Page 13 of The Road Sometimes Taken

As the song keeps going, the tempo picks up and her voice changes to a deeper tone. A sadder tone. She’s singing about goodbye masked as love and she’s delivering a message with both her voice and her eyes. Her voice is haunted now and she’s casting a spell over all of us.

Even the bartenders, who were previously cheerful and focused, have now paused, listening to the sound of her voice as it reverberates through the space. Then as Cara delivers the last line of the song, changing love for loss, her eyes close one more time and the melody fades. The bar remains hushed for a beat longer, as if nobody wants to let go of the enchantment. Then the spell breaks, and the room erupts into cheers and a loud applause. Everyone stands up and when she finally opens her eyes, her whole demeanor changes. Before the song, she was like a ray of sunshine, full of warmth and color. Now, she resembles a wilting flower, withering away as the melody ends.

Cara offers a shy smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. To others, they might think it’s her real one, but I know her betterthan that. I can see the quiet sadness that lingers just beneath the surface, hidden behind a mask she’s learned to wear. Her eyes don’t wrinkle at the corners the way they do when her joy is real, when it spills out effortlessly and fills the whole room. They don’t sparkle with that familiar warmth, that unguarded light that makes her who she is. Instead, there’s something distant, almost hollow, in their depths. The smile, too, is a half-hearted thing—just a shadow of the one she used to give, the one I became too accustomed to growing up and the one I tried my best to pull out of her. This is compliance, the kind she has perfected over time, the smile she offers when she’s trying to follow some unwritten rule to pretend she’s okay when I can see how far from it she really is. And I ache, wishing she didn’t have to hide herself but also wondering if I had anything to do to with it.

She brings the DJ to the front and gives a curtsy, pushing him forward so people can clap for him too. She leaves the stage, walking past the crowd as they clap for her and when she passes by them, she keeps her head held high and smiles at them. She slides into the seat next to me, puts the straw between her full lips and downs her whole drink.

“Cara, my goodness, I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Beth admires, her voice full of awe, a warm smile spreading across her face. But I can’t tear my eyes away from Cara—how she stands there, the soft glow of the stage lights catching in her hair even from afar, the way her hands hover nervously by her sides like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to be proud of herself, proud of this moment.

“I sing for the kids all the time,” she responds, her voice soft and almost apologetic, as though she’s justifying something she doesn’t want to be seen for. “It’s the adults that I don’t like.” Cara blows Beth a quick, lighthearted kiss, trying to brush off the compliment like it’s nothing. But I can see it; that littlebreak in her composure, the way her lips quiver before they settle back into something almost forced.

“That was amazing,” I gush before I can stop myself, the words tumbling out with more weight than I intended.

“I’m ready to go,” Cara announces suddenly, her tone shifting again. It’s like the performance is over, the curtain falling, and she’s already retreating into herself. She reaches for her purse, the subtle click of the clasp snapping shut louder even in the busy restaurant. She pulls out cash and starts to count it out mechanically, as if paying for drinks is all that matters right now.

“Put it on my card, please, and close the tab,” I tell the bartender, my words coming out more abruptly than I mean them to. There’s a sharp edge in my voice, like I’m angry.

“You really don’t have to pay for my drinks, Manny,” Cara protests, her voice tight and almost clipped, as she watches the bartender swipe my card. There’s a trace of frustration in her tone, but underneath it is something more—a quiet, brittle thing, like she’s angry at herself more than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, but I don’t think she’s even talking to me anymore. I think she’s talking to herself.

“I know I don’t have to,” I reply. “But I want to, Cara.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she heads toward the door. The tension in her shoulders seems to ease slightly as she walks away. The glow from the bar’s neon sign reflects off her silhouette, casting a warm amber hue on the polished wooden floor beneath her. She exits into the night, the door swinging open and then closing with a soft, resigned thud behind her.

“Cara, wait.” I walk behind her. Once outside, she turns her body to me, and that is when I see it. She has rosy cheeks and tears behind her eyes.

“Why did you do that?” she asks, smacking me on the shoulder with her bag.

“Woah, woah, why are you sad? That was an incredible performance.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to sing karaoke in front of everyone, Manuel. That was so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” I repeat.What the fuck?“Were we both not in the same place? Because that was so damn good you left us all speechless. Not an ounce of what you did out there was embarrassing. That was the best damn performance of the night. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything better.”

“Don’t try to win me over now. That was shitty! You didn’t even ask!” Cara shouts and at this point, we’re making a scene out here. I know she wants to go so I message the driver. I told him to stay on standby and in just a couple minutes he pulls up to the curb.

“Come on, let me get you home.”

I open the door for her and step right in behind her. She sits on the opposite end of the SUV and looks out the window, giving me the cold shoulder.

“Cara, talk to me,” I plead, reaching over to hold her hand. “I’m sorry I did that. If I had known it was going to upset you, I would’ve never.”

She lets out a breath and says, “It’s okay. I just hate surprises and today has been a day full of them. I’m ready to go home and go to sleep.”

Ouch, she hates surprises and today I’m responsible for three of them.

“Okay, I get that. Sorry for pushing you to do something you weren’t ready for,” I tell her. Her body immediately shows me that was the right move. Her shoulders relax, her eyebrows are not frowning anymore and she lets out a big breath, melting into the seat.

“All of you Zabanas are good at saying sorry huh?”

I don’t think so,I want to say, because I don’t usually apologize for anything. Apologizing is taking the blame for something and I’m usually right. But with Cara, it has always been easy. Easy to talk to her, to spend time with her, even when I was being the annoying best friend’s little brother.

“What do you mean?” I ask and she places her legs on top of my lap.

“All of you are always saying sorry, even if it’s not your fault. Especially your sister. You meant well, Manny. I was just surprised. And honestly, the whole move has me a little jittery,” Cara adds, grabbing her hair and twisting it in a messy bun behind her neck.

“What’s stressing you out about the move?” I add as my phone vibrates on my lap, showing a business client’s number and I dismiss it. I cringe at the act. I don’t remember the last time I skipped a call but it can wait. Right now I need to figure out what’s going on with her.

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