Me:Yeah, okay. How?
Chad:Because you already are.
Chad:Amazing, I mean.
Me:Thanks.
Chad:Yep.
Chad: Andhey, if you start to choke up out there, just remember: Tonight, all the otherstars are dark, and you’re the one shining the brightest.
***
It feltlike the first day of school all over again as I walked onto that big, scarystage to look out into a small ocean of strangers. I tried to focus on the factthat I didn’t know any of them. Who were they to me? Did theyreallymatter? But still, underneath that slowly building confidence, there was alittle voice, telling me that every single one of themcouldbe someone to me. Telling me theycouldmatter. If Iplayed my best. If I impressed them.
Oh, God, I’mgonnapuke.
Iswallowed repeatedly, walking barefoot toward the mic. I liked the feeling ofthe smooth hardwood beneath my feet. It was sturdy and cool, and I groundedmyself with that sensation fueling my calm.
“H-hi,”I stammered into the mic like a damn fool. The lights werebrightand I couldn’t clearly see the faces of the people sitting in the seats, but Idid hear a smattering of snickers and I imagined their tormenting smirks. “Um,I’m Molly Dyer, and uh …”
Ishifted my foot, kicked the mic, and an ear-piercing squeal flooded the roomwith groans and irritated mutters while my eyes burned with oncoming tears.
I’m already screwing this up.
Strugglingnot to cry, I swallowed and forced myself to laugh. “See? Even the mic wants meto shut up,” I joked, saying the first thing that came to mind, and a lowrumble of laughter came from the audience. Devin and Chad both told me to justbe myself. Maybe there was something to that after all. “So, um, I’mgonnabe honest withy’all; thisis my first time on an actual stage.Y’allare sosurprised, right?”
Andto my amazement, they laughed again. It was a light, good-natured sound, and Ifelt my limbs lose a bit of their weight as I relaxed a bit.
“Anyway,I’m nervous as hell, but I’mgonnaplay a few songs.I hopey’allenjoy ‘em.This first one’s called ‘The Fear of Being Alone.’”
Withthat awkward introduction out of the way, I closed my eyes and strummed myguitar with ferocity, twirling away from the mic to dance with the best partnerI had. I let the music move me in a rhythm that probably looked a lot crazierthan it felt, and then, I came back to the mic to sing from my soul.
“Whenthis bottle’s empty,
AllI’ll have to show,
Arethese streaks along my cheeks,
Andthe fear of being alone.”
Ihad no idea what the crowd was feeling or thinking, but I found that while Iwas singing, playing my guitar and dancing, I didn’t care. Whether I wasplaying at the Locust Lounge or a venue meant to seat five-thousand people, itdidn’t change the way I felt. This was my truth, and I was allowing them all inon my secrets, but first and foremost, this was for me, and it was incredible.
Iplayed for my allotted forty-five minutes, every song becoming easier than thelast, and after every single one, the crowd roared with an applause I didn’tquite feel I deserved. But I was humbled and grateful, and when my set wasover, I thanked them profusely from the bottom of my heart.
Hurryingaway from the mic, I caught sight of Chad, leaning against a stack of ampcases. I don’t know how long he’d been watching me, if he’d seen the whole showor just the last couple of seconds, but I was stopped short. In his old blackRangers cap, fitted white t-shirt and blue jeans, he looked so natural, and sodown-to-earth in a setting that said otherwise. I was struck with a vision ofhim, waiting for me after junior high, just like this. Before we were separatedby social circles and team colors.
Exceptback then, his arms and neck weren’t covered in ink, his eyes weren’t glassywith emotion and his face wasn’t painted with pride.
Findingmy ability to move again, I broke out in a run. The soles of my feet slappedagainst the stage until I lunged forward. He caught me in a tight embrace, andI threw my arms around his neck.
“Idid it,” I was saying, breathing the words against his shoulder with tearsstreaming relentlessly down my cheeks.
“Isaw, Molls. You wereamazin’. I toldyayou would be.”
For what felt like minutes, he held me, calmingmy heart and my lungs, while the rest of my body became aware. Aware of thestrength in his arms. Aware of his heart, slamming relentlessly from his chestand into mine. Aware of the warmth radiating from every part of his body thattouched every part of mine.
Letgo, Isilently begged him.Let go, because Ican’t.
