Chapter 48 Aria
Aria
This evening Aria is the headlining performer at the music festival that’s been raging throughout the city since late Thursday, and she welcomes it as a break from the studio.
The stage is a temporary structure built of steel beams on the largest field in Roxbury Park, and it’s complete with a band and lights.
No special effects, no dropping in from the ceiling or rising from the belly of the stage like Aria tends to do at her arena shows.
From the wings, she can actually see the crowd.
A group of young women decked out in rhinestones and cowgirl boots are twirling one another to the music of the opening band.
They sip their tall beers and have eyes for only their best friends.
Beside them, a few couples stand close, arms slung around one another.
A smattering of people are bobbing their heads and singing along.
All of them, real people. People in varying dress, coming from different places, watching from their unique viewpoint.
It reminds Aria that her fans aren’t a homogenous mass of sameness. They are all individuals.
Aria tries to imagine these people hearing her new music.
She’s not overcome by horror. In fact, she wonders if the folks at Worldwide Records are terribly mistaken about what her fans want.
As she’s come to do frequently while wrestling with her music making, Aria thinks of Griffin.
Of that day in the studio. His smile is etched onto her mind so clearly that she hopes it never fades.
In it, all of his belief in her shines. The buzz of his quiet presence, supporting her as she lost herself in the work.
Griffin might not be as frequent a visitor in her life as she wishes—although they did end up getting their social media posts up together, which has momentarily quieted the rumors—but Aria can’t help but count herself lucky to have had the closeness with him that she did.
Just this morning, Griffin made his own post on social media, one that’s since gone viral in its own way.
He announced his intentions to launch The Griffin Hayes Foundation for Youth Sports during his recovery period, a foundation focused on raising funds for programs in underserved communities, as well as for student athletes seeking higher education.
Griffin spoke from the heart about a recent event, and it inspired Aria so deeply that she can’t quite shake it.
Maybe it’s because of the way Griffin is seeking to do good—make good out of a bad situation—or perhaps more so it’s because the Griffin on that screen was the purest version of himself dialed up to max, but his eyes sparkled, genuinely lit up, and Aria was certain that he’d found magic outside of the game.
She cheered for him. Even though he didn’t hear it.
A stage manager pulls Aria from her thoughts. “You ready? This act is thirty seconds from finished.”
Aria reaches for the guitar she’d stowed beside her. “I was born ready.”
She smiles deeply as she says it like it’s a joke, but Aria wonders if there’s more meaning to her words. What exactly does she believe she was born to do?
Aria is announced, and she doesn’t miss a beat before marching on in her signature leggy style, waving at the cheering crowd. The core members of her band join her: Marty on the drums, Rochelle and Kay on backup vocals, and Wilson also on guitar.
Once the crowd settles, they break into the first of the agreed-upon set.
Aria knows all of her hits so well that even if they surprised her, by only the first few notes, Aria would be able to call the song and jump in.
The crowd vibrates, singing, clapping, and dancing as the music floods the park, the city buildings lined up in the background like soldiers on guard.
By the middle of the set, Aria wonders if the fans will ever get sick of some of her music like she’s sick of it. From the looks of them, perhaps not, but that also doesn’t mean they don’t deserve something new.
A sudden lightning strike of sensation runs through her, and with it, an idea: What if Aria gave the audience a taste of her new song?
If Griffin can step bravely outside of the game that he has allowed to define him for all of these years, why can’t she take a risk on herself too?
The song winds down, and before Marty leads the band into the opening of the next song, Aria speaks loudly into the mic and calls for a pause.
The crowd stills, attention glued to the stage, as this unplanned quiet leaves them waiting for the next boppy hit. A few crew members poke their heads out from their hiding spots to assess for issues.
“Chicago! My dear hometown. Thank you for being here with me tonight. As a special token of my appreciation, I wondered if you might like a sample of something new I’ve been working on.”
The crowd erupts. Aria glances over her shoulder, and the band looks shocked and confused.
“It’ll just be me on the guitar. The band is as surprised by this announcement as you.” Laughter rises from the crowd, and when Aria glances back at the band, they’re freshly relaxed. “You guys with me on this?”
Whoops and cheers come from the crowd, and one of the crew brings Aria a tall barstool. She whispers her thanks. It’ll make it easier than doing it standing as she had planned.
Aria slips onto the stool, and her body hums with excitement. It feels like her very first performance, the state fairs, the dive bar stages, lived all over once again.
Before her hammering heart talks her out of it, she strums the chords she put her lyrics to and sings them, her eyes closed to the world, the words bringing her back to a time when Griffin was by her side. When she came alive in the most remarkable way. When he paved the way for this very moment.
“Until you came along,
I was living in slow motion.
Playing pop star like they wanted,
For them and their devotion.
But in the dark of night,
I tossed and turned, all wrong.
It started to make sense,
Only as you came along.
In trying to be perfect,
All I did was make me small.
You told me, more than once,
Go ahead and give your all.
Things started to go right,
Me letting go and staying true.
But then you left me in the dark,
And now I know something new.
It wasn’t just the music,
Not the hope you sparked in me.
It was everything about you,
I’m like a lock, and you the key.
You’re a flame lit inside me,
And I ask you please come home.
Everything is brighter by your side,
Together, not alone.
I don’t care about the music,
Or about the final score.
All I know is that without you,
I will always be wanting more.”
The words don’t come out perfectly, the melody isn’t polished or smooth like the songs she knows so well that she could perform them in her sleep, but despite their imperfections, Aria delights in every second of the song.
For the first time in a long time, Aria feels alive.
Truly and fully. Like she’s a creative, a person, not just a brand. Like her music has meaning.
Like maybe being vulnerable isn’t such a bad choice after all.
When Aria finally opens her eyes as the final chord ends, the crowd erupts.
Phones are held up, recording, and Aria stands and takes a bow.
Tears threaten at her eyes for a million reasons, but mostly because she’s proud of herself.
Because she’s shown her real self, her raw but real music, and for once she’s not holding back.
Before long, her phone will be ablaze with calls once the clips of the performance start making their rounds online.
Gerald will—with absolutely zero doubt—have something to say.
After Aria finishes her set and exits the stage, she stows her guitar back in its case, slots herself between her security team, and heads for her ride.
Inside, she feels like she’s glowing, like the thrill of that moment is something that shouldn’t be contained.
Like it needs to go somewhere, be shared with someone.
The only problem is, the person she wants to share it with most won’t pick up the phone.