When James’ name was called as the winner of the award, the audience of 5,000 erupted into joyous cheering.
James walked slowly up the stairs to the extravagant stage, flashing a grin for the millions of cameras being shoved in his face. His hair was slicked back. His suit was perfectly tailored and cleaned. His face glowed under the dim light of the auditorium… this was James’ moment.
But something was missing.
As James stepped into the center of the stage, and the crowd’s delight reached a fever pitch, a pit formed in the young man’s stomach. Cold, numbing tingles ran down his limbs.
He looked out into the sea of people. He saw the faces of many people he loved dearly; his parents, siblings, friends, teachers, mentors… but one face was missing.
Tears began trickling from James’ longing eyes – tears that glistened in the light of a million flashing cameras. An onlooking newscaster exclaimed, “Look at those tears of joy, folks! This is the happiest moment of James Pillman’s life, and you can see it right there on his face!”
James decided it would be best for him to pretend that these were, in fact, tears of joy.
Five thousand miles away, Cora shoved aside a gargantuan red curtain to enter the backstage area of the massive arena in which she had just performed.
Behind her, muffled only slightly by the wall of red fabric, was the sound of thousands of fans screaming with passionate joy.
The moment that slim young Cora passed through the curtain, she was swarmed by an army of friends, producers, and fellow music artists. The dozens of elated people fought each other for the chance to pat her on the back.
This moment was not how Cora had imagined it when she was a teenager – this was due to one missing aspect. As she listened to the congratulations raining down upon her, she scanned the noise for a special voice. She closed her eyes, and strained her ears… but that voice wasn’t here. That voice was far, far away from Cora. Far, far away from this moment.
A searing hot tear slipped out of Cora’s closed left eye.
“You did it, kid!” her manager exclaimed, throwing a hand enthusiastically onto her shoulder. “Your first arena show! Aw, poor girl. Look at her, you guys; she’s cryin’. It’s okay, kid. Happy tears are acceptable!”
Cora nodded shakily. “Happy tears.” Yeah, right.
When James arrived home, his cell phone was sitting patiently on the kitchen counter… beckoning him. Slow as a snail, he stepped up to it, wiping tears from his eyes with every step.
James’ fingers wrapped around the phone. I should call her, he thought. I should tell her about tonight. About how I wish she was here.
Cora rode back to her hotel in a limousine. Rain poured down from the pitch black sky, blanketing the car’s windows with water.
From the pocket of her skirt, Cora retrieved her smartphone, and turned it on. She held the device in her pale, quaking hands. Maybe I should just call him, she thought.
James waited for ten minutes before he finally let out a heavy sigh, putting his phone down.
Cora let one more tear fall. The teardrop splashed against her phone’s bright screen… just before it went dark.
