Page 78 of A Country Kind Of Love
Charlie nods. “You ready?” he mouths.
She’s about as ready as she was in ninth grade when Mrs. Greenhill asked her to read a whole chapter ofTo Kill a Mockingbird. It may sound like a reasonable request from a teacher, but to read it whilst standing at the front of the class was punishment for not handing in her homework on time. Surely, the crowd in front of her now can’t be any worse than a group of ninth graders.
Pick a far-offfocal point.
Her mom used to get nervous when she performed. She told Peyton to look beyond the crowd, to focus on a chair, a pen, a tree, anything stationary and unimportant. Focus on one thing and redirect your nerves. Wise words. Easier said than done, but there is no harm in trying.
Peyton spots a narrow tree in the distance.
Perfect.
Focus on somethingunimportant.
The crowd settles and Peyton opens her mouth. The nerves get the better of her opening line. It’s shaky, probably not so much to the untrained ear. She manages to make her way through the first line of a new song called “The Sign”. She’s never performed the song before, she fumbles on the lead up tothe chorus.
“Your eyes are begging me to stay and I need that feeling back someday...”
She wrote the song two weeks ago with Cleo in mind. She hoped the opportunity would arise where she could sing it to her. Peyton finds expressing her feelings in a song easier than saying the words out loud or sending them in a text message; that never went well.
Charlie harmonises with her where he can. He only had an hour to learn the song. Thankfully, Apple products exist, and Peyton was easily able to pull up the song sheets from her iCloud and send them over to Charlie. The band are experienced musicians. It feels surreal to hear the melody come to life. The band kicks in for the chorus, and it feels euphoric.
“I will run to you in the rain. Will you answer your door or leave me in this pain. I want to feel the lightening in my heart again. And the thunder rolling on our skin. The storms moving in outside... but I’ll gladly put it all on the line. If you give me thesign...”
Peyton’seyes widen.
Is that?She squints.
The unimportant tree she’s been channelling her energy towards is suddenly the complete opposite because...Cleo is leantagainst it.
Peyton stalls. Charlie finishes the final two words of the chorus. She can’t take her eyes off the tree. Cleo stares right back. Jesse failed to tell her Cleo would be here. In his wine hazed state he must have forgotten to mention the highly important detail.
The band counts her in for a second time before she realises she has to keep singing the second verse.
Pull yourself together.
Cleo looks like she just dropped from the pages of lesbianGQ. She’s wearing an oversized pin-striped suit. Her hair is styled back off her face; she gives off Ruby Rose circa 2017 vibes. Her expression is rigid. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t wave. She just grips her plastic cupand glares.
It’s intimidating.
Peyton should find another spot, but she can’t look away. Her breathing is shallow. She feels light-headed.
Close your eyes.
Peyton takes a moment to focus on her breathing. She isn’t mentally prepared for this situation. The whole crowd can probably sense it, which panics her more.
Breathe in through your nose and out throughyour mouth.
In her mind she hears the voice of a therapist. It sounds like her mom, but also like Bette Porter for some bizarre reason. Not that she’scomplaining.
Open your eyes.
“I need you here now with me.”
She inhales deeply. She can’t hold Cleo’s gaze formuch longer.
“We can make anything work if we just believe.”
The riff at the end of the verse is well received with applause from the crowd. Peyton could swear there’s a hint of a smile on Cleo’s lips. She has her mom to thank for her ability to riff. They spent countless hours together in her preteens walking through different vowels and chord progressions. She first learnt to slow the music down, to play alongside the piano, playing each of the notes as she heard them to help her find the right pitch. There’s a three-note section of a run from “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston that her mom had her perfect. She taught her so much, and Peyton is eternally grateful.
