Page 63 of Strum Me

And dark.

The bows move no more, and the piano is still.

But there’s a roaring in my ears.

Of a thousand people made into fans of the Rock Chamber Boys for life.

***

Fifteen minutes later, I’m still sitting in my seat amongst a sea of empty ones. The lights are on, and the empty water bottles and torn ticket stubs strewn on the dusty floor seem like an unfaithful description of what really happened here. I’m still in a stunned kind of silence.

I have seen the boys play before. Almost countless times, in our days at school. Heard them in their garage, with no one but me and their dogs as an audience. Seen them at monthly school assemblies and year-end graduations.

They have always been good. Prodigies.

But not until today, sitting through a one-hour show of their latest works, did I know that they really are stars. Unreachable.

But instead of being envious or intimidated, I am proud.

Proud that these men who I knew when their voices hadn’t yet dropped are fulfilling their own dreams.

And proud of my friend. Who made an unfair world his own. And my heart with it.

“Hey, you coming?” Hailey calls to me from the entrance to the backstage area. “We’re just making sure everything’s packed, then we’re going to rock on like there’s no tomorrow.”

“So, sleep then?”

“Fucking hell yes.”

I laugh and stand up, looking around this empty hall that to me, will always echo with the sound of Brad’s violin.

“What’d you think?” she asks as I catch up to her.

“Eh, it’s no Yanni.”

She laughs again and grabs my arm. “Come on, let’s go deflate some swollen rock God egos.”

***

“So, what’d you think?” I’m asked again an hour later. This time by Brad.

It’s midnight and we’re back on the guys’ bus waiting for pizza.

I’m not sure how to respond. Which seems wrong considering words are supposed to be my field. How do I tell him it was a life-changing experience, without telling him that I don’t really know how to go on from here? That’s how life-changing it was.

“It…It was really great.” It sounds so lame to me, I almost laugh.

“Oh, okay. Good,” he responds, a frown fluttering over his brow.

Which, of course it should. There was nothing just “really great” about the concert at all. But it seemed safe to leave it at that.

“Mommy?”

I hear Ben’s voice at the bus door and see him and Carrie, his nurse and nanny, step inside.

“I’m so sorry, Emily, he wouldn’t go back to bed once he saw the light on in this bus. He said he just wanted to come say good night.”

“It’s fine, thank you. Would you like to stay for some pizza? We’ve got plenty,” I say, pointing to the pizza boxes laid out on every surface. I hope she accepts; she’s been wonderful to Ben and it might be nice for her to have some adult company.