Let the Music Heal Your Soul

 “This is so awesome!” Nick exclaimed.  “I can’t believe y’all invited us to come to this!”

“We wanted you to get a chance to see us perform.” Brian answered, he was grinning from ear to ear.

I glanced around to see if Alex knew that his mom and the other guys were here, but I didn’t see him.  Kevin, Nick and Denise wished Brian and me good luck, and then went out to find seats in the auditorium.

This was it.  It was the end of the quarter, right before winter break, a week and a half or so after I had talked to Alex.  Our final performance of Acting II was really turning out to be a big event.  The instructor told us that at the end of every quarter, he did something special.  All the students were allowed to do something unique and all their own, with the stage to themselves.  We were allowed to choose when we performed and were also encouraged to invite friends and family—which is why Nick, Kevin, Denise and our families were all there.

Brian nudged me. “Are you nervous?” he asked.  I could see in his eyes that he was.  I had no idea what he was planning.  Alex and Brian had not shared their final performances with me, and I had not shared mine with them. 

Briefly, I scanned the sheet that held the performing order.  Brian Thomas Littrell, Howard Dwaine Dorough, Alexander James McLean.  We were the last three to go up.

Soon, the lights were dimming, and Alex, Brian and I sat in the front rows of the auditorium together, watching the others, and anxiously waiting for our own turns.  Brian left to get ready during the one right before his.  I wouldn’t have to change into anything, and I had done it that way on purpose—all three of us had decided that we would watch all of each other’s performances—even if it meant not wearing a costume ourselves.  Alex still had his winter coat on with the hood pulled up, and I was planning on going up as I was.

Brian walked onstage wearing a very formal robe and carrying his Bible—a minister.  Well, that was certainly fitting.  The audience quieted down as he opened his Bible and began to read from Psalms.  Brian was staring straight at Alex, addressing the passage directly to him.

“The Lord your light and your salvation; you will fear no one.  The Lord protects you from all danger, you will never be afraid.  When evil men attack you and try to kill you, they stumble and fall.  Even if a whole army surrounds you, you will not be afraid; even if enemies attack you, you will still trust God.  You have asked the Lord for one thing; one thing only do you want: to live in the Lord’s house all your life, to marvel there at his goodness, and to ask for his guidance.  In times of trouble he will shelter you, he will keep you safe in his Temple and make you secure on a high rock.  So you will triumph over your enemies around you.  With shouts of joy you will offer sacrifices in his Temple; you will sing, you will praise the Lord . . .You know you will live to see the Lord’s goodness in this present life.  Trust in the Lord.  Have faith, do not despair.  Trust in the Lord.”

Silently, I caught a look at Alex.  His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and I saw him mouth “Thank you,” during the applause Brian got.  This was the last thing I saw before I took the stage.

Standing there, my eyes fell on Brian and Alex, and a few rows back on Kevin and Nick—my brothers.  I could see my family smiling encouragingly at me, and at that moment, I needed all the strength I could get.  I stood in the middle of the stage, wearing nothing special, holding nothing.  Slowly, I began to speak, not really knowing if I could do this or not.

“This class is unlike any other second-level acting class that will take this stage.  We have been through something that no one else has had to go through.  It’s not something that I look back on with pride.  It’s something that haunts me.  It haunts me constantly.  Because on November 5^th, my best friend Alex was shot in the back by a former fellow student in this class.

“Alex did nothing to deserve this.  The rest of us did nothing to deserve witnessing it.  But the fact is, we did see it.  Alex did go through it.  And I don’t want us to ever forget what happened.  I don’t want this kept quiet, because stuff like this is not okay.  I don’t know what y’all have been taught at home or what opinions you have of the person sitting next to you, that is never an excuse to harm somebody else.

“I’ve struggled so much with this, to come to terms with what happened to Alex, and to all of us.  I’ve had nightmares, my friends have had nightmares, even the ones who weren’t there and didn’t see it.  What happened to Alex didn’t just affect the guy who came after him.  It has affected all of us.  But the person it’s had the biggest affect on is Alex.  Jay, I’ve known you since you were five years old, and I’m sorry this took such a big chunk of you with it.  I wish it hadn’t.

“I can’t look at life the same.  I can’t be careless in what I say or how I talk to people because I might not be here tomorrow.  That’s just the way it is.  I’m not up here to tell you how to live—only you can decide that.  All I wanted is a chance to say what’s been eating at me for the last month or so.  Thank you for being so patient and hearing me out.

“And now, it’s my pleasure to introduce the final act of the night, my best buddy, Alexander James McLean.”  I stayed put, watching Alex stand up slowly and make his way up the short set of stairs, to stand beside me onstage.  Once he was there, I reclaimed my spot next to Brian.

Familiar guitar music filtered through the speakers, but I couldn’t place it.  As the introduction ended, Alex pulled his hood off hesitantly and shrugged out of his jacket, and I sat staring in shock.  He was wearing the same red tee shirt and blue jeans he had worn during the performance when he portrayed himself as a little guy, his big cross necklace and his hair—platinum blond.  Now, softly, almost fearfully, Alex began to sing.  It was Eric Clapton’s Tears In Heaven.

“Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?  Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?  I must be strong and carry on, ‘cause I know I don’t belong here in heaven.”  His breath-control was much better and his sound had improved a whole lot.  I could tell he put a lot of time into this.  He was scanning the audience and his gaze landed on my face as he started the second verse.  He appeared to calm some, singing this verse to me. 

“Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?  Would you help me stand if I saw you in heaven?  I’ll find my way through night and day, ‘cause I know I just can’t stay here in heaven.”

Alex knelt, as if in prayer.  “Time can bring you down; time can bend your knees.  Time can break your heart; have you begging please.  Begging please. . .”  He looked defeated, and remained on his knees—his voice had taken on a desperate edge as he held out the note a bit during the short interlude of guitar music.

“Beyond the door, there’s peace I’m sure.  And I know there’ll be no more tears in heaven.”

Slowly, Alex rose.  His face showed determination, as he looked Brian and me in the face and sang again.  “Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?  Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?  I must be strong and carry on, ‘cause I know I don’t belong here in heaven.”  He remained motionless as the song finished.  The guitar chords sounded peaceful, even hopeful, not heartbreaking like the beginning had been.

I rose to my feet with the rest of the audience to give Alex the standing ovation he’d been striving for since a single bullet ripped into him, causing him to lose himself.  He caught my eye and nodded slightly, and in that moment I saw a glimpse of the true Alex, the one he’d been searching for.

“I don’t know who I am, Howie.”

Now he knew.

Check out the sequel, Fields of Gold!