“You want me to come?” Leave my safe darkness? The shadows? This solid pain that keeps reality at bay.
“We want you to sing.”
“For Derek?”
“Will you do it?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you, Blake. Yes.”
With trembling hands, I pull down the heavy quilt blocking my window. Gray winter day flows through the cracks and crevices of my den. The first thing I see—lying half-buried under undone assignments from school—is Derek’s pale pink rose, dry, delicate—but real. As real as my love. As real as my loss.
I rescue it, cradle it in my palms, and lift it to my lips. That faint scent, sweet but dead, finds its way through my senses. I glance around at the mess, searching for a safe place. It doesn’t exist in this chaos. I step on a roll of tape. Use it to secure the rose to the piece of wall I see if I lie curled on my side in bed. I try it, lie there, staring at Derek’s rose.
Something brings me to my feet, stumbling through the mess again and searching through the bag I haven’t touched since Mom brought me home from the hospital, darkened my window, and tucked me in bed.
I find white papers, carefully folded over. I press them to my heart and run back to my bed. My nightstand drawer yields a pencil. I pick up my choir binder off the floor. I sit cross-legged on my tangled blankets and lay the binder on my knee, unfold the music, smooth it out with a caress.
“Beth’s Song.”
I pencil in “for Derek” under the printed words.
My eyes close as his melody winds through my soul. Words come slowly at first and then in a torrent. I weigh them, choosing, discarding, searching again, fitting the puzzle pieces together, clothing my bare words in the richness of his music.
My room fills with light as the thick gray clouds outside shift enough for the sun to break through.
chapter 33
FOR DEREK
The concert starts with the Amabile boys singing “Sing Me to Heaven.” People talk about Derek. Somebody gives a lecture on supporting assumed-consent legislation and keeping an organ-donor card in your wallet. The AYS sing. And chamber. Their young boys’ concert choir steals everyone’s heart with the soaring height of their pure voices. Even the youngest Amabiles take a turn. I listen from the sidelines, standing in my crimson choir gown so I won’t crush it.
My name is announced, and my feet carry me onstage. I’ve practiced. I can do this tonight for him. The piano plays a tinkling introduction. A violin comes in. I gaze into the sea of people who loved him long before my solo magically brought him into my life.
My eyes close and I begin to sing.Don’t steal away your love.
Don’t steal away your touch.
Without your smile I’ ll never find
The star you shine.
I take a deep breath and shake my head, open my eyes to the blur in front of me.Don’t leave me empty here.
Don’t leave me without hope.
Don’t say it’s for the best, love,
When I’m lying here alone.
Please stay, ’cause I can’t make it on my own.
I draw a deep breath as I move into the chorus. I’m not on that stage. There’s nobody out there. It’s just Derek and me.Who will be the boy who heals my heart?
Who will be the boy who feeds my art?
Where will I find a friend?
Who will be the boy who rescues me?
Who will be the boy who makes me sing?
You made me live, made me who I am.
If you’re leaving, take me with you,
Here’s my hand.
My voice falters. I take a deep breath and sense a touch in my palm. His hand, his strength, his peace flow into me again like the night he died.You spoke of peace and rest,
A joy that filled your breast,
And then you closed your precious eyes.
God set you free.
As I sing, Derek fills me up and promises he’ll never leave me.So I will carry on,
Forever sing your song.
If I have to live without you now,
I’ ll love the best I can,
But whisper when you’re near me, and I’m home.
I move into the chorus repeat, and the audience comes into focus. They’re with me, tears streak their faces, and I realize they are searching, too. Searching for beauty. Searching for love. Searching for life. I found all that when Derek took my hand, smiled, and said, “You sing me to sleep.” I know what beautiful is now, because of him. I know what love is because of him. I know I can be strong. Please, God, help me to be strong.
The key shifts through the bridge, and somehow my voice rises full of strength that isn’t mine.Together, love, we’ ll find somebody who—
Will help us keep on breathing without you—
The note stretches out. I hold onto it as long as I can. The sea of strangers blurs and one face emerges.
Scott’s here, his face full of pain, witnessing how much I loved Derek. My eyes find his and my chorus changes.Will you be the boy who heals my heart?
Will you be the boy who feeds my art?
Please, will you be my friend?
Will you be the boy who rescues me?
Will you be the boy who makes me sing?
Will you make me true to who I am?
If you’re leaving, take me with you,
Here’s my hand.
If you’re leaving, take me with you,
Here’s my hand.
I finish the song. The applause is reverent. Everyone is still crying. I move through the crowd to Scott. The people stopping me and hugging me were Derek’s real world. The people he let in. The ones who really knew him. His old girlfriend from the AYS. Meg and his doctors. Blake. The Amabile directors. All the guys. This giant wonderful family he grew up with.
I’m a fantasy. A myth. A digital recording—deleted with ease. I’m something else. Somewhere else. I don’t belong here.
But I am here. I would have cared for him and loved him for the rest of my life. I held his hand while he went beyond. The pain I feel is every bit as real as that pretty petite girl I unwittingly stole him from. I loved him. I still love him. I’m clogged with the ache of it. I can’t bear to look back.
When I look forward, there’s Scott, and he catches my arm, supporting me like I’ll faint.
I lean on him. “How’d you get here?”
“Your mom.”
I see her now—standing in the back. “Will you ride home with me? I’m not sure I can drive.”
He nods. “You bet.” He takes the keys and guides me out of there.
All the way home, I sit slumped in my seat with my head down.
Scott doesn’t speak. I’m grateful for the space.
We get to the house. I still sit there like a zombie. He comes around and opens my door. A gust of clear, crisp air sends a shiver to my core. Scott takes my hand and helps me to my feet.