Erase Me

VIII

The funeral was a few days later. I sat in the front row between Idris and Devi. Charlie was sitting on the other side of Devi. Idris took my hand to comfort me. I swallowed my tears and wished he was Charlie instead.

It was the three of us, my neighbors, and some elderly people my great-grandmother played cards with on Saturdays—the only time she ever left the house. We made up a ration of either sad or bored ten or fifteen people . . . disgraceful for someone like Carol Sangster.

The eulogies given were even worse. They were shallow. Did these people even know her? They did but they had to ignore the biggest aspect of her life: music and the regret of not having it.

She was alive for fifteen years before music was banned. That time still exists and it was still a major part of her life. But no one mentioned it. I was tempted to push the next person to speak of her out of the way and tell them that she had a great music career that was tragically cut short by unfair means. I would have told them that all I wanted was to hear her sing to me. I looked over at Charlie and, as if he could read my mind, shook his head, urging me to stay seated.

But then they asked if anyone else would like to speak and I defied Charlie and walked up there.

“I lived with my great-grandmother for most of my life—ever since my father was executed for—”

My father was executed for singing (whistling for a dog, actually). I was about to say it when I noticed Senator Othmar Keen sitting in the back row. I lost my nerve.

Your family history is enough evidence to arrest you a hundred times over. Music is in your blood, his voice echoed in my head.

I lost my nerve.

“She was always supportive of my—” Singing, my voice said in my mind. “—paintings,” was what I stuck with. “She always hung them up on the walls in our house.” Just like the newspaper articles, I reminded myself. My thoughts and my memories were torturing me. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t keep pretending and lying. I pretended to break out in sobs. “We always took care of each other,” I said through the unbearable tears. “We kept each other safe.” Then I ran back to my seat. Idris tried to comfort me but he failed because all I wanted was Charlie.