Angel's Gate

Somber silence was broken only by the soft notes of a piano lilting through the air. An air heavy with anger and regret, with sadness and mourning. The entire weight of it bore down on her shoulders, and she could feel what heart she had left flutter weakly with anticipation.

Why had they asked her to do this? Why not leave it to someone more experienced, someone who wouldn't crumble beneath the thickness that hovered over everything? She was too young to stand up there alone, to be strong enough to deliver eloquent lines in a seamless voice that would console even the most brokenhearted.

Ali gripped the paper tightly - notes she had scribbled the night before. She had tried to keep it simple, stay as aloof from her emotions as possible. To keep the memories as brief as possible. To keep her thoughts as blank as possible.

Despite herself, her mind rewinded the past few months, playing back scenes she had never fit together until now. Everything had gotten out of hand so quickly, even Ali hadn't truly understood just how seriously it had all escalated.

When did it start? September? October? Yes, it had been October, at the Halloween party. She remembered... they had gone outside, her and Maria. Maria and her. The sharp fall air had been a welcome relief to the overcrowded basement. They sat in front of the garage, staring out at the trick-or-treaterless street. A bag of leftover candy spilled out between them. Maria had confided in her that Roman had been pursuing her that night, had made tempting offers that were all too new to her precious virgin ears. Ali remembered she didn't like the sound of Maria's words. She didn't like Roman - the fifth-year senior who had taken a sudden interest in the beautiful sophmore. But, she had said nothing. Maria wasn't dumb enough to fall for sweet nothings.

Ali had still said nothing when, a few weeks later, Maria told her she was seeing Roman. A secret Maria begged her to keep - her mother insisted she wait until after high school to date, and certainly wouldn't relent for someone with such a reputation. But he wasn't that at all, Maria assured her. He was sweet, and nice, and he bought her things she couldn't wear, and told her things she couldn't repeat. And, he was so hot, and popular, and he had a car. And, she really liked him. And Ali, as a good friend, put on a happy face, giggled right along side her, and swore she wouldn't tell.

In all honesty, she hadn't been surprised when Maria told her Roman had given her marijuana for the first time. The corner of school where he frequented smelled of it all the time, and so did his car. At first, Ali had been disapproving - drugs were bad, all the commercials said so. Then she became complacent, accepting Maria's reassurance that pot wasn't a gateway drug and it wasn't bad for you, all it did was maybe kill a couple of braincells if you became a real pothead. But, Maria wasn't addicted or anything, and wouldn't become so. It was just a little fun.

The new year sent everything tumbling out of control. Maria started skipping school to hang out with Roman. She started smelling of marijuana everytime Ali saw her. She admitted to doing ecstasy more than once. She'd lost her virginity. Through all of it, Ali had said nothing to anyone. She had wanted to be a good friend - keep her secrets and remain by her side while the rest of the world abandoned her. And praying that her beautiful friend would dig herself out of the hole Roman had dragged her into.

Ali looked up, and notice that the pastor was motioning for her. It was already time. She stood, her knees weak beneath her, her stomach in knots, but she didn't show any of it. Her face was dry, as emotionless as weather-beaten stone. Her steps were silent on the thinly-carpeted floor of the sanctuary. One step. Two. Another. The pastor's stand was before her, and she turned to gaze upon the faceless crowd. A sea of sorrow. A sea she had been floating in moments before.

"My name is Ali Matthews. I, uh..." She hesitated, glanced at her unreadable scribble. "Maria and I were friends since we were little. Our parents were friends in high school, and we grew up together. We had a lot of fun these past 16 years, a lot of good memories. And maybe some not so good ones. But all friendships are like that, I think." She glanced back down nervously. Funny, she couldn't remember writing so sloppy. Her handwriting was always so neat.

"To be honest, I've never been very good at speaking in front of people. I never really know what to say..." Her throat began to tighten, and she quickly looked down at her clenched hands, at the now crumpled paper. But, she didn't need it. The words came on their own. "I never really thought I'd be here, talking about what I remember of Maria, telling you about my memories of her. At least, I thought I'd have more memories, more time to gain them. I never thought I'd be here now." A tear slipped down her cheek. She ignored it.

"I always thought Maria was so much stronger than me. She was my rock, my go-to girl when I had a problem. And she would always listen. And I tried to do that for her, as best as I could. But-" Her voice caught in her throat, cracking beneath the pressure. No, she had to do this. She had to.

"When I got the news that she had passed away, I didn't really believe it. Facing that reality - looking at her picture in the newspaper, with the tiny paragraph beneath it saying how who she was, how she died - was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life. I can't help but think back on all the opportunities I missed, all the things I didn't do, didn't say... I can't help but think that perhaps if I had been a better friend, maybe things would've been different. Maybe she wouldn't have turned to drugs, maybe they wouldn't have taken her life." She took a deep breath, her body shaking with the effort. She had to stay strong, had to say it all.

"But, I know that I can't change what's been done. Though I don't understand it, all I can do is trust that God had a greater plan for her. A greater plan for this tragedy. And I know that I'll see her again, one day. I can imagine her now, waiting at the angel's gate, smiling down on us." A small smile managed to push through at the thought, and Ali looked up through her tears. "I'm sorry, Maria," she whispered.