Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Epilogue

I rode in the ambulance with Elvis to the hospital, despite already knowing in my gut that he was gone. I held his hand all the way; it was still warm, almost like he could have still been alive. I watched helplessly as Doctor Nick, Elvis’ personal doctor, tried to bring him round. I was dragged from Elvis’ side, kicking up such a fuss that they also had me sedated. I watched through the window of the surgery door, and when they all turned to me and told me he was gone, I passed out.

I don’t remember waking up; I just remember wanting to know where Lisa was. And that suddenly, everyone looked to me for what had to happen now. So I told Joe to do what he thought was right. As Joe called Priscilla to tell her the awful news, I went out to find Lisa. She was in the yard, playing with two of her friends. When she saw me approach, she leapt into my arms. I felt her small hands tangle in my hair and I couldn’t help but notice her fingers wound themselves in my curls the way her father’s used to. “Where’s daddy?” She whispered. I couldn’t tell her; no matter who I was to Elvis or to the Presley family in general, the truth about her father’s death had to come from Priscilla. But I stayed, and I watched her play happily while she still could. A few hours passed, and I eventually felt Priscilla approaching. I stood up and turned to face her. Neither one of us said a word, but I knew what we both wanted to do. As she passed, I took her hand and squeezed it. She smiled at me and I walked away as she told Lisa the truth. Lisa’s cries still reverberate in my head now, and I can’t bear to hear her cry, even now, whatever the reason is.

The funeral was, as you can imagine, a sombre occasion. Fans flooded the streets of Memphis to pay tribute; some even paid with their lives. After we laid Elvis to rest, Priscilla revealed to me that she’d known all along about my affair with Elvis. In fact, she seemed quite surprised when I told her it had only begun in 1968. I was surprised to find she help no grudge against me. “In my mind, as silly as it may sound, if he was going to have an affair with anyone I’d rather it be you.” She told me. “He was a better man for knowing you and having you in his life. You brought out the best in him; when you two were getting a long, he was better husband and father. And how can I hate you for making him and our child so happy. Lisa simply adores you and, no matter you’ve done, so do I. You have been my teacher, in ways that meant more than what Elvis could ever teach me. I learnt from you how to be a strong, independent woman; it is because of you, ironically, that I decided to find a life outside of my marriage. Elvis was right, Annie: you’re it. You always have been.”

A year after Elvis’ death, I decided I wanted to create a sort of tribute for him. So I sang a song in his memory. It came to me late one night, and I quickly scribbled the words down. I’d never written a song in my life, and had no desire to sing for anyone, but I felt compelled to do it.  I went down to see Sam Phillips the next day, and he agreed to engineer and produce it. When we listened to the finished master, he nodded. “He came to you last night; Elvis came to you.” “How’d you figure that?” I asked. “You haven’t realised what the title is, have you?” He asked. And then, as I looked at the title of my song Young & Beautiful, I realised that heaven or the afterlife or the place we go when we die is real. And Elvis is there. And I hope to meet him again, some day.