Chapter 35. Brynn
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My thoughts drift out the car’s window as we take Sixty-Fifth through the park. Our driver pulls off on the Fifth Avenue side. I hear Cody calling me a traitor.
We used to spend hours in Central Park when the weather was nice, much like today.
Cody didn’t talk about his parents much.
I got the feeling he didn’t get along with his either.
They stayed away a lot. But unlike me, he seemed good with that.
He enjoyed his freedom, was too busy chasing his dream—to light up the night sky like a Hollywood marquee. Something like that.
Micah extends a hand, helping me out of our ride. We walk the rest of the way through the park.
I feel a tug inside my chest. Not too long ago I held Cody’s hand and walked on these same hexagonal pavers under this same canopy of trees. I shake off my déjà vu and try to focus on this carefree day, one where everyone’s outside.
My parents took me to a free concert at the Naumburg Bandshell once. The music bored me to bits. Who knew Micah had a thing for classical music? He would have liked my parents. Everyone did.
The top curve of the iconic amphitheater’s white limestone shell comes into view through the trees. We get closer; a scattering of leaves covers its stage. In front, not a chair or patron can be seen.
“There’s no concert here.” I side-eye him.
“Soon.” He suppresses a smile.
“Uh-huh. When does it start?”
“Any minute now.”
“Wait.” He’s not thinking . . . “Micah, I’m not going to sing for you.”
“Nope. I am.”
“You’re going to sing? Are you sure that’s a good idea? I heard your Backstreet Boys rendition at the company party, and, well, you shouldn’t quit your day job.”
“Encouraging, you are not.” Micah leaps onstage and begins swaying to some bizarre beat in his head. He snaps his fingers, opens his mouth. A sound comes out. Not a good one.
I squint like it hurts, fists over my ears. “Please, stop. I can’t unsee or unhear this. The birds are dropping from the trees.”
He rolls his hips like he’s hula-hooping. “I’ll stop. If you sing.”
“You play dirty.” I cross my arms.
“I play to win.” He reaches for my hand.
I decline it and climb onto the stage.
He moves stage right and sits down in the shade. He leans back, resting on his hands behind him, grinning.
I cough a few times, thinking back to the last time I sang.
“You okay?”
I shake my head, chewing my tongue, glaring. A whispery sound trickles from my mouth.
He slides closer.
I expand my lungs and dive deeper into my next note. Closing my eyes, I envision the rehearsal space at my high school. My freshman and sophomore years flood back in sweet, wistful fragments. How I loved the showcases we did, being onstage, the high it gave me. I never wanted those nights to end.
A familiar energy rises from my diaphragm.
A power. My power. I visualize my musical director, Mr. Prescott, beaming offstage.
A surreal sensation comes through and out of me, an unexplainable joy longing to surface.
Tears spring to my eyes as I remember my dad’s trick to quiet my nerves.
Like singing in the kitchen, imagine only us in the audience. Oh, Daddy, how could I forget?
Then spring of junior year, before we were even together, I caught Cody watching me perform my solo during rehearsals. I peeked back at him, expecting the same rapt expression I saw on the faces in the front row.
His features were like stone—eyes dead.
My mouth became dry, my tongue stuck to my palate. I bobbled the note and asked Mr. Prescott if I could start again.
Cody didn’t wait around for take two.
My heart sank and I wondered, Am I not as good as I think I am?
I no longer went out for solos after that. Mr. Prescott kept encouraging me to audition but I told him, I’m okay being in the chorus. Really.
Under the Naumburg Bandshell, I sustain the last note, my voice big and full. I practiced this song a hundred times for our end-of-year showcase sophomore year; it was my favorite performance at LaGuardia. I sang the hell out of it that night.
My eyes flutter open to see Micah sitting before me.
He sits up straighter, eyes like saucers. “You gave me goose bumps. I can’t believe how good you are.”
A heaviness falls on me like a cloak, knowing it’s the last time I’ll ever sing that song. Those sweet days, working so hard at something I loved, are gone. My vision blurs over trembling lips.
Micah jumps to his feet and picks me up. “I got you.” He twirls me around in a slow circle, kissing my tears.
I float in his arms, never wanting to come down.