by Stacy M Wray
“Saturday. Why?”
I point to the sign behind his back, a grin on my face. “There’s a festival going on here tonight.” Following the direction of my finger, he turns his body around to read the banner. It lists fun, food, games, bands and a karaoke contest. As I look down the street, I can see vendors already setting up their booths.
Turning back around, his eyebrows waggle up and down. “You wanna stay here tonight? Check it out?”
I love festivals. My family goes every time Colorado Springs has one. “Why not? What are the odds of us passing through on the day of a festival?”
We ask our waitress where a nearby hotel is after we place our orders. I order a turkey Manhattan, a dish I’ve never had before, staying true to staying out of my comfort zone.
Feeling comatose after such a heavy lunch, Jeremy drives us to the hotel that’s only a couple of miles from the square. Once we’re checked in, we spend the rest of the afternoon at the pool to kill the few hours before the festival begins, making friends with two pubescent boys. They think Jeremy’s the bomb, and I’m so amused watching them follow him all around the pool like flies around horse shit.
One of the boys is named Will and the other is Matt – I try not to hold the name against him. Will is a pudgy kid with sandy hair and freckles covering the tops of his cheeks, reminding me of one of my neighbors back home. Matt is skinny as all get out, and his dark hair sweeps over his forehead in Justin Bieber style. After Jeremy had realized he couldn’t shake them, he gave in and let them entertain him while I rested on a lounge chair, feeling bloated after that lunch.
They’re hanging out at the edge of the pool when I hear Will ask him, “Is that girl your girlfriend?” I feel all eyes on me as I pretend to be asleep.
“Nope,” I hear Jeremy say.
“Dude! Why not? She’s hot.” I’m trying so hard not to laugh while I wait for Jeremy’s reply.
“She’s taken. You don’t mess around with another dude’s girl, you hear? Never. It’s part of the man code and only losers don’t follow it.”
“Yeah…I know,” Will says back.
My level of respect for Jeremy just skyrocketed.
Then Matt chimes in. “Then why are you with her? Where’s her boyfriend?”
Jeremy laughs. “You guys sure have a lot of questions.” After a minute, I hear him say, “Her boyfriend’s in California training for soccer for the UCLA men’s team – ”
“Whoa – seriously, dude?”
“Would I kid you, Will?”
I hear no answer so I’m assuming Will shrugged or shook his head.
“Anyway, we’re good friends so we decided it would be fun to take a road trip before we leave for college.” I want to peek at him but I feel his eyes on me…but maybe not. I don’t want to ruin the moment.
“Oh…okay.”
“Matt! You and Will need to come on – we’re leaving in about five minutes,” I hear a woman yell.
“Oh, man, what a bummer. You guys have to go?” Jeremy says, and even if he’s not sincere, he sure sounds it.
I hear moans from the two boys as they get out of the water and tell Jeremy goodbye. I peek and watch them fist bump.
After several minutes, I feel water dripping all over my stomach and sit up with a yelp.
“You’re awful at playing possum,” he says. I laugh and swat his dripping hair away from me.
He plops in the chair beside me and stretches out.
I roll my head over to look at him and say, “You were great with those boys.”
His eyes are closed but he smiles and says, “They were fun.”
“Who knows, maybe someday when it comes time for them to make a choice in their life, they may just remember that cool dude at the pool who gave them important man-code advice.”
“One can only hope…”
I reach over and place my hand on his wet, chilled arm and say, “You’re a great person, Jeremy – I truly mean that.”
He rolls his head to his left while I take my hand back. “Back at ya, Hippie Girl.” He pauses for a minute before saying, “This trip’s been good for you, yeah?”
I let his words settle over me. This trip has been good for me, feeling like I can stand up to anything. I feel bigger, better in my own skin. As much as I love Braden, I can’t rely on him for my happiness. And as much as I miss him, I’ve been really peace-filled and content on this trip. Well, except for that last phone call. Rolling my head back to Jeremy, my hand instantly flying up to shield my eyes from the late afternoon sun, I tell him, “Yeah…yeah, it has.”
“You’ve been different since we’ve been on the road. You’re lighter. You laugh more. I like it.”
His observations are dead on, and, while I appreciate his thoughtful comments, it makes me wonder how he saw me before. Pushing the notion away, I smile at him, glancing at the time on my phone. “I’m going to my room to get ready for the festival.”
He nods, saying, “I’m just gonna lay here for a little bit longer.”
After we’ve had our showers, we meet outside our rooms and head back to the town square. It’s quite the contrast to how it was this afternoon. People are gathered in the streets, now blocked off to cars, and food and vendor booths line the square encompassing the courthouse. Little kids are sporting mini-paintings on their cheeks, begging their parents for a turn in the bouncy castle that takes up a whole corner of the block. Sweet and savory smells waft through the air as Jeremy leads the way like he’s in search of something. “What are you looking for?”
Before he can answer, he stops in front of a booth beside a makeshift stage, a lady greeting him. “We want to sign up for the karaoke contest.”
My eyes pop, my stomach falling to my feet. What? I tug on his arm, talking through clenched teeth. “Are you nuts? I’m not doing this.”
Jutting his chin to the nice lady, he says, “Give us a minute.” She smiles at him, then gives me an understanding look. Grabbing me by the elbow, Jeremy leads me a few steps from the table. “Come on, Karma, it’ll be fun. No one knows us here so who cares?”
“I care, Jeremy. I can’t sing.” Nerves are crawling all over me, settling into every crevice they can find.
He chuckles. “That’s the fun of karaoke – most people can’t. Come on, step a little further from your comfort zone and do this – I promise you won’t regret it.”
That’s a bold promise. Obviously, he can’t feel what his insane idea is doing to my insides. I entertain his proposal for just a second, wondering if I could get up on that stage. He’s right when he says no one knows us. But can I handle the humiliation? There’s a reason my mom slowly inches the volume on the radio when I sing along. She thinks she’s being nonchalant but I know why she’s doing it – I’m not stupid. Then I think about Jeremy’s earlier words, basking in their glory. Or was he just buttering me up, knowing this moment was looming in our future? It finally dawns on me this whole trip wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for Jeremy, the thought weighing heavy on me. He could have done anything this summer, yet he hit the road with me so I could figure things out, away from the comforts of everything I’ve ever known. I feel like I owe him this. “Okay,” I say, biting my lip, “I’ll do it.”
His eyebrows soar upwards. “Really? You’ll do it?” I nod slowly and, before I can change my mind, he steps back to the table and writes our names on the list of contestants, smiling in triumph to the lady in charge.
“You’ll want to stick around to hear your names announced. The contest starts in ten minutes,” she tells us, handing us a list of songs to choose from. I feel like I could vomit.
Jeremy grabs my hand and drags me since my feet have forgotten how to move. “We need to pick a song – one for two people.” His eyes move fervently down the list as I continue to battle the waves of nausea that threaten to nix my agreement to perform on that stage.
I can tell Jeremy finds a song he likes, a smile forming on his lips before he looks at me. His excitemen
t morphs to concern when his eyes land on me. “Are you okay? You look a little green.”
Not wanting to ruin this for him, I shake my head. “I’ll be fine…what’d you find?”
He points to a song on the paper he holds in his hand. “This one. No Air by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown. You remember that one?”
Do I! I was team Jordin throughout that season of American Idol, thrilled that she won. And I love the song Jeremy picked out, even though I’m about to butcher it as no one has ever done before. “I remember it…and I’m comfortable with it.”
Jeremy rubs his hands up and down my upper arms. “You’re going to be fine, Karma. It’s only about three minutes of your life. It’ll be done before you know it.” That’s the best pep talk he’s got? Three minutes isn’t long, right? That’s like making my bed. Or filling up my gas tank. I can do this. Yes, I can give Jeremy these three minutes of my life. I give myself a quick WTF rally – this isn’t a big deal. People cheer for bad singers all the time for karaoke. I can do this.
As the contest begins, there are variations of singers on the “able” scale, still no one as bad as I am. I wonder if Jeremy has any idea what he’s gotten himself into. He’s about to find out – they’ve just called our names.
Climbing the stairs, Jeremy tells the guy in charge of the music our song selection, the moment becoming even more real when he hands us our microphones. I send a quick prayer that mine is defective.
In mere seconds, the beginning music filters through the speakers as my eyes are glued to the monitor, panic hitting me as I realize my part goes first. What the hell! Here goes nothing…
After singing the first couple of lines, I glance at Jeremy, almost laughing when I see his mouth drop open and his eyes widen, knowing any second his ears will join in while they bleed. Guess the joke’s on him really. I told him I was bad. He recovers quickly as he sings his lines and…are you fucking kidding me? Oh my freaking God – I will kill him. He could be Chris Brown on stage with me, he’s that good. Now it’s my turn to be shocked.
The crowd goes wild, even with my horridness – they love how great he is and how awful I am. I’m over the nausea, going with the flow and having fun, not believing how profoundly comical this really is. Jeremy was right – it was a quick three minutes and I’m so glad I can look back on this, knowing I didn’t chicken out.
As we leave the stage, we’re laughing our asses off. “You could have told me you sing exceptionally well,” I tell him, shoving him in the side with my elbow.
Shaking his head, he says, “I honestly had no idea anyone could be that bad. No offense.”
How am I not supposed to take offense to that? Rolling my eyes at him, I counter, “Um…none taken.”
“That was insane.”
I’m still laughing as he pulls us to the side so we can finish watching the rest of the contestants. No one is as entertaining as Jeremy and I were. Just sayin’.
At the end of the contest, they give the judges about fifteen minutes to come up with the winner and runners-up.
One of the judges gets up and climbs the steps, ready to make the announcement. He awards the first and second runners-up, speaking into his microphone. “The judges decided to come up with a category to cover this next award – we’re calling it the Yin Yang award which is self-explanatory as soon as I announce the winners.” He chuckles as he opens a small envelope. “Karma and Jeremy, come on up and receive this fitting award.”
Not having time to take in the meaning of the award, Jeremy grabs my hand, yanking me up the steps. The crowd cheers and I feel my cheeks turn pink as I understand the meaning behind the award. It’s okay – I know my singing was totally on the opposite scale to Jeremy’s. We take our bow and leave the stage on a high, knowing we slid in and swept an award in a town we don’t even belong to.
The rest of the night is spent eating roasted corn on the cob, smoked ribs and kettle corn. Sitting on the courthouse steps, we listen to the talents of local bands, tapping our feet on the concrete steps. Sometimes we exchange knowing looks, fully aware that we kicked fun in the ass tonight with our Yin Yang award, fist-bumping when no words are needed.
chapter twenty-six
July 2008
Jeremy and I meet at the car around eight, our breakfast comprising a box of Pop-tarts we picked up at a convenience store before crossing the Georgia state line. And yes, I took a picture of the giant peach that welcomed us.
Heading to the coast of South Carolina today, I’m in great spirits as I navigate the way towards the Palmetto State. Glancing to my right, Jeremy has utilized the tilt back seat, turning it into a temporary bed. I shake my head in bewilderment. I just don’t understand how he can fall asleep so quickly after just having gotten up.
I missed not talking to Braden yesterday, and I hope he has a normal practice today, meaning I’ll be able to chat with him this evening. After my fun day at the festival, I’ve calmed down about Ping-Pong girl, telling myself I have nothing to worry about, that Braden will set my mind to ease after we talk.
Each day that I’m out here on the road, I feel a release. It’s like I’m untethering myself from a potential outcome. It’s freeing, a sense of grandiosity. And it’s all happening from within. I feel it. I feel a renewed spirit accompanied by peace. I thought maybe I was being somewhat cheesy when I wanted to “find myself,” but, on the contrary, it’s happening, cheesy or not. What if all this goes away when I get home? What if I can only experience this being away from my old habits, out here on my own?
I’ve been taking Steve’s words to heart, wondering if I could study photography at UCLA. Every time I hold my camera to my eye, his words flit through my mind, knowing he makes quite a nice living with his hobby. I could sense his passion with my own eyes when I studied his photos of Darcy, plus his talent. Someday I would love someone to know something about me just by studying one of my photos. Wouldn’t that be something?
Jeremy stirs beside me and I make sure I turn up the volume to the sappy love-song station I found about twenty miles back.
I can’t tell if he’s fully awake or not since his sunglasses are resting on his face, but when he reaches for a bottled water out of the backseat cooler – that’s a dead giveaway.
He twists the cap off and just before he takes a drink, I see the smile he’s fighting as he notices the music trickling through the speakers, and that’s when I know I’ve got him. Tilting his head back, he takes a nice, long drink before placing the cap back on the bottle.
“Paybacks are a bitch,” he says, shaking his head.
In a sickeningly sweet voice, I say, “Aren’t they though?”
He glances at the GPS. “We’re close, huh?”
“Yep.”
In another half-hour, I exit off the highway towards Charleston. It doesn’t take long to find the middle of town. Pastel-colored buildings line downtown, wrought iron balconies cling to them, adorned with potted red geraniums. Arched doorways seem to be the architectural style of choice with painted shutters in shades of blues and corals.
I park the car in a lot off the street, and, for the first time, Jeremy and I separate and meet later. He really wants to go through some historical homes and museums while I want to be outside people watching. Museums aren’t my thing.
My favorite discovery are the pathways hidden between the tight buildings, bricked and lined with ornate greenery, beckoning me with their mystery. Some lead to old cemeteries, the headstones crawling with moss and black algae, giving away their age. Another walkway takes me to a small park with wooden arbors sitting above black and white painted benches. Pigeons bop along the ground, hunting for crumbs from earlier tourists, while others fly away from an oncoming, curious pooch.
One of the paths leads me to a tiny church tucked back from the street covered in ivy. The stained-glass windows and paintings on the ceiling have me in awe of my surroundings.
Charleston is a photographer’s dream.
I stumble upon a quie
t side street. The paint that once covered the architecture has now faded into almost nothing, leaving behind faint shades of red. A lady sits in a yellow wooden chair in partial shade provided by an awning. She’s wearing an old, worn visor and has a canvas pad on her lap. There’s a jug of water sitting at her feet, with a roll of paper towels and a leather bag filled with art supplies. Her head jerks in small movements as she attempts to sketch something in the distance. My eyes travel to what I think she might be drawing. I’m guessing it’s the steeple of a church nestled between large cypress trees.
Bringing my camera to my face, I snap pictures, feeling a tad bit guilty for intruding on her work. After looking through my lens, I’m almost giddy when I realize the light on her is almost exactly like when Steve had me in his studio, playing with the light on Darcy. I click away, and, after a while, she notices and I lower it immediately, hesitant to continue. But she smiles at me and says, “Don’t let me stop your creative spell.”
I’m relieved she’s so friendly and take a few more steps toward her. Since I’m closer I see she’s drawing an aqua house with white shutters. It’s not an actual house, though, since there’s a black plaque with gold lettering that hangs beside the front door. It reads Lily’s Fine Gifts.
“That’s beautiful,” I tell her.
She smiles again and lays down her pencil. She looks at me, and I see the wrinkles around her eyes and the age spots adorning the tops of her hands. “I’ve been painting for over thirty years – never gets old.”
“No, I can’t imagine it would.”
“You from around here, dear?” Her visor keeps me from seeing into her eyes. “Or are you just visiting?”
Taking a seat on the curb of the sidewalk, I tell her about our road trip and how important it’s become.
She nods. “I get it. I really do.” She sighs and sits back in her rickety seat. “It’s so important that you find something to do with your life that brings you complete and utter joy. Otherwise, what’s the point? Who wants to live their life doing something that doesn’t fill their spirit?” She points her finger at me. “You’re on the right path…taking the right steps.”