Rescuing Rachel

Rachel and I finish kissing and she places her head against my chest once again. "I can hear your heart, Chuck," says Rachel as she stares at her watch, timing it. "It's healthy, too, very regular. We just learned this in nursing."

Rachel grabs her things from her locker and we hold hands as she tells me all about her nursing course and how she's learning about the heart. I surprise Rachel, telling her that I think it would be fun to book a dancing lesson. My mom knows a Spanish dance instructor who takes drop-in students. Rachel is thrilled at my idea and I book the lesson. She can't wait to wear her new dress.

At 6:30 pm, I pick up Rachel at her house and we drive to the dance hall. Rachel and I dance and dance, clumsily of course, but we dance with each other like lovers, like the young lovers that we are, unashamed of our new love. With every touch, we express worlds of meaning to each other as eight years of love unfold, little by little and kiss by kiss. Rachel and I fall more deeply in love with every passing minute. I drop her off around 11:00 pm, thank her for the most amazing night of my life, and kiss her goodnight before driving home.

The next morning we meet at the college early to hit the cafeteria before class. Lori spots us and comes up to us. "Did you guys hear what happened last night?"

Rachel and I look at Lori and shake our heads. We have no idea what she is talking about.

"You didn't hear? Oh, God, it's horrible. It's all over the news. You didn't hear?"

"We were out dancing last night," says Rachel. "Why, what happened?"

"It's Miles. He's dead. He went out with a girl from the college last night. Apparently, he raped her and then killed her before killing himself."

"Oh, God!" yells Rachel, falling back into her chair from emotion and breaking into tears. "What? And I was going to go out with him last night! Oh, God." Rachel puts her hands over her face and begins to cry heavily for fear of what might have been.

I hold Rachel in my arms and rock her gently. "You're with me and Lori, Rachel. Everything's OK," I say, trying to console her.

Lori bends down and helps me comfort Rachel. Eventually, Rachel is able to stop crying and to stand up again.

"So how did he kill her?" I ask Lori.

"He diced her up. It's horrible. It's unspeakable."

A few weeks later, I walk Rachel to her locker and along the way we pass by Miles' old locker. Someone has spray-painted 'date killer' in red paint on his locker. There's a corner of a piece of paper sticking out of it, protruding through the thin crack at the bottom of the locker. As though in a trance, I walk over to the locker, pull out the piece of paper and look at it. I read the note silently:

Rachel, Rachel, You're too late
Tonight you'll die on our first date
I'll taste you first before I try
And try I must until you die
And as for Chuck, He's just too late
Tonight you'll die on our first date

"What does it say, Chuck?" asks Rachel.

I read the note out loud to Rachel.

"Oh God!" she says, putting her hands up over her mouth.

"I'm so glad I'm alright, Chuck," she says as she runs over to hug me.

From that day on, Rachel and I never used the words 'mile' or 'miles'. We would say things instead like 'how many kilometres?' or 'we've been walking for ages' or 'that company is light-years ahead of their competition' but we would never say 'miles'.