Chapter 2 - The Hand That Held Mine
The platform was higher than it looked from the dance floor.
I realized that when I tried to step back and my heel hit the edge of the DJ's rug and there was nowhere else to go. The microphone was heavy in both my hands. I could feel my own breathing through it, fast and shaky, and I tried to slow it down the way Mom taught me when I got scared at the dentist. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. It didn't work.
The ballroom went quiet in a way I had never heard before. Not like church quiet. More like everyone holding their breath at the same time. I could see the white tables and the flowers and the faces turned up at me. Some people had their mouths a little open. A man in a dark suit had his fork stopped halfway to his plate.
Vanessa was still coming.
Her dress moved fast across the white floor. The lace on her sleeves caught the light from the chandelier. She was smiling now. Not the tight worried look from before. A big bride smile, like for pictures.
"Oh, sweetie," she said, loud enough for the back tables to hear. Her voice was sweet and high. "Are you lost up there?"
I gripped the microphone tighter. My palms were sweating and the black handle slipped a little. I fixed my fingers around it. I didn't look at the big black screen behind the guests. I looked at the room.
Mom got to the edge of the platform before Vanessa did.
I heard her flats on the dance floor first, quick steps, then she was there below me to my left. Her hand reached up, not grabbing, just hovering near my ankle. Her long dark hair had come loose on one side. She was breathing hard too.
"Lily," she whispered. Not into a microphone. Just for me. "Baby, come down here. Please."
I shook my head. I couldn't explain it standing up there with everyone watching, but if I stepped down, I knew I would lose it. The DJ was right behind me. I could feel him there, his shadow over my shoulder. He smelled like coffee and something sweet. His laptop glowed blue on the black-skirted table. The little lights on his speaker blinked red and green.
Mom's fingers touched the edge of my denim skirt, light, like she was afraid to pull too hard and make me fall. "We can talk to him after," she whispered. "You don't have to do this in front of everybody."
I looked down at her. Her eyes were shiny. She wasn't mad. That made my throat hurt worse. I wanted to go to her. My whole body wanted to climb down and let her hold my hand again like she did when we walked across the floor. But then I thought about the back table where they'd put us, where the chair wobbled, and what the woman at the door had said loud enough for Mom to hear.
I turned back to the room and lifted the microphone a little higher. My arms shook.
Vanessa reached the dance floor in front of the platform. She stopped and put her hands together like she was so touched. "Everyone, I'm so sorry," she said, laughing a little. "My husband's little cousin just wants to say something sweet, don't you, honey?"
She looked at me, and her eyes weren't smiling at all. Then she glanced past me, fast, over my shoulder at the DJ.
I followed her eyes without moving my head. The DJ was looking at her. His hand was over the little board with all the sliders. He had his fingers spread, hovering.
Vanessa kept the smile on her face and made a quick flat motion with her right hand down low, near her dress where the guests couldn't see it. Like cutting. Twice.
The DJ didn't move. His hand stayed there in the air. He glanced down at me, then back at Vanessa. He bit his lip.
My heart beat so loud I thought it would come through the microphone. I took a breath that shook on the way in.
"Mom," I said, quiet, still holding the microphone with both hands. "Don't make me get down."
Mom's hand stopped pulling at my skirt. She left it there, resting against my leg. Warm. She looked up at me for a long second. Then she stepped closer to the platform, so her shoulder was almost touching the side of it. She didn't try to lift me down anymore. She just stayed there, between me and Vanessa.
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Vanessa's smile got thinner. "Lily," she said. Her sweet voice had an edge now. "Give the nice man back his microphone."
I shook my head again. The fairy lights behind the DJ booth buzzed faintly. The chandelier threw little spots of light on the white floor. Nobody was eating now. The DJ's fingers were still hovering over the controls, shaking a little, and the little green light that said the microphone was on stayed green.
