by Jon Davis
Then my eyes went round with sudden anger when Andrews said, “His father would be here, of course, but dear Brian has been so distraught over the loss of his only child that he simply couldn’t come to terms with his deep loss. Our prayers are with him and with the soul of Alex Shaw, and, as the President said, we can only hope to come together as Alex asked us to. I am certain that Alex meant for us to do as the Bible commanded.”
I stared at the man. That was not what Alex meant. I was certain of it. I looked at Brand, and he gestured for me to calm down. I did my best to listen to him. But just the same, I almost jumped to my feet, ready to smack the man down. Alex wasn’t even here to defend himself.
Then a hand touched my knee. I looked to see Dana reaching past Erick Ryan to me. She quietly shook her head to keep me calm until Andrews finished his false homily. She pulled back only after he was done speaking.
As Andrews walked away from the podium, Dana stood up and looked at me with a mix of deep sadness and determination. All at once, I felt this sense of utter calm as she went up to the podium. I found myself waiting with the rest of the crowd as she looked out, her gaze slowly panning over the gym. She then looked down at the podium, closing her eyes. When she opened them and looked to the audience, she began to sing.
The room was utterly silent, save for the voice of a full lyrical soprano singing with such perfection that all of us could only sit, enraptured. I didn’t understand a single word she sang. She wasn’t singing it in English. Instead, I recognized it as Gaelic, the language of the Celts. Aunt Cassie had spoken it to me a few times. She said it was what she spoke for her spell work. Hearing this one moment of perfect beauty told me why my aunt did so.
And even though I couldn’t understand the language, the raw emotion in her voice tugged at this sense of utter despair within me, and then, in the midst of that sadness, something in her voice changed, adding in a hint of growing hope. But even as she sang that, her voice tinged the hope with sadness so great that, even as the emotional heart healed, it would leave a shadow in the lives of everyone it had touched. And in all that, Dana had done it with her voice alone.
And from that voice alone, I fell utterly in love with this beautiful woman. I was gifted with perfect memory for sound, and for the first time in my life, I was thankful for the gift. I’d remember Dana’s final goodbye for the rest of my life. And yet, all I could do was the same thing everyone else did as she came to a soft whispering finish; stare in dumbfounded shock. This wasn’t just music. This was perfection.
At the end, with a quiet voice, Dana said, “For Alex.”
No one said a thing as she returned to her seat. Tears showed clearly in the speaker’s eyes as she introduced the next person who would speak. Erick Ryan stood up and walked to the podium. He wiped unashamedly at his own eyes, and then, clearing his throat, he spoke of his first—and only—meeting with Alex Shaw. And he spoke of what might have been.
I looked at this man, and knew that I should have recognized him. Erick Ryan was the founder of Ryan Technologies. He wasn’t well known yet, though the company had developed better solar batteries and advancements in the methane-fuel technology. But he had dreams. I’d heard of a few of them from students at the Iowa University Technical College on the southeast edge of town. Ryan called his idea the Quantum Fission Core. And while he hadn’t gotten it working so far, rumor had it that eventually it would match and output enough energy to make even a fully working fusion reactor look like a firecracker going off.
At present, though, he was seen as a rich dreamer who brought people in to create for him and to keep his company going through small invention patents. I considered this and thought that if he was rich enough to play around at building new things, why argue? If he succeeded, he’d put Riverlite on the map, and then we might get more in our Wikipedia article than a few small paragraphs about being a research slash college town and a link to the Avatar Wikipedia page.
But Erick Ryan had a surprise for us. It seemed that he had met Alex one night while driving home from a science symposium in Chicago. Alex had been jogging off to the side of the road and Ryan had gotten a flat tire just after passing by him. Alex had helped him change the tire. While that was going on, Alex talked with him, and the sixteen-year-old shocked Ryan with the level of knowledge he had in physics. I chuckled as Ryan said he’d been so impressed by the depth and reach of what Alex knew that he had decided that he was going to offer him an internship.
Ryan got the entire room clapping when he announced that since he couldn’t offer that to Alex any longer, he was instead creating the Shaw Scholarship Foundation for scientifically gifted graduates. Brand and I looked at each other with a ‘who knew’ look. I had the wry thought that I should’ve studied more science.
Finally, it was my turn. I got up and quietly went to the podium as the room calmed down from Ryan’s announcement. As I looked out over the crowd and saw my face on the screen and people waiting for me to speak, for a moment, I froze up. So many people. This was a lot more than I expected. So many…so many people. Then I looked around at all the people who’d spoken and I rested my gaze on Bersculini, Anderson, and finally Dana. Again, I felt a sense of calm from her. But the room slowly filled with whispers and mutters. I stayed quiet. Just then, it hit me. Joe Andrews had paid for the hospital bills. We owed the bastard. If I went through with this, he might use that to hurt us. Then I saw my mom, her eyes filled with pride, and she nodded. She knew, and, in that moment, she accepted the potential cost of my decision. And that was enough.
“Alex Shaw killed a man to save myself and Brand Houseman from being murdered. The guy’s name was James Jessup,” I said quietly.
Taking a deep breath, I went on, “I noticed that no one had mentioned that. I noticed that people here didn’t mention that Alex was still here on the day before Yama was due to arrive. That’s when he saved Brand and me.”
I turned to look at Joe Andrews. “Maybe it was the panic on your part. Maybe it was just bad timing, and he missed the family plane. In any case, I’m grateful. If you hadn’t left him behind, he would never have been there to make the decision to stop Yama.”
I turned back to the stunned crowd and saw the hard, tense look I was getting from people in the room. “None of us knew Alex Shaw. He was too quiet. He hid behind the leather and the black. I knew him in school, and I knew him from reading comic books with him. Because of those comic books, I guess I can say that I knew that he liked the idea of superheroes. And I knew he believed that if you could do something, then you should do it. And he did save us. But he didn’t do it because he believed himself to be a hero. He did it because he knew that it was the right thing to do. So, while his flight to stop Yama was as much a shock to me as it was to all of you, I felt that it fit for who he was.”
Behind me, I heard Dana quietly whisper, “Thank you, Vaughn. Now it’s a memorial.”
“Alex was seventeen, and he was gay. He was dark, and kind of scary to feel comfortable around. I liked him, but I couldn’t call him a good friend. I don’t think Alex had many of those.”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the words. Then, taking another breath, I continued. “Because Alex didn’t have many friends, he was almost completely alone on the Day. But when he left us, he did it to save everyone, good and bad. By the way, he didn’t mean to say for us to follow the Bible or God’s will.”
I turned and looked pointedly at Joe Andrews as I said, “I’m sorry, but Alex didn’t say anything like that. And while you can interpret it however you want, what Alex said was, ‘Don’t abandon each other. Live. For each other’s sake, live.’”
I realized that it was time to finish this speech. I turned back to look at the people in the gymnasium and said, "Think about that in whatever way you may. Religious, social, or secular, it doesn’t matter. To me, it means that we shouldn’t run away from each other. It means that we should stay, we should live in the moment, and we should love each other. That’s what h
e meant. It’s about being there for each other. Let that be his final memory. However else this goes, come tomorrow. Because he gave tomorrow back to us. Don’t blow it. Don’t abandon each other.”
I looked back at Joe Andrews and said softly, “Ever again.”
Those last two words echoed in the silent gymnasium. I left the podium. But before I got to my seat, I heard the sound of a single person clapping. I looked out over the audience to try to figure out who was doing it. But they were looking around, trying to find the who was clapping as much as I was. Then, as I looked up to my right, I saw a single person standing. Angela.
Defiant, ignoring the shocked looks of her journalism peers, the petite blonde continued to clap. Then my mom stood and joined in. My dad and the Housemans quickly followed suit. At that point, the rest of the room stood to do the same. I just stood watching, stunned. There had been polite clapping for the other speakers. With the exception of Erick Ryan, none had gotten this. I really didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that I had talked about Alex honestly. No matter what, he deserved that. But I could only sit in silence as the ovation continued. I felt overwhelmed.
After a few more moments, a nervous speaker came up and announced that the post-memorial reception was beginning. The clapping continued, and I started feeling heated, embarrassed. Slowly, though, as the music began to announce the end of the memorial, the clapping ended. True, I’d poured everything I felt about Alex out to the crowd. But I hadn’t expected this reaction. However, it told me something. Whoever was pushing Alex into the role of a saint, they didn’t have every person convinced.
The cameras were packed away as police quietly moved in to push the reporters out. Sorry, I meant to say they began to ‘escort’ them out of the gym while all of us on stage waited patiently. I glanced to the front of the room at one point and saw Angela looking back at me.
She had the oddest look on her face. A sort of sadness mixed with understanding and just a trace of pride. I hoped she’d gotten the story she was looking for. It made me smile to know that she had been the first to clap. Maybe she was human, after all, and not just a reporter. It would be nice to know, considering how I was beginning to feel about her. For some reason, seeing her made it hard to breathe.
After the reporters were gone, people in the middle section began to move and those of us on the stage stood up. I glanced across the stage to see Cardinal Bersculini and Joe Andrews glaring at me. Before I could say or do anything, Andrews began to stalk toward me with some obvious intention of not saying nice things. Dana and Erick Ryan stepped between Andrews and me.
Andrews’s eyes narrowed at their move and looked at Dana as he said, “Young lady, move aside. I want to have some words with this young man. He’s clearly mistaken about a few facts!”
Behind him, Cardinal Bersculini started to say something. But one of his own people stopped him and pointed to one of the television screens. I glanced above us and saw that the screens were still showing us on stage. I had a feeling that someone outside in one of those vans decided to keep cameras on us to see what might happen. If the old man decided to ‘correct’ my mistakes, he’d be doing it in front of what might be thousands—if not millions—of people.
Andrews saw it. He opened his mouth and then closed it tightly. Then, with a tense nod, he reached out and shook Dana and Ryan’s hands. Once he let go—very quickly, I might add—he turned to join Cardinal Bersculini and, as we watched, they walked down the other flight of steps. On the floor, the clergy members and a couple townspeople who managed businesses owned by Joe joined them, and they quickly exited. I suspected a few limos were waiting outside to take them away from here.
I relaxed, realizing that I had been holding my breath.
I said to Dana, “Thanks.”
Dana gave me a tight grin. She said, “I think I have to wash this hand…ugh. That wasn’t fun. But it was worth it! Thank you, Vaughn.”
Erick Ryan turned to me. He had a smile on his face. “Thank you. I think you said everything perfectly. I’m something of a Futurist, myself, and all this was making me edgy. Hopefully, you’ve at least given people some food for thought.”
“Hell, he nearly brought the house down,” Chief Sinclair said as he looked at Ryan and me. Then he leaned down to kiss Dana on the cheek. Straightening, he said, “And your song was absolutely beautiful, Dana.”
Dana smiled at her father. Then my mom came up to me with this strange look on her face. She was looking at me as if it were for the first time. I tensed slightly and asked, “Mom?”
She continued looking at me that way for a bit longer before she said, “I’m sorry. I thought my young son came up here to talk, not this very intelligent and mature adult that I am very, very proud of."
I felt like a kid again as we hugged. I guess I always would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
If I had been expecting rave reviews of my speech, I was in for a disappointment. Oh, I did get compliments during the reception, many of them. And there was one person who left me speechless. There weren’t that many VIPs in the crowd. And I had largely dismissed most of them before the memorial had begun. But when one of the biggest names in pop music history appears in front of you, it makes for an interesting moment of…of…something.
Okay, honestly, I lost it. I didn’t have the words. From the way he behaved, I think he understood. He probably had tongue-tied fans all over the world.
Give me a break. He was my first superstar. He talked to me about Alex and plans he was continuing with in his efforts to help Africa. I smiled and nodded. Yes, I was so good at talking to the rich and famous. After more talking, he thanked everyone in the room and left the reception with a couple of the other VIPs. All music stars, they had come here together and were now leaving together. I looked around and saw that now only town people were in the room. Looking back as the music stars walked out the front doors, I saw that the reporters were yelling questions to them.
One gave the reporters an interview on the spot. I shook my head and let it go. It was only natural for people to want to know what the rich and famous thought. At least the reporters had someone to talk to them.
Me, I didn't plan to talk to the reporters at all. Let somebody else discuss his or her passions to a camera. No, I wanted a touchstone of the familiar, so I started walking through the crowd, taking in the general talk. I passed one group or another, shaking people’s hands and being told that I had said the perfect thing. When people talked about my speech, though, I got the distinct feeling that they missed my point.
Taking a break from the congratulatory handshaking, I went over to Brand where he was talking with friends about cars and motorcycles. For once, I wasn’t bored at all. It was something normal. And after the past few weeks, I so needed that ‘normal.’ I listened, I smiled, and I laughed at jokes. Brand was at his most relaxed when he talked about cars, and it felt perfectly mundane. But when I saw a certain redhead, I looked at Brand and nodded toward her. He gave me a look and chuckled. I shrugged, smiled, and walked away.
As I headed towards her, I got more compliments. I thanked them and moved on. I saw my parents talking with Chief Sinclair as I made my way toward the refreshments table. There Dana was pouring soda into a glass. She smiled and handed me the glass when I reached her and she poured herself another.
She said, “Drink up, Vaughn, talking to a crowd makes for a very thirsty speechmaker. And congratulations, you’ve made quite an impression. People are talking more about what you said than about the memorial itself.”
I gave her a half-hearted smile. Dana looked at me with concern and said, “What’s wrong? Have people been telling you they didn’t like it?”
With a grimace, I said, “No, they’ve been complimenting me. But I don’t think they saw it the way I’d hoped they would. Too many praised me on telling them about who he was before he became the Avatar. They act as if he changed into something completely different. From what everyone is saying, it was as though ‘A
lex’ was some kind of disguise and the Avatar was his true self."
Dana said, “Vaughn, I hate to say this, but think about Alex’s personality, then take into mind exactly what he did. It is difficult to put the two types of behavior together. You see him as a friend, and you saw past the dark personality he projected. But the Avatar part is what everyone else saw. So, to them, it is as though he were two different people.”
She sighed. “And I have to say the same thing to you that I told my brother. People need heroes.”
Dana gestured to the room. “And right now, human or otherwise, Alex Shaw is the Avatar to these people—the hero who saved the world.”
Glancing at the grimace on my face, she said, “Sorry, it’s just how things are right now. But people will listen after a while. They’ll want to know about the man behind the…glow, so to speak.”
I looked at the room, taking in all the people quietly standing around and talking. Some were laughing while others were debating about Alex and things they knew he’d done. Unfortunately, from what I heard, most of the people here barely knew him. How could they have? Alex had definitely gone out of his way to keep them at a distance.
And now, it was going to be up to the few of us who had known him to keep his memory alive. And to do that, I had to make the hero back into a man. Now, thanks to Dana, I was I beginning to see how hard it might be.