Chapel of Ease by Alex Bledsoe

either.”
    â€œNo, I guess not.”
    â€œAnd would you mind asking Ray’s girlfriend, Erica—”
    â€œEmily.”
    â€œOh, that’s right, Emily. Would you mind calling her and inviting her to come, too? I plan to let everyone say a little about what Ray meant to them, and it might do her good to hear it.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œAnd don’t talk to the press; we’ll take care of that. Everyone else in the show is already tweeting about it, so there’s no point in asking you not to, but just try not to say anything about the future of the show.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œAnd, Matt? I know you and Ray had gotten close. I’m really sorry.”
    â€œI’m sorry, too.”
    I continued to stare at my phone after he hung up, as if it might spit out details that I craved but didn’t dare ask. When it rang again I jumped, then turned it off and opened my laptop. I searched for reviews of the show.
    A MAGICAL MOUNTAIN EVENING was both the headline and the overall theme. “Like being right there in the Smokies,” one critic gushed, as if he’d ever been south of Baltimore. “Songs that will pierce your heart while they make your feet tap,” said another, a quote I hoped ended up on the CD cover.
    Damn, Rayford, I thought. Your timing is exquisite.
    I took a quick shower, then called Emily and told her about Neil’s offer. She sounded numb, but she agreed to go with me.
    As I rode the elevator down, it hit me all at once: Ray was dead. That smile, that goofy, stooped walk, that amazing musicianship, all were gone. Alone in that tiny metal box, I cried.
    And I hated myself for my next thought, but there was no holding it back: Now we’ll never know what’s buried in the chapel of ease.
    *   *   *
    I pushed the buzzer outside Emily’s building in Hell’s Kitchen and said, “Hey, it’s me.” She let me in without a word.
    When I got to her floor, the door was already open. Emily stood in the kitchen in a black dress that would’ve been sexy in almost any other context. As it was, she looked gaunt and willowy, like a twig in the winter.
    She hugged me as soon as she saw me. “I’m not crying,” she said, as much to herself as to me. “I’m not.”
    â€œIt’s okay if you need to.”
    â€œNo. I’ve got to make it through this without collapsing. Neil might want to hire me someday, and I don’t want his most vivid memory of me to be sobbing with snot running down my face.”
    I remembered my pledge to Ray to look after Emily; whatever his reason for making me promise it, I was now bound to my word. At least he seemed to be wrong about her, because she wasn’t falling apart. “Do you have anything you can take?”
    She shook her head. “I’ll manage it, thanks.”
    I looked around her slightly rumpled apartment. An overnight bag was open on the couch. “So you were at Ray’s place last night?”
    She nodded. “We were waiting for the reviews to show up online, and he went to lie down. I came to bed about an hour later, after reading the first couple. They were raves, I couldn’t wait to share it with him.” She hiccuped a little, but maintained control. “Do you think he knows? I mean, wherever he is?”
    I wanted to be comforting, but I didn’t have it in me. “I don’t know, Emily.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to assume he does. And that he’s proud. He’s got a right to be, doesn’t he?”
    â€œHe does. Are you ready?”
    â€œNo, but I’ve never let that stop me.”
    Emily turned heads the whole way to the theater. I kept looking for the black-haired woman I’d spoken to after the show, but I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d seen her; my nagging, unshakable sense that she had something to do with Ray’s death wouldn’t go away.