“She’ll eat more when she’s hungry,” he said calmly. “There’s too much going on. It will do her good to get home tomorrow. The funeral will be rough.” He quietly brought meals to her for the rest of the day. Salima ate them but never said a word to him.
The funeral the next day was worse than rough. When the three of them went to the tiny church just outside town, all the teachers from Caldwell were there, and Abby’s childhood friends, and her mother was pushed into the church in a wheelchair, sobbing uncontrollably, as Abby’s casket sat in front of the altar, and the church was filled with flowers. Blaise led Salima into a pew, and they sat down. The priest spoke glowingly of Abby, he had known her since she was a child, and you could hear people crying all over the church. Salima sobbed throughout, until the moment came when Salima had agreed to sing the Ave Maria, and Blaise led her to the organ. She stood pale and shaking and tore everyone’s heart out with her incredibly pure voice.
With Blaise’s help, she stopped to speak to Abby’s mother on the way out. Salima hugged her when she thanked her tearfully for singing, and all the two women could do was hold each other and cry. And then Blaise led her back to the car. She had to sit in the backseat amid her clothes and bags of belongings piled everywhere. Simon slid into the passenger seat but offered to drive.
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” Blaise said quietly. It was noon when they set off for New York, after the funeral for the young woman Salima had loved so much. The silence in the car was deafening, all you could hear was Salima crying as they got onto the highway and headed south. It was going to be a very long three hours, and a much longer three months.
Simon was silent, as he stared out the window at the scarlet trees, thinking of Megan, and Blaise turned on the radio to drown out the sound of Salima’s sobs. She paid no attention to what station she put on, she was vaguely aware that it was some kind of gospel music, and they drove on, all three of them lost in thought. Blaise was panicking over the next few months. So far Simon had done nothing but stand discreetly aside, while Salima clung to her mother’s arm. She wanted no one else.
As she was driving, Blaise was thinking about the work she had to do when she got back, when there was a soft sound from the back seat. Salima had recognized one of the gospel songs, and was singing softly. Her voice grew as the choir joined the soloist, and Salima hit all the high notes with ease as Simon turned in his seat and stared at her. He had never heard a voice like hers in his life. Her rendition of the Ave Maria at Abby’s funeral had been touching and beautiful but more subdued, but in the car with Simon and her mother, she let her voice soar as a form of release. She sang the next two songs with the radio as well. She liked listening to gospel music sometimes, and she and Abby had kidded around as Salima let her voice fly to the rafters, just as she did now. It was a relief of sorts from the sadness she felt, and then she fell silent again. Simon was in awe of what he had just heard.
“I didn’t know you can sing like that,” he said in amazement. And then he vaguely remembered that she had been in the choir and dropped out when she started college.
“I used to be in the choir,” she confirmed his recollection. “Miss Mayberry is tone deaf,” she said wryly, and he laughed.
“That explains some of the performances we’ve had at school. Have you ever taken lessons?” She shook her head in answer. “Maybe you should.” At Eric’s request, he had called the community college for her that morning, and informed them of what had happened at the school and that they were closing for three months. They had agreed to let her follow a course of independent study for credit while she was in New York. “That might be a fun way to pick up credit for college. It would be a lot more fun than a math class.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” she said, and Blaise could sense that she didn’t like him. She wasn’t sure about him herself. He seemed very confident and self-assured. He was polite, but he was a big presence, and because he was a man and sure of himself, Blaise felt like he was in her face, and she guessed that Salima did too.
He had opinions about everything and he wasn’t afraid to voice them. And he had already said to Blaise in Eric’s office that he thought Salima should become more independent, now that Abby was gone. Blaise didn’t want him pushing her too far, particularly now. And she suspected that Salima would be mourning the gentle young teacher for a long time. Simon was already trying to draw her out. No one in the car said a word for the next three hours. Blaise felt as if it were the longest drive of her life, and she was relieved when she turned to glance at Salima and saw that she had fallen asleep. She was exhausted from the emotions of the past two days, and constant crying.