Week 38 - The Audition

It was early afternoon as Jordyn pulled into the parking lot. Her little truck was loaded down with a beat-up guitar case, countless songbooks, a case of Diet Dr. Pepper and a half-eaten burrito. The nerves were getting to her, and she didn’t know how to handle them. A couple years ago, she would have found strength in a bottle of pills or booze. But those days were behind her, thank God. She took one last sip of the good Dr.’s elixir and headed inside. 

Once on stage, the auditorium for the Bluegrass School was cavernous, with black sound-reflecting panels on every flat surface she could see. There was only one light illuminating the stage, and Jordyn truly felt like a deer on the wrong side of a scope standing there alone behind a tin-can-style microphone. Her Gibson guitar strapped around her neck let her know she wouldn’t just float away, and the thin beads of sweat falling down her temples and running down her back were a constant reminder that this was real and it was happening. 

“Alright, Ms. Jordyn, whenever you’re ready.” The voice came from the darkness of the audience, but she recognized it as that of Jim Reed, the director of the program here at the school. 

How many hours had she practiced? Would it be enough? A pang of self-doubt crept through her spine, only for a moment, before she could stuff it away. “Hey y’all. My name is Jordyn Nelson. I’m from over in Black Grass. Appreciate y’all lettin’ me come here and sing ya a few this afternoon.”

She took a step away from the mic and drew in a deep breath. Leaning into the microphone, she began to sing.

I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world of woe

She paused. Her mind had gone blank. This song, the one her father and grandfather had sung to her thousands of time throughout her life was now erased from her brain. Panic set it. 

She took a step away from the mic and drew in a deep breath. Leaning into the microphone, she tried to speak. “Sorry. Nerves. Let me try that again.”

I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world of woe

Again, her mind became a black emptiness. Even more sweat was forming now on her brow and running down her back. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“You ok, hon?” a voice called from the darkness. It belonged to a woman, but Jordyn wasn’t sure who. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and forced a smile. 

“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine. One last time.”

She took a step away from the mic and drew in a deep breath. Leaning into the microphone, she sang. 

No words came out, just a weak croaking noise. A wave of shame and embarrassment washed over Jordyn as she stood there in the spotlight. “Sorry,” she whispered through tears and walked off of the stage. 

After a blur of steps and tears, she found herself in a Green room filled with comfortable seats and a small fridge packed with tiny bottles of water. She collapsed onto a brown leather couch and began to sob.

Jordyn was so consumed with her own failings that she never noticed someone slip into the room and sit down on the couch next to her. “Well, that’s not the worse audition we’ve had at the school. It’s up there, sure. But it ain’t the worst.” 

It was the same voice Jordyn had heard from the stage. She rolled over to see a strikingly beautiful woman in her fifties with curly blonde hair, wearing a denim skirt with blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick. She was one of the prettiest women Jordyn had ever seen. She handed Jordyn a box of tissues. “There you go, hon. It’s ok.”

“I screwed that right up, proper,” Jordyn said, dabbing the corner of her eyes.

The nice blonde lady gave Jordyn a kind smile. “Well, we didn’t get much of a chance to hear you sing, that’s for sure. It’s just nerves is all, I’d imagine.” 

Jordyn let out a sigh and let her shoulders sink. “I practiced that song a thousand times.”

“Hon, you ever sing on a stage before today? A real stage?” 

Jordyn shook her head. “I mean, I sung at church and stuff. But nothing like this.”

The blonde lady smiled even wider. “Well, there you go. I got my start in church too. My daddy was a travelin’ preacher and he had me and my brother and sisters doin’ the music from the time we could hold a mandolin. We had ‘em shoutin’ and runnin’ between the pews after a few bars ever time!” 

“I’m a Baptist. It was rare to get an ‘Amen’ in our church,” Jordyn said with a wry chuckle. 

The sweet blonde lady slapped Jordyn playfully on the knee. “Awe, honey. I was out a that kinda church singin’ business when daddy caught me swappin’ spit with the piano player’s son out behind the shed. Had his hand up my shirt and a bottle a Apple Jack half drunk between us. Lord don’t care where you come to see him, long as you stop in and say ‘Hi,’ ever now and then, best I can figure.” 

The sounds of a banjo tuning up came from the stage. “You need to get back out there?” Jordyn asked.

The pretty blonde lady just smiled. “Oh, they can manage for a few minutes. Tell me why you came here today. What makes you wanna be a singer?”

She squinted her eyes a bit, thinking. “Tons a reasons, really. My grandaddy would sit out on the porch and sing the old-timey songs to me when I’d stay with him and mamaw growing up. Daddy said that I was singing before I took to talking as a baby and ain’t stopped much since; least when I’m alone.”

“Do you write songs, hon?”

Jordyn shrugged her shoulders. “Bet I’ve started over a hundred. Never finished one, though.”

The blonde lady nodded her head and smiled. “Hon, you got a lotta years in front of you yet. When I was your age, I was livin’ in the bottom of a bottle, singin’ in front of ten people a night who didn’t give two shits if I was on key or naked. Now, just because it didn’t go your way on that stage today don’t mean nothin’, alright?” 

Jordyn shook her head, weakly. 

“Now, I gotta get back out there, but before I do, I want you to do me a favor. Will you sing a song in here with me?” 

Jordyn was puzzled by this, and wasn’t sure she had it in her to sing. But, this woman had been kind, and she didn’t want to be a disappointment all over again, so she agreed.

“Let’s do an ol’ Hymn, since we’re just a couple a old church girls deep down,” the pretty blonde lady said with a grin. “I’ll get us started and you just jump in.”

Her voice was clear and soothing, Jordyn thought, like a breeze through a picket fence on a summer day. She immediately knew the song this nice lady was singing to her. 

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

Jordyn joined in, harmonizing along, creating something that surprised both of them. 

I once was lost, but now I’m found

Was blind, but now I see

They sang through three verses of the song and as they finished, tears filled both of their eyes. “That song is very special to me. It got me through recovery a couple a years ago. That and my son. I was the only begotten daughter, dead in a ditch, and now I’m here.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, hon. You got a story to tell. You done some livin’ and now you need to let it out.” The pretty lady with blonde hair stood and motioned for Jordyn to join her for a hug. 

“Will I be able to audition again next year, ma’am?” she asked, sheepishly. 

She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, hon. But you’re gonna need to talk to Cheryl out there as you leave.”

Jordyn’s shoulders dropped. She could feel the hope drain out of her body. 

“Your classes for this term start in a week, so she can get you set up with an ID and schedule you for everything,” the pretty blonde lady said as she gathered up her purse. 

Confused, Jordyn shook her head. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

She smiled. “I said your classes start next week. You can’t audition next year, sweetie, because you’ll already be a student here.”

Jordyn squealed and hugged her tightly around the neck. “Are you kidding? Thank you so much!”

“I got a feelin’ about you, hon. I want to work with you. You got something and we can make it happen. I know it. Now, go see Cheryl so I can listen to this next kid murder his banjo!” 

She gathered up her guitar and songbooks quickly. “Ma’am? I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“What?” she said with false surprise. “Well, when I was dazzling them down on the strip, I went by Evangeline. But here at the school, you can just call me Ms. Effy. I’m your Vocals instructor.”