Chrisenne Kelly: My Story

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” I whispered against him, the words barely audible over our heavy breathing, my head still spinning from a first kiss I was never going to forget. But then I breathed a sigh of defeat, realizing the fact I couldn’t avoid.
“Oh, wait,” I said softly to myself. “I’m already dead.”

My name is Chrisenne Kelly. I was born in Ireland in 1961, and I’m a ghost turned human again. I could tell you right now how that happened, but it’ not the time. You see, I’ve got a concert to go to tonight. My band is performing at the Bradley Center in downtown Milwaukee. I’m the lead guitarist. But you’re probably sitting there dumbstruck wondering how a ghost can be in a band and act like a normal person. Well, I can. This is my story. (Larry, a drum roll, please.)

Being a young girl in 1970’s Ireland wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Twice a week I had Irish dance lessons, and then the school lessons almost always went over my head. Any free time I had was spent helping my mum run the small inn we owned. I remember one day at school I’d being sitting in the lunchroom talking to my friend Noelani. We weren’t aware of the person standing behind her, until she gave a yelp of surprise. I laughed. Paul Hewson, her boyfriend, had come behind her and wrapped his arms around her, taking his time to kiss her. I only smiled throughout this, this happened often enough now I’d come to expect it. If only that would happen to me. Maybe, someday…

“Hey Chrisenne?” Paul asked.

“Yeah?” I said, my head lifting to meet his blue eyes.

“I have a new neighbor, and he’s really good with music. Would you want to meet him? He’s coming over tomorrow to help Adam and Larry with something.” Adam and Larry were two of Paul’s other friends, one played drums and the other bass. Paul sang in this garage band they called Feedback. I nodded, not really expecting anything.

When I got to Paul’s house, I was surprised to find Adam sitting on the counter, his bass slung over his shoulder. Larry had his drumsticks and was tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop, and Paul was leaning against the fridge, humming something that sounded like a song. Just then I heard a bang from outside, and I bounded up from where I was sitting, rushing outside to see what was wrong. A young man in his early twenties was outside, an electric guitar hanging from a strap around his neck, a Vox AC-30 amp beside him. Probably was, he was on the ground. He’d probably tripped over the amp trying to carry it in. I ran to him and helped him up, going to grab the amp.
“So you must be Paul Hewson’s new neighbor. I’m Chrisenne Kelly Banasik.” I said, holding out my free hand.

“David Howell Evans. Pleased to meet you. Are the others inside?” He asked.

“Yeah, they are.” I set the amp down and ran to open the door, but Adam had beaten me to it. I could hear Paul’s greeting (something along the lines of ‘What’s up? Met the new girl?’) and then laughter and a ‘Yeah. She’s pretty.’ Wow. Maybe I had a chance with this new guy. I headed inside after the guys, eager to hear them practice.

Over time, the guys began to play more and more. Paul started being called Bono, and David was now called the Edge. One night after practice, Edge followed me back to the inn. I was cleaning a room when him came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, just like how Bono would do to Noelani. I smiled as he kissed my hair. Wait, what?

“Hey.” I said softly.

“Hey what? Sorry, I shouldn’t have followed you. But…I was wondering…would you what to go out with me one night for dinner or something?” I nodded, (smiling crookedly at the ‘and something’) and then gave a small gasp of surprise as he backed me up against the wall, his hands holding my sides.
“Whoa. Little fast there.” I said. He only smiled at this, and then put his lips to mine.

Holy shit. It felt amazing. I was pressed up against the wall, but I wasn’t being hurt. Edge’s hands had found their way under my shirt and were crawling up my sides, and I shivered at his touch. But not because it was rough. His hands stopped for a minute, and I knew he’d found my scar. It was from a biking accident when I was younger. Seeing as his hands had paused, I grabbed them and set them on my hips, mine tangling in his hair. His hair was black, and thick. And where it was longer at the back, it also was curly. I heard (more so felt) the purr at the back of his throat at the motion of my hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Whoa!’ I thought. He’d wrapped an arm around my waist, and picked me up, carrying me over to the bed, still kissing me. Did I really want to know where this going? Yeah. So much for the ‘and something’. I guess I’d find out.
When he was done, I got up, got dressed and told him I’d see him tomorrow.

And then Elizabeth came. She was pretty, and had eyes only for Edge. I knew she’d try to kill me to get to him, and it was no surprise when she wanted to talk to me after school one day. She dragged me until we got to a place where we were alone, and then shoved a soda it my hand.

“Drink it, Kells!” Elizabeth spat, calling me the nickname I only let Edge call me. I took a few deep breathes as I took the drink. I knew she’d spiked it with something, perhaps something lethal. Well, if she was going to kill me, she might as well do it the right way.

“Ack! Ah…ack…uh…uhh…” I fell to my knees spluttering and coughing as the poison entered my body. I became aware of a sticky liquid covering my left hand that rested on my head. Uh oh. It was blood. I must’ve struck my head somehow. I actually hoped I’d die here and now, being I’d rather be dead then see Elizabeth’s well-manicured hands running through Edge’s hair, along with the accompanying smile that would appear on his face. I knew that was one thing that would drive me to the breaking point if I saw it. I felt Elizabeth reach into my jacket pocket and grab my cell, and right before I blacked out I heard her whisper, “Nighty-night Chrisenne Kelly.” And then everything went black.

A few hours later…
I could feel someone watching me, and I didn’t like it. Was it Elizabeth making sure I was suffering? My heart skipped a beat. Wait, I was alive? But how? But then I felt someone’s fingers brush the strands of hair that fell into my face behind my ear, and then the caress of lips softly touching my forehead. I wasn’t dead, Edge was here with me. My eyelids fluttered open to see I was in hospital room. I had an IV in my arm and a bandage around my head. Edge was sitting in a chair next to the bed, looking right at me with love.

“Kells, thank god you’re alive. Elizabeth found you passed out and called the paramedics. She saved your life.” He leaned toward me and kissed me gently, one of his hands cupping my cheek. His palm was warm; I’d forget how in the short time how much I’d missed his touch, moments like this. But then I remembered how he’d said Elizabeth had saved my life. That bitch, she’d made it look that it had nothing to do with her. Yeah, right. After the kiss, he grabbed my hand and kissed it, saying weakly, “Kells, don’t die. I need you.”

Suddenly, I had a sharp pain in my chest, and a monitor started beeping. Edge ran to find a nurse, and then I knew. I was dying after all. At that moment, words began to form a song in my head. By this time, nurses had come. My vision was going blurry, and I could barely keep eye contact with Edge. I tried to talk, but it hurt.

“Edge, listen. It’s Elizabeth. She poisoned me, she wants me dead! I think she wants to be with you, and I was in the way. You need to get away from her, I’ll find a way back to you, be it in your dreams or something. Promise me you’ll always lo-“ And then my throat closed on me, without letting me finish my sentence.

I watched helplessly as the nurses worked to save me. It was as though I was watching from the ceiling, being able to see my own body. I heard one of the nurses finally say, “She’s gone. We lost her.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself back to my body. I watched Edge’s face twist into one of understanding, obliviously penetrated somehow. The tears were falling now; he wasn’t trying to stop them.

The hand he’d cupped my cheek with just minutes before grabbed my hand, now limp in his own, and raised it to his lips. His eyes were shut as tight as they would go, and I could hear his uneven breathing as he tried to calm himself down. I knew it wasn’t going to work, he’d just watched me die. And then I heard him whisper words that broke my heart to hear him say.

“Kells. God I love you. Just open your eyes and say this is a joke. I love you and need you. Can’t you stay with me a little longer?”

“Yes. I’d stay if I could!” I yelled. I knew he couldn’t hear me, it was no use. But what I saw next sickened me and infuriated me all at the same time. Elizabeth walked into the room, and sat next to Edge, her fingers wiping the tears from his eyes. I growled. But then she said, “Hey, David, she’s gone. I know you loved her, but she’s gone. Let her rest in peace, I can be her replacement. Please?” she begged. And then she kissed him, her hands tangling in his hair the way mine had done. I screamed. This way the way Elizabeth had wanted it to be. I was dead, and she had Edge. I wanted to kill her now. But as I screamed, I knew that David Howell Evans, my first and only love, couldn’t hear.

Suddenly I felt myself flying upward, through the ceiling. This was it. I was saying goodbye to the mortal world and would soon be standing outside the pearly gates above the clouds. I flew along, and saw my Uncle Andy, who had died in an IRA bombing before I was born. He came up to me and told me what was happening.

“Chrisenne, it’s not your time. God wants you to turn back, because you’re an angel with a broken wing that must fly again. Your body is in the morgue. From there you must get dressed, collect ashes to fool those that believe you are truly dead, and then set back what is wrong to right again. Then your wing will heal, and you can fly amongst the clouds.”

It made so much sense. God was letting me go back; to fix what had caused my death. He was letting me keep Edge. To myself. For this, I’d be forever grateful, that I knew.

“Thank Him for me, alright?” I asked. My uncle nodded.

“As you wish it so, Chrisenne Kelly.” And then I was thrown back into reality, opening my eyes to see I was laying on a cold slab of one of the morgue’s autopsy tables. Whew, they hadn’t opened me up yet. I was naked, too, I realized. So (as the room was dark) I got up and moved silently through the hall, searching for clothes. Eventually I found a storage room, and got dressed. I found my way to the furnace room, as my uncle had said I’d need ashes to truly fake my death. Once I was done collecting my prize, I walked outside into the light, my life changed by the visit into what they call ‘Heaven’. But heaven was on Earth, here with Edge. And nothing could change what I thought. I stopped at the local gas station on my way home, and bought a notebook and some pens, titling it ‘songwriting’. I wrote the lyrics that had come to me before I died, and this other song I’d been thinking of before Elizabeth had poisoned me, called ‘Scars’. I loved it, this was so much fun. Edge was going to love looking through this, or so I thought. By the time I got home, I had at least half of the notebook filled out (how I came up with all that I have no idea). When I got in, my mum was talking to Edge.

“I’m sorry. Chrisenne was wonderful, and I was just going to propose to her, as well.” Eak! My heart skipped a beat. Did he just say he was going to propose to me? And then my mom saw me standing there.

“Oh, Chrisenne! Thank god. Let’s put her ashes on the mantle, okay?” my mom asked. Edge turned to me, clearly confused. My mom started explaining.

“She and her cousin have the same birthday, so was gave them the same names. David, meet Chrisenne Kelly Brownskye.” Realization crossed his face as he shook my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Chrisenne. I’m David Howell Evans, and my band name’s Edge.” And so I was on my way to winning back what I had lost.

We started talking. To make it seem like I didn’t know him, I asked, “Band name, huh? What kind of band is it?”

“My best friend and two other guys and I are all in this rock / alternative band called U2. I’m the lead guitarist. You should come over and watch us play one day. Your cousin used to love watching us practice.” He said softly.

“Hey, I play guitar and piano in my own band. Would you like to hear a song?” I asked. He nodded. So I lead him to the lobby, where there was a grand piano that I would play on the weekends when we got really busy. I sat down and began to play.

After that, Edge clapped and stood up, saying, “Sounds like something my Kells would’ve wrote.”

“Kells?” I asked.

“I nicknamed her that. Your cousin was my girlfriend, and well…nicknames just played into the whole head over heels thing.” I laughed.

“I want to show you something.” I said, getting up and leading him back into the rooms of the inn. I knew what I was doing. I had to show him, let him know I was his Kells, that I wasn’t dead. I got back to the room where we’d had our first kiss, and backed up against the wall the same way he’d held me.

“Edge, I’m Chrisenne Kelly Banasik. You can tell, hell, I’ll even prove it.” I took a deep breath and pulled my shirt off, revealing the scar he’d seen during the kiss. I heard his intake of breath, and then the sigh of relief.

“I knew you’d come back!” he said excitedly, wasting no time in trapping me between the wall and himself, his hands on my sides while his lips gently teased mine.

“Wait. Does Elizabeth think I’m dead?” I asked.

“Yes. She kissed me in front of your body, right after you ‘died’. I hated the way it felt.” He said resentfully. But then he started kissing me, cutting me off. Between the kisses, I found time to talk and explain what happened when I’d gone to heaven. He only smiled through all of this.

“We should get away from her, go to America. Bono was talking about it. And I’m sure Larry and Adam wouldn’t mind much. And I have relatives we can live with until we can get settled ourselves. Do you think it’s a good idea?” I asked. At the end of this question, our eyes connected and we kissed like we’d never done before. I knew his answer, along with the fact he was just happy to have me back, and all that emotion was going into this. I moaned as softly as I could against him, so not to alert my mom, trying to level myself up against the wall. Edge was taller than me, so it was comforting to know if my mom did walk in, she wouldn’t really see me. After the kiss, he had his mouth right next to my ear, so that his breath tickled my neck, and he whispered softly, “Yes. We should talk to the others though. But you can’t tell your mom, not until we’re ready to leave for sure. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” I whispered against him, the words barely audible over our heavy breathing, my head still spinning from a first (read second) kiss I was never going to forget. But then I breathed a sigh of defeat, realizing the fact I couldn’t avoid.

“Oh, wait,” I said softly to myself. “I’m already dead. But I’m back, and ready to live my life with you.”

Weeks passed. We talked to the others, and they agreed to come to America. We were getting away from Elizabeth for good. My life would be coming back to me soon. Oh how sweet this was. Home sweet home, America here I come.

On the plane ride out I dug out my songwriting notebook from my carry on. Edge paged through it, smiling as he flipped the pages over.

“This is really good, Kells. You should be singing, not playing guitar. Course, who am I to talk?” he said laughing softly. I only smiled at him, one of my hands finding its way into his hair. It was still just as thick and curly as I’d remembered it, even though I’d been ‘back’ for about four months now. Bono was sitting in front of Edge, and Noelani was next to him, asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Let me see.” He asked, and Edge passed him the book. I smiled as I heard the remarks like

“Interesting. Back to Jericho, that’s written really well. This is a storyline CD, that’s for sure. Good job, Chrisenne.” He handed me back the notebook, but then we all heard Noelani’s sleepy complaint.

“Bono, no-o. Stop moving. I was comfortable!” We all laughed, and I saw a grin cross Bono’s face as he ruffled her hair.

“Go back to sleep love, we’ll be there soon.” Everyone fell quiet, because it was pretty late. I leaned back in my seat and rested my head on Edge’s shoulder, letting him stroke my hair. I soon drifted off, and nothing could’ve been better.

Except when we arrived in America. We got to LAX about two in the afternoon their time, about six in the afternoon Ireland time. Wow. My aunt Debbi and uncle Ron met us at the baggage claim, and then we went to their house. They lived in a suburb of California, in a house that seemed more like a mansion. When we got in, we found we had rooms already set up. Edge and I were given the room upstairs at the back of the hall, and Bono and Noelani had the room across the hall. Larry had the room two down from Edge and I, and Adam the one across from him. I’ll never forget the look on my aunt’s face as I introduced Edge as my boyfriend. She smiled, shaking his hand.

“My Chrisenne’s finally found someone.” She whispered. She was teary eyed. After this I headed into the leaving room, where there sat my acoustic guitar.

After this, Bono and Noelani walked in.
I nodded, playing the song he’d talked about on the plane (Back to Jericho).

“Runnin’ away as the world caves in, it’s all he knows, wearing thin.
Bailey cries out and reaches, but she can’t catch his hand.
Finally he finds the strength to pull her away with him to hide, the tears running
But being there, Bryce realizes, nothing can stop the war that’s raging.
Boarding the plane, they escape to safety in the nick of time, only seconds to spare.

Oh, back to Jericho! The walls crash all around.
Holding to your loved ones tight, you pray to sleep peacefully tonight.
But lying in bed, your dreams always go back to Jericho.

Bailey dreams of the field, broken bodies lying at her feet,
Standing in rubble, searching for a face. The girl that’s only fifteen finds no trace
Her boyfriend Bryce only can see the love tangled, tramped and strangled by dust
Left by the remainders of the last of the great human race, running for their lives
All she can think is what she sees, and this is what she sings:

Oh, back to Jericho! The walls crash all around.
Holding to your loved ones tight, you pray to sleep peacefully tonight.
But lying in bed, your dreams always go back to Jericho.

Bailey used to love moonlit walks around the city’s walls with Bryce,
But she knows all that’s left is a city in ruins, casting shadows by the light of the moon.

Can’t be rebuilt, can’t survive, Once it’s dead you cannot thrive
It’s too late now, so just move on…on…on
They dream of seeing the aftermath, and bring out their guitars
They play for the dead, those lost in the debris, those faces never to see.
And this is what they sing: Oh, back to Jericho! The walls crash all around.
Holding to your loved ones tight, you pray to sleep peacefully tonight.
But lying in bed, your dreams always go back to Jericho.

Back to Jericho, where the walls are coming down
Back to Jericho, where love is no longer found
Love, it’s in your heart, now let me forget about Jericho!”

After this, Bono brought up how they’d scored a gig already in America. They’d be playing in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at the Bradley Center. U2 would be playing for a true audience for once, and they wanted me to be the opening act. I agreed. Once there, I started playing guitar for the crowd of 100 some. I started playing Life Through His Eyes.

“If life is just a number, another hand to hold,
He’d better make the most of it, before his soul is sold.
Bryce can’t fight what his doesn’t understand; neither could you, in no man’s land.
But if it’s enough to save her, he’ll fight to stay alive,
For Bailey is the light in the window on a moonless night.

There’s children crying in the streets, dogs fighting over meat.
Men bearing arms for no reason other then revenge
Life without amnesty, no regret. How can one comprehend?
Red as blood and white as bone, blue like the water there’s never enough of.
The flag of his country, life through his eyes.

Here in Jericho, life’s a mess, there’s always a girl somewhere in distress.
Airplanes bringing aid are a foreign concept; only clouds travel the great sky.
The land is rough beneath their feet, of the thousands surviving
Bailey waits for her love to save her, take her away to a new beginning

There’s children crying in the streets, dogs fighting over meat.
Men bearing arms for no reason other then revenge
Life without amnesty, no regret. How can one comprehend?
Red as blood and white as bone, blue like the water there’s never enough of.
The flag of his country, life through his eyes.

Get me the frick outta here, find me somewhere safe
My life is in disarray, the girls and boys can’t play
The land is too dangerous, to be lived upon, humans taking it for granted.

There’s children crying in the streets, dogs fighting over meat.
Men bearing arms for no reason other then revenge
Life without amnesty, no regret. How can one comprehend?
Red as blood and white as bone, blue like the water there’s never enough of.
The flag of his country, life through his eyes.

There’s children crying in the streets, dogs fighting over meat.
Men bearing arms for no reason other then revenge
Life without amnesty, no regret. How can one comprehend?
Red as blood and white as bone, blue like the water there’s never enough of.
The flag of his country, life through his eyes…”

I played a song I’d wrote with Edge. It was called Somewhere There’s A Black Guitar.

“Somewhere there’s a black guitar, tuned up, and tricked out, all in shape.
But its owner feels only the emptiness of a life not worth living.
Broken hearted, the rollercoaster of her mind begins to run off the tracks.
The days she spent with him only to find the gifts were keys that he had found,
Using them to unlock and get inside her heart, destroying what she knew was right.

She picks up the black guitar, and begins to play.
The tears falling from her hazel eyes is the ink upon the page,
Of the leather notebook, filled with nothing but dismay.
The blood from her blistered fingertips a reminder of the pain,
The knife in her heart, set in by the boy she used to love.
She plays on, singing now of the love she used to know, the day he broke her heart,
That last kiss goodbye, and the black guitar cries with her, bathed in soft moonlight.

Somewhere there’s a black guitar, scratched and not in tune.
He’s neglected it, instead playing hers, admiring the sound.
But he knows deep inside, he’s really alone. He used her, and thinks it’s alright still.
The gifts were only keys fitting the locks, the breeze through the trees.
But now he knows he’s destroyed what she knew was right.

He can picture her, picking up that black guitar, beginning to play.
The tears falling from her hazel eyes is the ink upon the page,
Of the leather notebook, filled with nothing but dismay.
The blood from her blistered fingertips a reminder of the pain,
The knife in her heart, set in by the boy she used to love.
She plays on, singing now of the love she used to know, the day he broke her heart, that last kiss goodbye, and the black guitar cries with her, bathed in soft moonlight.

He picks his own black guitar up, and tunes it; he’s going to see her.
She lets him in, and he sets the guitar down. It’s the first time back in after the break up.
They kiss, returning both their minds to the time where they’d found true love. Love.

They pick up their black guitars, and begin to play.
The tears falling from their hazel eyes is the ink upon the page,
Of the leather notebook, filled with memories and love.
The blood from their blistered fingertips a reminder of the pain it took to heal.
They play on, singing now of the love now healed, the day they came together again,
That first kiss hello, and the black guitar sings with them, bathed in soft moonlight.

He tucks her in, and says goodnight, their hearts beat in time.
Each thinks of how the black guitar had saved them, now bathed in soft moonlight.
And as they drift off, each knows, somewhere there’s a black guitar
That will save your mortal soul. Somewhere there’s a black guitar.”

I started to play You Don’t Know Me, my closer, but before I could, I heard someone yell, “Wait!” And Edge rushed onstage to stand next to me.

“Chrisenne, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Close your eyes.” I did. When I opened them, Edge was kneeling in front of me. I raised a mouth to my mouth, surprised.

“Oh, Edge. I never thought…yes. Absolutely yes. Can I finish playing?” I asked. The audience ‘awed’ and then laughed at my question. Edge laughed with me, and then kissed me in front of everyone. Well, it was a short ‘I love you’one anyway.

“Yeah. Go on with the show, Mrs. Evans.” I smiled at what would soon be my last name.
I knew that David Howell Evans, also known as Edge, would always be by my side. And along with the rest of U2 and Noelani, anything in This Life was possible. Amen.