Destiny's Cry

HER HEART WAS WILDLY RACING. But the first step of her lifelong dream was about to be realized, and that was her sole measure of comfort right now. She clasped and unclasped her small hands, but she knew her palms were inevitably going to stay damp. Onstage less than fifteen feet away, she could hear the emcee making small talk with the audience.

My God, she was really here! Behind the velvet maroon curtains on stage at the legendary Apollo theatre in Harlem. She took yet another deep breath and began to hum the tune of the song she was about to sing. She knew the words like she knew her very name, but her worst fear was that her mind would go blank in the middle of her greatest moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Amateur Night at Showtime at the Apollo. We’re going to get right to it. So if you’re ready for the next act, everybody say ‘Yeah!’" The emcee announced, as the raucous crowd responded with thunderous voices.

"Well, ya’ll put your hands together and show your love for Lauren Dillard!"

She heard her name, almost like in a fog. It was her time. She took four steps and moved out from behind the curtain. The glare of the studio lights struck her eyes and she was momentarily blinded. But she regained her composure and walked towards the host, pausing first to rub the large bronzed rock to her left in the Apollo tradition. And then she was next to the man; her eyes now adjusted to the lights as she looked out at the sea of faces.

"Alright, Miss Lauren – looking good, looking good. Mm-hmm." The crowd began to collectively snicker at his comedic facial expressions. "You wearing that red dress real good, girl. Where you from?"

"Hou--Houston, Texas." She cleared her throat, washing back the wave of nervousness that almost overtook her. Girl, get it together!

"That’s alright now. Houston, ya’ll. Down South. Mm . . . hmmm. Texas, yeah," he made a knowing look towards the crowd, "that’s all good, but ya’ll know I got to represent Dallas, cause that’s where I’m from." He looked back towards Lauren and smiled. "But Houston is tight, too – I know the folks down there at Majic 102, great people. And what do you do in the H-Town?"

"I’m a college student."

"Mm..mm.mm... Looking fine and she’s smart - you got it goin’ on, girl! What are you studying?"

"Kinesiology."

"Kin-nissi-og.." he made another comic face, which the crowd thought was hilarious. "Mmm--I see they don’ got new majors now - I guess I’m behind in the game. They didn’t have that when I was coming up! Kissi-what? Girl, what’s that?"

Lauren lightened a little at his humor. "Kinesiology. It’s the science of muscular fitness, like what athletic trainers would study."

"Alright, now. Watch yo’self, girl. I’m sho’ a lot of athletes wouldn’t mind working with you! But we moving on, we moving on. What are you going to sing for us tonight?"

"I’m going to sing "I Have Nothing," by Whitney Houston."

"Whiiit-neeey! Watch out now, girl! Alright, go over there and do your thing. Lauren Dillard, everybody!"

Lauren carefully walked to the center of the stage, conscious that all eyes were on her. It was unnerving, yet altogether thrilling at the same time. Her heart began riding an indescribable roller coaster of emotions. She released the microphone from its stand, closed her eyes and stepped back, her head slightly bowed. Down in the pit to the left of the stage, the drummer hit his sticks three times and the band began the warm-up. Lauren ever so slowly began to sway to the rhythm of the music. She was in her element now and her nervousness faded away. She could do this and she was going to do this. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and flashed the confident smile of a diva. And then she opened her mouth and began to sing . . .