Page 30 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

“It’s an elementary school holiday concert. It’s guaranteed to be terrible.” I feel guilty throwing Chelsea’s students under the bus, but I have to set appropriate expectations.

“I have nothing better to do.” He repeats his argument from the apartment but with a groan for good measure.

“Fine. Hurry up. We’re late.”

Hand-drawn decorations for every holiday from November to New Year’s Day—even Veterans Day—cover the bustling auditorium lobby. A sweet-faced child hands me two programs, and we walk through heavy double doors decked with holly.

“Isn’t it a bit early for a holiday concert?” he asks as we shuffle into a pair of aisle seats.

“This is a science and math magnet school. The primary school has a real holiday concert before the break.”

He accepts the program I pass to him, opening it with a frown. “So this is the first pancake for the concert season?”

“Yes, but with far more enthusiasm and a greater emphasis on animals and conservation.”

Adam surveys the auditorium like he’s scanning for threats. Then he grabs my arm, his voice low and subdued. “Why are children in face paint sitting in the audience? Oh god, they’re going to start in the audience, aren’t they?”

“Probably,” I whisper.

“I hate when they start in the audience. It’s like being trapped in a flash mob. The only good thing about a flash mob is that I can leave the mall food court. They can’t force me to sit in front of Panda Express while Bruno Mars happens to me.”

I flip through the program. “I don’t see any Bruno Mars on the schedule, so I think you’re good. But there’s a turkey number set to ‘Wobble.’ Want to guess what it’s called?” I turn to Adam, who’s performing an ocular pat-down of the crowd.

“Okay, that kid has glitter. Do you have a hood?” Adam leans in to examine my collar, but I swat him away.

“People are looking at us!”

“Suit yourself. You’re on the aisle. You’ll be finding glitter in your hair for days.”

“Let the kids enjoy their holiday show. You’re being such a grinch.”

“I might have a hat in my truck that you can use for cover.”

“Settle down.” I place my hand on his bouncing knee until it stills. But then I just hold it there for longer than socially appropriate. When I yank it away, we both become very interested in the particulars of the oil-change coupon on the back of the concert program—$25 off the synthetic blend!—my stomach somersaulting from mortification. I finally look up when a young girl steps into the spotlight.

Jaunty piano music plays, and the house lights slowly fade up as the girl, in a tiger leotard, sings the first verse of Katy Perry’s “Roar.” The orange-face-painted children in the audience seats gradually join in, and more voices fill the auditorium as the song builds toward the refrain.

All at once, the kids step over audience members in a chaotic attempt to make it to the aisle for a choreographed dance routine. Since they clearly rehearsed the number in an empty auditorium, the children—trapped between audience members—panic when the familiar lyrics start up.

“This one’s stuck.” Adam nudges me, pointing to the lion next to him. The boy’s costume is caught on an armrest, and we watch the poor kid frantically yank at his shirt.

Adam mutters something to the kid, and he nods his head in response. In one swift movement, Adam grabs the boy by his sides, lifts him over the two of us, and gently plops him down in the aisle. “Thank you,” the lion yells before running off to his position in the dance. I feel a tug under my ribs. Is that my heart? Did that just literally tug at my heartstrings?

But this spark of joy is short-lived. I spot plastic baggies poking out of the pockets of children dancing into my personal space, and dread sets in.

“You’re right,” I tell Adam, my voice absorbed by noise. “They’re definitely going to throw glitter on us.”

“Can we leave?”

“Nope.”

He inhales sharply, accepting our shimmery fate. “Their dancing is blocking the exits anyhow.”

I paste on a demented grin. “Just smile at the children and prepare to be glittered.”

As predicted, the key changes and the children triumphantly douse us in sparkly flecks that will certainly be in my hair for the rest of the week. Coughs erupt throughout the audience, and the kids scurry up front to take their bow.

The concert continues with the classes performing holiday hits, animal skits, and “Gobble” set to the tune of “Wobble.”

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