Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

She nodded. “It’s in my room, and you’re welcome to play it anytime you want. But it can’t leave this house. And it needs to be put back in my room whenever you’re done. Right where you found it.”

“Of course.” I studied her face for a few moments. “Did you hate Naomi?”

Grandma frowned and exhaled softly. “No. She was a troubled girl who needed discipline, but I never hated her. We talked a little when she helped me with the garage sale. She was very smart. The kind of person who could do anything if she put her mind to it.”

I looked at my hands. “People are saying horrible things about her online.”

“People will always talk. But you have her memory inside you. They can’t take that away from you.”

But memories fade, I wanted to say. What happens then?

We went back to Justin’s after the funeral. I didn’t know what was worse—the muted sobs or the overpowering scent of roses. They weren’t even yellow roses. I remembered the way Naomi’s eyes lit up when she talked about the yellow tulips Scott gave her. Yellow was her favorite.

Kari tried to speak, but she choked up halfway through. Roger stood apart from the rest of us, unmoving. And Naomi’s dad had this flat stare the entire time. He reminded me of a blank sheet of paper. Her mom was there too, with her hands over her face, crying.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Naomi couldn’t have been in that shiny box. It was too pristine for her. Too clean. She would’ve wanted frayed edges and bright colors. And laughter too. She would’ve hated the tears.

I fell back on Justin’s bed and rolled onto my side. He pressed his body against mine and wrapped his arm around me.

“How’re you doing?” he whispered.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I can’t sit around with wads of Kleenex like everyone else. Naomi wouldn’t want that—she’d probably tell me to laugh. But I can’t do that, either. It’s not normal. It’s not right.”

Justin stroked my arm, his breath warm against my ear. “Nothing feels right at first. And there isn’t a normal way to deal with this. If you need to laugh, do it.”

“If I’d been there Friday night, I could’ve talked to her.”

“What would you have said?”

“I could’ve told her everything I liked about her. How she was the first person to give me a chance in a really long time, how much I wanted us to stay friends. That’s why she got so mad at me and ran off with Scott. She thought I didn’t want her around anymore.”

Justin kissed my shoulder. “Naomi had one foot out the door before you even met her, Drea. Don’t blame yourself. You were a good friend to her.”

“Not good enough. I let her leave the day of the garage sale, Justin. And I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t I go after her?” I punched the pillow underneath me. “I could’ve stopped this. I know it.”

“I feel like I could’ve done more too. What? I have no idea. But I’ve been where she was. The more people tried to help me, the less I wanted it. With Naomi, I hoped that being there for her was enough. That our music was enough. But sometimes nothing is enough.”

Lizzie hopped up on the bed and rubbed her face against mine. Her green eyes looked sad and lost—just like me.

“I don’t understand why anyone would choose to need drugs. I’ve spent my entire life wishing I didn’t need them. I feel like a guinea pig all the time.” I ran my fingers through Lizzie’s soft fur. “I want to know who I am without them.”

Justin shifted against me. “I didn’t want my life. I mean—I didn’t want to die, but I wanted to be someone else. Someone who didn’t care about coming home to an empty house. Someone who didn’t feel alone all the time.”

“I feel alone a lot.”

He drew circles against my forearm. “But you aren’t. I’m here for you, and so is your family. You’ve got Lizzie too.”

The cat perked up at her name. Her entire body vibrated under my hand.

“I never told Naomi the truth.”

“I think she picked up on more than you thought. And she cared about you. A lot. She told me to take care of you in her letter.”

“What else did she say?”

He rolled off the bed and walked over to his computer desk. “Come over here and read it.”

I followed and sat in front of his computer. My stomach tensed, and I closed my eyes. It seemed too soon.

“Read it, Drea. I think it will make you feel better.”

My hand shook against the computer mouse. I opened my eyes, swallowing hard. My throat still felt scratchy. It began by telling him she was taking off with Scott, and that she was sorry.I’ve been planning this escape for a long time. I kept hoping things would get better. They didn’t.We don’t know each other that well, but I’m glad we got to talk that one night, especially about our dads. I hope yours comes around for you because he should be proud. You’ve got it together. I wish I had your strength, but I’m doing the only thing I know how to do. And that’s to get the hell out of here. No way is anyone going to lock me up. I’m a free spirit who belongs on the road.Take care of Drea for me. She’s the most real chick I’ve ever met, and you’re lucky to have her. But if you break her heart, well, let’s just say I’ll make a reappearance just to kick your ass. I know you won’t though. You’re a good guy.I’ll miss you guys and the music we made. You’re an amazing pianist. Don’t EVER stop!Until next time,Naomi

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Justin brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I miss her.”

“I know. I do too.” He stroked my hair, his voice cracking.

We held each other as the sunlight faded into dusk. Lizzie cuddled next to our feet. I told him about the day I moved in. How Naomi slobbered in my didgeridoo. He laughed and told me it sounded like something she’d do.

Then he talked about Italy and said that his grandma wasn’t much different from mine. But she’s a better cook.

“I want to take you there in the summer,” he said. “I have a couple musician friends there. We’ll jam. It’ll be cool.”

The idea made me smile, but I still couldn’t get Naomi out of my head. She would’ve really enjoyed a trip like that.

Going back to school was hard. A lot of people asked me about Naomi—they wanted every last detail. Kari eventually told them to fuck off .

Kari and Roger ate lunch with us nearly every day. Most of the time, we talked about music, or anything to fill the hole inside of us. I often looked at the fountain, expecting to see a flash of purple hair. And the locker room was so quiet without Naomi’s incessant teasing. There was nobody to talk about Justin’s butt or to insist that I lighten up. It was amazing how even the most annoying things about a person could be missed.

Roger offered to sing a couple tracks for us. But I wasn’t ready. The mic still belonged to Naomi. People continued to post comments about her voice. One of my favorite indie musicians even wrote me on MySpace, asking if he could work with the vocalist. When I told him what happened, he said he was sorry. Her voice would’ve taken her far, he said. Then he asked me if he could remix “Invisible.” He told me he’d dedicate it to her on his Web site. My heart hurt a little less that day.

It took a month for me to look at the videos we’d filmed of Naomi. Justin and I sat in front of my computer after we’d hooked up the camera. Neither one of us wanted to push play. But we had a project to complete. The world needed to see what we saw in her. A beautiful girl we’d never forget.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, looking at the still of her face. I hated the thought of hearing her voice and seeing her smile but not being able to hug her. I couldn’t pause the tape and tell her not to leave. She’d be looking right at me, her eyes wide with some adventure in her head. And I’d see her on the floor of that house. Pale and crumpled.