Emmy watched as two girls came in the front door of the café. One had a nose ring and short hair. The other had a long, purple mane with purple lipstick to match. Emmy watched them try to hug Jude. She decided she liked how he backed away with his hands up like he was defending himself from fans. She hoped the girls weren’t also poets. They were a million times cooler than she was.
Emmy noticed Jude was much louder around the purple girl than he was around her. It was like his charm could be turned up and down like the volume on a phone. Emmy ate her cheesecake and felt like leaving. It was all too much to feel rejected before anything had even happened.
Starting to plan her getaway, Emmy noticed a tall woman standing by the door. She was beautiful, dressed in black with fishnet stockings and high-heeled boots. Her tight mini-dress revealed a figure so perfect it almost hurt Emmy to think about it. It did hurt when she saw Jude go to greet the dark goddess and lead her to a table. They spoke quietly. Jude gave her a pat on the shoulder when he got up to start the show. Before Emmy could act on her plan to leave, Jude turned on the spotlight over the tiny stage. The place was packed. It got even more crowded when a group of guys rolled in, drunk and loud. They were all much taller than Jude, who was working alone while the other barista was out for a smoke. They asked Jude for beer.
When he asked them to leave, the tallest guy looked at Jude and said, “There’s no way a little pansy like you could make us go.”
“You’re right,” Jude said. “And since there are three of you and only one of me, that makes this whole thing unfair and lame. Do you want to be unfair and lame?”
They grumbled, but left.
Emmy had been clutching her notebook so tightly her sweaty palms curled the paper book into a roll. She let out a huge sigh of relief when they left. Jude went back to being Jude. The other barista came back. He dimmed the lights and moved some chairs around. Jude grabbed the lighter from the fold in his shirt sleeve and lit candles. He rose up on the stage, staring out at the adoring faces in the crowd.
“Guys, gals, and everyone in between,” he began. “Tonight’s That Hashtag is going to be amazing. We’ve got a great line-up from across the country.”
He introduced the woman in black as Clarisse, the voice of That Hashtag. Gliding like an elegant swan, the woman made her way to the stage. She thanked everyone for coming and Jude for organizing. She said that this reading was taking place on her ancestors’ land and she wanted to honour them. And then she began her poem. It was a sensual description of the cold, empty darkness of the city’s streets and the brightness of the sunrise. Emmy was so caught up in the words and images that she forgot everything else around her.
Suddenly, Jude was back on the stage. He looked right at Emmy and winked. She felt her entire face go pink. Her palms were sweaty. She thought if she wasn’t careful she might actually poop her pants. Her stomach was in such knots that she didn’t think she could stand.
“From Winnipeg to Vancouver, Emmy has moved people with her heartfelt poetry. Let’s give her a big rain-city welcome. Get on up here, girl.”
Emmy almost cringed as the applause washed over her. Why did Jude introduce her as if she’d done this sort of thing before? And to have to follow Clarisse? It was sheer terror. She stood to walk to the stage, but it was like she could only move in slow motion. Her notebook was heavy in her arms.
“Uh . . . hi,” Emmy managed, looking out at the crowd. Hip big-city people stared back at her. They all waited for something to happen. Emmy cracked open her notebook to the poem she had chosen and practiced for the last two hours. It was the one she’d imagined reading to Ty, the one about feeling alone. She looked at the short poem, only five lines. Suddenly she decided that it was stupid, the worst poem ever written.
Emmy flipped the pages of her notebook. What should she read? Finally she stopped at a poem she had written for English class. It was about the springtime slush that lined Winnipeg streets and how it revealed all the secrets of winter as it melted. It had earned her her first A and a glowing comment from her English teacher, so Emmy had torn the page out of her Hilroy notebook and pasted it into this book. She realized she felt a lot safer going with something she knew had pleased at least one person. Especially since that person was supposed to know what she was talking about.
Emmy began to read her poem. It was a sonnet written in the style of Shakespeare. That was the assignment.
When Emmy got to the line that rhymed brown with drown, the audience laughed. When she got to the next rhyme, they laughed even harder. Cheesecake rumbled around inside of Emmy. By the time she finished what she had written as a very sad poem, everyone there was in stitches.
Jude, applauding, came up to take the mic. He smiled, which made it worse. Emmy ran off the stage and into the washroom, where she emptied out the contents of her guts.
As Emmy collected her things from her table, she glanced up at the stage. The purple girl was crooning a song while strumming her guitar. There was no point in saying goodbye to Jude. If all went well, she’d never have to face him again.
Emmy left quickly, as though a faster pace would help her erase the memory of the sound of people laughing at her. She crossed the street and stopped in at the Shoppers. She headed straight for the refrigerator. She needed orange juice, a sandwich, a tub of rice pudding, and some chocolate milk. For good measure, she also grabbed a bag of honey mustard potato chips while she waited at the checkout.