Thirty-five

My day was not off to a great start. Last night, we all got in pretty late from the formal, and I had forgotten to set my alarm and foolishly slept in, thinking I had the morning off. I didn’t, and now I was running as fast as I could to get out of the house in time to help open the coffee shop. I nearly bull-dozed the mailman over as I trampled down the steps. “So sorry!” I yelled as he stood with his hand outstretched. I think he had intended to give me the mail instead of dropping it in the box. My bad.

I pulled on my cardigan and got in my car. A quick glance at the mirror and I was officially able to confirm I had pulled off the bat-shit crazy look. My ponytail was crooked, and aside from lip balm, I had no make-up on. It didn’t matter. I just couldn’t be late. The one consistent thing I had going right now was this job, and I needed to keep it while I figured out the rest of my life.

I made it, only a few minutes late, but not enough to raise a brow. I tied on my apron and started getting the dessert trays ready for the day. Saturday mornings were usually an older crowd, sometimes we even got families with children. The little kids always liked it here. What kid wouldn't like a place that looks like Halloween all year round? The nights were when the college crowd took over, and the line to get in was around the corner. Too bad the families didn’t come at night; they had a tendency to leave better tips.

I had taken my first order when Brit burst through the door, screaming my name like a freaking banshee.

My first thought was Erik. Something must have happened to him. Why else would she be so insane? “What?” I asked, my voice already shaking from her catching me off guard.

“The mail came!” She waved an envelope in the air.

“Yeah, I almost knocked the mailman down. What’s up, are we being evicted?” I joked.

“This!” She pushed the envelope up to my nose so I could see the return address.

Lincoln Center. It was from Juilliard.

“You ran all the way here to give me my rejection letter? Uh… thanks?”

“You don’t know what it says until you open it.”

“You open it.” I grabbed a stack of menus and began nervously wiping them down.

“It says Kristen Forte. That’s you, not me.”

“Brit, just open it.”

She looked disappointed in me but agreed. “Fine.” She opened it fast, making the envelope all torn and jagged and pulled the letter out. One letter. If I had been accepted, it would have been attached with forms and stuff.

“Dear Ms. Forte,” she began.

“No. Stop!” I shook my head vigorously. “You can’t read it out loud.”

“Either I read it out loud or you read it in private.” She flashed me a rather defiant look. I hated when she played dirty.

“Give me that. We can use it to start a bon fire.” I snatched the letter out of her hands and read it to myself.

Dear Ms. Forte,

Back in January, we had the opportunity to witness a rare treat. Based on the unexpected twist in your audition, we have a rather unique offer for you. We here at Juilliard would like to offer you a spot in our vocal school. We are aware you auditioned for classical piano, however, we feel, at this time, vocals would be a better fit for you. We are also aware you did not apply to this sect of our school, and therefore may not be interested in this position. However, should you accept, please note that our offer also includes a partial scholarship.

Before we can formally present you with the details, we would need you to fill out the paperwork for our vocal school.

There was a number to contact them as well as an email address. My hands were shaking.

“Kris?” Brit asked. I looked up at her, and her worried expression appeared as though she were regretting her delivery. “What does it say?”

“It says…” I glanced at the letter again just to make sure. I was convinced the words would disappear, but there they were, safe and sound. We here at Juilliard, would like to offer you a spot in our vocal school. Bubbles of excitement began to pop inside me, releasing pure euphoria. This was unreal. It had to be. “It says I’m going to Juilliard.”

We had a small gathering after hours at the Draught. My boss was really cool about opening the coffee house up to our friends. I think because half of my friends worked there. We had cake, and Brit and I sang karaoke on the stage, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like me again. Yes, parts of me were still broken, or missing, but looking around at my support team, I knew I’d be okay.

I had a plan. A good plan, too! I was going to New York and one step closer to my dreams. I had shied away from them over the past few years, focusing on piano and teaching my students. I had assumed I could always fall back on teaching and get a Master’s in education. It wasn’t my dream, but it was realistic. Not all people get to live their dreams. But David was, and now, with this new start, maybe I could, too.

Erik was huddled with Jaime and Beaver. “What are they up to?” Brit asked suspiciously.

Natalie drank her root beer float and looked at them. “No clue, but I’m very curious.”

The boys jumped on the stage, Erik in the center, Jaime and Beaver flanking him on either side.

“I think they're going to woo us,” Natalie said with a smirk. Brit smiled, and we waited, then the familiar guitar strings played through the speakers as Erik grabbed the mic and started singing Twist and Shout. He was better than I thought he’d be. Jaime and Beaver were hilarious as his back up, and we were cheering the boys, grabbing our hair and screaming as if they were the Beatles. Brit lunged forward and held on to Erik’s leg while he sang. It was hilarious. He offered his hand, and she jumped on the stage and started dancing with him. Not wanting to miss out, Natalie and I jumped out of our seats. Jaime grabbed my hand and twirled me around, and Beaver started shaking it with Drama Queen. It was good clean fun. Something I didn’t think I could ever enjoy again.

When the song ended, I was holding my sides from laughing so hard. “That was a perfect way to end tonight. Thank you, boys!”

“No, I need to hear you sing one more song before we call it a night,” Brit said as she loaded the karaoke machine Natalie had brought from the sorority house.

“You’ll have to twist my arm,” I said with a laugh. I was the karaoke queen tonight. Beaver leaned over to see what song Brit was setting up.

“You sure about that one?” he asked, looking concerned.

“Are you kidding? No one sings this song like Kris!” She pushed play, and I turned to the screen to see what she had entered. When the title came on, I smiled at first, knowing it was my favorite karaoke song. But then Beaver’s comment hit home. It was On my Own from Les Misérables, probably the most heartbreaking song about unrequited love ever written. Seeing my face, Brit must have realized her mistake.

“Should I—?”

“Leave it. I sort of need to sing this.” I forced a smile and listened to the opening bar, taking a breath before I began. The room got quiet, and I imagined I wasn’t on the stage at the Draught but on Broadway. I had heard once that great actors draw upon their own pain to deliver emotion in their performance. That’s what I did now. I let go and became a character. A character I could relate to.

I didn’t need to look at the screen. I knew the lyrics. Every word.

When I sang the final note, I was shaking. But not because I was in pain. Because I had finally let go. Erik broke the silence first, whistling and clapping, and Brit gave me a rather unexpected hug.

“Hey, Kris,” Jaime said, looking blown away by my private performance. “Don’t forget about us when your name is up in lights, okay?”

I let go of Brit and put my arms around Jaime. “How could I ever forget about the people who brought me back to life?”