Chapter 5 - Guitar Dirge

Leo’s POV

“Hm hmm hmm hmmm hm hm hm hmm, mmm hmm hmmm,” I hum to myself as I strum chords on my guitar. My head moves instinctively as I play, letting my ears guide my fingers to the song on the radio. It’s a good song; I’ve never heard it before.
I like my room. Even though it’s small, it has all I need – a radio, a place to play guitar, a desk for homework, and of course a bed. I’ve always loved music, and it came as no surprise when I realized that I had musician’s ear. Ever since, playing my guitar to songs on the radio has been a favorite hobby.
This is a nice song. I grab the remote, turn up the volume on my radio, and play louder. I hope Leanne can hear. I think she’d like this song.
“Leo, turn it down! I do not like this song!” she yells. I guess she doesn’t like it after all. I don’t turn it down though. The song is just too good to do such a thing.
“Leo!” she screams again, extending the o in my name.
“No way!” I shout back, and continue to play. I lose myself in the music, and keep playing even when the commercials come on. Leanne comes in and turns it off, but I continue to play. To my surprise, she stays behind. My playing continues, and continues, and it just won’t end.
“Leo,” she finally says, her voice soft, like it gets when she’s either reminiscing or trying to hold back tears.
“Yeah?” I ask, and cut my playing off. Huh, I guess my fingers are sore. Really sore.
“Point one, it’s almost time to make dinner. It’s your night. And point two, that’s a dirge. Dad’s dirge,” she says, her voice breaking when she says Dad.
It surprises me that she’d bring him up. We never talk about Dad, or his death, or the funeral. It’s an unspoken agreement not to bring up painful old memories. But now that she mentions it, I hear what I just played with a startling clarity. She’s right.
It sounds kind of cool on guitar.
“You’re right,” I say, and she nods, her face twisting up as she tries not to cry. We both remember that day.
FLASHBACK
“Hey, sweetheart, how was your day?” Mommy says, her face pulled up into a happy smile. She’s leaning on the counter causally. Leanne and I are drawing on pads of paper.
“Oh, that’s great! So you’ll come home and we’ll head to your sister’s place?”
I quit paying attention to her and show Leanne my drawing, which I’m very proud of. It’s a cow. “Look what I drew!”
“Oh yeah?” she counters, holding up her drawing. It’s a good one of our family. To my dismay, I realize that she’s a better artist than I am. As I’m about to protest this unfair occurrence, Mommy’s voice turns urgent.
“Alex? Alex, where are you? Alex, sweetie, are you there? Can you hear me? Alex!” We look over at her, confused. She hangs up, calls again, hangs us, calls again, and goes through this about five more times. Then she gets us in the car, rushing to get to somewhere that we don’t know about.
“Mommy, where are we going?” I ask.
“To see Daddy, Leo,” she answers, her voice tense.
We drive around for what seems like eons, and then we see the crash. A bus is collided with Daddy’s car, and Mommy gasps, stopping the car and getting out, leaving us in there alone. We watch silently as she runs up to the ambulance, talking urgently to a policeman. He replies to her, her face goes pale, and she pulls out her cell phone, calling someone. She walks back to the car as she goes, but is finished talking by the time she gets back. She then takes off, going to who knows where.
“Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Leanne asks.
“He was in a car crash. He’s in the hospital, and we’re going to go see him.” Her voice is breaking; we’ve never seen Mommy like this before. We’re both silent again. I’m scared by the tears on Mommy’s face. I don’t want to see her cry.
Eventually we come to a big while building, which can only be the hospital. Mommy takes us in, and we have to run to keep up with her. Her cell phone rings, and she opens it eagerly.
“Yes, this is Jennie.”
Someone talks for a brief span, and she looks somewhat relieved. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll be right there.” She hangs up, and walks over to a group of people, all of whom look different. The short lady looks kind of like Daddy, than there’s a tall guy who just looks intimidating. The other guy is short, like the lady, only his hair is pitch black and he just looks…different. The short lady is arguing with a nurse. Mommy walks over confidently, and says to the nurse, “I just got a call from the doctor saying it’s okay to visit Alex Jacobson. I’m his wife, these are his kids, and these are his siblings. Will you please let us in?”
The nurse leads us to Daddy’s room, along with the strangers. We’re all very silent, and the white walls are intimidating.
We finally get there, and a doctor walks out of the room.
“I’m sorry to all of you, I truly am,” he says, and Leanne and I stare at him in confusion.
Mommy gets it, apparently. “You mean he’s –“ she says, but breaks off as the doctor nods sadly. What’s going on?
The tall man hugs Mommy, and she cries into his shoulder. The small woman hugs us, holding us together. I don’t get it. Why are they all so sad?
“What’s happening?” Leanne asks as we lean into the small woman.
“Oh, sweethearts, I don’t know how…” she trails off, her voice breaking. I start to cry too, but I don’t know why. Why are the grownups so sad? They’re not supposed to cry. “Shh, Leo, shh, shh,” she says, comforting me, being a good adult.
The doctor says, “He told me to tell you guys that everything will be okay.”
“Where’s my daddy?” Leanne asks, beginning to cry too.
“He’s gone, honey,” the doctor says, bending down so we can see him. His voice is soft and gentle like a blanket to smother our worries.
“Where’d he go?”
“He went to a place where everyone is always happy.”
“Can I go?”
“You will, eventually, but not yet. You’ll go when it’s time.”
“Then why is everybody sad?”
“Because they miss him.”
“But won’t we call him? Can’t he come home and wait for us?”
“No, he can’t, sweetheart. Once you go there, you can’t come back. And they don’t have phones to call home in that place.”
“Why did he leave without us?”
“Because you can’t choose when you go.”
Leanne begins to cry, I cry harder, the short woman comforts us through her tears, and Mommy’s sobs echo through my head. I want Daddy back.
END FLASHBACK
Tears glisten in Leanne’s eyes, and I realize that I’m crying too.
“He’s in a happy place now,” she says, her voice a whisper.
“I’m sorry I played the song, Leanne, I was hardly aware of myself,” I apologize, since it was my playing that started the sad memories.
She grins. “You can make it up to me by actually making dinner tonight and not procrastinating.” Her voice is still thick, but she’ll be over the sadness soon enough.
I roll my eyes at her and trudge downstairs, only doing this for her. Of the two of us, she was the one who suffered the most from Dad’s death. I have a suspicion that her unfriendliness may have been the result of losing him – and Mom as we knew her.

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