He located the manager,who had just enough time to lead him to the stockroom beforeattending to the still-growing crowd. At first, Caleb didn’t seethe keyboard. Framed by shelves of paper napkins, plasticware andcleaning equipment, its dusty beige cover easily blended with thewall it had been shoved against.
Caleb crossed the spacebetween him and the instrument, and gingerly lifted its cover.Under the glaring fluorescent light, the sheen of its black andwhite keys winked at him. He found the power cord resting on thedashboard, uncoiled it, and plugged it in. The power button litup.
He had never used anelectronic keyboard. It looked like one of those Japanese toiletshe’d seen on the net—so many buttons were begging to be pressed,including a set of square gray ones that boasted of soundoptions: Honky-Tonk, Harpsichord, Banjo,English Horn. It took him a while tolocate Acoustic Piano. He keyed in the code, then experimentally pressed a key. Thesingle note boomed throughout the room, making him press thevolume decrease buttonrepeatedly.
He tried playing a bar ofmusic, stopped then sighed. It was entirely different from playingthe piano. The squeaky plastic keyboard slid from his fingertips,the keys popping right back up the moment his fingers left them.The sounds it produced were nothing like the rich, reverberatingtones of the piano.
But it was the only thinghe got.
He sighed again and lookedat the ceiling. Then he grabbed the nearest monobloc chair, and saton it, dragging it closer to the keyboard. Once again, it was timeto adjust, to learn something new about himself.
Chapter 23:Concerto
“So we’re more thanhalfway into the program. You guys enjoying yourselves?” Thespeakers carried Tara’s perky voice across the smallcafé.
Ginny turned to Caleb,reaching up to press her cold fingers onto his cheeks.
“You’llbe fine.” He gently removed her fingers, and sandwiched her palmsin his—not that his own clammy hands provided much warmth.You’ll be fine,he repeated silently to himself. He knew he checked only a fewseconds ago, but his eyes couldn’t help wandering back to theaunts’ table. Yup, Mitch’s oversize bag was still parked on thechair, looking like it had every right to hog an empty seat in aStanding Room Only situation.
Ignoring thedisappointment gnawing at his chest, Caleb forced himself to lookaway. He locked eyes with Noel, who immediately averted his gaze.Caleb gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze. “Gins, you can tell Noel thatI’m gay, okay?”
Her big eyes, clouded withconfusion, turned to him.
“Tell him later.” Hesmiled encouragingly. “Trust me.”
“Ginny? Ginny Salvador?”Caleb saw Tara, still on the microphone, squint at their corner ofthe room. “You’re up next!”
Caleb gave his friend agentle push. “Knock ‘em dead, Gins.”
Stumbling a little intothe front, Ginny froze and stared at the audience. In the patch oflit space with only the microphone for company, she looked evensmaller.
“Go,Ginny!” someone hollered from somewhere in front. Caleb grinned ashe watched a beaming Kate resume her seat.
Kate’s cheer seemed tohave worked its magic, unraveling Ginny’s stupor. She steppedcloser to the microphone and adjusted it to her height. Beforetalking, she gestured to her black hat, black dress and blackshoes.
Black is not a color, theysay,
But the absence ofcolor.
But I bet this won’t stoppeople from judging me
When I wear it from headto toe.
“She looks chic.Elegant.
“She probably has adepressive personality.
“OMG, someone in herfamily must have died.”
We take pride in beingfree thinkers.
But all over theworld,
Every day, everyhour,
People are being judged bythe color of their skin.
Why bother with showingyour true colors then?
Hide it with whiteninglotion
And doses ofglutathione.
Bake under thesun
At the risk of skincancer.
But sometimes, I feel likethe colors are not outside,
But inside ofme.
A rainbow of hues curvedup into a smile,
Bursting to getout.
Ginny paused to step awayfrom the microphone. She reached up and yanked off her beret, hercolorful hair tumbling out. Ginny shook out her locks, making themstand on end like a lion’s mane.
I wonder—how do you see menow?
Cool, crazy, aweirdo?
A part of methinks
Maybe I should’ve kept myhair black.
Black, the absence ofcolor
Black, the absence ofjudgment—
But not really.
So to those who love tojudge,
I stand before you, yourhonors
And pleadguilty
For not giving a fuckabout what you think.
The crowd broke out intowild applause. Ginny stood behind the microphone, eyes shining asshe took a bow. Grinning, Caleb clapped until his hands hurt. Buthis mind had a funny way of wandering even in the most unlikelymoments. Once again, his eyes landed on the chair Mitch’s bag stilloccupied.
In an instant, his smilefaded. What was the point of coming here then?
Then he turned his headand saw Ginny at the other end of the room, laughing and huggingthe other Wordplay members. Noel hung back waiting for his turn.The light bounced on Ginny’s hair, creating spectrums uponspectrums of colors.
He was also there forGinny, Caleb reminded himself. Like what Mitch told him earlier,whatever happened, he’d be okay.
Emerging from Noel’s hug,Ginny turned around and caught Caleb’s eye. She gave him athumbs-up.
* * *
If this were the movies,the resolution would magically appear in the nick of time—whichmeant that the thing Caleb had been hoping for would happen rightafter he entered the stage with the keyboard. Or right after heunwound the extension chord, its insulated wire slithering like ablack snake across the floor. But a quick glance at the chairbeside Mitch reminded him that this was not a movie, but reallife.
After Mitch had waved athim and Kate had blown him a kiss, Caleb forced a smile and took aseat behind the keyboard, nodding to the tech guy who adjusted themicrophone in front of him. Out of nowhere, stage fright, solid andmerciless, seized his throat.
“Thanks, guys, for cominghere tonight to listen to our poetry. Our hearts are full.” Francohad taken center stage, palm on his chest, looking touched. “We’dlike to congratulate the newbies on their big night. They did anawesome job. Let’s give them a hand.” Caleb felt the applause thrumin his throat, his paralyzed limbs preventing him from joining inthe clapping.
“But
