Nicole’s mom brings her to a place where eight year olds are not supposed to be. It was 11pm and all other grade2 pupils must have been long asleep. She had school tomorrow, and her mom was clearly enjoying the night with the boyfriend. The red horse grande bottle was half empty now. She demanded in between affection that they so display with her boyfriend that she give the microphone to me to finish the song Hero by Mariah Carey, but obviously Nicole ignored her as she belted her way through “When you face the world alone, no one reaches out a hand for your to hold”.
When we arrived at the place, the videoke machine was laid in a small open field, a convenient store 10 meters away. Another small stretch of land adjacent to it carries assorted food booths and a bakery shop. It has served as a common stop for buses traveling from north to south and back where hungry passengers could eat and freshen up. Nicole grabbed the song book right away as the grown-ups settled on each chair and wrote the songs on a small piece of paper cut out from a box of cigarettes.
When came her turn, she beamed with delight. She started on A Very Special Love and that was when I knew she had sung this in school. Thanks to her teacher who insisted her to sing in school after she overheard her sing at a gathering. The two gays with us made a whistling sound as we all clapped everytime she began and finished a song. The support boosted her confidence.
When there was a child in a night like this, we would let her know how good she was just so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum because she was sleepy and wanted to go home. Holding the microphone with both hands and legs outstreched, she looked innocent and sweet sitting on a bamboo furniture under the dimmed red light while her mother had to prey the mic out of her. She swayed, shrugged her mother’s hands off her shoulder until she gave in from embarrassment and threw the cordless mic at her. She sobbed uncontrollably. Suprisingly, her mother wanted to give her the floor to console her but it was too late. She wasn’t anymore a least bit interested in that. She was sleepy and wanted to go home.
I know she could have acted childish to receive special treatment and still able to justify her actions-being a child, but she didn’t. She understood that there were rules, so she patiently waited for her turn in the microphone. She even helped me not get drunk that night by deliberately blocking my view so that I could throw away my drink. No. She didn’t steal someone else’s song. She still had 2 more songs in queue. It was in fact her turn.
They turned over the mic to me. I caught a glimpse of her walk towards the car. We were supposed to sing this together. We chose the song together. Her mother reprimanded her that she would not bring her along anymore if she wanted to go home now. With that, she instructed her to sleep in the car until when we decide to go home. As if almost as quickly as I received the mic, I returned it to her mother. I told her she could sing it better than I could. And for some reason, for the rest of the night, I kept passing a turn to someone else; feigning excuses. Somehow, I owe it to Nicole.
All comments are moderated. Your comments will not appear here unless approved by the blog owner. Thank you.
