Violet
– Out of my Comfort Zone
I wonder what it's like to be a super hero
I wonder where I'd go if I could fly around downtown
From some other planet, I get this funky high on yellow Sun
Boy I bet my friends will all be...stunned, they're stunned
Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here
If I were someone else, would this all fall apart
Strange, where were you, when we started this gig,
I wish the real world, would just stop hassling me
I wonder where I'd go if I could fly around downtown
From some other planet, I get this funky high on yellow Sun
Boy I bet my friends will all be...stunned, they're stunned
Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here
If I were someone else, would this all fall apart
Strange, where were you, when we started this gig,
I wish the real world, would just stop hassling me
Matchbox
Twenty (Real World)
Last week, Erin and I had performed our collaborative
project for Mr. Zimmerman and the rest of the Music Theory class. I had been about a breath or two away from
upchucking the entire time, but somehow I’d managed to get through it. When it was over, I managed to make it back
to my seat in the auditorium before my legs turned to jell-o completely. Thank goodness that was over!
But my relief was short-lived. After everyone performed, Mr. Z climbed back
onto the stage and addressed us all. “I
am so proud of you today. I really enjoy
this assignment because I never know what gems are going to come from this
project. Now for some of you, this next
announcement may come as no surprise: this year, I have three spots to fill in
the Senior Showcase.”
This news sent a buzz around the auditorium. Senior Showcase is a big deal. All of the choirs and bands perform, as well
as those that have been deemed worthy of a solo selection. I’d completely forgotten all about this with
all of the other senior events that had happened over the last month.
“We’re a shoo-in for this.” Erin leaned over and whispered in my
ear.
I gulped and rolled my eyes at him. “I sure hope not. I really can’t do that again.”
Mr. Zimmerman waited for the noise to die down. “Would you like to know who’s performing next
Friday night?” Our class responded by
clapping and hooting an affirmative reply.
“All of you should be very proud of your efforts, but as
in the Olympics, only three take home a prize.
And the winners are, in no particular order…
Shawn
McKee and Kelly Walters
Leanne
Bradford and Kayla Telega
Erin
Taylor and Violet Mitchell.”
Mr. Z kept talking, but I didn’t hear a word he
said. I was seasick in the worst
way. Erin hugged me around my shoulder
and said something in my ear, but I don’t remember what he said either. I kept hoping that the ground would open up
and swallow me. About then, the bell
rang, and everyone scurried to get to their next class – everyone except
me.
Mr. Z noticed me sitting there and came over to me. “Violet, are you okay?”
“Not really,” I managed to confess. “I’m not really big on performing by
myself. Can I take a pass on this? It’s not part of my grade, is it?”
He sat down next to me.
“No, Violet, it doesn’t affect your grade. Being asked to perform in Senior Showcase is
an honor, not a punishment. You sing
with the choir all the time. It’s
practically the same thing.”
“Not in my estimation.
In the choir, I am one of 60 people in a uniform robe; no one is looking
at me.”
Mr. Z nodded his head.
“I see.”
“I love to sing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not a
performer. I don’t want everyone looking
at me.”
He considered this.
“Well I picked you and Erin because I think your song is special, maybe
even great. I’d really like to see you
take on this challenge, Violet. I think
you’ll look back on this later and regret it if you don’t. Today is Wednesday. Showcase is next Friday. I need to know by Monday if I need to find a
replacement for your act.”
“Can’t Erin just get a replacement for me? I can think of at least four or five girls
that would willingly take my place.”
“No, Violet. This
is your song; you wrote it. It would be
dishonest, not to mention counterproductive to let someone else take ownership
of it for Senior Showcase.” Mr. Z was
firm. “You’ll have to let Erin know that
neither of you will be performing then.
I want you to think about this.
Let me know your answer on Monday.”
He scribbled on a notepad and handed me a tardy pass for English. “Now get to your next class.”
Later on, after I tried to distract myself with a round
of naked games with Daniel, I mentioned my dilemma. He did not help in the slightest. “Violet, you have to do it. Erin practically accosted me in the hallway
right after he found out about this. He
was almost as excited as when he got to meet Faith Hill at Fan Fare last
summer. He will never forgive you if you
deny him this chance to shine. You know
how much he loves the spotlight.”
“About as much as I don’t. I barely made it through a performance in
front of our class; I am not going to be able to get up in front of the whole
school, parents and teachers. Your
mother will already be throwing eye daggers at me from the audience.” I sat up and grabbed my shirt off of the bed
post. “I can’t do it.” I turned back around and faced him. “Will you tell him?”
“Not a chance, babe.
There is no way I am delivering that news, no matter how much sex we
have. You are on your own!”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” I sighed.
“I cannot win here.” I stood up
to collect my jeans.
Daniel grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back onto the
bed. He kissed me relentlessly until I
was almost dizzy. “Maybe I can get you
to reconsider.”
“I doubt it, but I’d like to see you try to persuade me.”
“I thought that’s what I was working on.” His lips moved down to my neck and I started
to melt.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I managed to whisper. I already knew that I was going to lose this
battle, but it was fun to let Daniel think he had any kind of influence over my
decision.
I never did say anything to Erin; his childlike
excitement was too much for me to take and I couldn’t crush him like that by telling
him no. So on Monday after class I let
Mr. Zimmerman know that we would be performing as planned. I tried to put it out of my mind as much as
possible, but Erin insisted on us rehearsing a few times in the auditorium
after school that week, so it was hard not to dwell on the inevitable. I was completely confident when it was just
the two of us rehearsing, but I knew that things would not go so well once I
was staring at an audience.
The one thing that did diminish my anxiety was the fact
that my older sister Morgan had come home for a visit. She was eight years older than me, and I
completely adored her! She had gone out
to Los Angeles right after college, and she rarely made an appearance at home –
wherever my dad was currently stationed.
She led a pretty glamorous life as far as I was
concerned. She worked for an advertising
agency that placed products in the movies.
So when you see Julia Roberts drinking a Pepsi or Matthew McConaughey
driving a Mustang that is my sister doing her job. Morgan started out as a junior account
executive four years ago and has quickly moved up the ranks to Senior
Buyer. Her remarkable rapport with
clients has impressed her bosses, and she is on the fast track to a corner office
with a view. This also meant that she
worked 60 – 70 weeks sometimes, so she earned every vacation day they gave her.
I filled her in on my situation with the Senior Showcase
as we were driving to pick up a bucket of KFC for dinner on Wednesday night.
“It sounds like you have some stage fright issues.” Morgan was attempting to be pragmatic, but I
wasn’t biting.
“Then how can I get up and sing with the choir and not
feel nervous? It’s the same audience,
but somehow I can’t convince myself of that.”
“Well you could always take something so that you will
relax.”
“Morgan! I’m
shocked! How can you suggest that I take
drugs?” I stared at her in open-mouth
horror.
She laughed. “I
just meant like taking a half of a Benadryl to take the edge off of your
nerves. I know if you take a whole one,
you’ll be napping on the stage by the first chorus.”
“Oh. I’ll think
about that. It might not be a terrible
idea. I just can’t disappoint Erin; he’s
been like a kid in a candy store all week.”
I really had never seen him this giddy over anything, which did not help
my anxiety level at all.
“So Erin’s your boyfriend, right?”
I made a face.
“No, Morgan. Daniel is my
boyfriend. Erin is his best friend;
we’re in class together.”
“I’m sorry, Violet.
I’m having trouble keeping everyone straight.”
“That’s okay. I
know it’s hard to keep track of everyone.
I’m just so glad you’re home.
That will make me feel better as I head to my execution.”
Morgan cackled.
“Oh Violet! You are so
dramatic! You really should be up there
on stage putting on this performance!”
She gripped my hand. “It will be
fine. You’ll see. I’ll help you pick out something fabulous to
wear.”
“Okay, Morgan. You
win. Let’s talk about something else now
– anything else.”
Friday night came despite my desperate wish that for once
we could go straight from Thursday to Saturday.
At about 6:30, I found myself sitting in the auditorium, Benadryl in one
hand, barf bag in the other (well not literally, but it might have been helpful). Daniel was holding my other hand and making
lame attempts at making me feel better.
“Calm down, Violet.
Your song is great. Everyone is
going to love it.”
“Is it over yet?
Can we go home now? I feel
nauseous.”
“Well at least you’re sitting on the end of the
aisle.” Daniel quipped.
“Very funny, Daniel.”
I snapped. “I really need your
wise guy antics right about now.”
“Relax. Take some
deep breaths. Hey, there’s Mr.
Taylor. He looks lost. You should go over and ask him to sit with
us.”
“I can’t feel my legs.
Are they still attached?”
“Okay, then I guess we’ll just sit here.” Daniel waved at Erin’s dad, and he headed in
our direction. “Hey Mr. Taylor! Glad you made it! Do you want to sit with us?” He placed his hand to the side of his mouth
and stage whispered. “Violet’s a little
nervous.”
Mr. Taylor smiled and placed his hand on my
shoulder. “Erin’s played your song for
me. You really don’t have anything to be
nervous about.”
I smiled weakly and looked at him. “Thanks Mr. Taylor. I’m glad you could come tonight.”
“Oh I wouldn’t have missed it. Erin’s been bouncing off the walls at home
all week. Are you two going to come back
to the house to celebrate? I think I
bought enough snacks and drinks for the entire senior class.”
Daniel nodded. “We
sure are! Thanks so much for hosting the
wrap party!”
“My pleasure, of course!
I just came over to say hi and tell you ‘break a leg.’ I left my date back a few rows, so I’m going
to sit with her. See you both later!”
The lights flickered, indicating that people should take
their seats. The sounds of musicians
tuning their instruments could be heard from behind the stage curtain. The
lights dimmed and a single spotlight followed Mr. Zimmerman as he stepped to
the center of the stage.
“Good evening everyone and welcome to Senior
Showcase. We have a great show for you
this evening. All of the classes in the
music and drama departments have put together special pieces this evening to
showcase…our seniors, of course. For the
past four years, these students have honed their creative crafts. What you are about to see this evening is a
culmination of their extraordinary efforts.
I am particularly proud of this class and have relished watching them
develop their talents. Sit back and enjoy
the ride. I now present the graduating class
of 2002.”
The curtain opened as Mr. Zimmerman walked to the side of
the stage. The senior members of the
orchestra sat poised and ready to begin.
The director lifted his baton and every bow rose up to their strings in
anticipation. I swallowed my Benadryl and
prayed for an earthquake or at the very least a tornado drill. After the orchestra finished, I found my legs
and headed back to put on my choir robe.
Morgan grabbed my hand and squeezed it as I passed by, and that did make
me feel slightly better.
Counting Erin and me, fourteen of us were graduating from
choir this year, and we had become quite close over the course of our
performances, showcases and competitions.
I would have to say that my favorite event by far had been our trip to Washington
DC last year, where we sang Christmas carols at the White House. This would be our last time performing
together, and I was saddened to see this coming to an end.
Once we assembled on the risers, the curtain opened. We sang a medley of our best numbers from the
last school year while Mr. Zimmerman directed us. It was only then that I realized that from
where I was standing under the spotlights, I could barely make out the
audience, let alone anyone in particular.
As I breezed through our songs on autopilot, I it slowly dawned on me that
the solution to my stage fright dilemma was simpler than I had originally
thought.
As we exited off stage left, I grabbed a hold of Nathan
Murphy, who was working stage crew duties for the evening. “Nathan, I need your help. Can you get a message to whoever is working
the spots in the booth?”
“Sure, Violet!
We’ve got a walkie talkie back here if we need it. What’s going on?”
“Good. I need you
to tell them to turn the spots up on Erin and me as high as they will go once
we hit our marks on the stage. Can you
do that? It’s really important.” I smiled my sweetest smile at him in the half
darkness.
“You got it! I’ll
let them know right now. Break a leg out
there!”
“Thanks! Gotta
run!” I hustled off to shed my choir
robe and make sure that my lipstick wasn’t stuck to my teeth.
Erin met me back in the choir room. He was just strapping his guitar over his
shoulder as I peeled off my robe. He
stopped and stared. “Wow! You look fantastic, Violet!”
Morgan had managed to find a deep magenta dress for me
that hugged my womanly assets and managed to cover up my least favorite parts
all at the same time. She had helped me
with my hair and makeup, and I felt pretty good about what I saw in the mirror
when she had finished her project. I
blushed at his compliment. “Thank you,
Erin.” I was just about to compliment
him in return, but he interrupted me.
“I know you don’t really want to go out there, but it
means a lot to me that you’re doing this anyway. Thank you.
You’re a real friend, and I’m glad we’ve gotten to hang out together
this year. I’m not just saying that.”
“Me too. I mean
‘thank you’ again.” I fumbled over my
words. “I’m sorry. I’m a little anxious. Can we talk later?”
“Sure.” He flashed
his mega-watt smile at me. “Let’s go
knock ‘em dead.”
When I had looked at the program earlier, I noticed that
we were listed last to perform. Nothing
like the pressure of closing the showcase; I hoped my message got to the booth
in the sky. Shawn McKee and Kelly
Walters passed us in the wings and I knew it was now our never.
The stage was set with two microphones. Erin had decided to go with his acoustic
guitar instead of plugging in so that the lyrics would be the focal point of
the song. Erin had asked me if I wanted
to say anything before we sang, and I bluntly told him that would be a stupid
idea. We stepped to the center of the
stage, and the spotlights found us at our marks. I was blissfully blinded.
Erin began to speak.
“I am standing here today because a dog ran out in front of my car. I know that sounds ridiculous, and won’t make
sense to most of you, but it’s the truth.
Violet Mitchell wrote this song.
All I did was add a few guitar chords to it. It touched my heart when I read it for the
first time, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed working with
Violet on this project. This song is called 'Our Dance'.”
He started to strum his guitar, and I tried to remember
to breathe. I closed my eyes and focused
on the rhythm of the music. Then we
began to sing:
Erin:
I can still hear your voice
From across a crowded room
Every time I hear this tune
It makes me think of you
I can still see your face
Yet it’s only in my mind
I can still hear you laughin’
And feel the warmth of your embrace
Me:
We spent all our time together
Dreaming how our lives would be
Better than the struggles today
We would be happy and free
There’s so much I remember
Of how it used to be
But I never got to say goodbye
When you walked out on me.
Both:
I wonder how you are
If your dreams have all come true
I would be so much happier
If I could share my life with you
I don’t regret the time we shared
It meant so much to me
But I’d like to dance with you once more
And not just in my memory.
Erin:
You sent all the signals
Sold me every line
But every other lover
Kept me off your mind
Me:
Those three words you never said
I had to walk away
I couldn’t wait forever
For you to get out of your way.
Both:
I wonder how you are
If your dreams have all come true
I would be so much happier
If I could be with you
I don’t regret the time we shared
It meant so much to me
I’d give anything for one more dance
And not just in my memory.[1]
Erin unstrapped his guitar and passed it to Nathan. He grabbed me around the waist, lifted me
into the air, and squeezed me mercilessly.
“We did it, Violet! Did you see
that? I’ve never gotten a standing
ovation before – wow!” He spun me around
while still holding me in the air. (I know
that I am not a small girl, and I have no idea how he managed to do that
without falling over backwards!)
“Yes, that is pretty amazing! You can stop squeezing me any time now.” I laughed, releasing the tension that had
been building up for the past two weeks.
“I am definitely ready to relax and party a little now. How about you?”
He set me back onto solid ground. “Absolutely!
I will see you and Danny back at the house, then? I’ve got to go find Hannah.” He practically skipped down the hall, and I
shook my head in disbelief at how giddy he was.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around to
find Mr. Zimmerman standing there.
“Violet, I don’t know how you managed to turn yourself around from last
week, but I sure am impressed. I have
been getting compliments left and right about your song. It really is something special, you know
that, right?”
I blushed; this was becoming a bad habit. “Thanks, Mr. Z. I’ll let you in on a little secret that I
discovered: if you can’t see the audience, then they don’t exist.” I winked at him.
He smiled.
“Ah. You really are too smart for
your own good, Miss Mitchell. I will see
you in class on Monday.” He turned to
speak with another student, and I clacked down the hall in Morgan’s heels to
find Daniel so we could get to that party.
I was anxious to unwind and let loose.
[1]
“Our Dance” by Amy K. Boyles and M. Dean Saul, 2005
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