She was pure light.

When I met her, that’s all I saw. Pure light. She didn’t know it. She wouldn’t. Only later would I know the truth about the darkness that made her lightness known to us.

Perhaps I would’ve been more careful then.

But it’s over now.

And all that’s left is my story to tell.

About how the girl who was light was lost,  and it was my fault. And I’ve never told anyone. And I never will.

Perhaps being anonymous gives me the brevity to be brave. Perhaps I should tell the truth. So here it is -  my confession, in tears, in fear, in love for the ones who loved her and for the music that saved us…

In honor of its melody in honor of her memory, I will share the details of the beautiful, broken, blessed existence that is ours to both experience and share...this is mine right here…

__________

“Hi, I’m Perry, what’s your name?” she asked me with a coy smile on her face.

I wasn’t, I’m not a lesbian, but something about her made me want to kiss her right on the face. Her shirt was funky, tight in the right places, then loose and wavy where needed. She danced and the shirt danced with her. The funky beat matched her own, as if she was the one running the show, the music was just obeying her demand via dancing, and I was lucky enough to be a witness to the magic she was creating. Who was this person, I wondered, inside, out loud..?

My boyfriend, the one who brought me there, answered, “Oh, Perry...this is her house. She lives here. And loves the music more than anyone else. Let’s just say she’s responsible for the ultimate creative - that which is reminiscent in this space. You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Feel what…? I asked

“You’ll see,”  he replied, with a smile and a wink that reminded me why I was there to begin with.

I looked around at the bright lights blinking rapidly around us, different colors illuminating the zoo of faces before me- each one beautiful in their own right, some of them face-painted, others slightly intoxicated, with life, love, and other sorts of drugs - I was delighted and uplifted into that world sometimes only substances can bring me to. But, in this instance, it was her, it was the music, the zoo creatures and their faces, the ambiance that made it, and the twinkle of magic it all emulated. We danced, and she took my hand, pulled both my boyfriend and me close in, kissed our foreheads, and said in the most sincere tone I’ve ever heard, “I’m so glad that you all are my friends.” (Mind you, I’d known her for only one big moment).

She left us, twirling in princess circles, all along the way, dancing as if 5 years old, no one watching, in the music basking, and I soon found myself in a fit of laughter, following her shortly after to join the show that was her home with all whom she included in it. Our own secret place, in space, in time - he allowed me in so I could be with her and the rest of them, and there, I fell deeper in love with the music, and the musical people who existed amongst its notes and the secret nooks and spaces that only true souls like these could know.

__________

She loved drugs and Jesus. Believed in heaven because she’d traveled through hell. When her head fell back in laughter, she was also often crying. I didn’t get it. I didn’t get her. And I loved that about this place. Everything seemed to make sense because it didn’t, even the people. Especially the people. It was nonsensical, yet everything fit perfectly, despite that, perhaps even because of that. I liked the crooked puzzle, all I’m trying to say really. It was one in which I felt I fit...mostly because I didn’t…

“Let’s play a game!” Perry’s face lit up, beat bright red, and I could see her head spinning.

Oh, we were going to play a game, and no one had a choice as to whether they were included in it - we all had to join in. That was one of her house rules.

“Musical chairs, musical chairs!...Yep, that’s what we’re playing,” she was wrapped in an oversized 80s jean jacket with a blue bandana wrapped around her head, hair high in a ponytail, and her lips were red, but not with lipstick - it’s almost like her mouth was blushing. One could tell - she held secrets in her grin.

Before our “adult-version” of musical chairs began, Perry served bright red jello shots in the shape of stars to her fellow music lovers and friends, reminding each one of them that they are, indeed, a star, and that this food was made to remind them of such, plus it offered a healthy does of a little tipsy fun.

The gooey red goodness spilled from its paper capsule - once intended for ketchup - into the mouths of   her willing participants, innocent until proven guilty, that is…

“Gimme another,” I said, half winking at her in a way I thought might be convincing.

She laughed, grabbed my hair, tilted my head back, and gently placed the star-shaped jello on my tongue, closed my mouth with her hand, said, “swallow,” and I did. Me, her willing participant. All for the sake of the music to which she was inviting me and the friendship of which she was offering.

Forty-five minutes after she star-jello-shot fed me, we had completely forgotten about our musical adult game (at least for the time being), and I was introduced by her to a fellow friend.

“Wiley,” she started, “Meet my new dear friend, Luka. She’s amazing and fun and you’re gonna love her, trust me.”

I felt honored to meet this distinguished-looking older gentleman, dressed in gray dreads and dapper as hell. His smile made him look like he was up to no good, but in a way that was cute and playful - similar to that of a grandfather playing hide-and-seek with his grandson, pretending not to know where the little one’s hiding. I wanted to know this interesting man friend better.

“Wiley, my friend,” Perry continued, her arm hooked in his like a little girl seeking presents, “Teach Luka how to play the piano like you do, like you taught me how to, please?”

He smiled down at her, a whole 8 inches smaller, petite and willing and wanting. She smiled back at him and double blinked (meaning to wink).

She had him at please.

She had me at, “Hi, my name is Perry.”

And that’s how our friendship began...simply, beautifully, just as it was meant to be, and, here, right in this moment, it’s only just started. She took my hand, I followed her. Only later would I be the one to lead…