God In The Kitchen (10 page)

            “Oh, that was just Chloe, I ran into her car a while back, fixed it for her, and then I gave her concert tickets after I found out where she worked. I really just want to help her son…he’s pretty sick.”

            It didn’t sound very likely. At least I would have time to work on my story before Ricky would ask again.

            “Jared Jones?” I turned at the sound of my name.

            “That’s me,” I said, extending my hand. The man standing before me was the band’s manager and the one who would give me the details on what I was to do on stage.

            “And then,” he said, “the stage will go black and you need to get back here as fast as you can so you don’t get disoriented.”

            I was pretty sure I would be disoriented as it was, on a black stage with a screaming crowd. But he was right, it would be worse having a rock band playing at full force all around me. If I was still there when the lights came back up, I would look like a real fool.

            As I tried to keep up with his quick pace, I remembered why I liked being on the air. I was alone in a room all by myself with no one to see me when I made my mistakes. This was a different story and I could feel my palms begin to sweat.

            “Let me introduce you to the guys,” the manager said as he suddenly stopped his near run and swung a door open to his right.

            “Guys,” he said, leading the way into the room as my nerves began to build. “This is Jared Jones. He’s going to introduce you on stage today.”

            The men around me looked way cooler than I could ever dream of being. They had on faded jeans with rips in all the right places. Some of them wore leather jackets that were fitted perfectly to their bodies. One had ear length hair while another one had a shaved head. The amount of hair really didn’t matter, they all looked polished and unique in their own ways.

            “Hey,” I said, raising one hand, trying to keep my knees shaking. I met bands all of the time and I wasn’t usually star struck, but “This” had special meaning in my life because of their recent song.

            The guys surrounded me, clapping me on the back, shaking my hand and introducing themselves as if I didn’t already know all of their names.

            “Anything you need before we go on?” one of them asked and I immediately recognized the voice as that of the lead singer’s. He was from Australia and his accent showed through on the songs. It gave his tune a unique vibe.

            “Why “This?” I asked, knowing it was probably something they heard all of the time.

            The guitar player laughed and the drummer rolled his sticks over his fingers and back so quick I couldn’t follow them with my eyes.

            The lead singer put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. “It’s like this,” he said, stretching his hand out across the room. “It’s all about this, right? I mean, who knows what tomorrow will bring, but this…this we can grasp.” He clenched his fist and drew it in to his heart. “This is what’s important. This…is what matters.”

            I nodded, trying to act as if I followed everything he was saying, though I wasn’t really sure I understood.

            “What would happen if you died tomorrow, Jared?” he asked. “Where would you be? What would you do?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he went on. “Though I know where I’m headed, I don’t know what it’s going to look like…what it’s going to be like. So I have to hold on to this…for as long as I have it.”

            “Jones,” the manager stuck his head back into the room. “It’s time. We need you on stage.”

            I followed the manager as he snaked his way through the small corridors backstage. There were a few stagehands bustling around, checking last minute details but the lights were already dim and the crowd was murmuring with excitement.

            “Use the mic on the right,” the manager said.

            I nodded, feeling the nerves coursing through me as my hands began to sweat. I watched as the lights dimmed further and a couple of colored lasers raced across the stage. The crowd began to roar and I felt the manager give me a nudge. I took a few steps out onto the stage and stopped. It was too black for me to see much farther than my own fingertips and I knew the stage was littered with cords and instruments.

            It only took a few seconds for the spotlight to find me and once it did, I put on a smile and made my way across the stage, only slightly tripping on one thick mass of cords.

            I pulled the microphone down a bit so it would be close to my lips. “Hey everyone!” I said, raising my hand to the crowd and listening to them cheer as I squinted.

            “I’m Jared Jones,” I began, grateful that I could at least remember my name. When the noise died down to a murmur, I heard someone cough in the front row. It was too quiet. And it was because I was supposed to be talking.

            I found myself able to pick Chloe and Ian out of the crowd. They were in the second row and Chloe had Ian in her arms. Chloe smiled at me.

            I laughed nervously, wiping my hands on my jeans. I closed my eyes briefly, imagined I was in a room all by myself as normal, and off I went.

            “You know, I’m used to all of you listening to me every morning, but seeing you in person is a little intimidating,” I admitted. “If you could just turn around and look the other direction for a few minutes instead of looking at me, that would really help me out.” I smiled as the laughter rumbled lightly through the room.

            The rest of the information finally poured out of me. I told the audience about the intermission length, where to go for merchandise and a little bit about the band. I even managed to get in a last minute plug for my own show and a promise that I would be giving away the band’s CD first thing on Monday morning.

            Whoever was in charge of lights must have known by instinct when I was done with my introduction because the second I asked the audience to welcome “This” to the stage, the spotlight went out and I was left alone in the pitch black as the crowd went wild.

            The manager had warned me about this. I could hear the band rustling around behind me, taking their positions and grabbing their instruments. How could they see?

            I took one step to the left and felt my toe hit a guitar stand. If I moved too fast, I could knock over valuable instruments. If I moved too slowly, I would be caught on stage when the band started to play.

            Either way, I knew it would make a good story for my show on Monday morning, but at that particular moment, both situations would lead to humiliation.

            In an instance of sheer genius, I removed my cell phone from my pocket and swiftly flipped it on. The light was too dim to be seen from the audience, but it was just enough for me to see the floor.

            I maneuvered around the bass player and past the drum set in the back and made my exit on the close side of the stage.

            I nodded to a few of the stagehands as they acknowledged me. My part of the evening was over. All I had to do now was kick back and watch “This” play with Chloe and Ian.

            As I snaked my way backstage again so I could double back around the building and out to where I could enter the arena and find my own seat, I heard the band start playing. The familiar chords resonated through me and I was excited to see how Ian was reacting to the vibrant sounds.

            It took me a good five minutes to work my way through the curtains and ropes but once I was back in the area and by Chloe’s side, I knew it had been worth the wait.

            She had stuffed Kleenex in Ian’s ears so the music wouldn’t be too loud for him and I saw that she had done the same to her own. I grabbed my own orange earplugs from my pocket and stuck them in my ears. It didn’t matter what type of concert it was, the music was always too loud. At least the people who were manning the merchandise tables could still hear the concert that way.

            I took in the flashing lights on the stage and watched as the lead guitar player took on a solo riff in the middle of the second song, but what I really wanted to watch was Ian. I glanced over in his direction several times until I couldn’t help but stare.

            He was still clinging to his mom, but his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were glistening with awe. He liked it. I was sure of it. Chloe caught my eye and smiled, nodding slightly as if she knew what I was thinking and she wanted to affirm that indeed, Ian was enjoying the concert as much as I’d hoped.

            I spent the middle part of the first set simply living in my own reverie. I didn’t want to pat myself on the back or anything, but it was because of me that Ian was there beside me, witnessing his first concert and bouncing up and down on his mom’s hip. I wondered a few times if her arms ever got tired and then decided that when Ian wasn’t in them, they probably felt empty instead.

            I zeroed in on the band’s leader as he pulled a stool to the center of the stage. “This song,” the lead singer said, “has a special meaning to all of us in the band.  It’s not something we talk about all that often or flaunt because we feel that the song speaks loudly enough.”

            On that note, the drummer began a slow beat and the opening chords to “Home to You” sounded across the arena. I felt my body stiffen. When I heard “This” was coming to the area, I had looked forward to hearing the song that meant so much to me live and in person. Now that the moment was there, however, I didn’t know if I could stand it.

            The bass kicked in with its simple melody and the lead singer placed his lips on the microphone as he swayed back and forth on the stool.

            Before I could help myself, I pictured my dad, patting me on the back at my graduation. The way his pride in me shone through his eyes. My friends had always been drawn to him because of his larger than life personality and there was nothing I could say or do to overshadow him.

            There were so many things I wanted to tell him…ask him…say to him. Why hadn’t I done that when I had the chance?

            As the song began to sink into my heart, I lowered my eyes and felt the first soft tear roll down my face. Those around me had removed their cell phones from their bags and were waving them in the air.

            I felt Ian settled onto his mom’s shoulder, closest to me and I took comfort in his warm body pressing against my arm, but I still felt alone.

            As the second verse of the song rang through the arena, I felt a light touch against my hand. A second later, soft fingers wrapped themselves around my hand and I looked down to see Chloe’s hand in my own.

            When I met her eyes over the top of Ian’s head, I noticed she had her own tears running down her face. I was certain that we had very different reasons for our emotions, but the emotion itself was very much the same.

            “Home to you….” the lead singer sang as the music behind him faded. “Home to you,” he sang in a near whisper.

            Chloe squeezed my hand tightly and I squeezed back. The song ended and the lights in the arena slowly came back on. It took the audience a few moments to realize that intermission had begun and it took Chloe even longer to let go of my hand.

            When she did, I turned towards her, wiping the tears from underneath my eyes with the back of my hand. I had to get out to the station booth, but I didn’t want to rush away from her.

            Her own tears sat on her cheeks and Ian had his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Before I could help myself, I reached up and wiped her tears away with my thumb, leaving my hand on the side of her face for a few extra beats.

            I then placed my hand on Ian’s face and allowed myself a few seconds to gaze at him. He was going to grow into a handsome man, no question about it.