The Realest Ever - By Keith Thomas Walker Page 0,12

His chest was awesome, his eyes smiling, but still piercing. His neck and shoulder muscles begged for a slow massage. His lips were perfect, and they begged for something too, but Kyra wouldn’t allow those thoughts to take hold.

After nearly thirty minutes of her photo-investigation, Kyra finally backed out of Donovan’s albums and read the messages he sent her. They were both sent two days ago, the day Kyra found him on Facebook. Kyra’s blood flowed hot in her veins as she read the first one:

“Kyra! OH MY GOD! I can’t believe it’s really you! You have no idea how many times I searched for you on Facebook. I thought I would never find you. I looked for you just a few weeks ago, but I could never find your profile. I’m so happy to finally see your pictures. I can barely sit still. I been worried about you for the last fifteen years. Your profile says you’re back in Overbrook Meadows. Is that true? I know that can’t be true. I would love to see you! I’ll fly to Arkansas if I have to. Write me back soon! P.S. I see that you’re a mommy now! That is so awesome, Kyra! Hurry and write me back!”

Kyra’s brain was racing when she finished reading. Her heart was racing as well. She always knew Donovan missed and cared about her as much as she missed and cared about him, but seeing it with her own eyes gave her joy like nothing else.

She quickly read Donovan’s second message:

“Kyra, I’ve been waiting like crazy for you to respond, but you won’t! I feel like I’m chasing a ghost again. When you get this message, please call me. Don’t bother responding on Facebook. Just call me. Please.” He gave her his number.

Kyra pulled her cellphone from her purse. She added Donovan’s number, but she didn’t call him – not right away. There were too many people in the library who were already giving her strange looks because of her extra-excited computer time. Kyra knew that her first talk with her best friend after two and a half decades would be much too rowdy for this hushed environment.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIANNA

On the way out of the library, Kyra spotted a few cushioned chairs in the lobby. Her bus stop was right outside of the door, so she decided to wait inside. She dug her cellphone from her purse and told Quinell, “Come sit down,” before she called Donovan.

“Is the bus coming?” her son asked.

“It’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“Can I go look at some more books?” Quinell asked.

“No. I might need you to run out there and stop the bus if no one gets off,” Kyra said. And then she heard Donovan’s phone ringing. Her mouth was completely dry. Kyra got up to wet her whistle at a nearby fountain. Kat got up to follow her, and the toddler dropped her sippy cup on the tiled floor. Nine out of ten times nothing would’ve come of that, but today the lid popped off the cup, splashing red Kool-Aid on the bone-white tiles.

Kyra barely had time to look back before someone answered her call.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” Kyra said.

“Uh-oh,” Kat said.

“Mama,” Quinell said.

A couple of patrons entered the library at that moment. They stared at the spilled juice and gave Kat a wide berth. Kyra was mortified. She sighed in exasperation.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I have to call you back,” she said into the phone.

“Who is this?”

“I’m sorry. I, uh…” Kyra put a hand to her face and rubbed her forehead. She took a breath and let it out slowly. “This is Kyra. Quinell, go in that bathroom and get me some paper towels.”

“Kyra?”

Quinell hurried to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Kyra said. “My daughter just spilled Kool-Aid in the library.” She shook her head as she pulled Kat away from the mess. “I should’ve waited until I got home to call you.”

“Is this, did you say Kyra?”

She was so stressed, Kyra barely noticed that the person she was speaking to had a rich, baritone voice. “Yes. Is this Donovan?”

He sighed and chuckled at the same time. “Kyra Reynolds. I don’t believe it.”

Kyra took a seat. She had to. Her legs were trembling.

Quinell returned with a fistful of paper towels. He went to work on the spill and found both parts of Kat’s sippy cup. The toddler squirmed out of Kyra’s arms and tried to help put her cup back together. Kyra tilted her head back on the wall behind her and