Singing on that stage, I wouldn’t say I felt my mother’s presence, or saw her spirit or anything ridiculous like that. It was more like a surge of warmth filled my veins and made my heart expand – like a moment of clarity as I realized she’d be proud to hear me carrying on her legacy.
It was closure.
I felt like I’d been drowning in my grief for years and hadn’t even realized it. Like I’d been gasping for breath for so long I’d become accustomed to barely breathing at all. And now, I’d been thrown a life-ring and hauled ashore and given a chance to live again. I imagined my grief, that phantom of perpetual misery, finally settling inside my heart. It no longer tugged at its tether, or rattled the bars of its cage – it simply took a deep breath of acceptance as it dissipated into me and finally, finally gave up the fight.
I smiled as I gave myself over to the feeling, completely surrendering to the music as it flowed from my lips and fingertips.I heard my mother’s voice in my head.
There’s a song for every feeling, Bee. Every tear, every smile, every heartbreak and every victory. Music ignites the soul and strips us bare. It’s our very essence. Even if you have no one else to turn to and you feel all alone, remember that you can always find comfort in ballads and melodies, serenades and love songs.
Iknew my shadow would never fully leave me – that’s not how grief worked. What had happened to me as a little girl had changed me, altered me on a chemical level, forged me into the woman I was becoming. But maybe it wouldn’t fight me so damn hard from now on. Maybe it would take up residence inside my soul – a scarred, clouded part of my essence – and let me breathe unhindered.
Strumming the last note, Iopened my eyes, growing nervous as I took in the utterly silent crowd.
Was I that bad?Jeeze, I didn’t even get a sympathy clap.
Then, to my utter surprise, I saw people getting to their feet andapplauding wildly. Catcalls sounded from the bar area and I thought I heard Lexi screaming from somewhere in the back, but it was hard to tell over the rest of the cheers. Grinning, I hopped down from my perch on the stool, slung my guitar over one shoulder and waved to my new fans.
“Thanks, guys!” I called, walking off the stage to make way for the next performer. As I stepped back into the crowd to head for my table, I was immediately engulfed by a swarm of people eager to congratulate me on my performance. I laughed when several asked me where I performed locally, as they were eager to catch my next show.
I eventually made my way back to Lexi, who was jumping up and down in excitement. Squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe, she screamed in my ear.
“You were freaking amazing! Oh my god, Brooklyn. You could’ve heard a pin drop in here during your performance and I swear I saw a few people crying. You’re a rock star!” she exclaimed. Releasing me, she turned to face the people seated in the audience around us. “MY BEST FRIEND IS A FREAKING ROCK STAR!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, entirely too loudly for such a relaxed venue. I smacked her on the arm.
“Quit it, Lex! You’re embarrassing me. Not to mention yourself,” I laughed.
“I’m declaring myself your official musical agent,” she said, eyes distant with thoughts of our future fame and glory.
“Lexi,don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself? You do realize that I’m still going to become a lawyer, right?”
Lexi snorted, grumbling under her breath about wasted talent and missed opportunities. Oh well. Singing had always been just a hobby and though it recently may have become a therapeutic outlet, I doubted it would ever transition into a path to stardom. As exhilarating and enlightening as my performance had been, I didn’t see it going anywhere professionally.
A familiar, deep voice rasped into the microphone, immediately catching my attention. Butterflies erupted in my stomach asmy eyes drank in the sight of the beautiful dark haired man sitting on the stool I’d just vacated. His eyes scanned the room restlessly, as if seeking someone particular in the dark crowd.
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to be able to top that last performance—”Did he mean mine?“—but I’ll do my best. This song is dedicated to a friend I worried I’d lost for good. For a long time I thought it was impossible that this person might still exist out there,” he paused, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair – a sure sign he was nervous. “But I’m happy to say that sometimes we get second chances in this crazy life. Sometimes the things we lose are returned to us. Sometimes, we’re lucky. So, yeah, enough of my bullshit ramblings. This isThe Scientistby Coldplay.”
Finn’s voice was hauntingly beautiful as he sang along with his acoustic guitar. He’d never looked more attractive, but I could tell by just a glance that something was wrong. There were circles under his eyes dark enough to rival mine before my daily Sephora-intervention; it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping. He looked utterly worn out and it set me on edge immediately.
As the lyrics washed over me, I wondered about his strange song dedication. Who was he talking about? It was probably irrational for me to feel jealous, considering there was nothing remotely romantic betweenFinn and I. He’d made it clear on more that one occasion that he was strictly my friend and, with the exception of a drunken near-kiss in the bathroom at Styx, he’d never even implied that he found me attractive.
The man-whore doesn’t even want you. Talk about an ego-bruiser.
I wasn’t too proud to admit that his lack of attention over the past week had stung. I hadn’t heard from him at all, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the way I’d avoided him at the beginning of the semester.Oh, how the tables had turned. How the mighty had fallen.How many more clichés can I use in a row?
I was getting ataste of my own medicine –okay, that was the last one, I promise– and, unfortunately for me, it was the disgusting store-brand, grape flavored liquid cough syrup my foster mom used to shove down our throats when we couldn’t sleep at night.
It was obvious thatFinn had chosen this song, one that cried out for redemption and second chances, purposefully. It was equally unobviouswhyhe’d chosen it. The lyrics were clearly an apology, a plea for someone’s forgiveness – and I was near-desperate to figure out whose. Somewhere along the line, he’d started to matter to me.
Evidently, the feeling was not mutual.
But he’d been there for me last week after my breakdown. Granted, his jokes were so pathetic they could barely be considered consolatory. Still, if he needed someone to talk to, I would try not to be a coldhearted bitch for at least five minutes and offer him some comfort. I would be his friend.
As soon as he stepped off the stage, womenwith too much makeup and too few clothes surrounded him. They reminded me of the seagulls that would swarm any flyaway scrap of food on the California beaches my mother had so often taken me to as a child. She’d called themrats-with-wings, laughing as she’d tossed yet another potato chip into the sky to increase their rabid fervor. Come to think of it, Finn could probably throw a dirty sock into this swarm of girls and they’d kill each other in the animalistic race to win it.
He was laughing, in his element as he soakedup their attention. The sadness that had been etched onto his face as he performed had retreated back behind his eyes and that trademark panty-dropping smile. Or maybe I’d been seeing things.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Lexi, who was watching me closely.
“You like him,” she said, surprise written across her face.