In One Moment [Page 12] by Tobin Cheung
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s her name,” she says nodding her head at the girl on stage.
“Oh, thanks. Yeah, she’s…… fantastic,” I say, pronouncing fantastic as a hush.
“Yes she is. You can have this if you want,” she says handing me the program. “I’ve got another in my purse.”
“Thanks.”
I quickly thumb to the page Calina is mentioned, anxious to read what little information is printed. There is nothing, just the names and instruments corresponding to each band member. There isn’t even a website address. A one inch by one inch black and white portrait of her is the only thing that consoles my disappointment. I will treasure it. I will keep it with my collection of jazz CDs.
“She’s pretty. They really don’t say much about her do they?” the mommy smiles, trying to sympathize with me.
I must be as transparent as air.
“Her contact number is on the back page, though,” she says with a smirk.
I twist the pamphlet over to be greeted by a pizza ad and am stupid enough to check the second last page. I give the naughty mommy a sideways glare. She gives me a warm ear to ear grin.
“Let me see your hand, I’ll tell you if Calina is the one for you.” she says grabbing my arm. “I can read palms.”
I don’t believe in those things but I know better than to contradict a pregnant mommy. She unfolds my fingers and begins to study the creases of my skin.
“You can be rather technical. You work with numbers but have an inherent creative pursuit. You are shy but a great lover.”
Feeling embarrassed, I instinctively curl my fingers.
“Wait,” she purrs. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Not really, the dream is always better.”
She does not hear me. “The woman who falls in love with you admires you for your musical talent.”
“But I don’t have any musical talents,” I exclaim feeling confused.
Suddenly, out of know where, pushing her way down the isles of seats is Liz. And she looks mad. “I’ve been waiting over at that stupid hot dog stand for like ten minutes. I thought you said you would keep an eye on it.”
“Sshhh, Liz sit down, you’re blocking people’s view,” I beg her hoping she would not cause a scene. The trendy girls to my left are giving me a snooty glare while the pregnant woman is annoyed with my girlfriend for taking up space she can’t afford to give up.
“Didn’t you see me standing there?” she insists not even noticing the pregnant mommy.
“No, sorry, I,..I,....got too caught up with the performance.”
She arches her neck to take a gander at the stage. The third song is well on its way and I was missing it.
[To be continued...]
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