Page 99 of Intermission

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I inject that truth—our truth—into the melody, carving the fullness of my heart into every note, the desperation of my hope into each verse.

Skills I’ve gained through years of training allow me to measure and support each breath through my tears. Raw emotion pours over words and melody, but it’s not dreams of the someday-stage of Broadway that sustains these notes, this control. It’s a deep knowledge of what the stage of this moment represents: my last chance to sing to Noah.

It could be years before I have this opportunity again.

As I sing, a still, small voice whispers in my ear. It’s a familiar refrain, unattached to this song.

Hold on.

I will.I pledge with my eyes, my heart, and through the unsung undertones of this song.I will hold on.

My assurance is reflected in Noah’s eyes, connecting my heart to his, his to mine, by a thin—so thin—but golden thread of hope.

Too soon, the song is over.

Mr. Barron finishes the last bit of the accompaniment and sits silently staring at the piano keys.

Finally, he lifts his head, pulling a hand across his face. “Faith, that was... exquisite. If you sing it like that on Saturday, there won’t be a dry eye in the place. Clearly, my work here is done. In fact, I’m gonna need a sec.” He spins around on the piano bench until he’s facing the wall.

My cheeks are streaked with tears, as are Noah’s, but neither of us makes a move to cover the evidence of our emotion... until the door of the choir room opens, admitting a gangly seventh grade boywhose feet are much too big for his shoulders.

Wiping his eyes, Mr. Barron spins back around. “Alex. Come on in. We’re just finishing up.” He waves the boy forward and then steps around the piano. He offers Noah his hand. “Mr. Spencer, it’s been an honor.”

Noah stands. Their handshake turns into a hug.

Mr. Barron pats Noah’s back and steps away, sniffing. “Knock ’em dead over there, kid.”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. B.”

“I know you will.” He glances at me, eyebrows raised. “See you next week then, Faith? Same time, new music?”

I nod. My throat is too tight to let a word escape. I’m on the ragged edge of an utter meltdown, and seeing how close Mr. Barron is to losing it again doesn’t help.

Noah’s eyes are on me. “I’ll walk you out.”

Words tumble over one another in my mind, but none come until we reach the exit doors.

“Noah.” His name is a whisper. It’s all I can manage.

“Madeleine Faith.” His smile is both strangely full and utterly broken. “Everything you sang? I heard it. And I sang it right back to you, in here.” He taps his chest and then cups my cheek.

I close my eyes.Stay, I want to beg him, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t be the thing that keeps him from his dreams.

“Faith, I...” His hand slips from my face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.”

He sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. “I guess you’ll be expected home soon.”

“Yeah.”

He looks up at the ceiling tiles of the entryway. “I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to tell you good—”

“No.” I put my hand on his lips, and then drop it. “Don’t say it.”

His Adam’s apple moves up and down. “Okay.” His smile is shaky. “In my head, I’m hugging you. Just F.Y.I.”