Her.

She is singing for every word that wasn’t said, singing for every person that was ever silenced. She is singing for the scared little girls and lonely little boys. As Amber sings, everything snaps into focus. The crowd is becoming vibrant in their responses. Women are swaying along with her voice. I see men closing their eyes as they listen, falling into every lilted tone and cascading lyric. People are recording her, mouths open in awe as they turn to raise their eyebrows at their friends, impressed.

Her talent is undeniable as the climax of the song comes crashing down and her voice trickles through the wave of emotions without falter. I wipe my tears away as I let her voice heal me, just the way it heals everyone. I’m not the only one crying anymore. She has a special way of throwing us into the moment – her moment – and letting the tension, pain and frustration of life fall away. 

As I watch her sing, I am letting go of every hurtful argument, of every murmur of disappointment that crashed between us. I always knew that Amber Freeman was something special. There was something so undeniably curious about her. She has a way of clumsily crashing through the world, whilst also managing to sing with such grace and delicacy. I always knew that I wanted to be her friend.

Amber is so important. It may have been Kat who helped me come to terms with my sexuality and, in the end, I was the only person who could work through my own identity but … Amber is something different. She always was.

I never wanted things to turn sour with Amber like they did and, even looking back on what happened between us, I can’t quite pinpoint where it all fell apart. Maybe Amber did things wrong but so did I. We are flawed people and I don’t know how to fix that.

Her voice is connecting my thoughts to my feelings and I’m realising that it doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter because I am human and so is Amber. We are just broken humans who are looking to find our way in the world.

Aren’t we all just broken?

Amber finishes her set to thundering applause. She is beaming as she stares out into the crowd, thanking them with a shy voice. As soon as she finishes singing, it’s like she transforms into a different person – a little self-conscious, a little shy but more than aware of her ability to capture the attention of a crowded room with just her voice.

Without thinking, I am on my feet, screaming and shouting my applause. My voice is strangled and I know that my mascara is leaking onto my cheeks. The people around me probably think that I am crazy but I don’t care. I won’t hide my appreciation.

I won’t hide anymore.

***

SWEETHEARTS is a Young-Adult LGBT Contemporary manuscript complete at approximately 65, 000 words. 

Email: gemmgilmore@gmail.com

Twitter: @gemmgilmore