Final Song

CW: Gun violence, murder

There’s a song that plays every time I see her. I know that she’s in my presence when I hear it. It comes before her, it stays with her, and it lingers after her. The song never leaves my head. And it only gets louder at night. It drives me crazy. It messes with my sleep and my focus on everything I do throughout the day. The song is a constant in my everyday life, but I haven’t seen her since that night. The only time I see her is when I close my eyes. She’s the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

This isn’t the first time I’ve spoken about what I’m going through. I’ve said these exact words to this same therapist time and time again. At this point, I feel like it’s a waste of time. Every time I come here, she asks me to verbally repeat the events that took place that night. The night that I seemingly haven’t moved past. I continue on talking about that night as I sit on this couch, a couch that I won’t admit is the most comfortable couch I’ve ever sat on and try to ignore this headache.

I’m not someone who goes out often. I usually prefer a quiet night with the TV illuminating my face instead of club lights. But because it’s my senior year of college, my friends have made it mandatory that I go out at least once a month until graduation. I’ve always been told that I should get out of my comfort zone. To experience new things. To “try fun”. Those are the words that my roommate, Jennifer, printed out on a poster and hung on my side of the room to convince me to go out with her that night. I gave in. I’m not anti-fun. I can have fun. It’s just that my definition of fun is different from most of the girls at my school. 

Sure. But how would you know if this is your type of fun if you don’t try it? Jennifer asked me. 

Because I’ve tried it. I say.

When? When’s the last time you went out? Hm? Sophomore year? She was right. I thought that maybe my feelings about the party life could change. Maybe, you’ll meet a cute girl.

Yea. Maybe.

Waiting in line for twenty minutes just to enter the club had me regretting my agreement to go out. Jennifer and her already drunk-off-pre-game friends weren’t helping either.

Charlize, I couldn't help but notice that you didn’t drink anything at the dorm. Being sober around drunk people isn’t fun. Here. Theo, who is Jennifer’s boyfriend, but not officially boyfriend, but exclusive but also slightly open friend-boy, handed me a shooter. I took it with no contest. I hated going out, but drinking is something that I enjoy doing often. He was right, though. Being sober right then was only fueling my hatred for going out. I drank it quickly. Theo claps. 

Attagirl. Let me know if you need another before we go in. I’m a big advocate for not spending money on drinks here.

I held my hand out to him, and he instantly handed me another one. I thanked him. Why not spend money here? Don’t you want to support the business that you rely on for fun every weekend? He laughed. 

‘Every weekend’ is a stretch. But to answer your question, I had a buddy that worked here as a security guard and he told me that if you’re noticeably plastered, they’ll charge a little extra for your drinks. It’s clever, but fucked up. They fired him a few weeks ago because he missed one too many shifts. The funny part though is that they fired him before finding anyone to take his place. So now instead of having a body guard and one that calls out a lot, they have just the one bodyguard. I’m buddies with him too though, so I feel safe in his hands.

Speaking of bodyguards, the lonesome one was asking for my ID. I didn’t even notice we had been moving forward. Maybe it was the shooters or maybe it was me actually engaging in a conversation with Theo that didn’t revolve around Jennifer or consisting of him apologizing for how often I come back to my room with a sock on the door. 

I handed him my ID. I got a bit nervous when he examined it. And even more nervous when he scanned it. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I’m twenty-two. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t had my ID checked in a scenario like this since sophomore year when I was underage. I still got in though. However, I do regret spending two hundred dollars on two fake IDs, one of which I only used like twice. 

Of course I got in with no issue. I paid my cover and received a stamp on my hand. When I walked inside, the heat from all of the drunken moving bodies hit me like a wave. I found a pocket of empty space and stood there to wait for the rest of the group to get in. 

To the dance floor! Jennifer shouted. 

We all followed the best we could despite being separated oh-so often by the random people dancing. As soon as we found a spot where we could all dance comfortably in each other’s view, no time was wasted before everyone broke out into a dance. Theo immediately starts grinding on Jenn, Willow and Mila got a synced rhythm going, and Brandon and Myles immediately started searching for a girl they could pursue for the rest of the night.

I talk to these people-excluding Theo- almost every day. We’ve spent many late nights just talking in Jenn and I’s dorm until the sun rises. Because of that, what I was noticing about everyone in our group that night would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. As much as Jennifer seemed to be enjoying Theo’s grinding, she actually hates how much he sexualizes her and their relationship. She’d rather be dancing with him face-to-face, but she’s not secure enough in their semi-new relationship to express that. Willow and Mila are the closest pair in the group, but they are also the most competitive. More likely than not, their synced dancing was a competition of who can lure over the first guy. Brandon really was searching for a girl to spend the rest of the night with and nine times out of ten, he is successful. He didn’t stay with us for much longer. Myles was only pretending to look for girls, but I know that his eyes would often keep locking back on Brandon. He came out to me a few weeks ago, but he’s not ready to tell anyone else at the moment. Not because they’d have a problem with his sexuality, but because then they’ll realize that he has a different want for what his and Brandon’s relationship currently is. 

As I did my little side-shuffle, I wondered how could I actually have fun tonight? But, I wasn’t drunk enough to do that yet, so I signaled to everyone that I was going to the bar with a drinking motion with my hand before I started to walk away, ignoring Theo’s headshake. After a bunch of pushing through people, I miraculously found an opening at the bar.

Gin and tonic, please. I’ll open a tab. And that's when I heard it. 

The song? My therapist, Dr. Irene, asks. I nod.

For some reason it stuck out to me more than the others. Probably because I hadn’t heard it before then, with its intruding yet muffled beat. The vocalist has a strong, soulful tone, but it gets drowned out by the beat. It’s almost like she and the beat are in competition of who could be louder. 

Even though I hadn’t heard it before, everyone else seemed to have. Everyone was singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs. The competition was now between the vocalist, the beat, and the people in the club.

 I think now I understand what Jennifer meant when she told me that there is nothing more unifying than a club full of drunken people smushed up against each other, singing loudly along to a song together. 

The girl next to me was really feeling the song. I wondered if she’d experienced the type of yearning the song speaks about. She was so into it, she didn't even realize she grabbed my drink once the bartender set it down. I didn’t want to ruin her vibe, but I basically already paid for it. As she began to bring the cup toward her mouth, I tapped her shoulder before she could take a sip.

Excuse me. Sorry. It’s just that that’s my drink. She froze and turned her whole body towards me.

This is your drink? She asked. I nodded. 

Yes. Gin and tonic. That’s what I ordered. It’s on my tab. She laughed and put the cup down. 

That’s funny.

Funny how?

When she realized that I was not backing down, her smile faded and she scoffed.

Funny in the way that I also ordered a gin and tonic, but even funnier in the way that I watched you walk up next to me and then proceed to order after me.

Just then, the bartender set down another drink in front of us.

Now that… She points to the drink on the bar. ...that is your drink.

Wow, that’s a bit embarrassing.

That’s a bit embarrassing for you. Now, it was my turn to scoff.

At least I’m not watching people. You knowing when I walked up and what I ordered is stalkerish. She puts her hands up to mock defense.

Whoa. You can’t fault me for noticing things. That’s normal! What you can fault me for is being a bitch to you when in reality what I want to do is to get to know you. With me too stunned by the unexpected turn of this conversation, she continues on. I’m Clem. She sticks her hand out for a handshake. 

Charlize. I shake her hand. 

Then bang. Just like that we were locked in on each other and no one else. We found a corner near the door that was a bit secluded and talked for what felt like hours. We talked about who we came here with, college, where we’re from, our family, and so much more. I felt like I got to know everything I could about her and vice versa. Then, that song came on again. I guess repeats are bound to happen. Maybe it was suggested. I’m not sure, but I didn’t mind. She perked up when she heard the first pluck of the guitar. I had enough drinks by then to get up and dance along with her as she sang. 

After that, I don’t remember what happened.

You still don’t remember? Dr. Irene questions. I shake my head. 

No. I don’t remember. Just like I didn’t the last time we met, and the time before that, and the time before that. Dr. Irene sighs.

So, the song plays, you’re singing along with it and with her, and then you don’t remember anything else?

Nope.

So, that’s the last thing you heard, and she’s the last thing you saw?

Basically. Yes. I nod. She squints at me, almost glaring. 

When do you start remembering?

What do you mean?

At what point do you start to remember? Is it when you woke up the next day?

Um…I’m not sure. She hasn’t asked me anything like this before, so I never really thought about it. 

Let me ask you this: do you remember coming here? What kind of question is that? 

Of course, I remember coming here. I…I got…I don’t know. Why can’t I remember coming here?

Charlize. Are you sure that that song is the last thing that you heard? I start to speak- And before you speak, really think about it. Try to remember. As sure as I am about what I heard, I was just as sure I could remember arriving here at this office. So, I take the time to really think.

The song started to play…everyone, including us started to sing…and…

And? She encourages.

The song started to play; we started to sing…and then…then there was a bang.

What was the bang, Charlize? She begins to lean forward in her chair. 

I’m not sure.

Think. What did you hear after the bang? I begin to feel sick; my head starts to pound harder. 

A scream.

A scream of someone having fun? I shake my head slowly. 

No. No it was a visceral scream. A scream of terror. Or maybe pain. Both? She nods affirmingly.

Both. Then what?

Then…then there was another bang. I’m losing control of my voice. It’s shaking.

Ok. And what did you see? I am going to be sick. I’m sweating and I feel both warm and cold.

I was looking at Clem. My eyes were on her the whole time. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

I know. I know. So, what did you see after that second bang.

Her head… 

Her head? Her head what?

It snapped to the right. And then she dropped to the floor.

Yea. She did. And what happened next, Charlize? My headache is unbearable at this point.

There was another bang, and I just felt this intense pressure on the side of my head. And then this overwhelming feeling of heat, and then cold. At this point, I’m on the floor with my knees to my chest. Tears flood out of my eyes as I try to process everything that I am remembering.

That’s it. That’s all I remember. This can’t be happening.

That’s because that’s all you can remember.

Because I died. Right after, right? She nods. 

Yes. You died right after.

Those bangs were gunshots. She continues to nod. 

Now that you remember what happened, I hope that you will be able to let go and move on from that night. I look at her incredulously. 

‘Move on’? How the hell am I supposed to just ‘move on’?

The first step is remembering. The next step is accepting that there’s no changing what happened. She explains gently to me. I start to feel well enough to get back on the couch. The nausea, sweats, and headache are gone. 

Well, wait! Wait. I stand still for a second, trying to gather all of my thoughts and questions. What happened to everyone else? Jennifer? Myles? What did my family do? Are they okay?

That’s something that you just won’t get answers to. I’m sorry. I solemnly nod my head. Figures. But Charlize, honey, can I ask you a question?

I fucking guess. I don’t think I have much of a choice but to hear everything Dr. Irene has to say at this point.

Do you still hear that song?

I pause and sit still for a moment. No. I don’t. I don’t hear the song. Despite all of the things that I just realized, this is the one that eases me the most. I smile for the first time since that night. She smiles. She gets up and makes her way toward the door. 

Good luck on the rest of your journey, Charlize. Then she walks through it.