"Jane, thank you for volunteering. We really appreciate it." Aunt Rashel clasped both of my hands. She, as a journalist and a novelist, was also invited to the medical mission of the small town of Roseville. Although a few people knew that she was R. Rosengren, the famous young adult author of Fey Chronicles, she was more famous in town because she was one of Roseville College's Literature Department Professors.
I smiled. Aunt Rashel was always a warm person, even though she exhibited coldness and aloofness outside. Maybe it was because she was a professor and she wanted to put distance to her students, or maybe because she got rejected by her first love, of which she really did love.
"I was so stupid. I shouldn't have told him that," She cried on my shoulder back then. Now, I admired her for her strength to get back up and move forward.
"So when do I start working?" I asked.
"Oh," she rummaged inside her bag and gave me a letter. "The head gave you this. Included are your job description and department to where you're going to work."
*
Humming my favorite song, I pushed the food cart along the corridor. My task was to deliver meals to every room on the fifth and sixth floor. I knocked on room 506, and I was welcomed by the mother of the patient. The girl, who looked eight, was reading a Showbiz magazine. On the front cover read: Aaron Dane, Where Art Thou? I cringed.
When I regained composure, I introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Jane. What's your name?" I asked the little girl.
"Clair." She didn't look up.
"Let me adjust your bed so you can eat."
I knew she did not care.
I carefully placed the bed table on her lap.
"Hey, let's eat first. You can read it later." I said. She looked up, folded the magazine and placed it beside her.
"I'm going to be back to collect the food." I told the mother.
"Jane."
I turned my head to Clair.
"Where do you think Aaron is now?"
The thing was, I hated superstars, idols, pop stars ever since. Not because I am jealous of their fame, but because they were hypocrites. Smiling on TV, waving to fans, flashing angelic faces...they only care about themselves, their image, publicity.
They need to paint good pictures of themselves or they'll run out of money.
And the worst of them all was Aaron Dane.
I was fifteen and I was once his fan, despite my aversion for pop stars. It was because he shot his music video in Roseville High, and I chanced upon him composing music in our music room.
It could have been a better place, And I'll forget my fame
For the girl who stole my heart away
It was your blue-eyed gaze
That took my breath away
I want to wrap you in my embrace
Oh Belladonna, ever since we're ten
Oh Belladonna, you stole my heart again.
It was a beautiful song--honest, full of feeling. It was written for expression of love, not for publicity.
"What are you doing?" His voice echoed. Those lovely gray eyes looking directly at me in anger.
"Umm...just passing by and I heard music so--"
