Page 102 of Voice to Raise
He put his electric guitar on a stand and bent. When he straightened, he had a violin on his shoulder. With a plug in it and a cable running down to an amplifier.
“Oh my God.” My breath caught.
Mama squealed.
Yep. Squealed. Genuine excitement—more than she’d ever shown.
“Have you ever heard him play?”
She shook her head. “He’s always kept these two parts of his life separate—before he left the orchestra and after. Maybe he’s going to meld the two?”
Such a profound idea, that I found myself leaning forward.
He pulled the bow across the strings just once.
A silence came over the crowd as everyone hushed.
“Some of you may know, I’m an environmentalist.”
A few cheers went up.
“Yeah, I even chained myself to a bridge during rush-hour traffic to make a point. I’ll say now, that wasn’t my brightest move.”
“You looked sexy doing it.” A woman’s voice rang out clear as day.
Everyone laughed.
He saluted her. “True. I always look good.”
A few women—and more than a few men—cheered their approval.
“Then I met a man who showed me another way to make a difference. A couple of ways, in fact. One is music. We composed this song for him. Well, and his organization—fighting for change in all the right ways.” He met my gaze. “I love you, Spencer. And this is for Pike.”
My heart caught in my throat, and I blinked rapidly.
Not rapidly enough. The tears fell unheeded down my cheeks as Malik began playing on his violin. A song I’d never heard before.
Creed’s voice carried the tune. A montage of nature shots filled the screen behind them, and the lyrics appeared in bright white.
Words about preserving nature.
About Indigenous rights.
About what it meant to be stewards and keepers of the land.
The lyrics washed over me as the song burrowed into my chest. We’d only spoken of Pike that one night—the winter solstice.Although I held my friend close in my heart, I never spoke of him. The pain was too raw. My own guilt at my own inaction too real.
Somehow, through this song, Mallik was alleviating the guilt. Showing me that I could still do good work—even if my friend was no longer here.
At the end of the song, the crowd erupted into massive cheers.
Malik took a bow, then approached the microphone. “I was trained in classical music. I’ve learned in the past year that classical and rock music can coexist. Just like humans and nature can coexist. Just like I can coexist with the love of my life.” He met my gaze. “It’s all a matter of compromise and degrees. Sometimes you have to sit back and let nature take over. We’re here on her good graces, of course. We have to respect her. Do our best to care for her. For each other.”
“Woo-hoo.” Another female voice rang out in the crowd.
He saluted her. “Now, for our finale.”
Reese pounded a beat and soon everyone joined in.
