Road To Nowhere (6 page)

Jesus.

Yet her mother calmed down when she heard how much money Teresa could make at the Summit. A percentage of the take, you say? . . . How much is that? . . . Hmmm, sounds like they’re taking advantage of you, dear . . . Well, we’ll think about it.

So they let her do it. But she had to buy all her own clothes from now on, they said, and pay for her own gasoline, which she already did.

Then there was Rene Le Roe, Teresa's best friend. Teresa hadn’t seen Rene nearly so much since she’d started going with Bill, and now that she was barely seeing Bill she
never
saw Rene. They were curious best friends, as far as best friends went. They had known each other for ages, and before the advent of boyfriends and stardom Teresa had made it a point to talk to Rene at least every other day. Rene went to another school even though she lived only two miles away. Teresa, in fact, could walk to Rene’s house.

The depth of their communication, even when they were talking regularly, left something to be desired. What it all boiled down to was that they didn’t have much in common, except that they were both shy. Rene knew nothing about music. Teresa knew nothing about horses – Rene's passion. Rene did poorly in school and never studied, while Teresa, of course, excelled in all subjects and spent a good portion of her waking hours studying. It was as if they were best friends because no one else wanted to be friends with them; and that, too, was odd.

Rene was a beautiful girl. Her long black hair was shiny and the colour of a winter night sky. Her exquisite face was pale, but not sickly. She looked, rather, like a princess who had waited years alone in a tower room for a prince. Really, that was why Rene had never had a boyfriend. She was picky; she was ready to wait for ever. Perhaps they had only become friends so they could wait together.

But Teresa had finally broken free of her tower. She was waiting no longer. She called Rene a week before her scheduled debut. Rene knew about Bill, of course. Teresa had described him to Rene at length, but the two had not yet met. Rene greeted Teresa's news of her romance and her job at the Summit with quiet enthusiasm. Teresa never stopped to consider that Rene might be jealous. Certainly, Rene never gave any sign that she was.

Rene wanted to come to her opening night, and that was fine with Teresa. The more Teresa practised and the more she talked to Mr. Gracione, the greater her confidence grew. She began to see – not out of arrogance but with a recognition of what was genuinely there – that she had talent. That she could write songs that spoke to people and that she had a voice that touched people deeply. Even her own mother – wonders never cease – burst into her room one evening when she was practising. Teresa had been singing softly, but apparently her mom had been standing outside the door eavesdropping. Her mom paid her the highest compliment she was capable of by saying, “I can't believe that was you I was listening to.”

Her mother and father said they'd come to see her when she was comfortable with her show. Teresa began to notice, as the days went by, a note of pride in their voices when they talked with her about her job. They weren’t totally out of touch, she realized.

Finally the big night arrived. Teresa dressed with care, or rather, she tried on everything in her closet and decided nothing would do. Fortunately, she had Rene with her, and the two of them wore the same size. Rene drove her over to her house – or started to at least. The two of them planned on going to the club together. Bill was already at the Summit, making a last-minute equipment check for Teresa. She didn’t have a direct pick-up on her acoustic guitar and the microphone attached to the main mike was often filled with static. Mr. Gracione had promised her a new mike and Bill was there to make sure it was installed properly.

“Maybe my red dress would look nice under the lights,” Rene suggested once they were on the road in Rene's black Miata. Teresa was far too nervous to be behind the wheel of a car.

“I’m sitting on a stool,” Teresa said. “I’m leaning towards trousers.”

“How about my green suit?” Rene said. “You know the one?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. Green is such a nature colour. This is a nightclub. I think I should wear black.”

“Black is so sober.”

Teresa nodded. “You’re right. How about white?”

“I don’t have anything white. You’re the one with the white trouser suit.”

“I am? Where is it?”

“In your closet,” Rene said.

“Oh, yeah. Did I try it on?”

“No.”

“I want to try it on,” Teresa said.

“You want to go back home?”

“Yeah. Quick, let’s hurry. I’m supposed to go on in two hours!”

Rene laughed softly. “I'm glad it's you and not me,” she said as she turned the car round.

“Just don’t you and Bill start hooting me as soon as I come out.”

Rene nodded. “I won’t make a peep.” She added, “I’m glad I'm finally getting to meet Bill. Is he really as cute as you’ve told me?”

Teresa considered. “I think so. But I can’t tell anymore. I like him so much I don’t even think I can see what he looks like. Do you know what I mean?”

Rene shook her head. “I’ve never had that experience.”

“You will one day soon.” Teresa giggled. “Just don’t have it tonight with my boyfriend.”

Naturally, the white trouser suit looked perfect to Teresa – until they were back in Rene’s car, heading for the club. But by then Rene wouldn’t allow Teresa to change her mind. It was less than ninety minutes to curtain. Teresa had never had a car ride that went so slow. Her nervousness was intolerable. She kept trying to pretend that the show wasn't that night, but her pounding heart and dry throat were not fooled. Again and again she went through everything that could go wrong. Her single worst fear was that she would freeze up and not be able to sing a word. But she also knew if she could just get past the first song, and hear people clap, even one person in the crowd, she would relax. She reached over and touched her best friend on the arm.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight,” she told Rene. The sentiment in her voice surprised Rene for they didn’t normally expose many deep feelings to each other. Rene was reserved – probably always would be. She lived with a father who was a public prosecutor in the district attorney’s office downtown, and a stepmom who had never wanted to have children of her own.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Rene said. “Are you sweating?”

Teresa clenched and unclenched her hands. “Blood. I don’t know why I let myself be talked into this. I hate feeling this way. It’s like waiting to be led to the gallows and all the people are watching, waiting to see you fail.” She briefly closed her eyes. “If I screw up I know I'll want to die.”

“I envy you,” Rene said.

Teresa opened her eyes. “You just think you do. I'd give a lot to be able to change places with you right now.” Rene glanced over at Teresa. She had such dark eyes – they almost cast their own shadow. Yet, like her black hair, they were beautiful. “I feel the same way,” she said.

“Really?”

Rene nodded. “Really.”

“Why?”

“Because you look so alive right now.”

“I just told you, I feel like I’m about to die.”

Rene was silent for a moment. “A lot of sick people say that when they first heard they were going to die – they really began to live.” She shrugged. “I think that's what I was trying to say, maybe not.”

Teresa had to laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

Rene smiled sadly. “You look wonderful.”

At last they reached the Summit. The parking lot was full. Full! That was impossible. It was Tuesday for God’s sake. Mr. Gracione had told her that Tuesday nights usually drew about sixty people. She realized in an instant what had happened. The club owner had been telling his regulars to be sure to stop by for her show. Oh, no, she thought, she could alienate his entire clientele in one night. She almost tripped and fell as she got out of Rene's car.

“More people than you expected?” Rene asked.

Teresa swallowed. “Yes.”

They went in the back door. Mr. Gracione and Bill welcomed them. Both were dressed in suits. Teresa didn't even know Bill owned a suit. He must have bought it for this evening. She introduced him to Rene and the two shook hands and said things she hardly heard. Her hands were shaking now. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to be able to play the guitar. Mr. Gracione took her aside.

“How do you feel?”

“Terrible. The place is full. Why did you invite all these people?”

Mr. Gracione was apologetic. “I’ve been talking enthusiastically about you. I guess some of my enthusiasm wore off. But don’t worry, kid. You’ll kill them.”

“I suppose it’s either me or them,” Teresa muttered.

She went alone to the dressing-room to try to pull herself together. Outside the brightly lit cubicle she could hear the crowd waiting for the next act. Her guitar was there, sitting on a chair. Trying to tune it, she broke a nail – so low down it began to bleed. It could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Tears welled in her eyes and she lowered her head. She could hardly breathe she was so scared.

I can’t go on like this.

Then she felt strong hands on the back of her neck, rubbing her tight muscles. She didn't need to look up; she knew Bill’s touch. For a minute she just let him massage her, let her stress flow into him. Finally he touched her chin and lifted her face up. She opened her eyes. He was smiling and she was crying and that made her mad. Her anger must have shown on her face because his smile widened.

“This is fun,” he said.

“You should be the one who has to go out there.” She held up her bleeding finger. “Look at me, I can’t play. I can’t even tune my stupid guitar.” More tears filled her eyes. “I can’t do it, Bill.”

He sat beside her and put his arm round her. He kissed her cheek. “You can do anything you want, Teresa. Do you know why?”

She sniffed. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

He had never told her that before. A warm balm washed over her. She only wished she had the time to enjoy it. “How does your loving me help me sing?” she asked.

“All you sing about is love. Now you get to sing from experience.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “What makes you think I love you, buster?”

“You’ve been writing all these songs about me,” he said.

“I wrote most of my songs before I met you!”

He kissed her again on the cheek. “It doesn't matter. They were about me.”

She almost told him then that most of her songs were about lost love. But she didn’t because she wanted to hold him instead, and tell him that he was probably right – that she loved him as well.

Mr. Gracione introduced her and she stepped out into the lights. The lights – they were so bright she could have been set down before the gaze of a star. But she supposed that was why so many people wanted to be stars – so that many eyes would always be on them. Yet, with the blinding glare, she could hardly see anyone more than a few feet from the stage. She heard their welcome cheers, however, and the few scattered gasps. It was her age that brought the latter, she knew. She sat on her high stool and cradled her guitar on her lap.

“Thank you,” she said. “This is the first time I've ever sung in public. I want this first song to be for Bill. It’s called ‘Until Then’.”

She closed her eyes.

It was true – she always did close her eyes when she sang.

Fill the sails and fill the space

That lingers in your night.

Hear the songs the echo sings,

And see the stars take flight

When the night decides to show the day,

We’ll sail away,

Far away.

Until then.

Take me back to nowhere and lay me by your side.

And talk of things that you’ve seen in your dreams.

A laughing wind, a sunlit smile, a broken sky to mend.

A distant shore,

Till there’s no more.

No message left to send.

When the night decides to show the day,

We’ll sail away,

Far away,

Until then.

Teresa stopped and opened her eyes. She saw nothing but bright blinding light and heard nothing but silence. Silence can be kind when you're waiting for the sound of acceptance. Because the longer the silence after a song, sometimes the louder the applause. Such was the case this time. When the clapping came, it broke over her like a loud wave of joy. They clapped for a full minute, and then they began to cheer. What could she do except laugh? She heard her giggles through the PA system and she sounded so young it made her laugh even harder. It was the greatest moment of her life, really – there had been a few of them lately. She hoped there’d be plenty more.

I love you, too, Bill.

Teresa didn't get together with her friends until after her second show. Between acts Mr. Gracione occupied most of her time – telling her that Madonna had better move over. It was hard to tell who was more excited – him or her. He presented her with a bouquet of red roses in the dressing-room and gave her a big bear hug even as her hands continued to tremble. She broke another nail tuning her guitar for the second set, but she didn't care. How strange it was, she thought, to go from paralyzing fear to rapture in only an hour. She would never have imagined her emotions could swing so far so fast.

Her second show went even better than the first. She didn't repeat any of her material, and from what she could see, most of the crowd stayed to listen to her again. They cheered so loudly after her final song that she knew her ears would still be ringing the next day.

Bill and Rene finally caught up with her in the dressing-room. Before leaving the club, she quickly called her parents. They amazed her. When she asked if she could come home later than she had told them, they said fine. They sounded happy for her. They said they were going to her very next show – on Thursday.

The three of them went to an all-night coffee shop that overlooked the ocean. For Teresa it was a dream. She actually pinched herself, half expecting to wake up. Bill was as giddy as she was. Only Rene seemed to have retained a semblance of normality, but she was smiling far more than usual and Teresa knew she was excited for her. They ordered Cokes and coffee and a
whole
chocolate cake.