Saving Mercury

Chapter 10: Facing Tomorrow

November - December 1991

I didn't go to Freddie's funeral. I wasn't even invited. It was a small private funeral conducted by a priest of the Zoroastrian faith, that of Freddie's parents. I heard that only about 35 people attended, listening to the speeches given by Freddie's friends and family before he was taken away for the last time to be cremated.

I wish I could have gone, just to say one last goodbye to my dear friend, just to pay my final respects to the man who had meant so much to me, whose music had inspired me: my dear Farrokh Bulsara.

I didn't go to work either, continuing to lie about my "fever." I speant the moring at home, trying not to cry as I read the news: "Queen Frontsman Succumbs to AIDS", "Freddie is Dead", "Death Claims Mercury." I couldn't stop thinking about the song "Scandal":

"Today the headlines, tomorrow hard times, and no one ever really knows the truth from the lies, and in the end the story deeper must hide, deeper and deeper and deeper inside..."

The words Roger had penned echoed through my mind. It was the first time I'd ever felt personally injured by someone's death. Why did this happen? It was too soon. 45 years was such a short time to live.

That afternoon, I walked downtown, where I'd taken a taxi, through the inclement foggy weather. It seemed that the very sky itself was in mourning. As I dragged my feet along the ground, I saw a group of photos and pieces of paper along the sidewalk next to a convenience store. I stooped down in disbelief. A memorial for Freddie Mercury.

Photos of my late friend had been cut out from newspapers and magazines. Little pieces of notepaper were covered with messages like "Rest in Peace Freddie" and "In Memory 1946-1991." A few carnations and roses lay upon the sidewalk. I made a quick sign of the cross, being a very religious young woman.

"God, please make sure that wherever Freddie is, he's happy," I whispered. I was so touched by the makeshift memorial, the simple messages people had written for Freddie, the flowers they had left him, and I started to cry tears of joy.

The storeowner opened the door and my head jerked to look at him. He was a tall. thin man who looked down at me.

"You upset?" He had a slight Cockney accent.

"Just thinking about Freddie Mercury's death." I hung my head.

"Yeah. The memorial just sprung up for him through the course of the day. People keep stopping by to look at it."

"He will be missed."

"Yup." He nodded. "You wanna come in to my store?"

"Sure." I got up and pulled the door open. As soon as I walked in, I heard a familiar tune.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality... Open your eyes, look up to the skies and seeeee...."

I smiled. "Bohemian Rhapsody," I murmered.

The storeowner nodded from behind the counter. "This station's been playing nothing but Queen all day cuz of Freddie's passing."

In the end, I decided to buy a bottle of Coca-Cola. It was still amazing how much love some people were showing Freddie. He truly would be missed. As I continued to walk and eventually ride the cab home, I reflected on the past year of life- and how grateful I was that I was able to see Freddie for that year. One year of love is, after all, better than a lifetime alone. I kept thinking of what had happened, both my words and those of my friends.

"Ella, Freddie has AIDS."

"I will do anything to help Freddie."

"It's called Innuendo."

"Sometimes death is beyond our control."

"Have a happy Christmas and a great New Year."

"I'm moving to London."

"I don't even give a damn if I die."

"He stopped taking his medicine to quicken his death."

"Goodbye, Farrokh Bulsara."

I wiped a tear away from my left eye. It was tragic and amazing to see how far I had come. Freddie's story, despite its sad end, would stay with me for the rest of my lifetime.

I hate to say, I cried often during the few weeks following Fred's passing. It was hard to be a doctor who worked with AIDS victims. The public seemed to overreact to the disease, developing hysteria. Some people thought that you could contract the disease just by looking at or touching an infected person.

I even heard some insult Freddie, calling him a fag who deserved to die. This broke my heart. I hoped that one day, the world would stop hating on people just because of their sexuality. I had learned to look past the fact that Freddie was bisexual and see him as he really was: a talented performer and musician, one of the greatest men I'd ever met. Maybe someday, he would be remembered not as a "pitiful faggot" but as a legend.

As time ambled on, I seemed to distance myself from others. For the next three weeks, I only saw Roger once, and didn't speak to John or Brian at all. It was almost as though we were all drifting apart all over again. I wanted to run to Rog for comfort, but I didn't want to come off as weak or unsensitive, so I took on the behavior of someone much braver when I saw him in early December.

I did, however, see my boyfriend every day. He knew that I was upset about Freddie's death, and he encouraged me to reach out to my friends.

"You shouldn't shut Roger out," he'd say. " I bet he feels the same way you do, he just hides it." I'd just sigh.

"I guess you're right, Nate. I want to, but I'm scared."

We spent lots of time together working at the clinic, occasionally going out on dinner dates or to visit eachother's homes. A few days before Christmas, he arranged a meeting at the Crown Cafe. Little did I know Roger would be there. But bigger surprises were in store.

"Nathan and Ella," Roger remarked as we walked in. "Nice to see you."

I sat down in a chair next to him. "I'm sorry I didn't speak to you more often. It was foolish of me to ignore you."

He held out his hand, which I took. "It's alright. I know you're shy. You're forgiven."

"Roggie, you don't know how awful I feel. I still miss Fred."

"I feel the same." He sipped a mug of tea. "But things can only get better." He smirked, batting his eyelashes.

Nathan turned to me and smiled, while Roger nodded at him.

"Ella, Roger and I know that this is a hard time for you. I want you to know that I'm here for you, love," Nathan said.

"Go on," whispered Roger. My boyfriend blushed

"That's why I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I need you in my life, forever." He stood up and then knelt down, pulling something out of his pocket. My heart danced. It was a ring, in a velvet box. "Ella, will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"

I was overwhelmed, but my heart knew exactly what to say. "Yes, Nathan! I would be honored!"

Roger clapped his hands, and soon every person in the cafe was applauding, but no one seemed happier than Nathan.

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me passionately, there in the Crown Cafe. Roger's smile stretched from ear to ear, delighted for Nathan and I.

Nothing else mattered but that kiss, that perfect moment.