wanted to be stars – so that many eyes would always be on them. Yet, with the blinding glare, she could hardly see anyone more than a few feet from the stage. She heard their welcome cheers, however, and the few scattered gasps. It was her age that brought the latter, she knew. She sat on her high stool and cradled her guitar on her lap.
“Thank you,” she said. “This is the first time I've ever sung in public. I want this first song to be for Bill. It’s called ‘Until Then’.”
She closed her eyes.
It was true – she always did close her eyes when she sang.
Fill the sails and fill the space
That lingers in your night.
Hear the songs the echo sings,
And see the stars take flight
When the night decides to show the day,
We’ll sail away,
Far away.
Until then.
Take me back to nowhere and lay me by your side.
And talk of things that you’ve seen in your dreams.
A laughing wind, a sunlit smile, a broken sky to mend.
A distant shore,
Till there’s no more.
No message left to send.
When the night decides to show the day,
We’ll sail away,
Far away,
Until then.
Teresa stopped and opened her eyes. She saw nothing but bright blinding light and heard nothing but silence. Silence can be kind when you're waiting for the sound of acceptance. Because the longer the silence after a song, sometimes the louder the applause. Such was the case this time. When the clapping came, it broke over her like a loud wave of joy. They clapped for a full minute, and then they began to cheer. What could she do except laugh? She heard her giggles through the PA system and she sounded so young it made her laugh even harder. It was the greatest moment of her life, really – there had been a few of them lately. She hoped there’d be plenty more.
I love you, too, Bill.
Teresa didn't get together with her friends until after her second show. Between acts Mr. Gracione occupied most of her time – telling her that Madonna had better move over. It was hard to tell who was more excited – him or her. He presented her with a bouquet of red roses in the dressing-room and gave her a big bear hug even as her hands continued to tremble. She broke another nail tuning her guitar for the second set, but she didn't care. How strange it was, she thought, to go from paralyzing fear to rapture in only an hour. She would never have imagined her emotions could swing so far so fast.
Her second show went even better than the first. She didn't repeat any of her material, and from what she could see, most of the crowd stayed to listen to her again. They cheered so loudly after her final song that she knew her ears would still be ringing the next day.
Bill and Rene finally caught up with her in the dressing-room. Before leaving the club, she quickly called her parents. They amazed her. When she asked if she could come home later than she had told them, they said fine. They sounded happy for her. They said they were going to her very next show – on Thursday.
The three of them went to an all-night coffee shop that overlooked the ocean. For Teresa it was a dream. She actually pinched herself, half expecting to wake up. Bill was as giddy as she was. Only Rene seemed to have retained a semblance of normality, but she was smiling far more than usual and Teresa knew she was excited for her. They ordered Cokes and coffee and a whole chocolate cake.
“Bring us half a gallon of vanilla ice cream while you’re at it,” Bill told the waitress, handing back the menus. He added, when the waitress was gone, “I should have asked for candles.”
“They don't have candles in a coffee shop,” Teresa said. “Besides, it isn’t my birthday.”
“But it is,” Bill said. He lifted his glass of water, indicating they were to have a toast. “You were reborn tonight. When I saw you up there under the lights, everybody's eyes on you, I knew you had at last emerged from your cocoon.”
He swirled the ice around in his water.
“Thank you,” she said. “This is the first time I've ever sung in public. I want this first song to be for Bill. It’s called ‘Until Then’.”
She closed her eyes.
It was true – she always did close her eyes when she sang.
Fill the sails and fill the space
That lingers in your night.
Hear the songs the echo sings,
And see the stars take flight
When the night decides to show the day,
We’ll sail away,
Far away.
Until then.
Take me back to nowhere and lay me by your side.
And talk of things that you’ve seen in your dreams.
A laughing wind, a sunlit smile, a broken sky to mend.
A distant shore,
Till there’s no more.
No message left to send.
When the night decides to show the day,
We’ll sail away,
Far away,
Until then.
Teresa stopped and opened her eyes. She saw nothing but bright blinding light and heard nothing but silence. Silence can be kind when you're waiting for the sound of acceptance. Because the longer the silence after a song, sometimes the louder the applause. Such was the case this time. When the clapping came, it broke over her like a loud wave of joy. They clapped for a full minute, and then they began to cheer. What could she do except laugh? She heard her giggles through the PA system and she sounded so young it made her laugh even harder. It was the greatest moment of her life, really – there had been a few of them lately. She hoped there’d be plenty more.
I love you, too, Bill.
Teresa didn't get together with her friends until after her second show. Between acts Mr. Gracione occupied most of her time – telling her that Madonna had better move over. It was hard to tell who was more excited – him or her. He presented her with a bouquet of red roses in the dressing-room and gave her a big bear hug even as her hands continued to tremble. She broke another nail tuning her guitar for the second set, but she didn't care. How strange it was, she thought, to go from paralyzing fear to rapture in only an hour. She would never have imagined her emotions could swing so far so fast.
Her second show went even better than the first. She didn't repeat any of her material, and from what she could see, most of the crowd stayed to listen to her again. They cheered so loudly after her final song that she knew her ears would still be ringing the next day.
Bill and Rene finally caught up with her in the dressing-room. Before leaving the club, she quickly called her parents. They amazed her. When she asked if she could come home later than she had told them, they said fine. They sounded happy for her. They said they were going to her very next show – on Thursday.
The three of them went to an all-night coffee shop that overlooked the ocean. For Teresa it was a dream. She actually pinched herself, half expecting to wake up. Bill was as giddy as she was. Only Rene seemed to have retained a semblance of normality, but she was smiling far more than usual and Teresa knew she was excited for her. They ordered Cokes and coffee and a whole chocolate cake.
“Bring us half a gallon of vanilla ice cream while you’re at it,” Bill told the waitress, handing back the menus. He added, when the waitress was gone, “I should have asked for candles.”
“They don't have candles in a coffee shop,” Teresa said. “Besides, it isn’t my birthday.”
“But it is,” Bill said. He lifted his glass of water, indicating they were to have a toast. “You were reborn tonight. When I saw you up there under the lights, everybody's eyes on you, I knew you had at last emerged from your cocoon.”
He swirled the ice around in his water.
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