Somewhere Only We Know(72)

God, I could barely breathe. I actually clutched my chest, taking a handful of sweatshirt into my fist.

The stage was dark, and then suddenly, there she was.

Standing under a single spotlight. Wearing those silver boots that stretched up her long legs. Tiny shorts. Some sort of sparkly jacket that hung over her frame. Her head was tilted down, a curtain of pink hair artfully messy and covering her face. The hand holding her microphone was weighed down with shiny, chunky rings.

She already felt so far away.

The music started up for “Heartbeat,” but she didn’t move. Okay, maybe this was part of the act. But it kept going and there was a palpable sense of unease in the air. I chewed my lip nervously. What was happening?

With the music still going, she slipped off her jacket and it fell to the floor. The audience cheered.

Something was weird about this.

Then she pulled off the rings, one by one, and they fell with punctuated thuds on the floor. The music kept playing, in a loop, confusion lacing everything.

Her face still covered by her hair, she placed the mic on the floor, stayed bent over, and unzipped her left boot.

Took it off and tossed it aside. Unzipped the other one.

Only when she was barefoot and holding the mic again did she look up and toss the pink wig off. The audience gasped.

She looked directly into the camera with her hair pulled back in a low bun. Her eyes were sparkling, her smile huge.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Stop the music,” she said into the mic. Her voice was commanding but calm. Confused cheering and exclamations came from the audience. She held up her index finger to her mouth with a wink. Shushing them. Only wearing a pair of black shorts and a plain white tank top.

She started singing. Without accompaniment. Only that shimmering voice of hers, as clear and beautiful as a bell. Equal parts fragile and delicate, and then a sudden powerhouse when she really let it out. When she sang so hard that her voice cracked with emotion, her body swayed in subtle but beautiful movements. An arm lifted here, a leg sweeping around her there. It was like a ballet performance and torch ballad wrapped up into something so unique and special that you wanted to weep with the privilege of witnessing it.

It took a few transfixed seconds for me to realize what she was singing. “Heartbeat.” But so totally deconstructed and slowed down that it was an entirely new song. Her eyes fluttered closed at one particularly low, throaty moment. Then she whispered, “Music.”

The background music kicked in, thumping and loud, and her eyes snapped open. She stared directly into the camera, clear-eyed and sure.

Into me, into my eyes.

Much too suddenly, she winked and whipped her head around, pulling her hair out of the bun and shaking it out. Then she launched into her signature dance for “Heartbeat.” Familiarity settled into her moves, but even in this, she was different. Looser limbed, more playful. Her iciness and cyborg-perfection were gone—in their place was a kind of joy and warmth that made me want to throw myself into the screen.

To witness it firsthand. To share her air, again.

She made silly faces at the camera, smoldered, acknowledged crowd chants and cheers with nods and winks. She enjoyed every second of it.

Then it was over. The applause and chanting was so thunderous that she started laughing, covering her mouth with her hands, bending at the waist.

I was so proud of her. Prouder than I’d ever been for anyone. There she was, continuing to live her dreams even when it was hard. Even when she wanted to give up. Taking risks to make it work for her. Because she had changed.

What would happen after this bold move of hers? Was it sanctioned by her label? I couldn’t imagine it was. The statement was so obvious, so clear: I am doing this on my own terms.

I thought it was over, that I would have to see the screen cut to another offensive commercial. But James waved Lucky over to the couch.

She hopped over nimbly, completely at ease. When they both settled into their seats, the crowd was still cheering. Lucky was resplendent in the glow of it. She couldn’t stop smiling, her teeth so white, her eyes so sparkling. I wanted to reach out and feel it all.

“Wow. Lucky, wow! What was that?” James exclaimed. “Welcome to K-pop, America!”

The crowd cheered and Lucky laughed, pushing her hair back from her face. A gesture that was so familiar to me now, I ached to see it. “K-pop’s been here, James,” she said. Another roar from the crowd.

He had the grace to look chagrined. “True, true. But you also brought out something else—I mean, wow. Everyone’s going to know you by tomorrow.”

She flushed but dropped her eyes modestly. “Thank you. It felt good,” she said.

“You looked good, girl!” he said with cartoonish movements of his body. Everyone cheered again. “So, what’s your deal? You come on the heels of your Asia tour, correct?”

She nodded, bringing her hands together in her lap. I could see her wringing them slightly. I could see everything. The world was a blur, but she was crystallized into something sharp and shining. “Yeah, finished a couple days ago.”

“What was that like? Crazy, I bet?”

Lucky smiled. “That’s an understatement. I visited fifteen cities in two months.” The crowd made a “wowwww” kind of noise, impressed and reverent.

James raised his eyebrows. “Wow is right. What was your last stop?”