After the initial start, his voice grows fuller as he swings his guitar to his front and starts playing. Seph’s eyes then shut when he hits the high notes, and I remember how I always thought that Seph sings like how other people pray. There was a time when he never opened his eyes when he sang or even listened to music. I asked him about it once and he said that he didn’t want the outside world bothering him.
My chest buzzes watching him pour his whole being into building the tension to the booming chorus. Another thing that I’ll never admit to Seph’s face: I can see why people get crushes on him after watching him perform. I think he likes picking love songs because he sells them so convincingly. Hearing him sing the lyrics with such pleading and conviction… it’s really hard not to buy that he means every single word.
Once he gets more of the crowd’s attention, and the music builds to the chorus, I see that familiar glint in his eyes. Seph and I always had that in common—we really love showing off.
“Your mom liked this song too,” I hear Pa say beside me.
Everyone finds this song romantic. I did, too, when Pa first played it, but years later, when I actuallyreadthe lyrics? I discovered it was incredibly depressing.
“Torete” is basically a song where this girl sings about how she’s head over heels for someone to the point that she says lines like,I hope the sky will reach your smile.But wait, there’s more. She then goes on to say that she wouldn’t even force the person to like her back, then proceeds to repeat over and over again that she’ll still be crazy over them until the song fades into silence.
We never even hear the other person’s side. We don’t know if they’d answer back withI hope the stars meet your dimplesor whatever lyric singers find romantic. In summary, it’s a drawn-out, one-sided love tragedy with a good melody.
If I’m supposed to be “feeling the most” right now, I don’t want any business with these “Torete”-type feelings. No thank you. Why would I want to be in that situation—liking someone so desperately that I wouldn’t care whether they liked me back?
That sounds awful.
By the time Seph hits the outro, he asks the audience to flash their phone lights and sway to the beat. My eyes scan all the people swaying and singing along, then I feel a tug in my heart when I find Ma’s face.
She’s sitting with Achi in the reserved section for friends and family, and my mind travels back to five years ago.
That night, the last time I was supposed to perform inour Trumpets show, I overheard Achi in Ma’s bedroom. I hid behind the door and peeked at Achi consoling Ma. In the middle of Ma’s sobbing, I caught what Ma kept repeating.
“I’m scared that she’ll remind me of Ton.”
The sound of Ma crying kept ringing in my ear later in the bathroom when I was gasping for air.
I’ve already seen what happens when someone feels too much.
They get hurt.
24
It’s like everything else in the auditorium disappears.
The host announces onstage that it’s our band’s turn, and all I can think is:My mom is watching.
The feedback screeches through the room when Kayla holds on to the mic—and my mom is watching.
Seph plugs his guitar into the amp, the screen behind the stage shows live footage of him and Kayla onstage—still, my mom is watching.
My feet are glued to the floor when Seph and Kayla glance at me, lost at why I’m still stuck on the side of the stage and haven’t joined them. “Nika,” I hear Pa whisper. “Are you all right?”
The last time I froze this badly, I never even made it to the theater.
My hand goes to my chest, my pulse is ringing in my ears, my breaths keep getting heavier.
You’re Bad Luck Ilagan. No one can count on you. Why would they when you make everyone’s life harder?
Then Pa calls out to me again. He extends his hand and the throbbing in my brain slowly settles. I don’t know if it’s the work of some higher power or the fact that Kayla starts harmonizing in questionable keys, but I find the will to make my feet move to the front.
Then I’m there.
Sitting at the piano bench onstage.
With Ma watching.
Seph plays the opening notes, Kayla enters with the ad-libs, and this is supposed to be my cue. It’s like everything tightens,from my throat all the way to the tips of my fingers. The music keeps happening around me, and I sit there, doing absolutely nothing.
