Candles and Choir Girls

Claire Cheng

Period 1

WLH

4/25/14

Candles and Choir Girls

He always clapped too loudly anyways. I gazed out into the sea of flashing cameras, their blinking lights washed out by the bright auditorium walls. As the room dimmed, the mob of soccer moms, business men in black, and nannies clutching restless toddlers turned their focus to the spotlight in the room. The loud voices fell from a roar, to a hush, to whispers, and then to silence. There was an echoed cough, then Mr. Dean broke the quiet.

“Thank you for coming here today to watch our final chorus performance of the year. Please enjoy, our students have worked very hard to come this far.” He stiffly bowed, then turned his attention to us. Tapping his slim wand on the music stand, he began to sway his arm to and fro, starting the rhythm. One. Two. Three. We began.

I’ll be your candle on the water. My love for you will always burn… I know he had a meeting. He always had a meeting. I stared at Sophia’s parents with their beaming smiles, all eyes on the small blond girl to my right. I know you’re lost and drifting. But the clouds are lifting. Don’t give up you have somewhere to turn.

Mom used to come to all my performances, but her boyfriend’s house was too far away now to come just for this. I pictured her sitting there with Dad just like she had two years back. It seemed like so long ago. Dad threw me a wink and Mom got him in the rib cage for making me laugh and choke on my notes. Only thing was… that would make me smile even more until my voice became distorted and I decided it would be better to lip-sync.

I’ll be your candle on the water. This flame inside of me will grow…  I don’t need him here anymore. Besides, if he were here, he would just be an embarrassment. Him and that old retro camera, the large goggle glasses. Not like the other men in suits. He would be in sweatpants, like the soccer moms. He’d come in his antiquated mustard sweater and always have the awkward last clap while he laughed like a mad man. The cool kids don’t ever invite their parents anyway. Stop looking at the door. He’s not coming.

Keep holding on, you'll make it, here’s my hand, so take it. Look for me reaching out to show, as sure as rivers flow I'll never let you go, I’ll never let you go.

I'll never let you go.

I felt my voice falter at the closure as the rest of the class felt a rush of emotional energy that had not passed through me. A roar of applause.

It definitely could have been louder.

Sara and the rest of the class forgot to bow and leaped off the bleachers like a wave into their mom’s arms, to give their dads a high five. For a pat on the back. Anything.

The popular kids looked to each other hesitantly, confused by their own feelings, then the bolder of the trio led the way to the parking lot for pickup. The other two trailed behind, their heads sagging from their usual aloof giraffe heights. One of the girls I noticed had balled her hands into fists and the other wore an expression of pathetic shock. I lagged not far behind them, bearing a similar expression. Sara was receiving a small pink rose from her father as I staggered into the chilly spring evening air. I slumped onto a bench and watched my chattering classmates, hand in hand with their parents, search for their cars in the parking lot. I watched as the cool kids ran one by one to the apologetic smiles of the parents there to pick them up. The absentee parents had just realized how many parents that supposedly “weren’t coming anymore” had actually showed up. From my lonely seat, I imagined them apologising over and over for not being able to come. The sun had finally set and Mr. Dean was trailing out of the auditorium as the cleaners rattled inside with their noisy carts and jingling keys.

“Nice performance tonight, sweetie. I think that was the best it’s ever been. Are you getting picked up soon?”

“Yes sir, my dad should be on his way.”

“OK. I hope to see you next year. Have a nice evening.”

“Yes, thank you sir.” When the small black Honda rolled into the lot. I pulled impatiently at the handle while I waited for him to unlock the back door. We rode in silence for a while. I waited for the apology. I waited for a sign. After stopping at the third red light, he asked, “How did the concert go? Was it fun? I wish I could have gone pumpkin.”

“It was pretty good I guess…”

“You know Pete’s Dragon was one of my favorite movies as a little boy. I’ve forgotten the story though.”

“Sure”

“What song did ya’ll sing again?”

“Candle on the Water”

“Ah, yes I remember now. It’s a beautiful song now wouldn’t you say pumpkin?”

“I guess.”

“Well, I still wish I could have come. You know I can reschedule my meetings if you tell me ahead of time, right?”. I watched as he sighed, loosening his new suit’s black tie.

“No, it’s all right”, I muttered quietly. “You probably wouldn’t have liked it anyways”.