“I’ll be on the stage tomorrow.” I rush to my mom as soon as I see her. “Our group is going to dance in the Children’s Day performance, in front of everyone! Parents can come too. You will come and watch me dance, won’t you?” I guess she knows I am not really asking.
“I’m so proud of you!” she hugs me and picks me up. I reach my arms around her neck so that I can sniff the delightful and comforting fragrance of mom in her embrace.
“I will be there,” she says.
Then we step into the house together. The happiest moment of my life is coming—my mom is going to watch me dance! The rich perfume of sweet osmanthus from the garden mixed with the familiar odor of home-style cooking intoxicate me. Everything seems more enjoyable just because you know something good is coming soon for sure.
* * *
Ms. Chen, our teacher and director of performance, has applied makeup for the last one of us. It won’t be long before we take the stage. My heart can’t help bouncing hard in my chest and all the blood comes rushing to my head. There is no way for me to calm down. Stealthily tilting my head to the mirror and pretending to pass by, I assure myself that the heat on my face is not noticeable thanks to Ms. Chen’s perfect makeup—cherry lips, apple cheeks, bright round eyes with naturally long eyelashes. Hopping forward and backward in an appreciation of the costume, I feel something inside is booming and about to burst into light and heat. I am dressed in a cute snowy skirt since I will play the little white bunny—one of the main roles in this performance. On my head is a furry bunny ear hairband, which I can’t stop touching. When the other girls call “Little white bunny, please come here and help us pull out the carrot”. I am to jump out from the backstage and join them. I have practiced the dance and lines at home and had several rehearsals so I will not make any mistakes. What’s more, my mom will come to watch me!
To kill some time, I hang around the backstage to see what my partner, other two leading dancer, in our group are doing. At one side of the stage, Jin, who along with Tong plays the grey bunny sisters, is waving to her mother in the audience, giggling. Obviously, she is nervous. I give her a nudge and say, “Jin, do you see my mom?” As expected, I am ignored. Tong’s mother volunteers to apply makeup to performers so Tong can stay by her side. Watching them chat about the pending performance really makes people jealous. I don’t want to join their conversation. I need to find my mom before our dance.
Leaning out of the stage curtain and searching for my mom in the crowds over and over again, I find nothing but disappointment. “It’s okay. I won’t blame her for being late,” I murmur to myself. She is definitely coming and there is a while before we start.
“Girls in Class A, attention please!” says Ms. Chen. Hearing her voice, I stop searching and turn to her as everyone else does.
“We are going to perform soon, so I need you to gather here now. Be confident and show your best,” Ms. Chen continues to say. Then she sees me and walks towards me.
“Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong with you?” Ms. Chen goes down to her knee to hold my hand and asks.
“What? Why do I have to perform now? I thought my show time would be later.” What’s wrong with me? Looking into her eyes, I see my own bewildered reflection, “Do you see my mom?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I haven’t because, you see, I have been staying here with you.” Ms. Chen gently touches my nervously clenched fist.
“I won’t dance unless she comes.”
No, I won’t, I decide. It’s all meaningless if she isn’t watching. I have to buy time, as much as I can until she arrives.
“I didn’t see her but she’s probably in the audience. Come on, she’ll see you on the stage.”
“No! If she is here she will come to me. Now that I haven’t seen her, she must be on the way. Could you call her?” I begged in a shaking voice.
“Of course I can. Look. So many people are waiting for you,” she points to the children and their parents who are sitting side by side on the playground. “You’ll give them today’s best show. Remember how much you like this dance drama and how hard you have practiced?”
I have nothing to answer. Avoiding the stares cast on me, I walk towards the chair in the corner of the backstage, pass all other performers gathering in the opposite direction, sit down, and bury my face in my arms. Why is she still not here? Is she still working? Does she forget what she promised me? Something named despair is blocking my throat but I won’t cry. Tears will spoil the makeup.
Gazing at my favorite skirt, I remember the afternoon of last weekend when mom and I were picking the dress for performance at Wuhan Square. She tell me with an amazed look when I came out from the fitting room, wearing the white skirt, “You are my angel!”
Mom, please be my angel and come to save me!
Is that what she expects to see? I must be the only one feeling depressed in this room.
Is that what I want? I am ruining the whole performance.
I become the focus of teachers and performers because they are waiting for me; they are now all watching me, because I set them on edge. I don’t feel good about having others wait with me; I know what it feels like to wait after all. Poor Jin. Just a couple of minutes ago she laughed so happily. Now I dare not see her face. How easy it is to destroy other’s happiness! Ms. Chen’s patience must be wearing thin. Feeling disappointed for my mother and guilty for other performers including Jin, I am already out of breath. I raise my head a little for a gasp. At this moment, I see Jin’s worried face. I don’t even know when she come to sit here. I look around and I see others: They are all sitting beside me. I begin to be aware that the performance today is not my own self-satisfying show. Instead of swallowing the groans alone in the corner, I can do something nicer for these people. The performance is not over. It just begins. “Tack, tack, tack…” When I just stand up and don’t know what to say, I heard Ms. Chen’s footstep towards here.
“Yaqi, see who is coming!” Ms. Chen says delightfully.
I look up and see my mom.
* * *
That day finally became one of my happiest days, with my mother getting to the kindergarten in time and we performing as planned.
“Why were you so late?” I asked on the way she walked me back after the performance, “I thought you were not coming.”
“I told you I would be there, a little late but I would make it before your show time yesterday. My working hour is 7:00 to 12:00. Baby you were not listening, right?”
“Oh, did you say that?”
“Yeah, I did. You need to listen more carefully.”
“Yes, I will learn to listen.” I laughed and shrugged.