Part 01: Lance - Matters of the Heart

"My father is an alcoholic," he reminded me. "I think I can recognize the signs." He looked at the keys in my hand. "You weren't planning on driving, were you?"

"Um . . . maybe."

"I don't think so," he said, reaching out and seizing the keys before I could stop him.

"Hey " I cried, reaching for the keys. He jerked them away. "Billy Come on, Man." I sounded like a child, begging for a piece of candy.

"No," he said. "Don't be stupid. You'll kill yourself. Now . . . sit before you fall down." He led me to a chair on the porch and I sat. He sat beside me. "Lance. Alcohol is not the answer."

"What do you expect me to do?" I demanded. "What would you do?"

"I don't know. But don't resort to this. You should have come to me if you needed to talk."

"What can you do? You can't bring Miranda back."

"I know, Lance. I wish the hell I could. I hate seeing you this way. All we can do is be here. We are not going anywhere."

"Sure," I said, dryly. "That's what I thought about Miranda. Do you believe in God?" I asked him.

"I don't know. Sometimes. Don't you?"

"No."

"How can you not?"

"How can you?" I demanded. "He took Miranda from me, and from Sarah. A real God wouldn't do that. If He is supposed to be all powerful, why would he take away the one thing that I had to be happy about?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Everything happens for a reason," Dalton said, coming up onto the porch.

I looked at him. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes. I always have," he said. "How are you?"

"Can't you tell?" Billy replied for me. "He's drunk."

"What?" he exclaimed, stunned. "How did that happen?"

Billy shrugged. "I don't know. He was about to leave when I showed up."

Dalton just shook his head at me.

"It should have been me," I said, not speaking to anyone.

"What?" Billy asked, looking at me.

I looked at him. "It should have been me," I repeated. "Not Miranda."

"Do not talk like that," Dalton said.

"Why? I'm serious."

"I know you are," he said.

"Why Miranda? She was so . . . perfect. She was everything."

"Maybe the angels were jealous of her, because she was perfect," Billy said.

I looked at him. "You think so?"

"Yeah."

I thought about the possibility and then smiled. "Yeah. I guess that would make sense."

I must have passed out sometime after that because it was morning when I woke up. I had a splitting headache and when I rolled over, I hit the floor with a hard thud. I groaned loudly and got to my feet. I made my way to the bathroom and found some Aspirin. When walked toward the kitchen, I saw Billy sleeping on the couch. He woke up when I stumbled in.

"Hey, Lance," he greeted, sleepily.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. Why are you here?"

He yawned and sat up. "I stayed to make sure you didn't go anywhere."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about last night. I feel like an ass. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Don't apologize. You're grieving. I understand."

"Thanks, but . . . I don't feel sad," I said. "I feel . . . angry. All the time."

"That's normal. It's okay." I didn't say anything. "Well, I better go home before my father's realizes that I didn't come home last night," he said and stood up.

"Why are you scared of him?" I asked him.

He looked at me for a moment. "I'm not," he said and changed the subject. "Will you be at practice tonight?"

"I doubt it, Billy."

"You should come. It will take your mind off things."

"No," I told him. "I can't. I just . . . I don't want to sing any more."

"You don't have to sing," he said. "Just be there."

"I'll think about it," I told him, but I didn't go.

I didn't go to practice any more after that. I fell into a state of depression and refused to see anyone. I wanted to be left alone. I could not get Miranda out of my mind. I got angrier and angrier as the days passed. One after noon, when again I didn't show up at practice, it was not long until my friends show up.

"It's been weeks, Lance," Billy told me, clearly agitated. "You've got to let go and move on."

I remained silent, which irritated him more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dalton give him something. Billy slammed a scrapbook down on the coffee table in front of me. I just stared at the blank cover until Billy reached down and opened the cover and there, on the front page, was a picture of Miranda's car. It was crushed. With trembling fingers, I reached down and turned the page. There it was, the article from the newspaper.

Sixteen year old Miranda Quinn

and sixteen year old Raven Jenkins

were on their way home from a

shopping trip when a drunken driver

crossed the yellow line, sending

Miranda's car over an embankment.

Raven escaped with minor injuries.

Miranda is in critical condition and

not expected to survive . . .

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath to try to calm the fury that was building in my chest. Yet on the very next page was Miranda's obituary. Beside it was a picture of her, smiling that beautiful smile that I was missing so much. I stood up and hurled the book across the room, just missing Dalton. He ducked out of the way and everyone looked at me, shock by my outrage.

I looked at Billy with fire in my eyes. "Why would you show me that?" I demanded.

"I thought it might help," he said. "We thought that it might encourage you to talk to us."

"I can't, Billy," I told him, my voice shaking. "Don't you think I would have by now if I could?"

"I don't know, Lance."

"It hurts too much," I told him.

"I know."

"No, you don't," I shot back. "It hurts to talk. It hurts to breathe, because I am so pissed off all the time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wake up every morning, knowing that somehow I have to get through another day without her?"

Nobody responded. Without warning, the dam that was holding back my emotions broke and began to cry. I would have fallen if Billy had not rushed forward and caught me and held me up. I sobbed into his shoulder for several minutes. When I was finally able to control myself, Billy pulled away from me and I sat on the couch, feeling exhausted.

"Are you all right?" he asked me.

I nodded. "I'm sorry. I..."

"No," he said. "It's okay. It's good to let go sometimes."

"Being angry all the time just seemed easier," I told them. "Easier than being sad."

They hung around my house for the rest of the evening and then, after making sure that I was emotionally stable, they all went home. I picked up my keys and decided to go for a drive. Driving always made me feel relaxed. I went to the cemetery for the first time since Miranda's funeral. I stood over her grave for a good while, just looking down at it.

"Damn it, Miranda " I shouted, suddenly. "Damn you for hurting me like this. You should have been more careful. You should have fought harder. You should have . . . " my voice trailed away and I dropped to my knees and sobbed against the tombstone. "Miranda, I need you. I cannot do this any more."

"Then say goodbye."

I froze, almost stopped breathing. "Miranda?"

"Behind you."

I got to my feet and I whirled around. There she was, standing in a glow of white. I glanced at the tombstone behind me and then I looked back at her. I stared at her for the longest time, not knowing what to say or what to do.

"How is this possible?" I asked her.

"You needed me," she said. "Here I am. But you must let me go. It's the only way to heal yourself."

"Miranda," I whispered, sounding more like a plea. "I can't. I don't know how."

"Let God help you."

"How?"

"You have t let him into your heart," she replied, stepping out of the light. Her body became solid, like she was real. In slow motion she brought her lips to mine, kissing me one last time. Then, just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. I stood still for a moment, wondering if that had actually happened, but I could still feel her kiss and I knew it was real.

I dropped to my knees again and began to pray. "God, I need help. I need your help. I cannot live with this pain inside me anymore. I do not want to be angry anymore, but I cannot shake it away. I am not strong enough; only you can help me. I want peace. I want to feel good again and like myself again. Please, God. I am so scared."

I turned and sat down, leaning backward against Miranda's tombstone. I felt like her arms were around me, holding me again, like she used to. I crossed my arms over my knees and rested my head in my arms. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up the next morning to someone shaking me.

"Raven?" I said, confused. "Hi."

"Have you been here all night?" she asked me.

I got to my feet and glanced around the cemetery. "I guess so. Why are you here so early?"

"Oh, um, I came to plant some flowers on Miranda's grave," she told me.

I smiled at her. "She would like that."

"Do you want to help me?"

I nodded. "Sure."

Raven had brought enough flower seeds to surround Miranda's grave.

"They should come up next Spring," Raven told me. "It will be beautiful. I cannot wait to see them."

"Neither can I," I said.

"I know that you have been having a hard time," she told me, after a moment's silence.

I nodded. "Yeah. I have. I keep feeling like I've been cheated. Miranda was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I know what you mean," she said. "She was always there for me when no one else even bothered."

"I'm sorry that I never got to know you," I said to her.

She smiled at me. "It's okay," she said. "Maybe this is our chance."

"Maybe."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Sorry?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"It was because of my birthday that we were out that night."

"No. Raven, do not blame yourself," I told her. "The accident was not your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

"I feel so bad all the time," she said, with tears in her eyes. "It was my birthday. I was the reason we were shopping in the first place."

I stepped forward and took her hands into mine. "Look at me, Raven." She looked up at me and looked into my eyes. "Listen," I said. "Miranda took you shopping because she loved you. That is just the kind of person she was."

She nodded. "Thank you, Lance. You are a good person."

"Yeah."

"Well," she said and began to gather up her things. "I better get going. My Dad will be looking for me."

"Okay. Take care, Raven," I told her.

She started away, but then she turned back to me. "Um . . . can I call you sometime? If I ever need someone to talk to?"

I nodded. "Of course. Don't hesitate."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

"Bye," she said.

"Bye, Raven."

After she drove away, I got into the Jeep and drove home. When I pulled into the drive way and got out of the vehicle, I saw my friends sitting on the front porch.

"Hi," I said to them, walking up onto the porch.

Everyone stood up when they saw me.

"Where were you?" Billy asked me, obviously happy to see me.

"Um . . . why?"

"We have been looking everywhere for you," Dalton told me.

"Oh. Did you check the cemetery?" I asked them.

"The cemetery?" Devon followed.

"Yeah," I said. "Evidently, I fell asleep there last night. Raven woke me up this morning."

"Oh. Are you okay?" Devon asked me.

I looked at them for a moment. "Yeah," I said. "I think I will be okay." They exchanged glances. "What?"

"Nothing," Billy said. "We were just worried about you."

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay, Man," Ronnie said, looking very tired.

"Um . . . this is going to sound crazy," I said. "But Miranda came to me last night while I was in the cemetery."

"Miranda?" Billy said and they exchanged glances, again.

"Yeah. She helped me let go."

"Really?" Dalton asked.

"Yeah. She came and went so fast, I had to wonder if it had really happened, but I feel like this huge weight has been lifted off me," I told them.

"That's good," Devon said.

"Yeah," I said. "It doesn't hurt so much now."

I am not sure they really believed me, but they seemed satisfied.

Miranda is just a memory now. She is a wonderful memory. Love is something that you leave behind when you die. It is that powerful. I can still feel her love, so she is not truly gone.