived home from school he was tired and didn’t feel like taking care of me. I guessed that it was because I reminded him so much of her, and he could no longer stand the sight of me. I had dinner by myself on our big, oak kitchen table that mom had picked out to fill the room. Sometimes my dog, Lucie, laid next to my chair adding company to the meal. After dinner, there was nothing I could handle except to lock myself in my room and stay there till morning.

I kept myself in isolation from the world, and was always finding ways to escape reality. I would walk into the cafeteria and immediately felt every eye on me. I took the opportunity to make a mad dash to the bathrooms where I spent almost every lunch anyway. Even though I was a senior, I felt like a miserable freshman all over again. I could often hear my mom’s voice, “Only Jesus could love you more than me, baby girl.” I couldn’t believe it, though. If Jesus is what He says He is, He wouldn’t have taken you away from me, I thought. Not having many friends to begin with made it easy to stay away from the ones I did have. I felt lonely without absolutely anyone, but I didn’t want anyone but my mom.

I had heard stories of kids who reached a stage of depression where they would cut their wrists, thighs, and arms. I thought about it. I knew I was too much of a sissy, though. Instead I ran. I ran so long and so far without realizing where I was going. Sometimes I found myself miles away from home. At the end of one of those runs, I stumbled upon the doctor’s office where my mom used to visit frequently to help the sick patients.

I could go in and just see if he has something that could help me forget her. “You look more and more like your mother every day,” he told me as soon as I walked in. The lights reflected off of his lustrous head enough for me to squint.

“Uh, Thanks! Could I use your bathroom?” That was my excuse to get to the back hallway where the medicine closet was.

“Of course, DJ. It’s getting awfully late, so hurry home when you’re done. It’s too late to be running alone.” His voice was soft and caring, something I didn’t hear much of anymore. I casually turned the knob of the door, pulled it back, and quickly made my way to the closet. The overflowing shelves made it difficult to decide which bottle to take. Suddenly, I heard a squeaky voice coming from the receptionist desk.

“Wrong door, sweety!”

I gasped and snatched a bottle right in front of my face, slammed the closet door, and sprinted to the back exit.

One would have to do for now. I can always come back for more.

I ran the rest of the way home and as I reached my porch I glanced through the living room window. I saw my dad sound asleep in his favorite chair. I opened the front door quietly and tip-toed past him, hoping not to wake him. I spent the next hour on my bed, staring at the orange cylinder that could possibly ruin my life. I looked over at the mirror. I was shockingly pale, shuddered to look at my black eyes staring back at me. My hair was no longer a wave, but pin straight and black as night.

You’re hopeless, DJ, can’t you even take a little pill without mommy? Just take the pill. It won’t hurt you. Dad doesn’t care about you anyway. He won’t care, my mind swarmed. If you’re lucky it will even change your appearance because God definitely messed up with you, kid, that’s for sure.