“I’m sorry, buddy.” I say out loud, taking a drag of the cigarette. The door to the stadium opens, and Bristol stands there waiting for me.
“You’ve gotta see this.” She says, her face stoic and a little ashen. I stand up from the barrier and stub the cigarette out on the ground. I make my way towards her, and she points down the hallway leading to backstage. I walk the hallway, and a roadie hands me the microphone while another one hands me my Fender. Boston is waiting sidestage, and his expression is the same as Bristol’s.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Neither one of them say a word, but they both point out to the crowd at the same time. Curiosity getting the better of me, I walk out onto the stage. We aren’t supposed to go on for another few minutes, and I’m sure the sound techs are pissed, but I had to see what had my bandmates so spooked. When I get to the center of the stage, the crowd loses their minds, cheering and crying, screaming my name, and…. pointing behind me.
I turn slowly expecting to find a large picture of Alex or something since this is a tribute to him, but instead, an older woman stands with Alex’s first guitar strung around her neck. The black Fender is a striking difference against her alabaster skin, but her black dress and eyeliner help her look the part. Walking over to her in a daze, I open my arms up wide and welcome the hug I know is coming. Margie cries softly against my shoulder when her little body hits mine. Our guitars clank together, and the sound echoes through the stadium.
“Margie, what are you doing up here?” I ask as soon as we pull away from each other. Her hand comes up to touch my cheek, and her eyes shine brightly against the backlighting of the stage.
“Who do you think taught him to play?” She says, a sad smile sits on her lips. “These fingers aren’t as fast as they once were, but we’ll make do.” She pats my cheek lovingly and emotion swells up inside me. I feel the tears hit my cheeks before I can stop them.
I look over to Bristol who is no longer white as a ghost, she’s a crying mess. Boston wipes a tear away from his eye too. I motion for them to join me on stage and they follow. Bristol hugs Margie, and Boston nearly throws Margie through the roof when he picks her up. The crowd loses it again, crying and cheering for us. Boston takes his spot to my left, and Margie takes the spot to my right–Alex’s spot. I look back at Bristol, who is sobbing at this point. Seeing her cry like that does nothing to stop the tears from rolling down my face.
“Hello Seattle!” I say into the microphone. “You’re probably all wondering who this gorgeous woman to my right is? This woman is the reason we’re here tonight, without her, there would be no Plight. This is Alex’s grandma, Margie, and she’s going to be filling in for our brother this evening.” I check myself quickly, not wanting to sob in front of sixty thousand people, but Jesus, Margie’s here.
“We have a new one for you tonight. This song started as a goodbye-“ I stop when the crowd screams bloody murder back at me. “It’s morphed into something a little more than goodbye. I hope you like it, it’s called ‘The Last Goodbye’.” I nod to Bristol, who holds her sticks over her head, ready to start.
“It’s a G.” I say to Margie, and she immediately corrects her fingers to follow mine. I put my lips up to the microphone and exhale as I stare up at the ceiling.
“This one’s for you, brother.” A deep breath rattles my chest as I steel myself to lay all of my emotions out on the line. The crowd grows eerily silent as Bristol quietly counts us in.
Goodbyes aren’t supposed to be easy,
I know this much is true.
I didn’t think it would be so damn hard saying goodbye to you.
I know they say it’ll get easier as the time passes by,
but I’d kill for one more day
with you by my side.
I know you’re in a better place, I know there were a lot of things that you couldn’t take,
but please know that down here, there isn’t a soul who could fill this space.”
So this is my last goodbye, I won’t say that this is the last time I’m going to cry.
I’m sorry I didn’t see
the writing on the wall in front of me.
I wanted you to grow old, I wanted you to thrive, I wanted to see you at the altar with your someday wife. My god I just wanted you to see
how much you meant to me.
Without you, this life doesn’t seem as vibrant, the lusters almost gone.
This isn’t my last goodbye, this is just my longest I’ll see you at home.
I promised I wouldn’t forget you, but if I could have just one more plea, I’d do anything to have you here with me.
This isn’t my last goodbye, this is just a reminder of where you should be.
The crowd sways in front of me with their lighters in the air, tears streaming down their faces as well as ours. I look back to Bristol at her drumset, and while her cheeks are tear stained and her makeup is ruined, she’s never been more beautiful. She mouths ‘I love you’ to me, and I put the mic up to my lips and smile.
“I love you too, Pistol.” I announce, and her cheeks go crimson. The audience cheers with whistles and catcalls.