By Rosemary Okafor
Scarlett
Gradually, as she killed the engine of her car, it dawned on Scarlett that the only reason she’d turn up for this event, looking like a sister to Mary, the mother of Jesus was that she’d been counting down to her next meeting with the pretty singer.
Unfortunately, she was late. The church auditorium was already packed when she stepped in. It was as though the whole of Ottawa were squeezed together in a tiny space. She could barely see the altar that she assumed he would be using as his stage.
Pulling the shawl over her head forward, to cover the mass of hair that had stubbornly refused to remain hidden, she fished out her eyeglasses from her hand bag, wore it and headed toward the upper gallery. If she was lucky, she would get a seat where he would see her with ease.
Does it matter if he sees you?
No, it doesn’t.
But she would love that he would.
Then what?
“Excuse me,” she muttered, walking through the second pew by the left— couldn’t get the front— acknowledging two men and a mother with her two daughters. she guessed, and a fussy baby that were already seated, to take the remaining space left.
The baby lost interest in his mother’s large loop-earring, turning over to grab Scarlett’s strayed hair, pulling the mass so hard that she almost let out a whimper.
“I’m so sorry,” the over-burdened mother muttered, trying hard to dislodge her hair from the little monster’s grip. “I’m really sorry,” the woman said again, now embarrassment.
Mother and her little monster tugged on her hair. mother won at last, but little monster grabbed Scarlett’s shawl instead, pulling off her head.
“Please forgive…”
“It’s okay.” Accepting the shawl back for the mother, Scarlett casted her gaze down the altar while throwing the piece of cloth over my head, crossing the two ends around her neck.
“He’s about to come up!” A high-pitched sing-song voice squirmed behind her.
“I still don’t understand why you should be this excited, he only a singer…”
“Oh, he’s not just a singer. He is… is… you’ll see.”
The conversation amused and sent a slash of jealousy across Scarlett’s heart all at once. It made her wonder how the singer delt with female fans like the one gushing like a horny bitch behind her.
Did he fight them at all? Or he glories in them? Probably compensating himself with a willing and ready to please girl every now and then?
“He is so cute!” The enthusiastic girl added as someone began to play a soft thrilling sound from the keyboard somewhere at the altar.
“He’s not even here yet,” the other girl harrumphed.
“Just get ready Mandy. You’ll fall in love with him instantly.”
“I bet I would.”
“Of course, you will. I did the first time I saw him sing in that concert.”
Pity. Mr. Pretty is into gospel, such talent, such beauty… Scarlett pulled on her shawl and stood up with the others, clapping as the man took the stage with a guitar hanging across his shoulder, pausing the train of thoughts going on in her mind. She was surprised and embarrassed that her heart skipped and she was craning her neck past the person in from of her to get a better look of the singer.
“Shit!” He looked even more… what word would better describe this ‘I’m not trying to impress you with my look’ guy. Who managed to grab the hearts of Montrealers in just one night.
And yours.
Not yet.
Then why are you here?
Because I promised. He found my rosary and this… shit, who was she kidding?
“Oh my god! He is super cute!” One of the girls behind her squirmed.
Yes, he is.
“I feel like I can’t breathe!”
She too. It was as though he walked into that stage to take breaths away— deliberately.
With hair as ruffled as an un-combed wake-up strands, the stubble around his face looking feather-soft, same as his eyelashes. He was decently frolicking with hearts.
And hers was not spared.
She knew that under his white sport shirt, his body wasn’t rippled, he didn’t look like one that would possess a torso as strong as a plank, yet she realized she’d never seen a man so good looking, too good looking…
“Please, can you hold Noah for me?” The woman beside her was already pushing the little monster to her, “His sisters need to pee.”
“Huh?” She swallowed her rejection as the little thing flashed her a toothless smile, stretching his plump hands while making those googoo-gaagaa baby talks.
“Okay.” Balancing the heavy baby in her arms while his mother hurried out with the girl, Scarlet returned her eyes to the stage where the guy was now perching on a long stool, his fingers romancing the strings of his guitar, eyes closed and a lopsided grin on his almost girlish lips.
Then he started singing.
His voice soft at first, then it gained strength and that power she’d felt the day she watched him on tv. It was as though the louder he went, the harder he struck the strings of his guitar, the more enchanted the people became.
Even the little monster in her arms was caught up in the magic of the moment.
She knew the song he was doing; My world needs you right now by Kirk Franklin. Done in solidarity to the victims of Haiti earthquake. Though she didn’t know what this mini concert was about, she was beginning to feel that it had something to do with charity and what better man to drive it than this man with the most angelic voice.
Show me your face…
Fill up this space…
My world needs you right now,
My world needs you right now…
Suddenly, for no reason, she felt excitement grip her as her lips parted and she began to mouth the words.
I can’t escape…
Being afraid…
Fill me with you right now,
My world needs you right now…
It was about the world. People suffering. But why was she feeling a sense of … As though she needed that song, those words to live?
It was such an unusual feeling; she didn’t understand it. Yet, she wanted to close her eyes and hang on, it was a good feeling, and in spite of the life she’s living, she felt those worlds… prayers, weren’t strange to her.
“Thank you so much,” The mother to the little monster sighed, took the baby from her. “Hope we didn’t miss much?”
Too emotional to speak, she shook her head.
“Are you Okay?” She didn’t know she had tears in her eyes until the woman pointed at her face.
“You… you are…”
“I’m fine,” she stuttered and looked away.
But she was not. Her inside was clutching, her heart heavy and light at the same time. It was the pretty singer. No, it was the song.
Returning her eyes to stage, she saw he’s gotten up. His voice now reduced to almost a breathy sound. Christ! She could feel goosebumps all over her as she stood up with the rest of the people, more tears sipping from her eyes.
“Thank you,” he gave a slight bow after ending the song.
It’s over, she thought. If this concert was for what she had in mind, fundraising would follow shortly. It was time to go, would drop a cheque on her way out. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t know she was there, that she’d listened to him and has shed tears to his heart felt voice.
Out now and heading towards the parking lot, she retrieved her phone from her bag and was about to dial a number when she heard a hurrying footstep behind her. She turned and… it was him.
Paul.
“You’re just going to leave?”
“No… Yes… I was about getting,” Why was she feeling so disoriented? “I need to get my cheque book.”
“I saw you up there,” he said as though that was supposed to ease her tension. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
“Well, I came and.” She shrugged, chuckling nervously. “I love…” Careful now, Scarlett. “It’s a powerful performance.”
“Thank you.” he began to walk closer. Setting off an alarm in her head.
“I think you should go back in now,” Goodness, she was exuding uneasiness. “They may want you to sing any moment.”
“I want to walk you back in,” He stubbornly said. “You are still going in, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I uhm…” she could feel warmth invading her neck. “Let me get my cheque book.”
Read Scarlett Chapter 6 Here
To be continued
