Margo's Lullaby

by Groves, B.

  He turned down every request. He expected to have microphones and digital recorders shoved in his face when he arrived.

  He would walk away from them all with no comment.

  This was a time for them—the victims—not vulture news reporters and their news channels looking to feed off the suffering of others.

  Sure, Michael would be right in front of the cameras, and many others, but not him.

  He was there for those that lost their lives, including his best friend.

  Dean straightened his maroon tie and smoothed his black jacket with his hands. He never wore dark suits, but today would fit the need to dress more subdued.

  The weather was climbing into the mid-60s today, with the sun shining brightly over them.

  The memorial would start all 11:00 sharp, but since Dean was a speaker he was asked to show up earlier so they could do some informal rehearsals about who was speaking when.

  He’s stayed up late nights over the last week, writing and re-writing his speech.

  He was busier than hell too, with not only this, but his baseball team’s games coming up.

  His chest swelled with pride in his team this year. They were thirsty for championships, and his pitcher—Mark Shephard—would take them there. That kid would make the big leagues; Dean could feel it every time he played.

  Dean looked down at Jake’s plastic dice keychain that sat in the palm of his hand.

  The black in the pips had worn off during the years, but Dean would hold onto to them forever.

  He squeezed them in his hand and placed them safely in his pocket.

  He wasn’t nervous about speaking in front of crowds, but his grief was overwhelming him today, and that feeling squeezed his chest like a vice.

  He glanced out the window and didn’t see Gabrielle’s car in her driveway.

  In fact, she hadn’t been home in a while. He wondered if she changed her mind and left for the time being until the memorial blew over.

  It was a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  Pam was right. This game they were playing was getting ridiculous, and Dean could only hope that Gabby hadn’t changed her mind and left town before they could talk.

  His family asked one more time if he wanted them there, but he said he was fine.

  “Are you sure?” Emma asked.

  Dean smiled at his sister’s concern. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

  “If you say so. I can catch a plane tonight,” she reiterated.

  “I can still get us a plane ticket,” Janet offered.

  “No, please. It’s all good,” Dean reassured them.

  Dean checked his cell phone. It was time to leave, or he’d be late. As he left the house he glanced over at Gabby’s place one more time hoping her car would appear. It didn’t.

  Dean drove over to the football field about a mile from the school.

  Cars were already taking up the spaces, and Dean had to navigate around the police, and pedestrians to find a parking space.

  He was supposed to meet William and the other teachers at the opposition team’s goalpost.

  Dean found a parking space and exited his car about a block from the football field.

  He said hello to a few people who walked past him and ended up walking with another teacher and her family as they made their way to the field.

  The stands were already filling with people dressed in their best clothing.

  News vans and satellites from local news stations were doing last minute testing on their equipment as the time approached.

  Dean only glanced at the white vans with their blazing news logos on the side and wanted to slip past them before a reporter spotted him.

  In the middle of the field, a stage was erected with a banner hanging from the top that said, “Bee Courageous, Bee Strong.”

  The high school band was setting up to the left of the stage, and the sound of drumbeats was pulsating through his ears.

  Some reporters were already interviewing various family members for the event.

  “Did you want to stop Dean?” The teacher asked.

  “No thank you,” he answered.

  On the stage were the chairs of all the speakers with the main podium front and center.

  Dean turned to see Michael McConnell.

  There he was— in front of the cameras—just as Dean thought he would be.

  The teacher he walked with mumbled something under her breath about giant egos.

  It was an insult, and it was funny.

  Dean’s eyes searched the crowd for signs of Gabrielle or Randy White, but he hadn’t seen either of them yet.

  They walked over to where the rest of the faculty was located. Dean shook too many hands today and was on the receiving end of too many hugs.

  He despised the looks of pity. Pity wasn't something he needed or wanted today.

  His eyes scoured the growing crowd for a certain blonde. Hoping and praying she wouldn’t come for her own sake.

  He hung by William and his family while he spoke to the mayor of Seven Hills, and her staff. Dean agreed to a picture with the mayor but turned down the offers for interviews when the reporters made their way over to the teachers and faculty.

  Today was a blur, and Dean was struggling to stay focused.

  Ten years. He couldn’t believe it, and it was only weeks ago that he found out the truth about Gabrielle Ryan and her sister that day.

  Regret subdued his mood even more.

  His flashbacks were slowly becoming clearer every day, and his most vivid memory now was Gabby pressing down on his shoulder while she tried to talk to her sister.

  Dean shook his head, lost in his own thoughts when he was ushered by the organizing staff onto the stage and instructed when he would speak along with other injured and some family of the dead.

  “Hi, Dean!”

  Dean turned to see Michelle Ramsay approach him. Michelle was another senior who’d been injured by Margo that day. She was shot in the ankle as Margo turned into the library.

  “Hey, Michelle!” Dean said, genuinely happy to see his old friend and classmate. He knew more were there but hadn’t spoken to them yet.

  The two embraced, and Dean was introduced to Michelle’s husband and her five-year-old son.

  “You look great, Michelle,” Dean said sincerely.

  “Thanks! So do you.”

  Dean and Michelle talked for a few minutes, and Dean found out she’d moved to Texas a few years ago for her husband’s job since there were threats of layoffs from his company.

  Other classmates from their graduating class also came up to them, and the group stood there talking for a few minutes. Dean was happy to see his some of his old baseball team. They sucked as a team, but they remained good friends, regardless.

  Dean and Michelle were alone on stage again.

  “So, how’s the ankle?” Dean asked.

  “I have my good days and my bad days with it,” Michelle answered. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “The tissue is deteriorating. Looks like I will have more surgery in a few years,” Dean said.

  “That sucks.” Michelle then laughed sarcastically. “Who would have thought we’d be sitting here comparing injuries instead of planning our ten-year reunion.”

  “I agree,” Dean said.

  Michelle stared into the crowd in thought and then both of them waved at some other classmates.

  “I’ve heard the rumors about Gabby,” Michelle commented.

  “Michelle—”

  “It’s okay. If she shows up today, I think she deserves better than how she’s been treated. Who can we place the blame on? In the end, it was all Margo. That’s my opinion, but I know many who disagree.”

  Dean let out a long deep breath and leaned forward. He checked his cell phone. They still had about fifteen minutes till the service began.

  All of the speakers were in their respective positions.

  Dean surmised about a thousand people showed up today.

>   Dean’s eyes searched the crowd. His eyes set on Randy and Melanie White for a few moments.

  Dean shook his head in disgust. He knew them long enough to know they were already inebriated.

  How could they? He thought as his disgust surfaced. How could they be drunk on a day like today?

  Dean reached into his pocket, touching the keychain and quietly apologized to Jake.

  That alone made the speech he wrote worth the attention he’d receive.

  The couple disappeared into the crowd, and no matter how much Dean searched, he couldn’t find them anymore. He thought the immediate family members of the deceased victims were sitting front and center, but Randy and Melanie were nowhere to be found.

  Dean rubbed his eyes and checked his phone again. Five minutes.

  Dean was then interrupted out of his thoughts by the old principal. The one who was in charge when Margo went on her rampage.

  Victoria Kinsey, a woman now in her late-sixties retired just shy of two years ago.

  She was always a firm, but fair principal in the school. She was a teacher and then principal for over forty years.

  She said later that she’d never thought she’d see the day a mass shooting would happen in her time as principal.

  Victoria was never the same after the massacre. After Dean got the job, he picked up on how Victoria had a constant strained expression while she walked the halls. Sudden noises made her retreat into a corner. Other teachers told him she would sit for hours staring out her office window, not moving, not answering the phone or emails. She did her best to hide her own remorse and anxiety for the sake of the students in the coming years.

  Victoria came face-to-face with Margo. It affected her deeply, and she suffered from survivor’s guilt to this day, because she was frozen in place when Margo pointed her gun at the principal.

  She said Margo stared her down, turned and ran the other way to the library.

  “I think if she wanted to kill me she would have,” Victoria said in a later interview Dean watched on YouTube. “But, she didn’t want to kill me, she had her focus somewhere else.”

  Victoria was a tall and willowy woman. She had perfect snow-white hair cut short to flatter her face. She was as thin as a rail, but on the inside, she was tough as nails, even though she always doubted her decisions after that day.

  Dean would never forget the relief in her eyes when she announced her retirement.

  “How are you?” She asked as Dean stood and embraced her. She was another speaker today.

  “I’m great. How are you?”

  “Can’t say I’m not happy to be retired, because I am.” Her laugh was a loud cackle that echoed off the stage. “How are the kids this year?”

  “Actually, I’ve had great classes this year.”

  “I heard the team will kick ass this year,” Victoria said with excitement.

  Dean forgot all his worries for a moment as he talked about his new team. He was so ecstatic he couldn’t contain it.

  “You need to come to some games, and watch them. They are amazing. The chemistry is like nothing I have ever seen,” Dean answered with a proud smile.

  “I will be there,” Victoria said.

  Since the memorial was about ready to begin, Victoria had to leave Dean and the rest of the speakers.

  She would speak first, and the rest of the line after her. Dean was last since he was a replacement.

  Michael McConnell took his place on stage, and the crowd went silent. The only noise was the traffic in the background, and the wind whistling through Dean’s ears.

  Michael adjusted the microphones and thanked everyone for attending this solemn event. He then complimented the community and the school for coming such a long way after the tragedy.

  “It’s been a long, hard road, but we’ve endured because we are strong.”

  As his words trailed off the band played a song about love, loss, and hope through desperation. The crowd gave a small applause.

  Dean was only half listening to the song. Randy and Melanie’s seats were still empty. Why were they not there?

  His eyes scanned the crowd, but there were too many people for him to spot the couple.

  After the song was finished, a preacher came to the stage and opened his Bible.

  Dean was no expert on biblical passages. Theology was never part of his history lessons, he taught facts.

  If he remembered correctly, the preacher was reading 1 Peter 1:6-9

  In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

  “Bow your heads,” The preacher requested.

  He then recited the Lord’s Prayer:

  Our Father, which art in heaven,

  Hallowed be thy Name.

  Thy Kingdom come.

  Thy will be done in earth,

  As it is in heaven.

  Give us this day our daily bread.

  And forgive us our trespasses,

  As we forgive them that trespass against us.

  And lead us not into temptation,

  But deliver us from evil.

  For thine is the kingdom,

  The power, and the glory,

  For ever and ever.

  Amen.

  The low “Amen” echoed through the crowd. Then more applause when the preacher left the stage.

  Victoria stood for her speech, and Dean shifted in his seat. Michelle looked over at him and smiled.

  “Are you okay?” She asked.

  Dean turned and smiled back at her. “Yes, and you?”

  Michelle sighed and said, “Just want this over with.”

  Dean was surprised when Regina Smith—Jennifer Smith’s mother—was helped onto the stage.

  Dean remembered her being in a wheelchair, but she looked like she walked fine with a cane until she had to climb the steps. A portable oxygen tank hung from her back, and over a simple black dress. She was joined by one of her children on the stage. Regina had been a single mother, and Jennifer always took care of her and the rest of the children when they were little.

  Her dark hair blew around in the wind. Whatever style she had earlier was now long gone.

  She stood straight as she eyed the crowd for a few moments. It seemed to Dean she was looking for a certain person, but he wasn’t sure whom.

  Regina had to take a few deep breaths before she spoke, but when she did, it was stronger than he expected. Her voice commanding attention from everyone. He never thought Regina Smith had that kind of personality, but she was a fighter.

  Dean focused on the woman standing in front of him. He listened intently as she spoke of her eldest daughter with fond memories.

  Regina choked up and had to wait for her oxygen to strengthen her resolve to finish her speech a few times. Her son wrapped an arm around his mother and placed his head on her shoulder while she spoke.

  Dean had to blink back tears as she recounted the day she found out her beloved daughter was gone.

  “She would always call me at lunch, just to say, ‘Momma, are you okay?’” Regina remembered. “It was every day, and it was some of my proudest moments. I couldn’t give her the childhood she deserved, but I know she would argue otherwise telling me how happy she was to help out.”

  “I don’t believe in hate anymore,” Regina finished. “Because that’s not what Jennifer would want from me or her siblings.”

  Dean scanned the crowd again when Regina finished. The woman sobbed as she walked away from the podium to thunderous applause.

  Other families came and spoke. Michelle and Dean exchanged looks when it was her t
urn. They took each other’s hands for a moment and squeezed before Michelle stood to take her place.

  Michelle’s speech was as beautiful as the rest of them. Dean had to wipe his eyes a few times.

  Another round of applause another speaker finished.

  The organizer nodded at Dean when Michelle sat back down in her seat.

  Inhaling a long breath, Dean stood and walked up to the podium. The crowd quieted once more and watched him expectantly.

  Dean scanned the crowd again and looked for a certain blonde woman in the crowd. Still not seeing her, he took his speech from his jacket pocket and set it down to read.

  He read his memories to the crowd about how Jake and he first met. The crowd laughed a few times at his funny stories, and Dean found his throat squeezing shut as those memories replayed in front of his eyes. From video games to little league to meeting girls, Jake and Dean were unstoppable, he said.

  Dean glanced up from his speech. Out of the corner of his eye, and to his right he saw a lone figure standing away from the rest of those in attendance.

  She was unmistakable and how his eyes were able to fall on her, he’d never know.

  Her golden hair blew gently around her face in the wind. He wasn’t close enough to read her expressions, but she waited for him to continue speaking.

  She stood straight and stiff whereas the rest of the onlookers relaxed.

  Dean took another deep breath and closed his eyes for just a second.

  He folded up the rest of his speech and placed it in his pocket. The crowd murmured in confusion, wondering if he was finished since he stopped so abruptly.

  “Recently, I was given a gift,” Dean started. “The gift of forgiveness.”

  Dean never spoke from the heart much, but this part of his speech was aimed only at one person in the crowd.

  “Forgiveness is a difficult emotion,” Dean said. “Some can feel it right away. For others, it may take years, and sometimes it never comes to pass within one's self.”

  The rest of attendees, the band, the stage, and even memories of Jake faded into the background as he spoke.