Page 3 of João
the voice
JOÃO
The slight breeze of the afternoon carried the murmurs of the bereaved all gathered around the smooth mahogany casket, their muted black attire a pretense. The last of the cold fronts of the season faltered under the ever-present humidity of South Florida, activating black fans and hand waves. My youngest brother stood next to me, the only reason I’d decided to appear at this farce. Death should only be commemorated when they did well in their lives and when the people left behind would miss the departed.
No one would miss Julio João Souza. Julio himself made damn sure of that.
“I can’t believe he asked for a religious ceremony,” Joaquim said next to me, his face a painting of conflicted emotions.
“I can. It’s all part of the charade. He truly believed he was a good man.” I shook my head as the mourners all prayed from the Book of Common Prayer.
“I used to believe that too,” Joaquim whispered, and a surge of impotent rage traveled through my veins. Anger seldom visited me because I’d taken steps to separate my life from theabuser currently being laid to rest. But to know what he did to my siblings, to my mother, even to his wife…the man deserved to die. If I had no belief in souls and the afterlife, I might have taken his life myself. Ended the turmoil and hurt he brought to so many, but my mother’s voice always reminded me to stay the course. Be there for my brothers. Be there for me.
“Maya looks…” Joaquim hesitated.
“Like she wishes she was sipping margaritas on her pool deck?” I said, keeping my tone low. My father’s widow sat still with an air of boredom. She couldn’t even pretend to be sad. And I didn’t blame her. She’d manufactured a few sniffles and pressed a handkerchief to her face at the beginning of the ceremony, but by now, she was clearly ready for all to be over. For those who hadn’t lived with her, she portrayed stoicism in the face of loss, but we knew better. Sensing our eyes, she turned her gaze to us, some of the few men circling the burial grounds. She nodded in acknowledgment and swiped her black veil to cover her face. Good. The act was starting to slip.
“Do you think…” Joaquim asked again what we had all wondered for the past few days.
“Not sure, and honestly, I don’t care. The bastard is gone and may he rot in hell. Now Mai can truly rest in peace.”
“Here, here,” Joaquim said with less fire than me.
The branches of trees close by bristled at my words, or maybe they danced? Not sure. Something shifted in me—I needed out. But before moving on, I let my gaze drift over the crowd, tracing each face, etching them into memory. Many of his fellow officers of law were here. No member of my club was present and I was glad of it. No street executives had dared show their faces; many didn’t even know who he was until too late.
Just as the priest started his last blessing, the crunch of leaves signaled someone’s arrival. I shifted, sensing the changein the air. Menace, not unlike how things felt when around Julio João.
Two men. One probably older than me, in his forties, in an all-black suit, sunglasses, and a fedora. A younger man stood still slightly behind him, clearly some type of muscled protection, wearing shades and a gray suit. Not the most inconspicuous of attire in the sea of black.
Joaquim frowned as he noticed the two men, then shook his head. “That dude reminds me of someone…”
I didn’t know which one of the two, but he wasn’t wrong. I guess some street executives were legit enough to be able to show their faces.
Leon LaSalle had come to pay his respects to the most crooked DEA agent in the state. I nodded at Leon, who nodded back, staying at the perimeter as the choir started singing.
Achoir. Interesting choice, Julio… Interesting choice for a man who never believed in God, no matter how many Sundays he might have gone to church.
“I’m ready to go. Are you staying?” I asked Joaquim. Maya had invited us all to a repast for close family, but Jardel and Sal wanted no part of today. I probably would have stayed away as well, but Joaquim needed me.
“Nah, it’s all good. Let’s bounce.”
This was enough. Julio João Souza was laid to rest. May hell receive him. Now I could move on with my life and never worry again about who would be Julio’s next victim. My siblings were all settled and happy and I had my life. Finally, peace would come.
Buttoning my suit jacket, I turned as the choir started singing a rendition of “The Strife is O’er, the Battle Done.”
Damn, even to this day, I remembered the names of the songs. Going with Mai to her little Episcopal church had been a haven when I was younger. I’d known from early on that theway Julio treated Mai was intrinsically wrong. Always ordering her around, always telling her what to do, and she demurely followed. She worked just as hard as him every day, but at night, it was her job to ensure the house was orderly and food was on the table. No matter how much Julio drilled in me that a man’s place was to rule his home, that shit didn’t sit right with me. Leaders needed to earn the trust of their people to foster a safe environment. Julio never did that for Mai. My father had only taken and never given in return. Church and her garden were the only two places she was truly satisfied, in peace and connected with herself.
My chest tightened, the forever void gaping at the thought of Mai. Of all the time lost without her, at the failure of not finding her in time. I should have done more for her. I knew Julio wasn’t shit, but still, childhood and misplaced trust shielded me from his true nature. Somehow, Julio João had managed to live longer than the sweetest, most gentle soul I’d ever met, and I’d never forgive him for it.
The hymn ended. The murmurs got louder, then a hush went over as the organ started once more. A clear, melodious voice started singing. My neck warmed, the pressure on my chest lightening at the strength of the voice and the questions the lyrics posed.Why should I feel discouraged?the crystal voice asked.
The soloist sang in a confident tone, power increasing with every note until it belted over the choir.I sing because I’m happy,and the choir chimed in with her.
By now, Joaquim and I were close to the paved road where most mourners had parked. Keys in hand, a twinge in my chest compelled me to turn. That voice commanded the space, and a lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything as I found the soloist standing proudly in front of the choir, wearing her black robe over flawless brown skin. Her mouth was thefirst thing I noticed, opened wide as she evoked feelings I didn’t know how to combat. Lush burgundy lips. Thick, plush lips. Her tongue curved inside of her mouth, allowing her instrument to take every person sitting around the casket away to a place where faith, hope, and happiness in sorrow existed.
The next thing was her eyes, beautiful, big, and bright. The eyes of a person certain of their place in life. The eyes of someone deeply secure in themselves. Eyes that invited you to smile, to feel, to command…
“Let’s go.” I turned around again, and Joaquim scoffed.
