Stage or the Cubicle?

“Hey Laura, will you come out?”

“Just let me be.”

“You come out right now. There’s only two before you.”

“I will. Just leave.”

I heard her sigh, and her footsteps faded away. I knew I had to leave the cubicle, but I wanted to stick to the closed toilet seat. A sweet voice singing a beautiful song and the crowd’s cheering could be heard slightly. In a few minutes, my name will be called out and people will be waiting to see ‘Laura Chapman’ on the stage. Katie will come and bang on the door, begging and yelling at me to come out.

I stood up with closed eyes. I unlocked the door slowly and stepped out to find out there was nobody. Everyone behind the stage including the contestants had gone to see how well the performers will do. I wanted to go too, but it is always uneasy to bear the strange looks from the others who had been there already.

I heard footsteps again. It was Katie again and she looked relieved to find me out of the toilet.

“Oh, thank God. Come on, girl, let’s see how others will do.”

“Mmmh, I don’t know. I’ll just be here.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re going to go there with me and wait for your turn. I can’t wait for you to come out of the toilet once more.”

She grabbed my hand and I was dragged towards the stage. As the singing voice grew nearer, my head began to spin. I wanted to run away from Katie, back to the cubicle. But I did not.

There was a crowd, struggling to get a better view from the dark space behind the stage, therefore watching the performances from over there seemed impossible. But Katie got on to a big, old box behind the crowd and dragged me onto it. The organizers, dressed in black and wearing silver bracelets which looked like had been made of some multicolored metal under the colored lights, had the front row of the backstage crowd. They had papers with the printed names of the contestants and next to them was a tall chap with long, straight hair. The next one, I thought with something whirling in my stomach. The audience was dancing to the music and cheering up the blonde girl on the stage, but I could not focus on her sweet voice. What would happen when I get to the stage? They would stare at me as if a beast from a folk tale had landed on the stage. They would murmur to each other about my big glasses, unshaped body and the old guitar I could afford to buy after six months of collecting coins in an old tin of biscuits. I wanted to run right away to the cubicle and stay there until the event is over and they would mark me as an absent contestant. Then I would walk home listening to Katie blame me, get myself locked up in the bathroom and wash my tears in the icy water. This is not the first time I applied for competitions, was too anxious to take part and cried in the bathroom.

The music stopped and a deafening cheer came from the audience and the backstage crowd. The girl smiled, bent forward and thanked the audience. She came running to hug her friends behind the stage and the tall chap entered the stage holding his guitar in one hand as I felt that thing whirl inside my stomach again. He introduced himself as ‘Mike Carson’ and one of the organizers turned to us, while Mike continued on his introduction.

“Laura Chapman? The next one is Laura Chapman.”

I felt like something electrical piercing my head. No, I would not face that audience. I am not attractive enough to keep the audience focused on me. I would just run out now, and I could come back next year after losing a few kilos, and with a better guitar. I had not even jumped off the box to run, – I had only thought so – when Katie grabbed my hand and rose it up the air.

“Here she is! Laura Chapman, contestant number twenty.”

I felt like my heart dropped to my stomach and the sight of the restroom cubicle flashed in front of my eyes. Everyone turned to look at me, and I smiled awkwardly. Katie pushed me down the box, as the others made way for me to reach the organizers. They put a tick on my name and handed me a cardboard badge and a pin. Number twenty, I sighed and pinned the badge to my jacket. Mike had started his song and I waded through the crowd to get my guitar. I felt my hands trembling as I tried to open the instrument case, and Katie seized my hands.

“They are colder than ice!” She exclaimed and looked into my eyes with question.

“I’m alright. Don’t worry, I won’t faint.” I smiled and realized my voice was also trembling as if I was walking out in the winter without any warm clothes.

“Hey! Are you sure you’re ALRIGHT?” She had to finish her question in a yell since Mike suddenly raised his voice.

I nodded, and she rubbed my hands firmly for a few seconds to warm them. I clutched my old, beloved guitar and sat on the old box. Katie sat beside me and we listened to Mike. Listening to him, I found my legs quivering like a withered leaf in the wind, ready to fall anytime. Standing on the stage with my old guitar and facing a hundred ears waiting to know if ‘Laura Chapman’ can really sing, seemed terrifying. My hands holding onto the guitar were soaked in sweat just with the imagination of being the center of attention.

Mike ended his performance, and the audience released an earthshaking cheer requesting for another song. The whirl in my stomach went on like mad, provoking me to run away and hide in the cubicle. The ground beneath me started sinking, or I just thought so, and Katie pushed me wishing good luck. I clutched my guitar so hard that its neck could smash into pieces any moment. I was dragged through the crowd by an organizer and Mike gave me a pat on my shoulder as he came back from the stage. Knowing there was no turning back, I continued to stage with my poor, quivering legs and I could see the audience awaiting for another performance. I stopped in front of the microphone, put the guitar’s old strap over my shoulder with cold, trembling hands and looked at the backstage. Katie was there waiting for me to play, next to the men in black. I gazed at the audience for a long second, and took a deep breath.