32. Nick
NICK
I Am What I Am - La Cage aux Folles
I pull at my too-tight bowtie. Langford Hall fills up for the gala, but my gaze is glued to the grand piano in front of the risers.
Movement snags my eye, and I spot Shelley and Dad.
He sits front row center in the audience, eyes shining under the light.
Shelley runs a gentle hand through his hair before heading backstage to me.
I wave to him, and he waves back, lips pursed, so many emotions swirling in his eyes. My throat tightens as we share this moment.
And my chest burns, wishing for June, needing to share this with her, too. I didn’t sleep all last night, second-guessing my decision to put her on that bus without telling her that I basically quit my job.
I’d gone weak at the sight of her tears. My stomach roiled as I listened to her call herself hard to love and selfish, saying she’d tear us apart. And I wanted to tell her so badly, prove to her that I want her just as she is.
But she didn’t want me to declare my love. How would she take my career change? She called me selfless, so I had to be. I had to let her walk away. I’d never do anything to stop her from going after her dreams, because her dreams are what drew me to her in the first place.
I should’ve said I love you last week, even when I thought it was the wrong time, the wrong way. The only wrong way to say I love you is not saying it at all. Never again. There’s only now, and I’ll love June in every second, in every lifetime.
Shelley strides up beside me, smiling. “You ready, Nick?”
I exhale, shaking my hands out. “No. But let’s do it.”
Before we walk out, Shelley grabs my wrist. “This means so much to him. Your father is so proud of you.”
“I know, thank you.”
“He—” She pauses, looking at the audience, then back to me. “I’m glad you talked, are talking.”
I rest my hand over hers. “And I’m glad he met you.”
We share a smile, then head onstage together, Shelley to the microphone, and me to the piano bench.
“Welcome to our annual gala performance! This summer has been so special, watching our students grow, learn and thrive. I’ll be our emcee for the evening.
I’m Shelley Williams, though everyone knows that.
” Light chuckles echo around the hall. “Before we begin, however, I’m thrilled to introduce a member of our faculty, Nicholas Harper.
He’s performing two original songs for us.
Let’s give him a big round of applause!”
Shelley’s sensible heels clack on the floor as she exits, giving me a surreptitious thumbs up.
I look out over the audience, but the stage lights—Jesus, they’re bright.
And hot. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple.
It was easier when I performed with June for cabaret.
I stretch my neck and run my fingers lightly over the keys.
I can do this. I want to do this. Sitting at a piano is where I’m safe, where I’m home.
June’s my home, too. But she's not here. I don’t need to prove to her I can do it. I need to prove it to myself.
With a deep breath, everything falls away. Nothing exists beyond the press of the piano keys, the hum of my voice, the weighty contentment of doing what I was always meant to do.
So, I play. I play like I’m alone in a practice room, nothing between me and the music. But I can’t stop wishing June was here to witness the beginning of my next chapter.
My first original song is “Bridge Unknown”, one I wrote and tinkered with for a year or so.
Then I slip right into “The Siren, the Sun, the Sea”.
Since I couldn’t sleep last night, I stayed up polishing this one until it was perfect.
So much has happened this summer, from the time I’d thought of the first line for this song staring at the Clarion River before Shaker’s.
Juniper happened, and somehow, she was everything to me—my siren, my sun, my sea.
Her siren’s call led me to the dark depths, but her light brought me to the surface again. The song is new and raw, and performing it live fills my stomach with rocks, but that’s why I need to sing it. To do more things that scare me, to be brave. Like June.
I miss her so fucking much, I swear I glimpse her, the tilt of her neck, just outside the spotlights, standing with two other people.
I’ve been so caught up in thoughts of her and the music, that as the echoes of the last chord fade, even the silence vibrates.
One second, then two, that silence continues and unruly panic twists my gut.
No one’s clapping.
I shut my eyes and exhale shakily, then turn to the lights and the audience beyond. After that extra beat of silence, Langford Hall erupts with applause. Every audience member shoots to their feet, clapping. For me. The roar washes over me, smoothing the jagged worry lurking in my chest.
I slide from the bench and stand, taking a bow. The applause continues. I can’t hide my smile as I bow again. Finally, finally the cheering ceases and I exit, fingertips buzzing, whole body alight with adrenaline.
So deep in the moment, I don’t watch where I’m going until I run into someone.
June .
It’s my imagination, it has to be. But her scent wafts around me, that sweet and floral perfume. “What are you doing here?”
Her voice is thick with tears. “It hurt too much, being away from you.”
She laughs, but it morphs into a cry. June presses the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle it.
I pull her hand away, unable to bear her hiding anything from me, and I crush my lips against hers.
I’d know the weight of her in my arms, the shape of her mouth, even if I had nothing left, I’d carry the memory of her.
“Nick,” her voice breaks. “I can’t believe I almost missed this. You were amazing, incredible, you were—there aren’t words to describe what I felt. Your music was poetry, it was everything . I’m so proud of you.”
I duck my chin, face heating, but I don’t hide my smile. “The second song was about you.”
“Really?” She looks up through her lashes, stuck together with tears.
“Yeah.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Happy birthday.”
Campers line up, ready to take the stage for the final concert. I should be out there, helping everyone get on the risers. But I can’t tear myself away. My hand slides into hers, and I pull her into a storage room littered with folding chairs and extra risers.
I push her back against the door, and June’s lips tremble as our eyes lock. I’m finally ready to say the words that inspired “The Siren, the Sun, the Sea”.
“I love you, Juniper.” My hands tighten on her waist. Why are we wearing so many clothes? With the way she’s looking at me, I need to bury myself inside her and say those words again.
“I love you, too.” More tears slip free, and I wipe them away. “I skipped my audition.”
“You what?” I’m hallucinating. Vividly. There’s no way she’d skip an audition for me.
She nods, though, biting her lip. “It took me so long, too long, but as I sat there in the waiting room, I finally admitted to myself that I don’t want to tour anymore. I want to stay in one place. I want a home. With you.”
“You’re my home, too.”
She throws her arms around my neck, pressing closer. My hand cups her cheek, fingers sliding down her neck as I brush her hair back, and she whimpers. She said my music was everything, but her whimper is everything to me, and I vow to get her to make it every day for the rest of my life.
The rest of my life .
My breaths come hard and fast. “I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I quit my job.”
She pulls back to take in my whole face, her eyes so comically wide and her mouth practically on the floor. “You quit your— what ? Why?”
Fuck, I want to kiss that look off her face. I can’t help my smile. “I quit my job and I’m moving to the city.”
“Nick.” Her hands fist the lapels of my suit jacket, tightening, as a furrow appears between her brows. “You have no idea how much I want that. But if you’re doing it for me, I don’t?—”
“It’s not for you. But it’s because of you.
The way you put your whole heart into everything you do, everyone you love …
you living so fully gave me permission to want it, too.
And if I fail …” I sigh. That F word has been on my mind lately, among other F words.
But saying it out loud is different. It catches in my throat.
I can’t swallow around it. “If I fail?—”
“We’ll figure it out.” She smooths my jacket across my shoulders, squeezing my arms.
“We’ll figure it out, together. So, you wouldn’t happen to know of any apartments in the city, would you?” I tease.
“I might know a place.” She laughs, carding her fingers through my hair and kissing me again.
Too soon, she pulls away. Damn the gala, I want to keep kissing her forever. “That’s a relief. I wasn’t sure I could afford a place by myself.”
“Shut up or I’ll make you pay a security deposit.” Another laugh, like she can’t hold them in anymore.
My own personal music.
If she can’t hold in her laughter, I can’t rein in my desire. My voice dips low as I say, “Or I can pay you in something other than money.”
She shivers, pulling me close again. “I’m happy to negotiate.”
I need to taste her laugh, taste all of her, but I settle for a kiss. For now. This kiss is slow. It’s an answer, a promise. It’s our future.
Vaguely, I register all the campers singing onstage, “Amor de Mi Alma”. The sweet sounds fill Langford Hall, filling the shadowy corners of my heart. I press against June, her fingers digging into me to get me closer. I cradle her face with gentle hands and kiss her as the music swells.