Chapter 6 #2
I swallowed over the bile rising in my throat.
“Great. Now I feel really excited to get up there and humiliate myself.” I pressed my head into my folded arms, not even caring that the table was sticky.
“What an idiot. Why didn’t I just let us drive on past?
I just had to scream ‘stop the RV’ like a moron because I had this brilliant idea to face my greatest fear and sing karaoke. No. You know what? I’m not doing it.”
“You’re doing it,” Alice said.
I snapped my head up and she wasn’t even looking up from her menu. “I’m not. I’m still the captain, and I’m recanting the wish. My wish is now NO ONE sings karaoke. There. Problem solved.”
“You are no longer wearing the Viking helmet. You took it off to come in here; therefore, you have no power.” Marge gave me a sly grin.
My mouth dropped open. “What? That’s not a thing.”
“It’s a thing.” She smiled bigger.
“Fine, then I’m going back to the RV to get the Viking hat, putting it on, and wishing that NO ONE sings karaoke tonight.”
“Oh, I have it right here in my purse. I grabbed it.” Doris opened her oversized pink purse, but Marge reached over and snatched it. “Hey!”
“Do not give her the captain’s hat!” Marge tucked the purse behind her back.
“Marge! Give me the hat!”
“No.”
“Marge!”
“No.”
I glared at her. “If you don’t give me that hat so I can unwish this idiotic idea, I swear to God I’m going to—”
Alice closed her eyes and shouted, “Enough!”
We sat back, stunned for a moment.
She smoothed her hair, and as I looked at her, the pink lipstick still smeared across her face made me stifle a laugh.
“You said you wanted to be brave to show me how to be brave, right?”
I slunk in my seat. “Yes.”
“Good. Then show me how brave you are. Because you’re right. If I can face cancer, you sure as hell can stand on a stage and make a fool of yourself. And if I watch you do it, then that is exactly what I need to find the strength to fight my battle too.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, my breath catching. “Oh, Alice. Really? It would mean that much to you if I sang tonight?”
She stared at me for a long moment, eyes locked with mine… and then her face cracked.
“Damn it. I tried to keep a straight face.”
“Alice!” I threw my napkin at her. “I thought you were serious! Well, now I don’t feel so bad.” I looked at her lipstick-marked face, a smirk lifting my lips.
“About what?”
My smirk grew. “About nothing. Well, in that case, if it isn’t going to be inspiring to you, then I’m really not doing it.”
“Bull pucky!” Marge pounded a fist on the table, and the water glasses shook.
“You’re not chickening out, you pansy. She may not admit it, but I know Alice will be inspired to see you face plant up there in her honor.
So, you’re going, Sylvie. Even if I have to drag you.
You’re facing your fears tonight. Comprende? ”
I sat back a little, partially scared to say no and partially inspired to say yes.
“Okay. Okay. Fine. I’ll sing.”
“Good.” Marge sat back, crossing her arms.
The server arrived with our three beers and Alice’s dirty martini. She set them down and hurried back to the next table with the rest of the drinks on her tray.
“Liquid courage.” Alice lifted her martini.
I groaned and grabbed my beer before clinking it against theirs and downing it like I was a frat boy with a nickname like Goober or something.
The server came back and took our food order, and Alice ordered a tequila shot. I assumed it was for her, but then she pushed it in front of me when it arrived.
“More courage.”
I drank it too, knowing I needed every drop of alcohol in my body if I was going to do what I was about to do. When the warmth washed through me like a tidal wave about five minutes later, I pushed up from the table.
“I’m signing up!” I declared, lifting a finger and then pointing it toward the DJ.
The girls cheered me on as I walked across the bar, a notable extra skip in my step as the tequila urged me forward.
I arrived at the DJ booth, and the man with the receding hairline and gold chain around his neck greeted me with a grin. “Song choice?”
My mind went completely blank as I stared at the slip of paper and pen in front of me. Was I really doing this? Really?
Me?
This truly was my worst nightmare. My greatest fear.
I couldn’t even do a public speech in my college class and had to call in sick that day and take the C when I would have had an A.
There was nothing, and I mean nothing, I hated more than being the center of attention. And that was just speaking. This was…
Singing.
I swallowed down the vomit climbing up my throat.
I glanced back at the widows all grinning at me from the booth, and when I looked at Alice and imagined what she was about to face, I turned back, grabbed the paper, and jotted down the one song I knew every single word to.
The song I sang in the car when I was alone and the windows were up and no one could ever, ever know.
The song that made me think of those three amazing women waving at me across the bar.
The current singer finished up their song, hitting notes so high and beautiful that the whole place erupted in applause. Instantly, I regretted my decision and decided I was not, in fact, going up on that stage.
“You okay?” the DJ asked as I reached down to retrieve my song choice, hoping to burn it in the tabletop candle and pretend this never happened.
“No. I think I’m going to puke, pass out, and puke again, then pass out again. I don’t think I can do this.”
His toothy grin widened. “Everyone says that the first time. But once they get going, they all say it was incredible.”
“Yeah. I sing like I’m deaf and also being skinned alive. You don’t want to hear me up there.”
I went to grab the paper, but he snatched it away.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
He held the microphone to his mouth. “Well, next up, we have a newcomer!”
My eyes grew into oversized orbs. “What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled.
He just kept smiling at me. “She thinks she has a terrible voice and she’s trying to back out, so how about you all help me encourage SYLVIE onto the stage!”
Everyone clapped and shouted words of encouragement. The widows erupted. Marge let out a piercing whistle that probably shattered a few beer mugs.
“You’ve got this,” the DJ whispered, joining in on the clapping as he gestured to the stage.
I stood frozen, staring out at the crowd now cheering for me and calling my name. I didn’t even think I could run away if I tried. My legs felt like the bones had been replaced with cotton.
Suddenly, they were moving.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
One after another I moved toward the stage.
I walked up the wooden steps, then stopped in front of the microphone, squinting against the harsh, unforgiving yellow spotlight.
My heart wasn’t beating anymore; it was trying to punch its way out of my sternum. If I’d thought standing on a bridge, preparing to jump off it would be scary, then this… this was terrifying.
Before I had time to process my horrifying new reality, the opening notes started.
Familiar. Comforting. The soundtrack to my life with the widows.
The intro to “Time of My Life” started.
The lyrics scrolled across the monitor. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I tried again. A sound emerged that was part wheeze, part whimper. I was off-key by three zip codes. A guy at the bar winced.
I looked at Alice. She was leaning forward, her face full of hope.
I sang the next line, my voice cracking like a dry twig.
Embarrassment rushed through every inch of my body, crippling and suffocating, and I fully regretted every decision I’d ever made in all my life that had led to this moment.
From the table, Marge stood up and screamed while Doris and Alice clapped along with the beat.
I kept going.
Tried to.
I lost track of the words, the panic, or maybe the tequila, causing my vision to blur.
My ears started to ring, drowning out the melody.
The hot prickle of tears burned behind my eyes, and suddenly, I couldn’t see the words on the screen.
Words I didn’t need because I knew this song by heart, yet it seemed every word had packed up and left my mind, too embarrassed to be associated with me.
The panic started to close in—the hot-faced, heart-pounding awareness of every eye in the place staring at me.
Judging me.
I couldn’t do it. The fear was too big. The stage was too bright. I took a step back, ready to drop the mic and run back to Bertha.
I looked at my widows for support, but the table was empty.
And then they were there. All three of them, climbing up onto the stage beside me—Marge took my arm on one side, Doris appeared on the other, and Alice stepped up front and center with the easy confidence of a woman who had never been afraid of being looked at in her life, grabbing the second mic from the stand like it belonged to her.
And then they started singing.
The bar went absolutely wild.