Arranged For Me

Six: G

Audrey

As soon as Micheal’s mother starts singing, I am filled with chills. I have never heard such a heartwarming voice. She sings so peacefully. She has the kind of voice that could silence a storm. It was strong, but elegant. The kind of voice people would pay millions to hear.

It is filled with so much emotion. So much meaning. It has everyone in the church clapping loudly, standing and some even shouting. Despite all of the noise, she stands still with a small smile on her face with a voice so powerful.

She sings, ‘Be Still’ by Kristene DiMarco. It was one of our favorite songs to hear as children. All of our church friends would gather around to hear this song. It often puts us to sleep. When we awoke, we would beg her to sing it again. We also tried to convince her to become a professional singer, but no matter what, she always said no. She said she didn’t fit into that kind of world. That she was made to stay at the church.

One day, she stopped showing up, though. And some time after that, I stopped seeing her at all. I was only nine at the time, so I believed all the lies they told us about where she had gone. Micheal’s father told him she went to start a business. His aunt's told him she went on vacation and everyone else came up with other stories that didn’t even make sense. They all told him she would return soon. But she didn’t. Instead, she returned six years later.

I bring my attention back to this moment. When she starts Micheal’s favorite part of the song, I glance at him. My eyes do a double-take. He sits with his hands in his pants pockets. His head is down a bit and a tear is falling down his cheek. Yes. A tear. A tear I’m sure is filled with so much hurt, anger and sadness he doesn’t know what to do. Another one falls as his eyes shut, and he lifts his head and rests it on the seat.

When she grows louder, he opens his eyes and wipes them. He stands up abruptly and before I have a chance to call out his name, he walks out of the church. The doors close behind him loudly. The music stops. His mother stops. Everyone stops. Eyes land on me, staring in confusion.

I smile awkwardly and stand up. I clap. “Ms. Collins, that was beautiful!” I say to break this awkward moment. It does nothing.

I sigh and grab my bag. “I’ll go after him now.” I mutter and rush to the door. I wave a goodbye to everyone before exiting the building.

When I step outside, I glance around at the many cars. After a few seconds, I finally spot Micheal. He stands, leaning against his car. I place my bag over my shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief that he hasn’t already left. Striding towards him, I try to conjure up what I am going to say. He looks up from the ground as I reach him.

My eyes dart to the lighter in his hand. I lean against the car next to him and sigh. “Micheal, smoking is not going to eliminate all of your problems.”

He removes a cigar from his pocket. “Seems to be working fine to me.”

I step away from the car and fold my arm. I glare at him. “You need to talk about it.”

He faces me, matching my expression. “That’s the fucking problem! Why am I always the one doing the talking? Why doesn’t anyone ever have to explain shit to me?’’ he says and tosses the cigar on the ground angrily. Micheal walks to the driver's seat and opens the door. I follow him to the passenger seat. After closing the door, I try to remain calm.

“Micheal, stop raising your voice at me, please.”

His jaw clenches. “I want answers, Carina. My mom won’t give me an answer to why she left. You won’t give me an answer.” He says, lowering his voice and I can tell he is genuinely trying hard to not raise his voice. “For fuck’s sakes, baby, what the hell did I do so wrong to you?”