Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 42: Polaroids + Postcards

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

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A crinkled scrap of paper stayed folded in my back pocket, patiently waiting to be removed for tweaks to its contents yet again. The words on the page just kept flowing and the melody ran so seamlessly, I nearly forgot that I was backstage at the biggest talent-seeking event of the year! Thousands of people showed up to participate and thousands more showed up to watch the event from the comfort of the audience seating.

There were four primary judges, all from different musical backgrounds, but the crowd was full of other big-shot producers, recording experts, and even publicity teams who were on the hunt for new, fresh talent.

And there I was, piecing together my performance minutes before I was scheduled to go on.

What an idiot... I thought. You should've stayed behind. This is going to be the end of your musical career, and it hasn't even started yet.

I clutched my guitar close to me, finding comfort in the feeling of its weight being pressed close to my body. My shoulder throbbed mercilessly whenever I moved it in slightly the wrong way, but I did my best to muscle through the pain. My breathing was shaky, but I steadied myself by thinking of everyone waiting for me back at the hospital. I mostly thought of Della, but the thought of my family essentially adopting her and Derrick was actually what brought me the deepest sense of calm.

"Number 182!" one of the staff members called.

They had been herding us like sheep, ripe for the slaughter.

A nearby teenager, dressed to the nines in knock-off Gucci, leapt to her feet and dashed toward the staff member for her turn to 'wow the judges,' as everyone kept saying.

I clutched my guitar even closer than before and let out a shuddering breath.

I was number 183...

My brain instantly started running into overdrive. I forgot the words to my song. I mentally mixed up the chords. My hands shook. I couldn't do my new song—not yet. I wasn't ready. But what other song could I do?

"Number 183!" the staff member called.

My blood ran cold. I stiffly shuffled over to the guy who was waiting on me and listened to him briefly run over my instructions.

I was supposed to wait until the person before me had exited the stage completely, then I would walk out and hook up my guitar, next I would introduce myself and my song, and finally I would perform and go from there.

I barely heard him.

I wondered what Della was doing. Was she still awake, or had she decided to take a nap? Was Derrick talking to her right now about possibly getting the treatment she needed? Was she thinking about me too?

I was awakened by the sound of applause as the musician before me exited the stage. That was when I snapped out of it.

I held my head up high and strolled onto the stage with the confidence that I only ever felt on stage. I seamlessly hooked up my guitar to the amps, turned to the judges, and offered my most charming smile. "Hey."

"Hello!" one of the female judges called back, waving flirtily at me. "What's your name, darling?"

"I'm Jason Lovett."

"And where are you from, Jason?" a tough-looking male judge asked, sizing me up.

"New York." I grinned at the murmur that rose from the crowd at that comment.