Chapter Text
I walk through backstage, rehearsing songs in my head. People rushed around me, but all I could think of was this performance. It’s very important to me because it’s the first time I’m singing on stage since my mom died. She was a singer, too, and her death affected me so much.
We used to sing together till late in the night. We used to compose and songwrite together. Those are my favorite memories of her. Dad would always complain about the noise at night, but we both knew he secretly enjoyed it, too. He was a guitarist, but he stopped playing after mom died. He said that it was too painful. I understood him. It was painful for me, too. But unlike dad, I decided to keep her alive by singing our songs.
“Musa, let’s get you dressed. You’re out in 20.” my stylish said
I nod and follow her to the dressing room. Her long blond hair was swaying behind her. With a slim waist, long legs, and pretty face, Stella had everyone turning their heads when she passed them. She’s a bit arrogant because of that, but to be fair, I would be too if I was as pretty as her.
I have long blue-died hair and a curvy body. I, too, am pretty, but not at Stella’s level. My baby face makes me different from her.
“Why are you just standing there?” her voice booms around the room “Put on that dress.” she points to dress draped over the couch
It was a burgundy knee long dress with long sleeves and an open back. The neckline had V cut, but not deep enough to show my boobs. I grab it and go behind the curtain and quickly put the dress on. After I exit, she fixes my makeup, and we usher out of the dressing room. She walks off in a different direction, and I walk towards the stage curtain.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, with much anticipation I present to you our bright star, Musa!” the announcer says, and the curtains slip
For a moment I’m blinded by the stage lights and cheerings. Thousands of people swerve on their feet, clapping and whistling. I give them my biggest smile and walk over to the piano. I level the microphone with my lips and speak up when the cheering dies down: “Good night, New York.” I say loudly
Another round of cheering goes around. That pulls a big smile out of me. Aside from my mom, this is another reason why I love doing music. It makes people happy.
“This is a song I wrote with someone special. She’s not here with us anymore, so this is for you, mom.” Another cheering goes by, and then I start my song
Hold my hand,
move my hair strand
then take me to another land,
none of this was planned
I continue singing while listening to the audience. Their energy gets me moving and gives me strength to push through the pain of mom’s death. I can still feel her every time I sing one of ours or one of her songs.
She is sitting with me now, pressing the keys of the piano.
Please, don’t flee
and just stay with me,
in these scary nights
our story writes itself.
Her voice is perfectly synchronized with mine, as the song comes to an end. One song transitioned into the other, and soon enough, my concert came to an end.
“Thank you so much for singing with me tonight. You made this night so special.” I put microphone on its stand and bow
The curtain closes, and I straight myself. I turn around to see my dad wiping away his tears.
“Nǐ céngjīng hěnměi.” his voice was soft (You were wonderful) “Tāhuì wéinǐ gǎndào jiāoào.” (She would be so proud of you)
I wipe away my tears and hug him tightly. Losing my mom was a hard blow on my dad, and he didn’t completely recover from it. I don’t think he ever will. My mom was his first love.
They met in college, both studying music. Dad always said that the moment he laid his eyes on her, she would be his wife. Mom would laugh it off and call him a liar. They would then banter about if he was right or not.
Dad would always cheat and kiss mom to break their fight. I remember fake gagging every time I saw them kiss. Now, I wish I could bring those moments back.
I hear commotion behind me and someone clearing their throat. I release dad and look behind me just to see my PR manager standing there.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt this sweet moment, but some reporters are outside. They want to interview you.” she says in her usual cold voice
I nod, and she walks away. I love Danielle, but sometimes her professional side can be really cold. I turn to my dad and hug me goodbye. On the walk to the dressing room, I think about my life in the last couple of months. I was on tour and put out another album. My career has skyrocketed, but my private life was quite lonely. I don’t have a boyfriend or friends. Well, I did have them, but after mom’s death, they shut me out. It was really painful, but I didn’t really have time to grieve for them when I was already grieving my dead mom.
I don’t think of them that often about them except these rare moments where I reflect on my life. I just wonder what it would be like if I had someone by my side right now. Someone who would soothe my demons.
Stella has already set a beautiful, lilac tank top and black tight jeans aside for me. I take them and quickly change out of my dress. I carefully put it on the hanger and put my stilettos on.
I walked out of the dressing room where Danielle was standing, impatiently tapping her shoes. She was a middle-aged woman with a sharp face and even sharper personality. She takes no shit from anyone and always puts them in their place. She's not doing it to be mean or anything. She just takes her job seriously.
“You know how this goes. Don't answer any questions about your personal life. Don't reveal anything about future projects.” She repeats the same words as always
I usually don't mind those questions, but recently, it's the only thing they ask me. Reporters just love juicy gossip and would do anything to get them out of you. I, once, almost attacked reporters when I saw him standing on my mom's grave, taking pictures of it. I sued the hell out of him. He lost his job and was shunned by the public.
Flashes blind me as I walk out of the concert hall. The questions started rapidly from all sides, and I had to raise my hand.
“One by one, please.” I tell them loudly, and they comply
“Miss Musa, how does it feel to finish your tour? Are you sad?” came from a tiny teenager in the back
“I feel sad, but happy that it's over. I love singing and performing, but eventually, it becomes exhausting. I'm happy to go back to Gardenia so that I can relax.”
“Did you feel your mother's presence during the performance?”
“I always feel her when I sing. That's the reason why I continue composing. I want to keep her memory alive.” I suppressed chills
“Can we know anything about future projects?”
“Not yet. But you will when the time comes.”
“That is all people. Let her through.” Danielle spoke to them
My bodyguard took my arm and began pushing through the crowd. Aside from reporters, there were also fans who wanted pictures or autographs, and I stopped a few times.
When I finally got into my car, I slumped against the seat. Danielle sat by me and gave me my water bottle that I drank in one go. I was finally ready to go back to my home.