Face the Music (14 page)

I complained to Grams, but she just smiled and told me that sometimes we have to do things we don’t really want to do.  “Suck it up, Allie
-gator
,” she’d say.  I hated
when she called me that
.  I
’d give anything
to hear it now
.

When s
he drove me home that afternoon
I was shocked to see several of my friends gathered in our backyard.  Mom had planned a surprise party, complete with a bright, donkey shaped piñata, a huge ice cream cake, and lots of presents.  It turned out to be o
ne of the best birthdays ever.

When t
he bus
stopped
at
my apartment
I
didn’t go inside.  Instead, I went to the playground and found a seat on a swing.  I sat motionless and stared
off into space for several minutes
when someone called
my name.

Chris
was
jogging towards me. 
“Allie!  Aren’t you freezing?”  Alarm spread across his hands
ome features as he looked at me
.  “Hey, are you okay?”

I wasn’t in
the mood to be sociable, and I
didn’t want him to see me like this.  “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?  I stopped by to see you, but
you weren’t ther
e.  I haven’t seen you all week.”  His voice was soft, his eyes gentle.

I looked at my shoes, the grass, anything to avoid meetin
g his gaze.  “I’ve been around.  I’m
just having a rough day.  I’ll be fine, promise.”  I flashed him a weak smile but could see that he didn’t buy
it.  “Did you need something?
”

“No, nothing important.”  He shook his head
,
but his eyes remained on my face.  “I saw a coffee
shop
down the road;
you wanna
go in and
get a cup?
  Get out of this cold?
”

“Sure,” I said even though all I really wanted was to be left alone.

The shop was warm and smelled of roasted coffee beans and vanilla.  An old Dizzy Gillespie song played, filling the room with
American J
azz.  Chris and I found a small table overlooking the sidewalk.  He sat across from me but didn’t say a word.

I looked out the window.  An elderly couple walked by, hand in hand, looking completely content to be living in the moment.  I envied them.

“Remember the other day when you said that you felt so alone?”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded.
  “Yeah
.”

Once I opened up
it was hard to stop.  I told him about Grams, about my childhood memories, her diagnosis,
my latest
visit
s
, and all my conflicting emotions
.  He was so easy to talk to.

“I don’t want her to die, but I hate seeing her like this.”  My voice cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek a
s I fought to hold my composure.

His voice was filled with compassion.  “So when your Grams…passes,” he hesitated to say it, “it will just be you and Emily?”

“And Molly.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward and cupping his hands around mine.  The touch was meant to be comforting, but it felt like so much more.  I imagined holding those hands, kissing those palms, being caressed by those fingertips.  I shuddered and pulled away, wrapping my hands around the warm coffee cup.  He sig
hed and sat back in his chair.

I tried to cheer up, even managed a smile.  “It’s all good.  Life is full of little tragedies, right?”  I sw
allowed the lump in my throat.

Chris narrowed his eyes again and looked at me very seriously.  “
I’m here for you, okay?  Call me, text me, whatever
you need
.  Anytime.
” 

I looked down to hide fresh tears. 

He reached out and touched my cheek.  “Are you okay?” 

Our eyes locked
for several seconds.  My
brain’s pleasure center
went on hyper-
drive and flood
ed
my system with endorphins.  I felt warm and giddy all at once and had to force myself to look away.

I stood and pulled on my coat.  “
Thank you for the coffee.  And thanks for listening.  I’ll see you later, okay?” 
I could have sat there and talked to Chris forever, but I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me.  I’d already said too much.

Chapter 8

“After tonight th
ere will only be ten of us left,
” Riley
observed
after Monday’s class. 
The producers are throwing a party on
Thursday
. 
I heard they rented out the Diamond Tower Room at the Chicago Plaza.”  She spoke quickly and paused for a breath, her
gray
eyes alive with excitement. 
“I hope I get to go!
”

Chris
’s performance that night
was astonishing.  Instead of his usual high energy, in-your-face performance, he
did something completely different. 
There were no flashy lights, n
o band, or any backup singers.  Just him, sitting on the steps of the stage, guitar in hand.  A
soft white spotlight shined down on him as he strummed the beginning notes of the 1920’s song,
Someone to Watch Over Me
.

The arrangement was breathtaking, and the raw emotion he displayed nearly moved me to tears.  It was like the line between singer and song had been erased.  He became one with the music.

The audience remained silent.  Even as the last chord faded, not a sound could be heard.  No one clapped.  No one cheered.  Not even a cough.  It wasn’t until Chris finally stood that the theater exploded with applause.

“Chris!” shouted Stella, standing in ovation.  “Now THAT is what we have been waiting for.  You’ve broken out of your mold but at the same time stayed true to who you are.  You are in it to win it.  Where did all that emotion come from?”  Chris smiled and shrugged.  “Well, keep it up, my friend, because that is what a winning performer sounds like.” 

Eddie sniff
ed and dabbed at his eyes with his
sleeve.  “Last week you made me sweat, this week you make me cry.  What’s left?  Bravo, my friend!”

Lucy folded her slender fingers together and leaned forward on the table.  Her black hair fell
in her face
as she spoke.  “That was so…pure,” she said, as though she couldn’t find the right word.  “You don’t need all those extras.  Your voice and the honest delivery of that song show how talented you really are.  Congratulations, Chris.”

The crowd cheered as Bradley McKnight walked out on the stage.  “Well done!  That had to feel good!” he said, patting Chris on the back. 

“Yeah, it was great.”  His smile was so bright it made me wonder if he was human.

The rest of the
performances
that night
were
also
impressive.  It was as though the bar had been raised; everyone was giving their all, battling it out to make the cut.  Cynthia sang a Faith Hill song, and Sam did something from Justin Timberlake.

At the end of the show I was on the edge of my seat with wonder at who would leave.  “What did you base tonight’s decision on?” Bradley asked Lucy.

She leaned back in her chair.  “It was tough.  Everyone did an outstanding job.  I guess, for me, it came down to who I felt has shown the most growth this far into the competition.”

Bradley glanced at the contestants, who stood in a nervous group on the left side of the stage.  “When I call your name, come and find a seat in front of the judges.”  The stage went dark, with only a spotlight shining on the group.  “Sam, Cynthia, Riley…” 

The audience cheered as the Superstars made their way across the stage.

“Chris, Melody…”

By the end, there were only two left standing, Jimmy and a guy named Ryan.

“Here are nine of your top ten!”  The audience clapped, and Bradley stood before the final two, his face somber.  “I’m sorry to say that for one of you, tonight was your last performance on this stage.”

The lights dimmed as a spotlight centered on the three men.  Ryan wrapped his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and stared at Bradley.  Jimmy bowed his head, his eyes on the floor.

“Without further delay, the last one to join our group on center stage is…”  He tucked the mic under his arm and ripped open the ivory envelope.  The camera jumped from one nervous contestan
t to the next. 
Bradley glanced at the card and then looked into the camera. 
“…g
oing to be announced right after this commercial break.”

Everyone, including myself, groaned.  Why did this have to be so drawn out?  Just say the name, already!

I didn’t move from my spot as advertisements for toilet paper, feminine hygiene products, and hemorrhoid cream graced
the screen.  I wondered what type of people made up
our marketing
demographic
. 

The show came back on, zeroing in on an anxious Jimmy and Ryan.  The theme music played in the background as lights danced around the theatre.  Once things quieted, Bradley announced the results.  “Ryan,” he said seriously, putting a heavy hand on Ryan’s shoulder. 

Ryan slumped and shook his head.

Bradley continued.  “You may join the others.  Jimmy, I’m sorry, but this was your final show.”

I hated to see that happen; Jimmy was such a good kid.  He shook Bradley’s hand and went to hug the others before exiting the stage. 

I clicked off the TV and looked down at Molly, who was stretched out across the couch with her head in my lap.  She yawned and rubbed her eyes with tight fists. 

“Time for bed, sweetie.”

Someone knocked on the door as I was washing my face.
 
By the time I
got there
,
whoever it was had left
, but a black leather tote
was on the floor
.  A crisp, white envelope stuck out of the front pocket.  I ripped it open and found two tickets to Thursday’s Top Ten party along with a handwritten note.

Allie, I thought you and Emily would enjoy a night out.  It’s a black tie affair, so wear your
best dress.  See you there.

My hands trembled as I re-read the letter.  Although it wasn’t signed, I knew exactly who it was from.

Looks like you could use a book bag.

Maybe I needed to give the guy some slac
k.  He was considerate and down-to-
Earth, and the more I was around him, the more I liked him.