Page 26 of The Maine Event

Dan appears at the stage door, and rushes over to a group of kids between twelve and fifteen years of age, who are getting ready to go up next. He coaches them through their final vocal warm-ups and double-checks that they remember the choreography. I watch, transfixed, as he offers each one a high-five and a word of encouragement.

There’s something about seeing him in this element that makes my heart skip a beat. Gone is the weariness that seems to cling to him like a second skin. In its place is a man who’s fullyalive, his passion for performance and his love for these kids shining through in every gesture.

I sink down a little lower in my seat, suddenly self-conscious. What would he think if he knew I was here, spying on this intimate moment? But I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s like watching a master craftsman at work, each movement precise and purposeful.

As the kids take their places on stage, Dan steps back into the shadows, his job done. But even from this distance, I can see he’s invested in them and willing them through sheer force of mind to sing their hearts out. This means something to him, I realize. More than just a school talent show. More than being an over-enthusiastic PTA member. It’s clearly a connection to a past he can’t quite let go of, maybe something of a reminder of the life he once lived.

The music swells, and the kids begin to sing, their voices blending in a harmony that sends shivers down my spine. I glance back at Dan, and for a moment, our eyes meet across the crowded auditorium.

He looks surprised, then curious, his head tilting slightly as if to ask, “What are you doing here?”

I offer a small smile and a little wave in return, hoping it conveys everything I can’t quite put into words. That I see him, really see him, and that I understand, on some level, the weight he carries. That maybe, just maybe, we’re not so different after all.

As the song comes to a close and the parents and teachers in the room begin to clap, I can’t help but join in.

Dan’s voice cuts through the applause, warm and genuine as he congratulates the kids on their performance. “That was fantastic, guys! You should be so proud of yourselves.” His smile is wide, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and something else, something that tugs at my heart in a way I can’t quite explain.

As the kids disperse, chattering excitedly among themselves, I see a woman approach Dan. She’s tall and slender, with vibrant red hair that cascades down her back in loose waves. There’s a confidence in her stride, a purposeful sway to her hips that draws the eye and commands attention.

“Dan, that was amazing!” she gushes, her hand coming to rest on his arm in a gesture that feels a little too familiar, a little too intimate. “You’ve done such an incredible job with these kids.”

Dan ducks his head, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Thanks, Veronica. But really, it’s all them. They’ve worked so hard.”

Veronica leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that I’m unable to hear.

I feel a sudden tightness in my chest, a pang of something I can’t quite name. It’s not jealousy, exactly. More like a sense of… loss. Like I’m watching something slip away before I even had a chance to reach for it.

Dan hesitates, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. For a brief moment, his eyes find mine before he shakes his head and says no to Veronica’s request.

But Veronica is persistent, her smile widening as she leans in even closer, one hand tactically placed on his forearm as she continues to talk.

I turn away, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a private moment. My heart is beating too fast, my palms slick with sweat. I need to get out of here, need to clear my head.

As I make my way towards the exit, I catch a glimpse of Chloe out of the corner of my eye. She’s sitting alone on the floor, near one of the fire exits, her knees hugged to her chest, her face hidden behind a curtain of hair. Something in her posture, in the slump of her shoulders, makes me pause.

I glance back at Dan, still deep in conversation with Veronica, and then back at Chloe. And suddenly, I know what I have to do.

I square my shoulders and make my way over to where Chloe sits. I lower myself to the floor beside her, my legs crossing underneath me.

“Hey,” I say softly, nudging her shoulder with my own. “That was a really great performance. You can really sing.”

Chloe lifts her head, her eyes wide and startled. “Thanks,” she mumbles, her gaze darting away from mine.

I nod, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment. And then, before I can second-guess myself, I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chloe shrugs, her fingers plucking at a loose thread on her jeans. “It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough, you know? Like no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be as good as the other kids.”

God, how familiar that feeling is.

My heart clenches at her words, at the raw vulnerability in her voice. I sit down next to her. “Chloe, listen to me. You aresotalented. And not just at singing—at everything you put your mind to. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough. I saw you up there and you were amazing.”

She looks up at me then, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Really?”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “Really. And you know what? I bet your mom would be so proud of you if she could see you now.”

A single tear slips down Chloe’s cheek, and she brushes it away with the back of her hand. “I miss her,” she says, her voice barely audible over the chatter of the other kids.

“I know,” I say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “And it’s okay to miss her. But she’ll always bewith you, Chloe. In here.” I tap my finger against my chest, right over my heart.

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