Melody drove herself home Friday afternoon, grateful for another weekend. Her heart still ached for Becky, but now, it was a numb pain, like Novocain on a bad tooth. Melody had taught herself breathing and meditation techniques to calm herself whenever thoughts of Becky overwhelmed her. Becky would forever be in her thoughts and heart, but Melody had to control her emotions. She came through the front door and greeted her mother who was seated at the table.
“Sit down, Melody,” Barbara said.
“What is it, Mama?” Melody asked.
“Trying to get any information out of Detroit seems impossible, but I got in touch with someone who was a great help. He told me where Becky is. Her body is still at the Wayne County Morgue. If she is not claimed within five days, she will be buried in an unmarked grave at Forest Lawn Cemetery, or her ashes will be scattered there.”
“Oh no, poor Becky,” Melody sighed. “I don’t want her buried in a potter’s field. She’ll have no headstone, as if she was never here. I can’t even visit her. Her mother will never claim her.”
“No Dear, that’s not right at all,” Barbara said, placing her hand on top of her daughter’s. “Melody, cemeteries, funerals, headstones, and monuments are not for the dead. They are for the living. It gives us something to cling to for comfort. Haven’t you ever walked through the cemetery behind our church? Some of those headstones are so old and faded they can’t even be read. Their families have long since passed, so no one knows who is buried there. The church records don’t even date back that far. You remember Becky in your heart, that is all that matters. Whether or not she has a tombstone makes no difference how you remember her.”
“I know,” Melody mumbled. “I’m still having a hard time dealing with this. I have to stay busy all the time. If my brain is occupied, I’m OK, but at night, when I lay in bed, I think about her. Sometimes a song she liked will come on the radio, or I’ll see something that reminds me of her. Then I just want to cry all over again, but I make myself stop.”
“Don’t make yourself stop, Melody,” her mother said kindly. “Those tears you have for Becky need to come out. When those moments hit, you just find yourself a quiet place and have a good cry. Dear, there is no other way.”
“Mama, it’s so hard. I love her so much and I miss her terribly. Sometimes it’s just unbearable. She deserves better. I can’t stand the thought of her rotting in a body bag waiting to be disposed of.”
Barbara patted her hand. “Melody, listen to me. Everything you loved about Becky is gone from this world. She passed on. The body she left behind means nothing. Think of an egg that is about to hatch. The chick breaks free and leaves behind the empty shell. These earthen bodies of ours are only temporary. They are weak and disposable vessels that wither away when their use is over, like empty eggshells. Becky is not on a slab at the morgue, she never was. Does that make sense to you?”
“Thank you, Mama.” Melody said. She hugged her mother and went upstairs.
***
The school year finally ended, and not too soon for Melody. It was a year she wanted to put behind her, yet it would stay with her for the rest of her life. As her condition improved, Melody began to feel guilty for feeling better. She did not want forgetfulness to be part of the recovery process, but some memories were already beginning to fade. She promised herself that one day she would make extra copies of all the photos and put them in a safe deposit box. Melody could not even bring herself to think of Becky’s pictures being lost in a fire. She shuddered to think of such a loss. That photo album meant more to her than a mountain of gold, and she would defend it with her life if needed.
Melody intended to stay busy all summer. She quickly found a new job at the local supermarket. She bagged groceries, returned carts from the parking lot, swept, and occasionally stocked shelves. Regular customers would ask her to push their cart out to the parking lot and assist them in getting their groceries loaded into their car. She usually got tipped, despite the store’s no tipping policy, but the managers always turned a blind eye. Melody found the job satisfactory. It was not as busy or hectic as McDonald’s, and there was no dating scene. Everyone worked and pretty much kept to themselves. It was an atmosphere that suited her. Melody’s only uniform requirement was an ugly green apron with a name tag. She worked her shifts quietly and kept a low profile.
In her off time, Melody did what her coach had asked of her. Behind her house, she set up a makeshift net made of tangled fishing line, some rope, and a discarded hammock. She placed plastic flowerpots on the opposite side of the net to serve as targets. She would spend hours serving the ball over the net, trying to hit the flowerpots hard enough to make them crack. Wherever the ball landed, it would bounce, hit the house, and roll back to her under the net. She found this to be convenient, but Barbara had to listen to it all day. Melody also used the side of the house to practice her bumping, and any other drills she could do by herself. When she wasn’t using the ball, Melody would do jumping jacks, squats, and jump rope to improve her vertical leaps. One day, she had the idea to execute jumping exercises while wearing an old backpack filled with rocks. This became part of her daily workout as well.
If Melody was not working at the supermarket or in the backyard, she was on her skateboard. Even though she had skated these same streets endless times, the joy her skateboard provided never diminished. While everyone else saw her flying down Front Street at breakneck speed, in her mind, Melody was in Florida, skating down a beach boardwalk. Melody imagined herself skateboarding in a bikini, or even topless, along the shore. She could almost hear the waves crashing on the beach and smell the salt in the air.
Florida was such a simple dream, her very first wish, but during rare idle moments that summer, Melody wondered if it would ever come true. How could she possibly get to Florida now? With Becky, it was all so easy. Now it seemed impossible. Melody still had no car of her own and thoughts of juggling both a job and school while paying rent and bills overwhelmed her. She did not see a way she could do it on her own.
Melody no longer blamed God for what happened to Becky. She now held Walt and Susan Olsen responsible and hated them for it. It was their fault she would never hold Becky’s hand at the beach or taste Becky’s salty skin after she had been swimming. The little apartment they were supposed to share would now be someone else’s home, and the photography class would never know the name Becky Valentine. Melody would take quiet moments to close her eyes, rock gently in her chair, and daydream about the life with Becky that was never to be. In her mind, she made it more beautiful, more romantic, and more fun every time she needed to escape reality. One day while doing this, she stopped herself and looked at the photo on her dresser.
“Oh Becky, what am I going to do after graduation?” she asked. “Where will I go? I don’t want to stay here!” It was time to take her mother’s advice and have a good cry, but not just for Becky, she also needed one for herself.
***
As the summer came to an end, Melody felt accomplished. She was able to add to her savings and was ready for volleyball. She knew she had improved considerably and could not wait to show Coach Heucke. Melody did not notice that she had grown half an inch, but as she admired her nude figure in the bathroom mirror one afternoon, she noted her fuller bust, well-defined abdominal muscles, and curvy hips, traits she admired in other girls. Melody yearned for Becky to look at her now, the way she used to, with eyes full of desire.
She closed her eyes and imagined Becky standing before her. Melody caressed herself, pretending her hands were Becky’s. She played with her breasts and swayed her hips in a teasing manner as if Becky was watching. Keeping her eyes closed, Melody reached over to turn off the light and lock the bathroom door. Melody then dropped to her knees and reached between her legs. She inserted her fingers the way Becky had taught her. As her fantasy continued, she lay on her back and rubbed herself vigorously with her fingertips. Her back suddenly arched off the floor as she brought herself to climax.
Melody tried to keep her mind off of her urges, but sometimes they were so strong, she could think of nothing else. She masturbated regularly, but it was a poor substitute. Though it did satisfy the physical needs of her growing sexual appetite, Melody missed the emotions and excitement of her only sexual experience. She had shared herself with someone she loved, and without that, it just wasn’t the same. Melody knew she would eventually be with someone else, but she was far from ready. Not only did she not want any more trouble with her parents, it would be unfair to the other person. She did not want to use anyone while she pretended she was making love to Becky.
One thing that had bothered Melody all summer was what to do with Becky’s necklace. In the letter, Becky told her she would know what to do with it, but Melody honestly had no idea. It was not something they had ever discussed. Melody still wore her half and could not bring herself to put it away. After much thought, and many different ideas, Melody finally made her decision on the last day of vacation. She hoped Becky would approve.
Sitting at her desk, she lay the two necklaces before her. Using a pair of needle-nose pliers, she removed Becky’s charm from its chain and attached it to hers. With both charms now on the same chain, she welded the two halves together using her father’s soldering iron. She was overcome with grief upon seeing the result. Melody thought back to the last day of ninth grade when they had first put these charms around each other’s necks. Was Becky trying to tell her how she really felt that day? Melody knew Becky had fallen in love with her first, but never got the chance to ask her when it happened. She put the necklace back on with the words of the charm against her chest. The reflection in the mirror showed a silver heart with a jagged crack down the middle. Melody found it fitting. Her real heart, although still healing, was forever scarred.
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