Chapter 21
Stage Fright
Emily
Six years ago...
Papa kept saying I should come over every weekend, but I told him I only wanted to go every other week. Staying in his big house was kinda cool compared to our tiny apartment, but it felt super lonely. At Mama’s, Richard always took us on adventures. Like a month ago, we went to a lake and paddled a canoe. And the other week, he took us out for dinner and then to the movies. He treated Mama, Lucas and me so well, way better than Papa ever did. I guess I liked him, even though he had this gray hair that made him look a bit like my grandpa.
When I headed downstairs to let Papa know I was hungry, he yelled, “Fuck!” and threw some papers on the ground. I flinched, wanting to run back upstairs, but he had already seen me. There were a bunch of empty bottles on the dining table and a burning cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Now he smoked all over the house, and I always smelled like it when I got back home.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” I asked, but he just glared at me with his nostrils all wide. “Your mother is out of her mind,” he said.
I bit my lip. Mama never said bad stuff about him. “I don’t think so,” I said. Pitus trotted over and rubbed his head against my hand. I leaned down and hugged him.
“I gave up my job because they moved to Berlin to spend more time with you,” Papa reminded me, like he did every time I visited. “I might have to sell the house to give your mother what she wants because I can’t afford it anymore. And you only come every other weekend. You spend more time with this Richard than me. How do you expect me to stay calm in all of this?” He grabbed a bottle that wasn’t empty yet and chugged it down.
I buried my nose in my dog’s fur. It was all my fault. “I’m sorry, Papa.” I didn’t want to cry but tears came out anyway.
One night I had overheard Mama talking to Richard. She was working so much, she barely had time for us anymore. Papa wasn’t paying any child support and she was only asking for the minimum.
But even the minimum was too much for my papa. Did he even love me?
Now...
After dinner, Jon and I hung out with Lauren, who eventually fell asleep—or so Tim thought. The truth was, she was invited to her first party and begged Jon to drive her over and pick her up at midnight. Jon tried to talk her out of it but eventually agreed: she would find a way to go anyway. After all, she shared the rule-breaker gene with him. Lauren blew him a kiss over the couch and Jon acted as if it had flown too far, chasing after it through the living room. I loved how he was with his sister. It reminded me of how Lucas treated me.
Now we were in Jon’s room, keeping the basement door open, of course. I’d been following every one of Gena’s rules, but it was getting harder and harder. Jon was shirtless, and I was only in my bra and leggings. We had been kissing intensely, losing control for a second before mutually deciding on a break. Lying with my head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing in his smoky scent, I wanted to savor every moment with him. We submerged ourselves in our black books, writing, reading and exchanging smiles with our eyes in between.
“Do you want to go to prom?” I asked without any preamble.
Jon looked up from his notebook. In the dim light of the basement, his face was partially obscured by shadows. “You’re already thinking about that crap?”
I frowned, absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. “It’s not crap! It’s a celebration of your graduation, the beginning of a new chapter.”
Jon barked out a laugh. “For most people it’s just a special enough occasion to finally fuck.”
“Jon!” I protested. He had the wrong idea about prom. “Seriously, I want to go.”
He sighed, sucking in his lip, then tilted his head. “Fine, if I manage to graduate and get tickets, maybe we’ll go.”
A broad smile came to my lips. “Will I get a promposal?”
“Hypothetically speaking, if I got those tickets, would you really want me to answer that and spoil a possible surprise?” A glimmer of mischief played in the faint smirk on his lips.
I considered this for a moment, twirling a strand of my hair. I hated surprises but I knew Jon loved making them, which was more important. “You’re right. Don’t tell me.”
He nodded and lifted up his book again.
“Can I ask you something else?”
He put the book down with a groan. “You and all your questions.” But there was still a playful glint in his expression.
“You knew that about me before we started dating,” I said, nudging his chest and giggling.
“Fine, you can ask a question, but it depends on which one.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Hey, if you asked me to give you a kidney, I don’t—” He paused, his gaze wandering around the room before settling on me. “Actually, no. I would give you a kidney.”
“Such a romantic.” I kissed the top of his nose. Brushing a curl out of his face, I dipped one toe into a delicate topic like it was cold water. “I bet Danielle would love to give you a haircut...”
“She’d probably love to get close to me with scissors.” Jon scowled, his fingers running small circles over my back.
“She’s a professional! She wouldn’t do that.”
“She hates my guts, Little German,” Jon reminded me, his circles coming to a stop.
“She doesn’t hate you.” The water was chillier than expected but I took the plunge anyway. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a double date with Danielle and Timo,” I said, giving him my puppy face.
His brow furrowed. “Why did you never tell me you don’t like cheese?”
I dropped the puppy eyes. “Wow, that wasn’t a smooth way to change the subject, Jon.”
“No, I meant...” He sighed and lifted himself up, prompting me to sit up as well. “Do you realize we’ve never been on a proper date? And I don’t mean getting takeout in the car. I mean a real date, where I pick you up, we go for dinner, I get you flowers and shit.”
I took in a breath. Dating in Germany wasn’t exactly like in romance movies. Most relationships I knew of started at school or parties. Maybe people went to the cinema. The idea of going to a fancy dinner was rare for people our age. I was surprised that Jon of all people had brought it up. “Do you want to take me out on a date like that?” I asked.
“I... fuck, I don’t know.” He leaned in, grabbed my hand and thumbed little circles on the back of it. “I want to make this right. Be a good boyfriend, give you all those experiences to write down. So you can read them in a few years with a smile on your face and not feel like you missed out because you chose to be with me.”
I climbed onto his lap and put my hand on his cheek. Jon’s vulnerable side wasn’t something I was used to, but I liked it. “You are a good boyfriend, Jon. I like doing anything with you. I don’t need fancy dates and flowers to remember how much I lo—enjoy spending time with you.”
He smiled briefly but his lips twitched down again. My return to Germany loomed large in my mind—but I wanted to let him bring up that topic at his own pace.
Instead, Jon reached over to his phone. “When do you need to be back at Gena’s?” he asked, typing something I couldn’t see.
“Um, my curfew is eleven. Why?”
“Okay, we’ve got over two hours. Let’s go.” He pulled me off his lap and went to his closet.
“What are you doing?” I asked, baffled.
“Getting dressed. I’m taking you on a Jon Denson kind of date.”
“What rhymes with torture?” I asked, pen poised over my little black book.
“Torture?” Jon asked, eyes fixed on the road.
“Oh, I got it: putting me in the corner.”
He laughed. “What are you writing there?”
“A poem about how you torture me by keeping me in the dark,” I joked. We had dropped off Lauren at her party, though not before Jon’s lengthy no-alcohol-or-drugs speech, which she shrugged off in annoyance. It was cute though. Now we’d been driving for twenty minutes, and I was still clueless about our destination.
“I’m telling you, after tonight you’ll have more exciting things to write about.”
I groaned with anticipation, which only made him laugh harder.
“We’re almost there, Little German.”
I peeked out the window but it was too dark to make out where we were. Jon parked on a side road and reached behind him. “Put this over your eyes.” His smile was even broader now.
“A tie. Seriously?”
“Yep.” He shrugged. “Or are you scared?”
I grabbed it. “Bring it on, Denson!” This was so much better than a regular dinner date—this was exciting and special and made me love him even more.
He guided me out of the car, following right behind to make sure I wouldn’t trip. “Stop here,” he whispered in my ear, and I heard a heavy metal door opening. “Okay, slow steps, we’re approaching the stairs.”
He led me up. The temperature immediately rose, and my heartbeat picked up as we got closer and closer to whatever surprise Jon had planned for me. It smelled a bit musty in here, like they didn’t do Durchlüften—airing out the house. Suddenly the dark behind my eyelids turned orange—we must’ve stepped into a bright room.
“Are you ready?” Jon breathed, and my skin shivered.
“Y-yes,” I stammered. He lifted off the blindfold—and I stared into the faces of at least a dozen people who started clapping.
I twirled around to Jon. We were on stage. They expected me to do something! “Jon, why are we here? What’s going on?”
He handed me his little black book. “A writer needs their audience.”
I let go of my breath. “You’re doing a reading here? That’s so great!”
“No.” Jon smirked. “You are.”
“What?!”
He opened the book. It was mine. He must’ve grabbed it in the car.
“Jon, are you crazy? I can’t read in front of all these people!” I sprinted behind the curtains for shelter. Tears shot into my eyes, the pressure rising in my chest like a mountain that was impossible to climb.
Jon grabbed my hand from behind. “Little German. You’re good.”
“No, I’m not! Not good enough to perform on a freaking stage!”
He stepped up, reaching for my face, but I looked to the side. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said. “No writer was born great. They all grew through practice. And right now is your moment to shine and gain that practice.”
I bit my lip. “What if they hate it?”
“I doubt it.”
“But what if?”
Jon sighed. “Then you never have to see them again. We’re out of town at a place nobody knows us.”
I scrubbed my face, my little black book pressed to my ribs. “Jon, I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Number 2 on your old list: Find confidence. You’ve come a long way, Little German. Tonight is your chance to embrace it. It doesn’t matter if it’s perfect or not.”
I sucked in a breath, my eyes drifting between the gap in the curtains to the microphone waiting on the stage.
“But if you want, we can leave and never look back,” he said. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want.”
Knowing I had that option made me calmer. “Okay.” I nodded. “I’m doing it, but under one condition.”
“Which is?” Jon’s eyebrow perked up.
“You’re doing it with me.”
“Deal.” He smirked, full of confidence, and offered me his hand. My admiration for him shot into the clouds, and my heart pounded like I was about to give a performance... which I was! Me! The shy little girl who never spoke her mind was stepping onto a freaking stage.
“I’m nervous.”
“I know, so am I. Pretend it’s just you and me, in the car watching the night sky. I love you, Little German.”
He kissed me.
The three little words I had been waiting for.
“I love you too.” I smiled between our kisses. My heart so full that I didn’t care about screwing up anymore.
“Say that again after we go on and I’ll show you how much I mean it,” Jon growled, and my heart went faster than humanly possible.
Our lips separated, and I caught a glance of a mirror to my right. “Wait!” I adjusted the collar of my knit sweater over my bra straps and ran my fingers through my hair, untangling the mess from the blindfold.
“You look beautiful.” He offered me his hand, and this time I took it with a goal. I would make the thickest check mark there was on my list.
We stepped onto the stage and I was momentarily blinded by the lights. People clapped again. I didn’t dare look at the audience, kept my eyes on Jon. He gestured for a second microphone and one was brought up right away.
He cleared his throat. “What’s up? Um, I’m Jon, and this is—” He held out his hand at me, and I grinned like a child. “My stunning girlfriend, Emily. Or how I like to call her, Little German because she’s from Germany.” He said it with so much pride, I could’ve cried right on the spot that I’d found this incredible person.
“We’ll be making up a little poem from scratch so don’t expect too much,” he said, earning laughs from the crowd. “It’s called... ‘The One.’”
When I tried to breathe, barely any air came in. The entire room had their eyes on us—what the heck was I thinking?!Jon didn’t seem to notice my panic because he let go of my hand and stepped closer to the microphone.
“One moment, ordinary, like the same old lunch. But she came wandering in and spiced it up.”
His voice was soft and sure, saying words I’d never heard before. That wasn’t my style. Unlike him, I scratched things out and rewrote them until they felt perfect.
“One step forward, three steps back. But she came wandering in and got me back on track.”
He looked at me, waiting for me to add something, but my mind was blank. I shook my head, feeling like I had to throw up.
His gaze stayed on me. “Lingering, hoping, finally loving. Lows and highs. I’d do it all again to end up looking at those eyes.”
It even rhymed. I closed my eyes, searching for something that rhymes...
Rhymes, times.That could work.
I grabbed the microphone to have something to hold on to.
“Cursing you at times, but not so much that it won’t rhyme.”
Okay, that was weak. I shook my head and tried again.
“Living life lost like a child but growing up strong at your side.” Yeah. “No rewriting, no erasing, no mistakes...”
Jon nodded, his eyes still on mine.
“Wandering down this road with the one I hoped to hate.”
A woman went “Woo!” in the audience. There really were people listening to us. I nodded for Jon to continue. He took off like he had a collection of poems ready to go in his head.
“Wandering down this road with the one who keeps me sane.”
“Feeling so right, yet so scary ’cause it’s real.”
“Feeling like I won; Lady Fortune spins her wheel.”
He threw me a wink, totally at ease. And then I understood why this was easy for him. He was speaking from his heart, not trying to impress anyone, not caring if it made sense or sounded pretty.
“Because she’s my lucky one.”
He pointed right at me, and my heart just about burst out of my chest.
Suddenly I knew exactly what to say. I pulled the microphone closer and opened my heart.
“Because he’s my lucky one.”
“No matter how young, I know he’s the one.”
I was full-blown smiling now. And in that moment I knew... I was ready to marry him. The words flowed out of me like a writing sprint, no going back.
“Bringing out my best and my worst, loving myself when it rains, when it hurts.”
“One ordinary moment suddenly more than that. Comfort and peace, the special moment I seek.”
“Lovely, Lost, and Lucky, three roads I wandered down.”
“To stand here by the side of...”
We both paused and took a breath before speaking the same three words into the microphone.
“My lucky one.”
We stepped away from our microphones as the audience clapped and cheered, Jon smiling at me so brightly, it was more blinding than the spotlight.
“Well done, Little German,” he whispered, and we moved forward at the same time to fall into each other’s arms.
I was standing on a freaking stage.