Ray of
Light,
Ray of Love,
Dearest Raychel,
We have
no secrets left to keep, do we?
Even after your death, I remained silent at your request. I may
have been the only one. Everyone else has betrayed you, as perhaps
you knew they would. Maybe you expected even me to betray you.
I didn't. Meanwhile, each acquaintance of yours has come forth to
spill your secrets out onto the floor for everyone and anyone to see.
Now no one is clean. Each of your secrets have scarred us and we
are left bearing our wounds in remembrance of you.
I did not
need these wounds of yours. My memory of you is its own bleeding
treasure. Time may dull some memories and taint others with rusty
sentiment, but somehow I know I will always remember you as you were on
the night we first met at Laura's party. I can re-create you
perfectly in my mind.
I see the
flash in your eyes as we spoke. Pale green hinting blue in a
semi-smiling moment, then backing down as the moment passed.
I can
catch a whiff of your perfume. The scent was timeless, welcoming,
and lightly poisoned. A pleasurable reminder that once I was so
close to you that I felt a part of you.
I
remember our one touch that night. A polite moment as I took your
hand as Laura introduced us. You were softer than human, and at
the same time unbreakable. A hand of silken steel.
And
always I hear your laugh ringing in my head. The weary ache tried
to hide deep inside your voice, but never quite succeeded. That
was the secret of your singing: It sounded like you had taken the
road less traveled every time in your life. I didn't know then
just how true that was.
Your
memory comes to me every day. Usually I am aware of it, but
sometimes it comes upon me when I least expect it. Driving my car.
Sitting in my office. I suddenly realize that I have been talking
to you in my head, and I cannot tell how long I have been doing it.
Those are the times it hurts, Raychel. That is how I know I loved
you.
But we
never had the time.
|
"Why was there
always someone else with us? Did you secretly hate me while
you secretly loved me? You loved so many, but was I one of
them?" |
I used to
wonder about that. Why did we never have the time between us?
It was always a stolen moment between tracks or (at best) a few hours
after a furious argument with Kyle. When I add up all of the time
we spent together between when we first met and when you broke off our
affair, I wonder if it adds up to a week. We were so close for
those five months, but we were almost never alone. There was
someone always in the room that made us maintain the charade.
There was always Kyle, or Sharon, or Laura, or someone else with us.
I try not
to wonder about that but after your betrayal the doubts attack as
Furies. Questions pile on doubts. Why was there always
someone else with us? Did you secretly hate me while you secretly
loved me? You loved so many, but was I one of them? Did you
fear me? Did you fear Kyle McAllister? Was there someone
else?
I wish
you were here as we were in our moments. You would soothe me.
Quell the storm between Kyle and myself. You were so strong then.
So different from the little girl lost in the studio funhouse just
moments before. Who were you really?
I wanted
to give you your true due in this letter but my cynicism keeps sneaking
out. This isn't fair to you. Then again you weren't fair to
me when you betrayed me in favor of Kyle McAllister and Ken Kincaid.
You severed me from your life and left me without a backward glance.
You never told me why. Did you blame me for your beating?
That was Kyle's fury breaking you, not me. Had you come to me in
that hour of need, you would have never left my side again. I
could have protected you. More than that, I could have kept you on
your path. You would have been a star. Instead, you stayed
with Kyle and Ken who couldn't take you past what you had already
accomplished. Kyle crippled you and Ken couldn't pull the right
strings. I was the one for you. The only one with the
connections to move mountains and money for you if you only asked.
There is
so much you didn't learn in your short life. You never learned to know
the difference between a friend and an enemy. Maybe Sharon was
right: You used so many people that you forgot to care if they
loved you or hated you.
I wonder if you knew what it meant to love another person.
Now you are gone and there is no way to bring you back to see if you
learned from your mistakes.
|
"This isn't fair
to you. Then again you weren't fair to me when you betrayed me
in favor of Kyle McAllister and Ken Kincaid." |
Perhaps you will
not forgive me for writing these things. If that is the case I beg you to haunt me. Torture me.
Never leave me alone. Then maybe we will both be happier than we ever
really were together. I would certainly be happier than I am now.
Everything is lost now.
It's been
said that the only way to kill your career in show business is by being
caught with either a dead girl or a live boy. While it is a cheap
joke, it is also a bitter one. After Sergei Brosovsky's recent
public unearthing of our affair, I have become a corporate albatross
around the neck of Cain International. It seems that your tribute
site has garnered a lot of national attention that Cain would rather not
have.
I have been asked to step down from my duties as Chief Creative Officer
of Terror Trax by Cain International. Apparently my affair with
you, combined with my close proximity to your accused murderers, has
made my profile too high for Cain. I guess there really is such a
thing as bad publicity.
I am not surprised by their action. They have to act in their own
best interests. I wouldn't be surprised if Ken Kincaid was behind
it, drawing their attention to Sergei Brosovsky's answer, and providing
whatever details he needed to ensure my termination.
If he thinks he is paving the way for a second reign at Terror Trax, he
is humorously mistaken. Henry Cain may feel damaged by his
alliance with Terror Trax (in light of the current circumstances);
however, he is not a fool, and only a fool would put a loose cannon coke
addict in charge of a million dollar venture. Cain will try to
find another pedigree to place over Kincaid, and Kincaid will fight him
like he did me. Except now he knows that he can win. If he
throws out enough pedigrees, maybe he really will get his old job back.
It
promises to be a good show for anyone without a stake in the outcome.
I am sure you have your own seat reserved for the coming battle. I
don't see you
missing this for anything. I expect you have been here all along.
I can imagine your reactions to everything that has happened since your
murder. I see the familiar flash in your eyes, smell the hint of
your perfume, feel your haunting touch. But most of all I can hear
your laughter ringing in my head.
