Page 42 of Jingl
I’m grateful for the events plaza as our venue because the old theater was stressing me out. It should probably be condemned, but we had to practice somewhere before we could get inside the plaza for costumed rehearsals. Participants include the Frostdale Orchestra, dancers from a few local studios, and several singers, all coming together for a dazzling holiday concert evening. Everyone had to audition and aside from a few hiccups, everything has run pretty smoothly.
“We’ve got a great audience out there just for us. Let’s make this an epic concert they won’t soon forget.” Emily turns to me and winks. They know the plan. Everything is set up and worked perfectly when Emily let me run through without anyone else around. It’s been town tradition that the lead pianist of the Christmas concert gets to showcase one composition and no one ever knows what it will be until that moment in time.
Emily nods and goes through the curtain to introduce the concert while the rest of us line up to file to our spots. I’m last in line and when I hit the stage my nerves melt away. The spotlight currently focused on Emily gives me comfort. We all settle into our seats and wait for our cues.
“Please, sit back, relax and enjoy the show we have for you tonight.” Emily throws their arm out as if to present us as a whole and I start the concert. Muscle memory takes over as I start out with the classic “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”. It’s a fun, faster paced composition that Emily and I agreed on. The orchestra joins in and it’s a beautiful blending of sounds. I shut my eyes and feel it flow through me as I play.
The crowd claps politely, but we’re just getting started and I know as the night progresses, they’ll be more impressed. We have a few difficult pieces, and there’s a few solo singers where the rest of us get to take a break. The entire program is called Home For The Holidays, which I think is aptly named since Trace is home just in time.
I play my heart out, the entire first half of the concert. Every new song or dance making the crowd react with gasps or applause. I’d watched the ballerinas practice with recordings and they’re dazzling. One more song and Emily comes back on stage to give a small speech about donating while they take intermission. The rest of us file out for the ten-minute reprieve. I have to do a costume change—approved by Emily—that no one else knows of. I run to the bathroom and strip from my rented tux and pull on my newest elf costume created just for the concert.
I know everyone thinks I’m over the top, but I don’t care. My tights are white. The sequined red pants stop at my knees. I have a red dress shirt under a sparkling green tux jacket that I made. I topped the look with a red Santa hat and I think I look pretty snazzy. I switched out my usual gym shoes for calf height boots and attached all my little bells to them. I twirl in the mirror on the back of the door when the lights dim, telling me it’s go-time once again.
Rushing from the bathroom, I feel transformed into my elf-self. Jingle has always been more self-assured than me and I know without a doubt Trace will adore my surprise.
I bounce on my toes as I wait for my introduction from Emily.
“As you know, Frostdale has some of the best musicians in the country. We had so many great pianists audition for tonight’s part, but one young man stood out. Some of you know Shae Lloyd as Jingle at the mall.”
A few people giggle and my smile grows.
“Shae, or Jingle, gave the most impressive audition I’ve witnessed in years. While everyone is immensely talented, it’s the youthful joy he shows in all he does. Please put your hands together for our very own Shae Lloyd.”
I shake out my hands and try not to prance to the front of the stage. Emily hands over the microphone and suddenly my nerves act up. The spotlight makes it hard to see into the audience, but I still find Mom and Trace.
People murmur in the audience about my costume change, it’s not traditional, but they seem to love the whimsical look to it.
“I want to thank Emily for taking a chance on me. I’m so grateful to have been chosen as this year’s concert pianist. I remember sitting in those seats and wanting to be up on stage myself. It was just my mom, me, and my best friend, Trace.”
I travel the stage a little, tingles of nerves rolling up my spine as I mull over the words I’d memorized and practiced over the last few weeks. But not all of them feel true any more.
“Trace and I have been best friends our entire lives, starting from the hospital.” A few snorts come from the audience and I smile. “We were born in the same hospital, on the same day, at the same exact time. I’d say that was fate?”
I’m glad the microphone is wireless otherwise I’d play with the cord.
“We lived next door to each other until his family moved away. Then we wrote letters, genuine snail mail letters to each other for eight years.”
Trace is grinning from ear to ear from what I can tell. I have no idea if he knows where I’m going with this, but I hope he enjoys it.
“Just after Thanksgiving, Trace finally moved back home. And in that time, he’s saved me in more ways than one, on more than one occasion. I’ve been working on this piece for five years. But nothing seemed right. I was working at it from a theme of friendship. But that was never going to be right if I wanted to tell our story.” I settle the microphone into the stand and walk calmly to the piano, though my heart pounds so loud in my head I hope the entire audience can’t hear it.
The lights go out. It feels like everyone gasps when the projector comes on and throws stars through the entire room. Silence fills the hall.
My style is joyful and whimsical, and I pour every ounce of my soul into the song. Tears fill my eyes as I play through our lives, from boys to teens to adults in love. Trace is my heart and soul. Life without him would have no meaning.
It feels like time stands still as I play and play. I blink and the tears roll down my cheeks, streaking the glitter, but I don’t care.
I play and play and play.
When finally it’s over.
I pant over the piano, sucking down air, and look right at Trace.
“Can I kiss you?” Trace shouts, causing the audience and me to laugh.
“Yes, please.” I push from the bench and rush to the steps at the side of the stage to meet Trace. He’s already climbing them and scoops me in his arms to swing me around the stage before he plants me back on my feet.
“Was that okay?” I ask, tears still falling as I look up to him.
