Free Little Red Gem by D L Richardson Page B

sisters hurried over from their seats to
join the circle, then the rest of the mourners got up and slotted
into every available inch until there was a giant huddle of people
in the middle of the chapel, all balling their eyes out.
    Talk about uncomfortable.
Talk about feeling left out.
    Joining the group wasn’t
an option; I spied Teri, craning her head as if searching for me.
Audrey returned my earlier favor of giving her a break by grabbing
tightly onto her mother’s arm and pulling her deeper into the
huddle.
    Finally, the cluster of
grievers broke away one by one and returned to their seats.
Overhead, an unknown song wafted through the speakers. If this
unknown guitarist’s slow, mournful tune was designed to render the
audience more teary-eyed and grief-stricken than when they’d first
walked in, the mission was accomplished. After a dozen bars of the
sad instrumental, the voice kicked in and familiarity brushed at
the hairs on my neck. I’d have recognized Leo’s voice even if he
were buried under a hundred feet of rubble.
    This song must have been
from his private collection. I knew his band’s music; this wasn’t
it. Volt play heavy metal and Leo, as their singer, growled out
inaudible monotones despite having a terrific voice. The boy who
sang this song had a gentle lilt beleaguered by tragedy.
    It wasn’t only the
mourners who were affected by the melody and lyrics. I listened,
too:
     
    “ When it’s cold
    I miss you most
    Your smile used to keep me
warm
    Now you’re gone
    I am a ghost
    My heart beat only for
you
    If I never breathed
again
    I wouldn’t care
    Because you’ll never
breathe again
    And that’s not
fair
    Of all the treasures in
the world
    I’d only miss the
one
    A million things are
nothing
    Without you.”
     
    “ Oh, Leo,” I whispered.
“You’ll win a place in the finals for sure.”
    The song ended and
Shanessa and Natalie solemnly walked up onto the small
platform.
    “ We’d like to dedicate
this song to our dear friend,” Shanessa huskily
breathed.
    “ She wrote it,” Natalie
added, and then as if realizing that I was missing, she let out a
gulp and dabbed at her eyes.
    A collective sigh of grief
swept across the room when Shanessa hit the first note on her
guitar:
     
    “ As the night
falls
    As the dark
calls
    As the wind
toils
    And carries me
away
    When the day
breaks
    When my heart
aches
    When all it
takes
    Is for you to
stay
    I will always be by your
side
    I will always come for the
ride
    I will always keep
pictures of you inside
    To keep you
close
    Although I am alone I am
not afraid.”
     
    I wanted to applaud and
cheer and sing the second verse, but the silence that filled the
room was overwhelming; dead or not, my voice would have rung out as
loudly as if I were in front of a megaphone.
    Shanessa and Natalie
stepped down off the stage and when they walked past Leo they
rested a hand each on his shoulder. He nodded and smiled weakly.
They took their seats with their heads bowed and hands gripping
onto their tissues for dear life. The minister returned to the
lectern and resumed talking about my young life. I’d never seen him
before and I resented his attempts at familiarity, but it wasn’t
like anyone else was in a fit state to do the job.
    A warm wind blew across my
cheek. I turned to see William’s face inches away from mine. He ran
a finger across his eye. “You should have joined your friends up
there on stage. You have a lovely voice. Still think coming here
was a good idea?”
    I hoped my scowl was
enough of an answer.
    When Leo rose up from his
seat, all sound was sucked out of the room. He staggered toward the
front of the chapel, zigzagging toward my coffin. The crippling
grief was plain to see. I couldn’t look. I also couldn’t not look.
    I held my breath, fearing
he’d fall on his face, but he made it to the front of the room and
stopped inches away from my casket. Every set of eyes was fixed
upon the boy who didn’t wear grief or suits well,