Page 64 of Christmas Chemistry


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Nan stopped to tell me, “I overheard Daniel playing in the music room one day. I didn’t know he was so amazing on the guitar. No one did. I’m just glad I convinced him.” She glanced over to where Daniel cautiously accepted a fist bump from one of the other students. “I think he’ll be okay here, after I graduate.”

“I think so too. Hey, Nan—”

“Yeah, Mr. Wymack?”

“I’ve enjoyed being your teacher. You’re a good egg.”

She laughed. “That’s what Ms. Davis always says.”

“So she does.”

Her smile positively glowed. “Good luck tonight, Mr. Wymack.”

An hour later, it was go time. The other performances had gone well and the audience still seemed engaged. There would be a big post-show party in the gym following the event, and I hoped I’d be in a celebratory mood.

I peeked out into the crowd and caught Katy’s gaze—The Landslide had shut down for the show tonight—and she gave me a thumbs up. My eyes drifted to the darkened section at the back of the auditorium. It seemed more packed compared to when the show had begun. A spotlight circled and I saw the crowd clearly for a moment.Wait. What the hell? That almost looked like… The light dipped around the room again, and…It had to be a trick of the eye, right?

I pulled out my phone.

ME:Are you here? In Coleman Creek?

No reply. But I couldn’t stop to worry about it. I had to keep my head in the game.

My fingers tingled as I smoothed out the lapels on the red velvet suit I’d ordered for the occasion. I’d thought about adding a bow tie, but in the end decided on a white button-down with the top three buttons undone. I knew Marley appreciated my furry chest, and frankly, I’d take all the help I could get. My hair hung full around my shoulders, the same way I’d worn it to the reunion.

Once I reached center stage, I took the microphone out of the stand to hold. I needed to project confidence, and bending down to the mic would not be a good look. Since I didn’t carry juggling balls or an instrument, it had to be apparent to Marley by this point that I’d be singing.

I gripped the mic tightly, my limbs almost numb with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, I pointed a finger at Travis, his signal to start the slideshow on the giant projection screen behind me. A moment later, the first piano notes of Kelly Clarkson’s “Underneath the Tree” rang out across the auditorium, and at the appropriate place, I began to sing.

I’d chosen the song for its lyrics, but a beefy six-foot-three man singing an upbeat soprano pop song was objectively attention grabbing. I imagined every pair of eyes in the room locked on the stage. Not that it mattered. As far as I was concerned, I had an audience of exactly one.

A trained vocalist I was not. Even my best efforts sounded only a step above drunk karaoke. But I carried on despite the burn of embarrassment, reminding myself it didn’t matter whether I completely mucked up the high notes. The only thing of true concern was the crowd pointing at the slideshow behind me.

I kept glancing in Marley’s direction. She was close enough that I could see her clearly. When I’d begun, she’d appeared to be stifling laughter—likely as horrified by my warbling as the rest of the crowd—but I saw her features shift as she noted the images flashing on the screen.

At first, they were just pictures of me around Coleman Creek. I’d taken selfies at the tree lot and the dog park, multiple locations around the school, in the corner booth at The Landslide, and standing in the bakery aisle at Walmart—all places I’d been to with Marley.

The audience seemed slightly confused by this first medley of photos. I didn’t care. I only wanted Marley to see that I belonged in this town. Diving into the chorus, I stared directly at her as the lyrics explained she was the only thing I needed for Christmas.

The next shot was of me holding a posterboard with big block letters—reminiscent of Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” video, or the famous scene inLove Actually, depending on audience member age. The sign read: I CHOOSE YOU, MARLEY. NO MATTER WHAT ELSE IS IN STORE FOR ME, I CHOOSE YOU.

I knew the second it flashed up behind me because Marley’s hands raised to her face as her mouth dropped open. Maureen squeezed her sister’s shoulder and gave me a huge thumbs up while Miranda laid her head against Marley’s other side and grinned from ear to ear.

A collective gasp came up from the audience when the next picture appeared on the screen. Me, holding another sign, this one reading: MERRY CHRISTMAS, MARLEY. I LOVE YOU.

Multiple heads in the crowd whipped around to get a glimpse of Marley as she sat stunned in her seat. Somehow, I kept singing as the next set of photos came up. I’d been gathering these all week, and had just received the last few this morning while throwing the final version of the slideshow together.

Pictures of the bowling alley owner, the general manager at Walmart, and a broker at the insurance office, all holding poster boards reading: JAMES CAN WORK HERE.

Katy, playacting, looking dead on her feet at work, holding a sign: THE LANDSLIDE ALWAYS NEEDS MORE SERVERS.