Encore to an Empty Room by Kevin Emerson

doing exactly the thing I just said I didn’t want to do: living a double life. I try to focus on what’s around me right now. The singers, Stacia, the cool café. This visit is only a few hours long. Nothing has to be decided tonight.
    We go for ice cream with some of the singer girls after the show, and meet even more people, and while I introduce myself as Summer, we talk of Catherine things, too. From the finer points of a cappella voicing, to clean water in developing nations, to the best indie bands, Jane Austen, awkward dorm room hookup stories, the upcoming protest about unfair trade in South America . . . and I kind of love itall. I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever talked about all these things at once. And it feels like it could go on and on.
    Too soon, I have to meet up with my parents, and Stacia admits they’re going to a friend’s room to drink some kind of cheap wine that doesn’t get you hungover, and even that sounds fun.
    When my parents ask me if I had a good time, I say yes, and I am not lying.
    I spend the drive home spinning around the conversations. Being smart . . .
    Being all the versions of me.
    My phone buzzes.
    Caleb: How was it?
    I want to say amazing.
    Summer: Not bad. Fun enough.
    It’s such a dodge and I know it. Back to my life. Back to faking it. Even with Caleb.
    Summer: And a cappella.
    Caleb: Ouch!
    Summer: :) How are you?
    Caleb: Good actually. Feeling better about the article. Did some sleuthing into more old Eli interviews but nothing so far.
    Summer: Cool. Let’s do more tomorrow. And are we still on for Christmas Day?
    Caleb: You are officially invited.
    Summer: Yay! Okay more later. xo
    I’m giving him the quick sign-off because I am surprised by how strong this sense of guilt is welling up. It almost feels like enjoying tonight was somehow cheating on Caleb. Cheating on a dream we’ve been sharing.
    The feeling makes my heart race. I try to remind myself: nothing has to get decided now . . . right?
    And yet, it’s only four months until the acceptance letters start to fly. Not that I’m taking getting in for granted. But I’ve got a range of schools and some acceptances are likely. Which means my future will be determined by April 1. A date that feels far too soon.

5
    Formerly Orchid @catherinefornevr 1hr
    Happy Holidays! Go to Dangerheart’s YouTube page for a holiday sing-along from our practice space to yours!
    Christmas is a small affair at my house this year. Sometimes we’ve had my mom’s cousin and their family over, but that didn’t come together, and then my brother, Bradley, announced that he was going to Hawaii with his girlfriend Sonya’s family. Mom didn’t take that well. So for Christmas Eve dinner it’s just the three of us and luckily, Aunt Jeanine.
    Normally, Jeanine would be back over on Christmas Day, but she’s catching a flight up to San Francisco to see her girlfriend. Things have been going great for her since our secret trip, a fact we gab about every time we go shopping, but one we can’t bring up over dinner, because Jeanine is still worried what my dad’s reaction will be.
    It’s a fun night anyway. They are drinking wine, which makes them silly, and we just talk about movies and politics and the latest drama among the extended family and it feels easy.
    I do have to field one question from Aunt Jeanine about what is increasingly becoming the only topic in my household and probably on my mind, too.
    â€œSo how are the applications coming along?”
    â€œOh, fine,” I say, but I feel a surge of nervous energy. To say that they are coming along implies that I’ve done anything other than fill out the basic contact information sections. Actually, I did start, and quickly abandon, an essay yesterday.
    I’ve done that three times now.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about it and taking some notes,” I add. And by that I mean mental