by Emma Rose
That wasn't the only time I thanked God for Oliver.
Around the time I started sixth grade, my mom got worried that I wasn't making any girlfriends of my own age so she encouraged me to try out for choir. As much as we didn't have a normal life, Momma wanted me to experience things normal kids did.
Choir seemed like a natural choice for me to try out for because Momma and I were always singing together. Ever since I was a little girl, probably since I was a baby, I fell asleep to the sound of my mother's voice singing and woke to the sound of it as well.
I honestly didn't think I had any singing talent, but I wanted to be a part of something, and I wanted to meet other girls and make friends with them. I didn't mind spending extra time in school since my home life didn't involve a home, school became like a home for me. I didn't always know where I was going to sleep at night, but I always knew school was going to be there for me in the morning.
After I finally gathered up the courage to sign up for an after-school audition, I had to face my fear of singing in front of another human besides my Momma and occasionally Oliver.
I still remember the day of the audition. It was a steamy Tuesday afternoon in September. Oliver had offered to stay late with me for moral support.
"Oliver, I'm so nervous. I think I'm going to throw up," I admitted clutching my sheet music in my sweaty hands as we sat with our backs against the lockers in the hallway outside of the music room.
Oliver wrapped his right arm around my shoulder and squeezed me into a quick hug. "Don't be nervous. You're going to do great," he reassured me.
"But what if I don't? I'll be so embarrassed. It'll be horrible. What if they laugh at me? What if I'm not-" I stammered on until Oliver interrupted me.
"Jemma, knock it off. I told you that you're going to do great. Why don't you believe me? I wouldn't lie to you about something like this."
At that moment, I loved Oliver's brutal honesty. It snapped me right back into reality.
I took a deep breath in and out, rubbed my eyes and squeezed Oliver's hand. "Sorry, thank you, Ollie," I said quietly and sincerely.
Oliver smiled back at me sweetly.
Suddenly, the door to the music room swung open and a very confident girl sashayed out. Her self-assuredness made me feel even more anxious.
"Jemma Jones?" The music teacher called out from the doorway. Her voice was high and sweet like a little bird.
The sound of my name set my heart into overdrive. The thought of bailing on the whole idea flashed through my mind, but then I heard Oliver's voice.
"Go on, she called you," he whispered, giving me a gentle, yet firm push on the shoulder.
I got up shakily from the floor and walked over to the smiling music teacher.
"Hi, there! It's nice to meet you, Jemma. You can call me Ms. Katie, I'm the choir director for all the grades here at the middle school," she said very enthusiastically, holding out her hand for me to shake.
"Hi," I said quietly, feeling very unsure of myself. I gently shook her hand and immediately felt embarrassed because mine were so sweaty.
"Well, come on in, let's hear you sing," she said walking into the classroom.
I gave one last look over to Oliver who gave me a thumbs up and a grin before following her into the unknown.
"So, let's start with some warm-ups, okay?" Ms. Katie said, sitting down at the old upright piano that was situated in the far corner of the small music room. I stood behind her and listened as she started to play scales.
"Sing with me on la," she instructed, so I did. At first, I started out quietly and my voice was shaky, but somewhere around the third scale I relaxed and began to sing at my normal volume.
“Very nicely done, Jemma. You have a beautiful voice," Ms. Katie said after we finished singing the scales together.
I blushed. I wasn't expecting her to say that. "Thank you," I nodded quietly.
"You're very welcome. Now, can I hear you sing that excerpt from Handel's Messiah, please? I'll accompany you, okay? I'll give you three shots at it. That way you can get all your nerves worked out."
I nodded my head in agreement, too shy to say anything else. Momma took me into a church the day before and played the piano while I sang to practice, but I still wasn't sure what it would be like with Ms. Katie accompanying me.
Ms. Katie started slowly and cued me in. On the first try, I was a little strained and unsure. Then, I became upset with myself for messing up one of the lyrics. I bit down hard on my lip in frustration as Ms. Katie jotted down some notes on a piece of lined paper while I waited for my second shot.
"Alright, Jemma, that was good, but this time can you relax for me? I know you have a lovely voice, so just don't be nervous. Pretend like I'm not here and sing from your heart," Ms. Katie said as she turned to look me in the eyes.
"Alright, I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't be, darling. Now let's try again," Ms. Katie said as she began to play the introduction to the excerpt.
This time I didn't want to disappoint Ms. Katie or myself, so I sang louder and focused all of my attention on hitting the right notes and singing the correct lyrics. I felt much better when I finished that time.
"Very nice work, that time. Now, this is your last try, so give your best, hun," Ms. Katie said after jotting down a few more notes.
This time as I listened to Ms. Katie play the intro, I thought about how happy it would make my mom if I did well. I forgot all about counting measures and getting everything just right and instead, I closed my eyes and let myself sing without fear. I know it sounds cliché, but I really just sang from my heart and pretended no one else was in the room.
When I finished, I opened my eyes to see Ms. Katie turned around and applauding from the piano bench. I felt my face get red, but on the inside a warm feeling started to rush through me. I couldn't believe she actually liked my singing.
Ms. Katie stood up and walked over to me. She gently grabbed both my hands and held them in hers. "Jemma," she said smiling down at me, "I don't say this often, but you truly have a gift. I believe you were born to sing."
"Thank you," I said. I was still blushing, but I could feel myself smiling and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
"Thank you, love. That was the best audition I have ever heard in my ten years of teaching. I think it goes without saying that you have made it into the Select Singers, congratulations."
Now, I was grinning wider than I ever had. "Thank you, Ms. Katie. Thank you so much!"
"You are welcome. The results will come out next week. I haven't told anyone else if they're in or not, so just keep it a secret between you and me, okay. The rest of the kids will find out later, but I didn't want you to have to wait anxiously."
"Yes, of course," I agreed.
"Alright, champ," she laughed. "I'll see you at practice two Fridays from now at 3:30. Now, go tell your family the good news!"
"I will, thank you, Ms. Katie," I waved as I turned to leave. I could not wait to celebrate with Oliver.
I swung the door open. Oliver looked up at me pensively.
"So?" he asked, standing up.
I smiled showing all of my overbite, something I almost never did. I
looked down the hallway to make sure no other kids were in earshot. "I got in!" I said excitedly, but not too loudly.
Oliver took a deep breath in as if he were holding it for my entire audition. He embraced me in a big hug and we both jumped up and down laughing.
"I knew you could do it," he said stepping back so he could look at me, "I am so proud of you."
"Thanks, Ollie," I said as we began to walk out of the school. "But you have to promise to keep it a secret until next week. None of the other kids know if they are in or not."
"Okay, I promise, but it's going to be hard not bragging on my best friend for an entire seven days," he teased.
"You'll manage," I said sarcastically. I looked around at the bustle of cars and people, taxis and buildings and I wondered why for
some reason the city seemed so much more beautiful that day on our walk home.
After spending the evening at Oliver's and eating dinner with his family, I met up with my mother in the park. She was waiting for me on a bench with all our belongings next to her in a big garbage bag. Her eyes were closed. It was only around 7:30 in the evening, but she was exhausted. I could tell by the way she was leaning back.
"Momma, guess what?" I said chipperly as I approached her.
I think I surprised her. She immediately sat up straight and despite the bags under her eyes she put on a big smile and matched my enthusiasm. "What baby?" she asked as if I was going to share with her the best news in the world.
"I got in. At my audition for choir today, the teacher said I had a beautiful voice. And she said it was the best audition she ever heard. And she said I'm now a part of the Select Singers and practice is on Friday. And Momma I'm just so happy!"
Momma grinned from ear to ear and wrapped her thin arms tightly around me. "That is amazing, baby. Aww, I am so proud of you. I just knew you were going to do great," she said holding my face in her small, dainty but dirty hands. "And ya know what?" she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"What?" I asked.
"You are worth so much more than you know. Someday you're going to go and do amazing things in this world. Even more amazing things than getting into the Select Singers," she whispered with true sincerity.
I smiled back at her. "I hope so, Momma." Normally, I would have felt embarrassed by her saying something like that, but today it felt true and I didn't want to deny it.
"Come on. We have to get to the shelter soon before they stop letting people in," Momma said, grabbing my right hand in her left while pulling the garbage bag of belongings over her shoulder.
As we began to walk out of the park and onto the streets, I asked her, "How was your day today, Momma?"
She paused for a moment and didn't say anything. I looked up at her face and she seemed sad, but she wasn't crying. It was the kind of face someone makes when a really old family member dies and everyone knew it was their time to go, but it still hurts all the same.
"Oh, it was fine, baby," she said, squeezing my hand. "It's hard to make money out here some days, but I made some. Not the way I wanted to... but I made some," she sighed.
I was curious as to what she meant by that, but I knew by the tone of her voice not to ask her any more questions.
We walked the rest of the way to the shelter in silence. I didn't mind though, I enjoyed just walking and holding tight onto my Momma's hand. I loved her so much. I guess every daughter loves her mother, but there was always something special between my mother and I. From an early age, I saw how hard she worked just to get me food and the things I needed to go to school. We were the only real family each other had so we gave each other all of the love in our hearts. My momma kept me alive and it took everything in her to do so. In return, I knew I gave her a purpose for living and a joy she wouldn't be able to find in anyone or anything else.
When we arrived at the shelter, we went through the normal process. First, we signed in at the front desk. Thankfully, we made it just in time because at this particular shelter the doors closed at 8:00 p.m. and if you didn't make it there by then you were out of luck.
After that, we waited in line to use the bathrooms. There were no showers at this shelter but there were six toilets and six sinks. Of course, six toilets and six sinks isn't very much for a shelter that houses upwards of one hundred women and children every night. As we waited, Momma pulled our little Ziploc toiletries bag out from our big garbage bag. She had to be ready with it. That way, we wouldn't waste any time once we were in the bathroom and we could get in and out as quickly as possible.
When we got in the bathroom, Momma and I always went in the same tiny stall together. I know it sounds weird, but Momma was so afraid something would happen to me at the shelter if she left me out of her eyesight. The worse thing was we had to take all of our things into the toilet stall with us. If we left them out, they would be stolen in seconds. When Momma relieved herself, I held the garbage bag up above my head so it wouldn't touch the floor and possibly get whatever was on the floor on to it. Even though it was only a garbage bag we didn't have money to go around buying extra ones willy-nilly and if the bag got pee or shit on it my mom would have to carry that around for days wherever she went. After my mother used the bathroom, she would hold the bag over her head, and I would relieve myself.
Then we would go to the sink and repeat the process. First, Momma washed her hands using a bar of soap we kept in our toiletries bag. We always used it until it was just a sliver, until it cracked in one of our hands and went down the drain. Then, I would wash my hands and Momma would pull my toothbrush out from the bag and put a small amount of toothpaste on it. She was never very generous with the toothpaste because we had to ration it or else we might run out and not be able to buy any for days. Next, I would splash water on my face and use my shirt to dry it off. We didn't use soap to wash our faces at night because we didn't want to waste any which probably contributed to my horrendous teenage acne. After I finished, Momma would brush her teeth and splash water on her face quickly before we left the bathroom.
After we left the bathroom, we waited in another line to receive an air mattress to sleep on. Momma and I shared a double size mattress. Then, we took the air mattress into the big room. It was basically the size and dimensions of a gymnasium, but the floor was concrete and the walls were cinder block. As each person or family came in, one of the staff would instruct them to place their air mattress two and a half feet to the right of the person before them.
I would help Momma take our sheets out of the garbage bag and put them on the air mattress as she got the blankets and pillows ready. We were fortunate to have lucked into a nice cheap set of sheets and a comforter from a thrift store that we used for years. We took good care of them so they would last for a long time.
Soon the room was filled with women and children lying on mattresses in straight lines two and a half feet apart on each side. Unless, of course, you were lucky enough to get a place alongside the wall. If that was the case, the mattress was placed so that it was touching the wall. Lights out was at 9:30 p.m. If you laid down before that and wanted to go to sleep you just had to deal with the brightness. This used to really bother me when I was a little kid because I would be so tired and all I would want to do was sleep, but I couldn't because it was too bright for me. Now that I was older, I didn't mind so much. The extra time gave me a chance to talk to Momma if I wanted.
Most of the time though, Momma wasn't in the mood for talking, but she would sing to me instead. Even as I got older, into my teen years, I would snuggle into her and she would sing songs in my ear until she or I fell asleep whichever happened first.
Momma knew a lot of different songs, but there was one song I would make her sing to me every night.
"Momma, you haven't sung My Favorite Things yet," I would remind her as I was getting drowsy.
"Ah, baby, why do you love that song so much?" she asked that night, caressing my face with her hand.
"Because I need to remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad," I answered.
That made her laugh quietly. "Oh really, you need to remember schnitzel with noodles and wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings?"
"No, I just need to remember you singing it to me. You sound so hopeful when you sing it," I murmured.
Momma sighed, "You know my Ma used to sing that song to me when I was feeling upset?"
"I know," I said. She had told me many times before. I remembered because it was the only thing she ever told me about my grandmother for the longest time. She refused to tell me anything else about her family until I was a teenager.
"Will you sing this to your baby one day, Jemma?" she asked.
"Of course, Momma."
"And will you tell them I taught you how to sing it?"
"Y
es, Momma, I'll make sure they know," I promised.
Momma leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before she started singing. I was asleep in minutes.
That night, I dreamt about Oliver. It wasn't the first time. I had had dreams of us as superheroes fighting crime or nightmares of us getting in trouble at school, but I had never had a dream like this before.
I dreamt that Oliver and I were all grown up and we were married. We had a big house out in the country and we were playing with our two little children and I was singing My Favorite Things. It was a wonderful dream, but it didn't last. I didn't get to see how it ended because I was woken up by one of the shelter's staff members flickering the lights on and off. It was 5:00 a.m., which meant everyone had to get up and pack up for the day.
"Good morning, baby," I heard my Momma say. She was already up and putting away the pillows and blankets.
"Good morning, Momma," I said as I rolled off the mattress to help her put the sheets away.
