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After a few minutes, the karaoke man—I didn’t know what else to call him—called the first person up. A woman about my age in a short skirt and a top several sizes too tight stood up on stage. The audience started to cheer.
What had I done? I would be up there soon! Why had I signed up to this?
She sang an old AC/DC song about Dirty Deeds; not bad except for the fact that half the song was screeching. By the time she threw the microphone down, I’d broken into a cold sweat.
“Up next, we have Rachel! Rachel come on up!”
The room went silent. Oh God oh God oh God.
“Rachel? Do we have a Rachel in the room?”
“Over here!” Chase called.
I felt a light push in the small of my back and stumbled to my feet. Every spotlight in the place turned toward me and I spun to find Chase with a huge grin on his face. “Just remember, think of them naked,” he whispered. Then he winked.
My eyes were as big as saucers. “I... I don’t think I can do this.”
He took my hand. “I know you can. You love to sing, right?”
I nodded.
“Then that’s all that matters. Don’t worry about the crowd. Just look at me, and forget everyone else.”
I took a deep breath, drawing comfort from his words. Then I nodded. I could do this. It was time to stop being afraid. I walked slowly to the little stage. I heard a smattering of applause, and Chase whistling at me from the bar.
It all looked very different from up here. The stage wasn’t high, only six inches or so from the floor, but it felt like I was towering over the audience. A light was in my eyes; I squinted and looked down at the screen, taking a shuddering breath.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I looked for Chase and found him. His attention was fixed solely on me. The music started, and he smiled, head cocking, as he recognized the song.
Just a piano, repeatedly playing a single note. The Rose, by Bette Midler. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to sing the first line... but nothing came out.
My eyes snapped open in panic, looking for Chase. He was right where he’d been before, eyes still fixed upon me. He gave me two thumbs up, motioning me to continue. I cleared my throat.
I knew this song. It was a beautiful, haunting melody that wrapped around a soul and left it feeling light and heavy all at the same time. It wasn’t meant to be sung to a crowd. It was meant to be sung to a single person. So that’s what I was going to do. I found Chase’s eyes—this stranger who didn’t know me, but believed in me—and sung as if to him, alone.
The words bubbled out of me as I gained confidence. I knew them by heart, but now I was feeling them too—a gentle vibration in my throat that warmed my body; a resonant frequency down my spine that centered the universe around this very moment.
I was dimly aware as I moved into the second verse that the room had gone still—completely, utterly silent. Were they listening to me? Had I silenced them? It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered as I stared into Chase’s eyes. Nothing except this long, perfect moment we were creating together. The music didn’t allow doubt, or fear. It was beautiful, and in that moment, looking at Chase’s spellbound face, I felt beautiful too.
The song was about love—the words comparing the emotion to a beautiful flower, tender and delicate. But it also sung about a soul, and about how without love it would never bloom. It made me think of Dan, and his careless cruelties, and in that moment my voice faltered. Was I the soul in the song? I’d been so afraid to leave that I’d never learnt to live.
I was free now though, wasn’t I? Free to live again. My voice rose, finding strength. Dan had beaten me down, again and again; battered my confidence so low that I’d thought I deserved him. But with winter gone, just like the rose in the song, now it was time for me to bloom. I held the last note, fading out as the music came to a close.
The room was so silent when I lowered the microphone that I heard a glass clink at the bar. Then the crowd erupted into applause.
“Thank you,” I murmured. Their cheers only got louder, and I left the stage quickly, slightly intimidated at the attention, pushing my way through people who were suddenly patting me on the back and looking at me in awe.
When I arrived at my stool, the bartender met me with a high five, but my eyes were on Chase. He was totally still, looking at me slightly dazed.
“So, what did you think?” I asked nervously.
He frowned, as if puzzled. “That... was incredible,” he said.
“What? No way,” I said, blushing.
His frown deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing? You kind of made a fool out of me there, giving you encouragement. You’re obviously a professional.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “No, I’m not.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay—you don’t have to pretend. What is it—do you sing in a band, or solo?”
“I, um, I’ve never done this before. Truly. That was the first time I’ve ever sung in public.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding me. You’ve never sung before.”
I shook my head.
“Do you want a music contract? I’ll give you one, right here and now.”
I pulled away as if stung. “Oh God no—you saw how I was tonight. That is not the life for me.”
“Then this is just one of those moments I should feel blessed to have experienced?”
“You really liked it?” I’d never considered myself a great singer. It was something I loved to do, but then I also loved to cook, and I was terrible at that.
“Rachel, it was remarkable, and I’m not one to say that lightly.” He looked down at his glass. “You know, my mother used to sing that song to me.”
“She did?”
“Yes. It’s always been one of my favorites. I couldn’t believe you chose it. It was like... fate, or something.” He smiled. “I think... I think the reason I’m so impressed is that you’re so unaffected. Without formal training, the natural talent shines through. There were some rough spots, but they only made the sweet spots sweeter—like we had a genuine connection, through the song.”
I grinned at his praise. I’d sung it for him, but I couldn’t tell him that.
“Listen, it’s still fairly early,” Chase said. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Would you like to join me?”
My mouth opened to turn him down—I had a boyfriend. But then... I didn’t, did I? He’d just dumped me, unceremoniously, in the middle of a crowded bar.
That didn’t mean I should take him up on his offer though. After all, he was an almost total stranger. “I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “I’m thinking I should probably go home, actually.”
“Oh, come on. I hate to eat alone. Besides, I’d love to talk music with you. I feel like we’ll have a lot in common.”
Well I was getting hungry... and we did both like music. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe Dan’s neglect was a blessing in disguise. “All right,” I agreed. “Let’s do it!”