The one singing that wonderful song had, of course, been Jill. Standing in front of her now and seeing her shrinking in on herself in the shadow of a chair made me almost disbelieve it, despite knowing how rude it was to think that. Her voice had been so bold that it had totally bowled us over, after all.
“Jill, the two of them wanted to compliment your singing,” Paula told her softly.
She was sitting in the chair beside Jill. The younger woman just buried her face in Paula’s lap with a mumbling cry and shook her head over and over.
“I did something awful,” Nito muttered sadly from next to me, slumping.
She’d been so enthused that she’d wanted to share her feelings with the singer, but she couldn’t have imagined just how introverted Jill was. When Nito burst in, she had screamed at the idea of someone she didn’t know hearing her song and then immediately slumped across the chair.
“Um, I’m sorry we eavesdropped.” I tried to apologize, but only got a groaning mumble in return.
“This girl... She has such a good voice but just can’t sing in front of people. She reacted the same way the first time I heard her as well.”
Paula looked conflicted as she spoke. It seemed like eavesdropping was the only way to hear Jill’s songs, and that keeping Jill from realizing she had an audience had been for both of their sakes. Then Nito had jumped into the middle of things and thrown it all off. I knew Nito was more than perceptive enough to have realized that herself, and that just telling her not to worry about it likely wouldn’t do any good. She knew exactly what the situation was, and she was curling in on herself more with every passing second.
I needed to do something.
Right now, Jill was reeling from a completely unforeseen shock and couldn’t process her feelings, if my guess was correct. Giving her a different shock that was slightly easier to parse might get her back to herself again, and then we could apologize. I moved to stand next to Paula and spoke as softly as I could.
“Jill, we’re holding the Lantern Flower Festival in the village. Would you sing there for us?”
The constant shaking of her head finally stopped and she lifted her face to look at me. Her dumbfounded expression and the lack of a reply gave me the impression that she hadn’t really understood what I’d said, so I slowly repeated myself.
“Would you sing at the Lantern Flower Festival?”
“Wha... You’re holding the Lantern Flower Festival?”
“We are.”
“That Lantern Flower Festival?”
“That’s the one.”
She nodded in understanding as my words finally got through to her.
“Ho...”
“Ho?”
“How could I ever do that?!”
Her breath was coming in great gasps as she shook her head so hard that I worried it might fall off. I’d at least somewhat expected it, but the sheer force of her refusal made the lack of room for any negotiation perfectly clear. The idea had come to me when I’d heard her singing, and I thought it was a good one if I did say so myself, but I couldn’t force her to sing if she didn’t want to.
“Then would you consider just participating in general?”
“I...I wouldn’t have to sing?”
She seemed much more willing in that case and looked up at Paula, evidently asking her for a final decision. I relaxed at that point, expecting a positive response, but to my surprise, Paula shook her head.
“It’s a wonderful invitation, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. You should go on your own, Jill.”
Smiles didn’t necessarily mean a good answer. Sometimes they could be a more eloquent refusal than anything else, and the smile currently on Paula’s face was one of those. Her answer wouldn’t have changed no matter how she’d been invited. Jill, still looking at Paula, didn’t fail to catch on to those feelings. She slowly shook her head.
“Then, um, I won’t go either. I’m sorry for saying no after you went out of your way to invite us.”
Even as I voiced a generically polite concession, my mind was on Paula’s reaction. It seemed like she’d answered without even thinking first, and Jill was clearly not happy about declining. Paula must have had some strong reasoning to refuse like that, but asking after it felt a bit too much like prying.
“Jill, you don’t have to worry about me,” Paula told her.
“No, I wouldn’t manage on my own.”
Paula was silent for a moment, then simply gave a resigned, “All right.”
“Sorry, Kei, I hope you don’t mind?” she apologized brightly, turning to me and bringing her hands together in front of her face in a pleading gesture.
“Not at all. I’m sorry for inviting you out of nowhere.”
“Invitations from others are the mark of a fine woman, so it was nice to get one, regardless. I promise I’ll repay it, so let us off this one time, okay?”
This time, her smile wasn’t the uncompromising one from earlier, but a gentler, more fleeting one. It was her (slightly awkward) attempt to negate the uncomfortable atmosphere she’d created.
“I’m looking forward to it. The same goes for men, after all.”
“You really get it, Kei.”
We exchanged looks, making sure neither of us was torn up about this outcome. Through my invitation and her refusal, we’d each touched on a slight sore spot, but there was no malice from either side, so neither of us was unhappy. We’d just gone for a fresh start.
“Oh, Jill, I’ll introduce you,” I said, changing the topic. It was a bit of a blatant move, but no one in the room would’ve called me out on it. “This is Nito. We’re the best of friends.”