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The rest of the week blew by too quickly. Before I could take in a calming breath, getting used to my routine, it was Saturday, and my nerves were back to running overtime. A good twelve out of ten if anyone bothered to ask where my nerves landed on a scale. The boys were excited about my performance and never stopped talking or texting about it all week.
I had woken up this morning with a whole slew of texts about it, my tired brain too slow to really process what they were asking me. Even Calvin managed to talk Paxon into bringing him, though I saw some hesitation in Paxon’s agreement. But Calvin had his big brother wrapped around his pinky and knew how to get what he wanted.
Apparently, the crowd worried Paxon and also the topic of discussion for the night. Child abuse wasn’t something people could easily stomach, and Paxon didn’t want the event to bring up bad memories for Calvin. I didn’t know what kind of bad memories, and I was too scared to ask. That little guy was so sweet and it ached to think that he had been hurt in his past. I wanted to ask, but at the same time I understood what kept stopping me. Bad memories were personal, something people only talked about because they trusted their confidante. I’d only known these guys for a week. I knew they didn’t trust me like that. Hell, I didn’t trust them like that either.
But I was giving them a peek into my inner demons. All they had to do was listen properly.
I smiled down at the texts as I waited in a makeshift dressing tent put up behind the stage. The entire event was taking place outside. I was impressed that the weather even held, the clouds dark and heavy.
Paxon: Calvin says he can’t wait to watch the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world perform today.
Paxon: I agree. You’re gonna knock this out of the ballpark. Good luck. Or is it break a leg?
Seth: Looking forward to seeing you perform today. Remember to breathe, you’ll do great.
Toby: Can’t wait to see you knock them all fucking dead today. I’ll be the idiot trying to body surf!
Brian: Can’t wait to see if you’re still like that little girl I saw on stage as a kid.
Justin: Thank you for inviting us. You’ll do great.
I let out a breath, shaking off some of my nerves as I turned off my phone and tucked it away. Their words meant more than I was comfortable admitting to.
Straightening my clothes, I looked myself over critically in the mirror. I wore an amethyst dress with an opulently embellished keyhole halter neckline. The wispy chiffon gown itself had a ruched bodice and a sweeping, tiered skirt that was accentuated by a finely pleated empire-waistband. It was one of my favorite dresses in my favorite color.
Chatter from backstage reached me, reminding me about what was about to happen. The low murmur of voices mixed in with clinking glasses and dishes and the swish of movements. Music played softly from the stage. Someone with a cello.
I blew out a breath as my nerves tried to take over.
It was going to be okay. I had to be. This wasn’t about me, but about the others out there, still trapped. I’m out. I’m free. And I wanted the same for them. I could do this for them. I always did this for them.
“Cadence?”
I blinked out of my thoughts, my anxiety skyrocketing once again just as I was getting myself calm.
Hazel and Lillian Wright stood inside the doorway of my tent, dressed nicely in simple off-white dresses. Hazel held a camera as they both smiled at me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I should ask the same thing,” Hazel said as she held up her camera. “I’m a volunteer photographer for the local newspaper this year. What about you?” She looked me over slowly. In an even softer voice, she said, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Not expecting the compliment, I turned a little red. “I’m about to go on stage. I’m one of the performers.”
Lillian’s eyes went big, and she broke out in a toothy smile. “I knew you took music classes, but I had no idea you did this stuff.”
I glanced around the tent, feeling awkward. “It’s for a good cause,” I said in a low voice.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m helping too—for volunteer hours,” Lillian said. “Hope’s Embrace is one of my favorite foundations.” Her expression fell.
Hazel looked at her sister, her smile also disappearing. She cleared her throat and tried to smile, but it came off a little tight. Something had hit too close to home for them. I blinked hard, trying to not get sucked into their emotions. It was easy to empathize. I was too scared to ask them about it and knew it wasn’t my place to pry, so I pressed my lips together and waited them out, seeing how they were going to act moving forward.
Hazel blew out a breath and raised a camera. “Mind if we get a picture of you? Are you going to play an instrument? Sing?”
“I’ll be on the piano and then switch to guitar to sing a song.”
“That’s amazing,” Lillian said with a thick voice.
The next few minutes turned into a small photoshoot as Hazel snapped pictures of me and Lillian asked me questions about my role in the event and my history. It was weird to be talking so in depth with the two of them, but also a little easy. They were nice, talkative, but also knew when to back off.
It felt like we were close to something, maybe friendship. I would have never contemplated that before with anyone. Usually, I remained stoic, keeping a firm wall between me and others, but lately, I was starting to realize how isolated I made myself. And that was all because of the boys. So I talked with them and wondered how’d they fit in my life, if they did at all. But then the emcee was there, ending our short time together, and I was forced to go back into performer mode.
“Are you ready, Miss Wiles?” Mr. Shanon asked. As the emcee for the night, he had a deep musical baritone that easily drew attention and silenced even the chattiest of the donors. He was a man who demanded attention and had a way of thanking you for giving it with the way he spoke. Mr. Shanon was a head taller than me with peppered hair fighting between black and gray. For an older man, he aged well, still very much swoon worthy. That was all part of his allure as an emcee.
I nodded before turning to the Wright sisters. “Thank you for talking with me. It helped and it was nice talking with you.”
“I’m glad we ran into you,” Lillian said. “I know we probably threw you off when we announced that you were our new friend. We are sincere though. We want to be your friend.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Why not?” Hazel asked. “I’ve been observing you for a while. It’s part of being obsessed with photography. And I noticed more of you last year. You keep your head down, but you’re also genuine. You don’t get swept away with drama or trends or anything. You’re brutally yourself, and I say that in a good way.”
“And I’ve worked on projects with you in the past,” Lillian said. “You work hard, get it done, don’t fool around. And you say what you mean. You don’t talk around the topic, being upfront and proactive.”
“We’re surrounded by people who want to live their high school years for the rest of their lives,” Hazel said. “Over the summer, something happened and we realized that wasn’t what we wanted. We want more and we want to know more people. Find people who have similar goals as us. We want to reach out to the world. And something about you makes us think that you want the same thing. You being here tonight only proves it.”
Lillian waved her hand dismissively. “Before we get preachy and probably creepier, you have to get out there. We’ll talk more later.” She smiled. “You don’t see it, but we do. And you’re a friend worth having, even if you don’t realize it. You’re a good person.”
Lillian hooked her arm through her sister’s and yanked her out of the tent as they talked in low voices with each other.
“Ready?” Mr. Shanon asked again.
I nodded and headed out with him.
He smiled as I came to his side. His hand hovered by my hand before dropping, knowing better than to touch me. The first year, he had patted my back and took note of my reaction. Where he had touched me had been a bruise that Lindie had given me the night before and since I hadn’t been expecting his touch, I wasn’t prepared for it. Mr. Shanon hadn’t said anything about my reaction, thinking I had been shy. He also probably thought my dad used to beat me and that was why it was just Lindie and me. I thought Lindie planted that idea very carefully into his head. I never bothered asking. She’d done it before with others when she noticed anyone getting suspicious.
Mr. Shanon’s features softened when he looked at me. “Glad you’re doing this again. You’ll do fine, I know you will. Just like you do every year. We really do appreciate you always coming back. There’s a sincerity in your performance that we can’t find anywhere else.”
I smiled and for the first time it felt like I was giving him a genuine one. In the past, my smiles were tense and shaky. “I enjoy doing it and thank you for inviting me back each year.”
He returned the smile, sensing something was different. He took in a deep breath before making his way on the stage, quickly grabbing everyone’s attention.
I peeked from behind the curtain to take in the crowd. Hazel and Lillian were near the front. Hazel had her camera up, looking more than ready. It was fascinating to see her whole demeanor change into something more serious as she waited patiently for the right shots, her sister at her side. I scanned more of the scene, noting the people there, knowing many of them, considering my mother was in the same circles as them. That only tightened the knot forming in my stomach.
No doubt, they were as curious about me as they were about the charity event. I only hoped they didn’t show up just to get a glance at Lindie’s daughter and the chance to gain more material for gossip. Hopefully, they signed their checkbooks and donated money.
I quickly found the boys sitting at a table not too far away from the twins, where I managed to have a table reserved. The foundation was more than happy to accommodate me. Especially since I’d never asked before, and partly because of Bryan once they realized he was listed as one of my guests. They wanted his family’s connections. All six of them turned toward the stage, and I smiled until my cheeks hurt, heat flooding my face as warm tingles gathered in my body, pushing the nerves away.
They were here.
For me.
As support.
No one had ever been to my events just for me. I was always just a performer blending in with other performers. They came for entertainment, not to show their appreciation to me.
And Lindie was always there to make sure I didn’t make a fool out of myself, to nitpick any mistakes I made, and to act as a reminder of what was to come if I didn’t play the songs she selected. I’d changed it up on her once.
I shivered. Never again.
I tuned in to Mr. Shanon as he continued with his speech, welcoming everyone and thanking them for attending. He then went on to sing praise for me, thanking me and welcoming me back. When the crowd cheered, I walked on stage.
At the center of the stage, I greeted Mr. Shanon, shaking his hand and giving him a smile. As he walked off the stage, I bowed and then settled behind the piano, tucking my dress skirt underneath me. I took in a deep breath, drinking in that moment of anticipation that the crowd always felt before I began. I released my breath, and then I played.
The set of three songs poured out of me. I closed my eyes, letting all my emotions out as my fingers kissed the keys, caressing them just right to get the sound that I wanted. It was safe to do that here, to allow myself to feel the music deep in my soul. My music was picked because it told a story that only an abused child would understand. Of the confusion, the guilt. Of the pain and the bone-deep sorrow.
The notes floated up from my fingers and out into the crowd. No one bothered to whisper, to speak. To even move a muscle as the music wrapped around them and tried to get them to understand. No thoughts of the cameras on me or of the audience sitting in front of their TVs crossed my mind. I only had thoughts of all the children out there, the ones fighting to live every day, fighting for the basic right to survive. I ignored the tears that wanted to fall, the tight ache in my chest.
I ignored the anger that weighed heavily on my heart and allowed the piano to free all my questions that plagued my mind.
Why can’t we be loved?
Why can’t we be forgiven?
Why can’t we be noticed?
Why are we so powerless?
Why do we have to be so scared?
Why can’t we just be safe?
I wanted every child to hear my music. Music I created just for them. I wanted to let them know they weren’t alone, that I had the same questions as them.
The music I played proved I had my heart on my sleeve, and when I finished, there was a ringing in my ears and it took every cell in my body to hold back the sob that filled my chest and closed my throat. They didn’t need to see me break. My nose tingled, my eyes burned, yet I refused to let myself break down completely in front of so many strangers.
Slowly the ringing quieted, replaced by the loud applause of the audience.
I stood and bowed, giving the stage crew enough time to bring out a stool and my guitar for the final performance. I blinked back tears and gave everyone a watery smile as they cheered and clapped. I didn’t look at the boys. Not yet.
I only had enough space in me to focus on the final performance.
I grabbed the microphone the stage crewman handed me and thanked him silently as I turned to the crowd. My fingers ached with how hard I gripped the mic, my knuckles turning white.
Closing my eyes, I gave myself that little moment to gather myself as the crowd settled down to hear me speak. Just long enough to gather enough courage to do this next part. They wanted a little speech from me, and after that I’d be able to do my last performance and be done.
I opened my eyes and spoke. There was no hiding the feelings from my voice. My words came out thick with all the emotions battling inside me. My speech took my emotions and blew them out to the crowd, weighing heavily on their shoulders, screaming to be understood.
“I want to thank every last one of you here tonight for your support. This charity event is special to me, and every year, when they send me an invitation to perform, I cry. Children are precious, and it’s unfortunate that people seem to forget that. I’m here to show how loved every one of them are at this event. I get to show my full support for Hope’s Embrace, a foundation that bends over backward to save children and give them the support they need to move forward in their lives as best as they can. Tonight, I give you a song I personally wrote for this event as my finale.”
I took a moment to draw in a breath and slowly let it out before I tripped over my words. I placed the mic on its stand with shaky hands as I spoke. “I wrote this song for all the children who have to hide behind a smile. Who are forced to hide behind lies and masks for their own protection. They all have a story to tell, and I’m here to be their voice. I hope you’ll listen to them as hard as you’ll listen to me.” I settled down on the stool and fiddled with my guitar, letting a couple of notes loose. I looked back up and gave everyone a sad, broken smile. “This is the story of hundreds of thousands of children who are abused in the United States. Of the one billion children worldwide.”
Finally, I allowed myself to look at the boys, needing strength and more than willing to steal it from them. They had laser focus on me as I began to play my guitar, working through the opening rift of my song. This was definitely a hard song to swallow considering I had experienced exactly what many kids out there were going through. I hadn’t been seen for so long, having to hide all my aches, having to put on a brave face as I lied to everyone around me. My story was turning out well, but not everyone was as lucky as I was. Too many got a tragic ending.
Refusing to look away from the boys, I began to sing:
“Let me tell you about a story of a little girl
Feeling all alone and lost in this world
“Are you hurting?” “Are you all right?”
These are the words she wants to hear as she smiles
But inside she cries as her body takes a beating
With a smile on her face while her soul is bleeding
“Are you hurting?” “Are you all right?”
She says, “I’m fine,” living in her world of lies
And she keeps on hiding dark marks under her sleeves
Burying her thoughts and fears underneath
Hiding all the scars from losing a war
Hoping someday, someone will say something more
Stranger, did you notice?
Her light inside starts to flicker, flicker
Stranger, do you care?
Every time he drinks his liquor, liquor
Her light starts to wane
And we wonder how can she endure
Living a life of pain and feeling impure
Did you ever notice, stranger?
Here’s another story about a little boy
Who has ever known only sadness, no joy
“Are you hurting?” “Are you all right?”
He looks up masking his pain with a smile
But inside he cries as he hopes that someone can see
Reach a hand out to pull him from this dark dream
“Are you hurting?” “Are you all right?”
He says, “I’m fine,” living in his world of lies
And he forced himself to isolate from his friends
Hoping and waiting for the pain to end
Hiding all the scars from losing a war
Hoping someday, someone will say something more
Stranger, did you notice?
His light inside starts to flicker, flicker
Stranger, do you care?
Every time she drinks her liquor, liquor
His light starts to wane
And we wonder how can he endure
Living a life of pain and feeling impure
Did you ever notice, stranger?
Looking for a friend, waiting on a hand
Maybe someone can finally understand
Looking for a friend, waiting on a hand
Maybe someone can finally understand
Stranger, did you notice?
Their light inside starts to flicker, flicker
Stranger, do you care?
Every time they drink their liquor, liquor
Their light starts to wane
And we wonder how can they endure
Living a life of pain and feeling impure
Did you ever notice, stranger?”
After dragging out that last note, I released a breath, letting the last of the guitar notes float away. The silence was deafening, no one speaking or making a single peep. They were speechless, and I knew I’d done my job. I’d bared my heart to everyone, and they’d heard me.
Loud and clear.
After a few more silent beats, I stood and bowed.
They didn’t go crazy until I was already halfway off the stage, the soft thump of my footsteps my only companion. Then they gave me a different kind of deafening sound as they roared and thundered at my final performance. They wanted more, but I couldn’t give it to them. I’d already given them everything I had in me for the night.
Never before had I felt so bare.
