You've Reached Sam(66)

Taking in deep breaths and tugging at his collar, trying to stay calm. And suddenly I’m there, too, holding his hand, saying, “It’s gonna be okay, Sam.

Just breathe.”

“Maybe we should leave,” he says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have to go out there soon.”

“But I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can. Why are you so nervous?”

Silverware crashes into trays around us. We are standing behind a curtain that separates the kitchen area from a ballroom full of guests. Sam was hired to perform at his friend Spencer’s cousin’s wedding in the spring of junior year. They gave Sam a list of songs they wanted him to sing, and he’s been practicing for weeks. It’s his first paid gig, and I’m not letting him back out.

“I don’t know anybody out there,” he says.

“You know Spencer. And me. I’m here. ”

Sam tugs at his collar again, so I help loosen the knot of his bow tie, letting him breathe easier. The first bead of sweat appears on his forehead. I move his hair out of his face.

“What if no one likes it?” He keeps looking around.

“Of course they will. Why else would they have hired you? You’re going to do great out there.”

“We didn’t even have a real sound check…”

“You’ve practiced this a million times. You’re going to do great.”

Someone with a headset peeks behind the curtain and gives us a thumbs-up. “Let’s go, kid.”

I squeeze Sam’s hand. “Good luck. I’ll be right here.”

Once he’s out there, I peek through the curtain. There is a hardwood dance floor beneath a chandelier, surrounded by silk-lined tables, each crowded with wedding guests. Connected to the dance floor is a stage where the band is set up. Sam appears from the side of the stage, looking nervous. When he steps up to the microphone, and awkwardly adjusts the stand, I hold my breath.

The lights dim, leaving only the stage as everyone goes quiet, turning their chairs to watch. And then the music starts …

A live piano fills the ballroom, playing a familiar tune. It takes me a second to recognize it. “Your Song” by Elton John. Sam knows the words like the back of his hand. He’s practiced it a hundred times. It’s a great choice to start with, perfect for his range.

But then Sam opens his mouth to sing, and there’s a tremble in his voice. His hand grips the microphone, as if he’s keeping himself steady, while the piano tries to follow him.

There’s something off. He’s not singing in time with the music. It’s like he’s a step or two behind. The crowd is noticing this, too. People are looking around, whispering at the tables, wondering what’s wrong. This only makes Sam more nervous. When his trembling turns into stuttering, and he starts skipping words, my chest tightens. I can’t bear to watch this happen. I wish there was a way to save him. I wish I could move the attention away before this gets worse. Don’t just stand here. Do something, Julie!

So I take off my heels, and step through the curtain. At one of the tables in the middle of the room, Spencer is sitting beside his brothers. I make my way over and grab his hand.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Come with me.”

“Huh—”

I pull Spencer out of his chair, leading him onto the empty dance floor as everyone turns to look.

“Uh, what are we doing?!”

“Dancing! Just go with it!”

“Oh my god.”

My heart is pounding as I place a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as we get into position and begin what we hope is a waltz. We have no clue what we’re doing or how we look. But everyone is watching us. I don’t make eye contact with Sam as we begin our dance. I’m afraid it could make him more nervous. Instead, I lift Spencer’s arm and make him twirl me around him to the rhythm of the music.

Our dance is going more smoothly than I expected. At one point in the song, Spencer puts his arms behind my back and dips me, making the tables around us cheer. I don’t know if it’s the piano, Sam’s voice, the burst of adrenaline, or the attention of the room, but we suddenly get into this. The lifts, the turns, and our spins across the room come almost naturally as we continue our dance. Maybe we’re actually good at this. Or maybe it’s all in my head, and to everyone else watching, we look ridiculous. But it doesn’t matter. Because I look over at Sam and see him smiling for the first time.

His face is glowing in the spotlight as he steps down the center of the stage —as far as his microphone cord allows him—and extends a hand to us as he hits the chorus with a newfound confidence.

I look back to him from across the dance floor as the drums come in, followed by the guitar, and we feel a spark move between us. A crowd of people has formed around the edge of the dance floor. Eventually, a few of them step in and start dancing, too, pulling in others with them. Sam and I look at each other again. Because we did this. His voice and my dance with Spencer changed the energy of the room.

When the music begins to fade, I feel the song about to end. I lift my hands one last time and go spinning across the dance floor, as lights swirl around me until the room suddenly vanishes, and I fall straight into Sam’s arms, throwing us off the edge of the dock as we go crashing into ice-cold water.