Smart, Sexy and Secretive (The Reed Brothers 2)

I set up the screens and projectors behind me before the performance, but as I start to play my guitar, I begin with a simple melody. I look over my shoulder to make sure my timing is right. Butterflies light up the screen behind me, and I play along with their movements. I have timed everything perfectly. They don’t just fly; they pulse. They pulse along with the rhythm of the song.

I see Logan sit forward in his seat. This part is for him. This part is so that the can feel the rhythm and movement of my song. This is the treble clef that he’s missing. This is the part he can’t feel in the beat of the bass through the floor. But he can see it.

I keep playing, and the butterflies move up and down with the notes of my guitar. They fly high and they fly low, and they keep shifting with the beat.

I open my mouth, and the butterflies become the words of my song. I have timed them perfectly to my tempo and my melody, and they grow large when my words are strong and small when my words are soft. The words on the screen are for Logan. The theatrics of this piece are all for him, but the words coming out of my mouth are for my dad and my dad alone:

You’ve been asleep for some time now .

I’ve been watching you for a while now.

This is oh so hard when you’re awake

Because when you look at me I just start to ache.

I try to be

All that you want to see,

But you know how it goes.

Nobody else knows

That I can’t be what you need me to be.

I look at the words on the page

As they swim and they rage.

They fight me even though I try,

Sometimes I still wonder why.

The storm rages all around me.

What I need is for your arms to surround me.

But what I get’s not the same.

I get scorn, pain, and shame.

I try to be

All that you want to see,

But you know how it goes.

Nobody else knows

That I can’t be what you need me to be.

I look at the words on the page

As they swim and they rage.

They fight me even though I try,

Sometimes I still wonder why

What can I ever say

To make you love me today?

I’m willing to forget yesterday.

I need you… .Mmmmmmmmmmm

I try to be

All that you want to see,

But you know how it goes.

Nobody else knows

That I can’t be

what you need me to be.

I look at the words on the page

As they swim and they rage.

They fight me even though I try,

Sometimes I still wonder why.

You’ve been awake for a while now.

Can you love me no matter how,

Can you take me as I was born

Instead of insisting reform?

You’re supposed to love me no matter what,

But I can see you’d rather

Have anyone but me on your side.

This has been a long ride.

Every time I’m ready to give up on you

He won’t let me give up on you

Even though you gave up on me long ago, Dad.

I can’t help that I was born this way,

But you can help that you see me that way.

Because I am not broken,

And I’m still always hoping

That one day you’ll see I’m just me…Dad.

The music stops and the spotlight on me dims as the crowd falls completely silent. I wipe the tears from my face and set my guitar to the side. The stage lights are taking forever, and I can’t figure out why.

There’s a pregnant pause. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I should run out the back door rather than face the scorn of the audience. I just poured my heart out up here. And I did it for one man. Sure, the lights and the performance were for Logan. I wanted him to know what I had to say, and he wouldn’t hear it in the words of my song. The rest of it…

I hear the sound of hands clapping together. It’s not a crowd of people. It’s just two hands clapping. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. It’s slow and methodical. And then I hear his voice.

“Well done, Emily!”

My heart leaps into my throat. That’s not Logan or any of the Reeds. That’s my dad. My dad is clapping for me.

The stage lights come on, and I can see him standing at the foot of the stage. He’s clapping like crazy, and he has tears running down his face. Certainly, it didn’t affect him this much.

“Emily!” he yells, his hands cupping his mouth, even though I’m only ten feet from him. “I’m so proud of you!” He yells out words like “brilliant” and “amazing” and “awesome” and he turns to someone behind him and says, “My daughter is so talented. Did you see that?” He’s crying unabashedly, and so am I.

The crowd is getting over my dad’s emotional outburst, and they all get to their feet, clapping for me. I walk toward my instructor and he says, “Excellent job, Miss Madison.”

“Did I do all right?” I ask him quietly. He points toward the crowd. They’re all on their feet. They’re giving me a standing ovation. “Wow,” I breathe.

“Congratulations, Miss Madison. I’d say you’ve found your calling.” He motions me forward. “Take a bow.”

I step forward on quivering legs and bend at the waist. The crowd is applauding wildly, and my dad is still standing directly in front of the stage. He’s the loudest one of all. He holds up one finger to tell me to wait. I see him dodge around the side of the stage and up the stairs. And in front of the entire auditorium, my dad sweeps me into a hug. He spins me around in a circle, my feet flying. “I’m so proud of you, Emily!” he yells.