Audition

The bass guitarist leans against the edge of a table holding her guitar aloft, ready. She nods, selects a note and starts to play.

The lead guitarist joins her, turns up the reverb a notch; closes his eyes. The drummer rolls brushes over the skin of his drums.

“Go,” the lead singer whispers to me.

I stare down the small metallic face of the mike and think for a split second: I’m invincible, followed by: What the hell was I thinking?

I open my mouth and a sound drops out, startling me when it echoes from the monitors. I keep singing though – a bit louder. Sounds rise from my stomach, carve a path through my chest and escapes through my lips. The vibrations are warm. My gut punches itself. I’m scared shitless. I’ve never, ever felt this good.

Someone replays the You Tube video so that we can hear how we’re supposed to sound, both separately and together. We do the whole song again, then once more. We smile at one another. It’s a Monday evening after work, but here we are making music. I keep singing. Until I stop.

“My God,” the lead singer says, looking right at me. “You’re in.”

I let the words soak my skin, before I recall that I’ve always been afraid to take risks, that the ex had a point; that going home will be horrid because its winter and the Overground suffers in the cold.

And then, it doesn’t matter.

“Thanks,” I say.