The Promise
by P. D. Michaels
Copyright 2017 P. D. Michaels,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2826-0
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
I was sweating again. I closed my eyes and tried to calm the thudding in my chest. I saw her there, in my mind. The light brown hair cropped short and barely covering her ears. I remembered every detail, how her hazel eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way the left side of her lips curled more than her right when she laughed. The look on her face when we made love, her soft, sensitive neck. I could still see the few freckles that lay spattered across the bridge of her nose. All of that was still mine, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Holding on to her image for two weeks had been a miracle. I just had one last promise to keep.
I was jostled by the nervous girl sitting next to me. She was littered with piercings proclaiming her to be a courageous rebel; her jitters spoke of the same fear I felt. They had packed us in like sardines on little plastic chairs that looked like they belonged in a grade school lunchroom. Most of us would leave disappointed and I prayed I was one them. I had only promised to show up – I hadn’t promised to succeed.
Most of the contestants were younger than me. I closed my eyes again, to shut out their youthful anxiety. I took a few deep breaths and brought the image of Amber back into my mind. It was still so easy to see her. I knew my memory, such a weak tool, would begin to fail. I had pictures, but they weren’t the flowing 3-D I could call up in my psyche. Still so beautiful and perfect.
I heard the door open and hoped it wasn’t for me. “Sandy Riggers?” I opened my eyes as the smartly dressed woman wearing a headset called out the name. A bouncing blonde three rows away jumped up excitedly. I was just as excited for her. I had been here for over half a day and knew the auditions had to be coming to a close. It was a long shot to be chosen and I had never won a lottery. My bad luck was leaning in my favor. I closed my eyes again and spent more time with the memory of Amber, my wife.
“Ken Fischer?” The lady had returned, and blessedly was calling out a name that was not mine. I didn’t open my eyes this time as Ken gave a quick cheer, but I could hear his feet shuffle as he headed quickly for the door. I wished it would end. I was hoping he was the last, but no one dismissed us. I tried to breathe slowly. My pulse was still racing and I needed it to slow down. One way or another, this little bit of personal hell would be over soon. It was getting too late for it to continue much longer.
“Last one,” the woman called when she returned fifteen minutes later. I could feel the emotions shift as one in the room. The silence was deafening. I closed my eyes again and saw Amber’s smile. Her face shifted slowly to a look I knew all too well. The mischievous one, the expression that lovingly told me I had no choice in the matter. My heart plummeted to my stomach and I knew the next words before they were spoken. “David Thaxton?” The groans were loud as hopes were dashed, mine included. My hands were shaking as I opened my eyes, armed only with a promise. I stood slowly, trying to stall as fear mixed with my sorrow.
“God, you’re lucky, man!” the pin-cushioned girl said as I stood. I looked at her, sweat forming on my brow. I was about to say something; maybe offer her my place. The promise kept me from that escape. I just shook my head and headed toward the door I wished was miles away.
The woman with the headset led me down the hall. She was babbling quickly, in an indifferent manner, about what I was to expect. I stopped listening after she told me I was to stand on the small red X, I would find on the stage. Just offstage I was met by a young man who fitted me with a wireless mic. He warned me not to touch my chest while I was out there. A man in a green shirt came up and wiped my brow and then dabbed some kind of powder on my face. He warned me the lights would be bright, and I should just look at the judges. I closed my eyes again and saw Amber smiling. It didn’t slow my heart, but I didn’t feel so alone.
I heard my name reverberate in the auditorium. It quieted the low drone of the audience I hadn’t realized was so close. I stood there, my legs unwilling to move. Someone pushed me and I half stumbled toward that little red X. The lights were blinding; I could only make out the first twenty rows behind the four judges’ seats. A weak, cordial applause welcomed me to hell. I stopped on the X and turned toward the judges. I could feel the blood driving painfully through my veins.
“Welcome, David,” a man I recognized, the fourth judge on the right said. He had a wild frock of black, curly hair running down his shoulders and back. He wore sunglasses and an overly confident expression. I knew I should know his name, but I never watched these stupid talent shows. I found myself jealous of his sunglasses. I nodded to his greeting, not yet trusting my voice.
“Do you think you have what it takes to win?” the judge asked. He looked a little perturbed that I hadn’t really acknowledged him yet. At least he asked an easy question.
“No,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t expound on my answer, which seemed to bother him all the more.
“Then what are you doing here?” he asked exasperatedly. I had a feeling procedures would change at the next tryouts. Another easy question, though the answer was more difficult to get out.
“I promised my wife,” I responded. I remembered when I made the promise and the pain hit hard again. I had to take a long blink.
“So, your wife thinks you can win?” the man asked with a bit of whimsy. The thought that he would even pretend to know Amber’s wishes infuriated me. I know there was anger in my voice when I answered. It felt better than the fear.
“I don’t pretend to know why,” I answered thickly, “I promised her and I am going to keep that promise.” The audience gasped a little and the judges looked surprised at my venom. There was a pause while Mr. Sunglasses considered my response.
“What do you plan to sing for us, Promise Keeper?” the judge asked sarcastically. This elicited a small chuckle from the audience. I really didn’t like this guy making fun of my promise to my wife.
“Amber,” I answered. The judges looked at each other strangely.
“The reggae song?” Mr. Sunglasses asked incredulously. I kicked myself for not looking up the name before. Of course there was already a song called “Amber.” I really didn’t want to answer any more questions.
“No. I wrote it myself,” I replied. There was surprise and a bit of laughter at that response. I was gritting my teeth wishing this would just end.
“Well this should at least be entertaining,” Mr. Sunglasses said with a superior smile, “go ahead and keep your promise.” He made it sound so amusing. The audience was laughing openly at this point. I rallied around my rising anger, trying to hold the fear at bay. I had to close my eyes to make the faces disappear. I had never sung in public. Only for my wife. I saw Amber there, smiling and proud. I could always sing to her.
I wrote the words to fit “Greensleeves.” I had to borrow others’ music since I couldn’t read, much less write, music. The tune was almost as pretty as Amber, and fit our love as well as possible. I heard the music start in my mind and I slowly sang to her about how we met and how our hearts merged. I sang of her beauty, comparing it poorly to a sunrise. I sang of her smile, of our dreams and mostly of our love. Amber’s face changed, and I saw her concern as I got to the end. I sang about my loss and of her death. I couldn’t help the tears or the crack in my voice. My promise kept, I dropped my head and listened to the silence.
I raised my head and stared into the blinding lights. I think they were waiting