Sing For Me (4 page)

She kept expecting him to walk over, but he didn’t.

“Okay,” he finally said, then turned and strode away.

Chloe blinked. She wasn’t sure how she should react, but she couldn’t believe Christopher would walk away from her after what just happened.

She sighed, turned around, and closed the door behind her.

Hanging up her wet towel, Chloe went over and sat on her bed. She still didn’t know how to process what had just happened with Christopher.

He claimed he hadn’t seen her letters. Even if he did miss them, she clearly wasn’t important enough for him to take the initiative to contact her. Josh had been in touch with her all these years, so Christopher could’ve easily gotten whatever information he wanted from him.

But he didn’t.

Yet when Frank came around, Christopher stepped in to protect her as he did when they were young.

Her chest rose as she took a deep breath.

She didn’t want to think about it anymore; she didn’t want to think about him.

Frank was off her front porch, and she was leaving in the morning. None of this mattered anymore.

She turned her attention to her old room.
 
The outside of the house looked exactly the same, but her room was completely different.

Her white veneer wooden bed frame, wardrobe, and chest of drawers had all been replaced. A larger dark brown wardrobe and bed frame now occupied the room.

The things in her room, if they weren’t packed and sent to London, had all been discarded.

She couldn’t be sure if her things were still in London either. She hadn’t stepped into that house for years, not since her mother threw her out.

She tried to think of one good memory of this house. It shouldn’t be difficult, but it was.

Shaking her head, she remembered what Amy had said, so she got up and trotted down the stairs to the basement.

The moment the basement came into view, a corner of her lips hooked into a wry smile. She made her way toward the only thing in the basement, the brown box with the words ‘Chloe’s trophies’ written across one of the sides.

“I knew it.”

When she got to London, she noticed that the trophies she had won for her songwriting and piano competitions were missing. She had asked her parents about them, and they blamed the shipping company for losing the box.

She knew in her heart that they were lying.

She had always suspected that her mother didn’t bother to pack them. She knew how angry her mother was with her when they were moving to London.

It wasn’t her fault that they had to move, but somehow it was.

Her mother had moved everything necessary and sold whatever she didn’t want. She probably would have tried selling these trophies if they were worth anything.

She remembered her mother going through her things when they were packing, then when they got to London, some of her things had disappeared. They were mainly things that her father had bought for her on his frequent business trips.

She’d asked her mother about them as well, only to receive a curt reply about how obsessed she was with herself.

She couldn’t understand why her mother refused to send these trophies over to London.

She could be wrong, of course. Maybe her mother wasn’t trying to punish her; maybe it was an honest mistake.

She sat on the uneven concrete floor, next to the box chucked in a corner. She pulled the box in front of her and swiped away the thin layer of dust on top of it.

The box wasn’t sealed, so she’d expected to see tarnished, rusting trophies. Instead, besides the slight tarnish on a few of them, they looked almost brand new.

She smiled, realizing Amy must have been looking after them for her.

If her mother thought hiding the trophies was a way to punish her, she was wrong.

Chloe never cared much about the trophies. She felt great that she’d won first place in several piano competitions, but the trophies were also reminders of how her parents were never there for any of her competitions.

Her father would always promise to attend, but he never showed up. Sometimes he would give her some lame excuses about meetings or traffic jams; most of the time, he would just pretend as if nothing happened.

Amy always volunteered to take her to the competitions, and Josh and Christopher would always tag along.

Christopher was the strong, silent type. Knowing he was in the audience always calmed her nerves, allowing her to do her best.

Josh was always the loudest cheerleader. He didn’t care if the rest of the people in the audience would stare at him or send strange glances his way. He would jump up, clapping, shouting, and whistling whenever she won anything.

Amy would always have her camera ready to snap shots of her on stage.

During those moments, it always seemed all right that her parents didn’t bother to turn up.
 

When she got back home, she would place the trophy on the shelf, and that was it. There would be nothing but silence from her parents.

She didn’t dare talk about her competitions either, for that would only lead to a lecture on her neediness, what a horrible quality that was, and how selfish she was to only think about herself.

What she’d always found most ridiculous was that despite their unwillingness to show up during the competitions, they seemed determined to sign her up for all the competitions available. If she were to even hint at how tiring it was to practice all those pieces, another lecture on selfishness and ungratefulness would follow.

Perhaps that was the purpose, for her to be practicing all the time so she wouldn’t have time to bother them.

She picked up one of the trophies and smiled even as tears fell from her eyes.

She brushed the tears off the back of her hand and set the trophy down on the dusty floor.

She had just taken five trophies out of the box when the doorbell rang. She headed up while wiping the remnants of her tears on her sleeves.

Before opening the door, she took a deep breath.

“Welcome home!” Josh opened his arms for a hug, then froze and frowned. “Are you all right?”

“You.” She jabbed her index finger into Josh’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday to me,” Josh sang his words as he walked in and settled on the couch.

She folded her arms across her chest. “You asked me to come back for your birthday party. I don’t see a party.”

“I’m going camping. You can come along. You’re always saying how the colors in nature are soothing.”

She glared at him.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” He put his legs up on the coffee table. “I heard about what happened with Frank. Do you want me to stay?”

She shook her head. “He’d scrambled off the porch the moment he regained consciousness. I’m sure word has spread that your brother knocked him out. He’ll be too embarrassed to come back here.”

He nodded, his head rocking in a steady rhythm for a couple of seconds. “Have you been by the river?”

“How do you know about the house?”

“He’s my older brother. I used to follow him around all the time.”

“So you used to stalk him?”

He shrugged. “The two of you, actually. Since you guys were together all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Coffee?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s food here.”

She slumped onto the seat next to him.

“I can buy some groceries for you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“What?” Josh straightened, and the fleeting seriousness evident on his face when he asked if she was all right returned.

“There is no party.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you even get me back here anyway? I hate this place.”

“No you don’t; you just hate your parents.”

“That’s such a grown-up thing to say.”

“Your parents
are
horrible people,” he said.

“Why did you get me back here, Josh? Did you just want me to see the house by the river? Was that it?” Well, she’d seen it, but it didn’t clear anything up.

“Have you seen the video?” Josh asked, his voice turning dark purple.

Chloe looked at him. The solemness in his tone and expression was startling, and it suddenly dawned on her that Josh was no longer just Christopher’s goofy younger brother.

“Have you?”

“We’re all grown up now,” she said and leaned back against the couch.

“Chloe.”

“What video?”

Josh pulled out his cell phone and tapped away on it.

She looked up at the ceiling.

It was time to let go. It didn’t matter how her parents treated her; it didn’t matter that Christopher had forgotten about her once he got famous. She shouldn’t have expected him to remember her in the first place.

They were all grown-ups now. She had to stop allowing herself to dwell in the past.

“Here.” Josh pushed the phone toward her.

She took the phone and watched the two-minute video of a rather drunk Christopher forgetting what a tune was. He didn’t just mess up the tune to his song; he wasn’t even singing. He was making noise. Even the colors coming out of him were all wrong, nothing like the color she associated him with.

“What happened? Did someone drug him?”

Josh laughed. “Your mind works in the funniest way.”

She shot him another glare.

“He’s an alcoholic.”

She started shaking her head, but the gravity of the situation was obvious on Josh’s face. “How long has he been an alcoholic?”

“He started drinking around a year after winning the competition. I didn’t think it was that bad until last year. He hid it rather well.”

“Then what’s this?”

“This happened last month.” Josh took back the phone from her and placed it on the coffee table. “The company forced him into rehab, and he checked himself out last week.”

“He didn’t look drunk to me. He looked homeless, but not drunk.”

“I don’t think he’s been drinking, not since rehab at least. But it may be too late. His record label is dropping him.”

“Why? If he’s stopped drinking, it shouldn’t matter. I mean, how many stars are—”

“He lost his voice.”

She looked to the side where a gloomy grayish-purple cloud just passed her. Lost his voice?

“What do you mean, he lost his voice?” She had just spoken to Christopher a while ago, and he was speaking the way he usually did. “I know his stuttering seemed to have gotten worse, but his stuttering never affected his singing.”

It was something as strange as her condition. He stuttered whenever he spoke, but never when he was singing.

She still remembered the first time she heard him sing. She couldn’t believe that was his voice. The glowing yellow that was close to gold burst into glitter-like powder upon her touch, then gently wafted down the length of her hand, coating it.

There wasn’t an actual sensation, but that was how the color behaved.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel his voice wrapping itself around her, sinking right into her heart. She imagined that was how his singing voice affected everyone, which probably explained why everyone, even the other judges with their own team of singers, wanted him to win.

“His stuttering has gotten worse, but it isn’t about that. He hasn’t been able to sing. You saw the video; that’s how he’s singing now—if you call that singing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way—”

“You have to stay. You can get his voice back, I know you can.”

She pursed her lips, and her head tipped to the side.

“Don’t look at me like a silly fan fantasizing over the impossible. I know him, and I know you. I know you can get him to sing again.”

“I’m not God, Josh.”

“I know, but I just know you can do it.”

“He doesn’t need me. He needs someone to believe in him.”

“Right, and you do.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you don’t?”

“I do,” Josh said. “But you’re the one he needs.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know. But if you stay, I know he’ll be fine.”

She shook her head and stood. “Do you hear yourself? What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you still pissed off with him? Is that why you don’t want to stay?” Josh shot her a glare. “Seriously, it’s been eight years. Both of you need to get over it. You guys have been friends, best friends, since you’ve known each other. Is it really that important for both of you to hold on to whatever made you guys stop talking to each other?”

Chloe blinked. She couldn’t believe she was receiving a lecture from Josh.

“Just promise you’ll stay. That’s what I want for my birthday present.”

“Seriously? You dare to use that excuse one more time—”

“Please, Chlo, I’m begging you.”

She sighed and tipped her head back. “I don’t know why—”

“Chlo, please.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll stay.” She raised her index finger. “But please don’t think anything special will happen just because I stay.”

Josh got up and pulled her into a hug that lifted her feet off the floor.

“Josh.”

“Thanks.” He set her down and grinned. “You’re the best.”

“I’m not getting you any birthday present for the next three years.”

His grin broadened. “Deal.”

“Chris, Chloe’s downstairs.”

Christopher ran his hand through his hair and jumped out of bed as his mom turned and left his room.

He hurried into the bathroom, just as he did whenever Chloe dropped by. An excitement always propelled him out of bed to get ready before dashing down to meet her.

Only when he saw his reflection in the mirror did he realize he wasn’t eighteen anymore.

He splashed the icy water onto his face to wake himself from his daydream. There wouldn’t be a smiling Chloe waiting for him to spend the day together.

What was she doing here anyway?

He opened the cabinet that had his shaver. After shaving, he washed up, then pulled on a T-shirt before heading downstairs.

Chloe broke into a small smile when she saw him, which was a relief to him.

He was beginning to think it was stupid of him to try and look good for her.

“Where’s your jacket?” she asked. “It’s cold outside.”