Both Sides Now

"Thanks, m-me too," I stammered. Get it together! Jeez! 'Me too.' Idiot! I tore my eyes away from her, and hollered, "Josh! Come and meet our neighbor!" He came out of his office and said hi, as I introduced them.

"So," she began, "I won't keep you. I just wanted to welcome you and to let you know that there's a party this weekend at our house. Nothing fancy, we just have a group of couples in the neighborhood who take turns hosting. It would have been Ben and Rebecca's turn, they're the previous tenants of your place, but they've moved to Boston." She made a moue. Not sure if it was because they'd moved or because they'd moved to Boston.

"Anyway, please come. It's Saturday at 7. Since you're new, don't feel obligated to bring anything. It'll be a great chance to meet everyone." She smiled brightly at both of us, twirled on her toes, gave a little finger wave, and was gone.

I blinked.

"Well, she seemed nice," Josh said. "Very... umm... perky?" I looked at him, but he was already headed back to his office. What had just happened? I wasn't into girls, at least I didn't think so, but that woman... oh, my very dear.

I obsessed about the party all week, and by Saturday, I thought I might actually die. Josh looked at me, with a perplexed expression and said, "Holly, what is wrong with you? Are you coming down with something?" He even felt my forehead.

I made a supreme effort to pull it together, and by party time I thought I had myself under control. I told myself I was being silly, it was just a neighborhood get-together, but... I did want to make a good impression. I also didn't want us to show up empty-handed, so I asked Josh to pick up some drinks that we both liked, and I made a 7-layer dip. I know! So fancy!

Since they lived right next door, we could see other neighbors arriving. Finally, I decided we were fashionably late enough; I think I lasted til 7:05 before dragging Josh over to their house. He laughed at my eagerness; me, the loner.

We knocked, and a moment later, Gretchen greeted us with her quirky, dimpled smile.

"You're here! So glad you came!" she exclaimed, grabbing my hand and dragging me inside. Josh followed along dutifully.

She looked me up and down, and I felt my cheeks warm. She was still holding my hand, and said, "I love that dress." It was nothing fancy, just some old thing that I'd frantically shopped for all week. A nice summer dress in a floral print that showed off the definition in my arms.

I self-consciously brushed at it. "Oh, th-thanks," I stuttered. "I like your h-hair."

"Oh, pshh," she made a sound, but smiled. She finally let go of me, and the feeling of disappointment that welled up... where did that come from?

She took us around, introducing us. The easiest way to remember, she said, was to imagine that the circular portion of the cul-de-sac was a clock.

When we nodded our understanding, she told us where everyone lived. There were five houses around the circle. Geoff and Jessica were our neighbors to the west, at roughly 11 o'clock. Our house was at about 1 o'clock. Then Thom and Gretchen's house at about 3, and finally the last two houses belonged to two retired couples; Sam and Mary Ellen at 5, and Rudi and Ingrid at 7 o'clock on the cul-de-sac dial.

The other six houses lined the street, which led from the 9 o'clock position on the cul-de-sac to the main road. There were three on each side. Frank and Debbie were next door to Rudi and Ingrid, and on their other side were Harry and Sue. Across the street from Harry and Sue were Paul and Gina. The other three houses were all occupied by retired couples who mostly kept to themselves.

Everyone was nice and welcoming, except Frank. Wait, that's not precisely accurate - he was a little TOO welcoming, if you get my drift. I'm sorry to say I felt a pretty instant aversion to him. Who tries to grab someone's ass the first time they meet? I dodged and went to find someone else to talk to.

Going back into the kitchen, I ran into Gretchen and Jessica, who were getting out plates and cups and stuff.

"I see you met Frank," Gretchen snickered, and Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Is he always like that?" I shook my head. I was slowly getting over being tongue-tied around her.

"He's not so bad, as long as you know what to expect. Mostly harmless. The guys seem to like him, but it's like he can't help himself around women," Jessica replied. "Shit, he hit on me when I was pregnant with my second!"

"Seriously? Well, I guess I got my initiation out of the way."

They both laughed.

We talked about her kids - she and her husband Geoff had two - Brody, who was five, and Maggie, age three. I also learned that Paul and Gina had a daughter Charlotte, who was four. It didn't take long for me to offer to babysit for them; I loved kids.

The party was a lot more fun than I expected. The men spent most of the time out on the deck, and the women stayed in the house. But there was plenty of movement back and forth, and I got to exchange at least a few words with everyone. I made eye contact with Josh a few times, and he smiled back at me; the smile that said he was fine, having a good time, and didn't need to be rescued. I gave him the same smile in return.

I was drinking hard cider, and feeling warm inside, not exactly buzzed, chatting with several of the ladies. They were all nice, but I was especially pleased to meet Ingrid, one of the older wives. We pointed out each other's significant others, and for some reason I can't explain, I blurted out that Josh and I weren't married.

She only nodded and told me that her husband's name was Rudi. He was an open-faced, stocky man with a buzz cut of iron-gray hair. Ingrid was as tall as I, but slender, with long, blonde-going-silver locks. She had a very slight accent, and when I asked about it, she said that she and Rudi had emigrated from Sweden many, many, many years ago. She chuckled while repeating 'many', and told me that they had originally been hired as ski instructors at Stowe, and wound up staying.

I told her it couldn't have been that many years, and she said I was very sweet. Of course, we talked about skiing. I skied, and Josh snow-boarded, and we were fortunate to have several nice resorts close by. I promised Ingrid that we'd go with them as soon as the slopes were open.

But the whole time I was socializing, I was aware of Gretchen. I watched her flit from guest to guest, the perfect hostess. What was wrong with me? I was clearly infatuated, and it frightened me. I was clueless about how to deal with it. So, in my typical fashion, I ignored it. Tried to, anyway. But it was nearly impossible to keep from sneaking glances.

Ingrid told me she had enjoyed meeting me, and I assured her it was mutual, and that I was looking forward to getting to know her. Perhaps we could have lunch? She smiled and said that would be lovely. She touched me lightly on the shoulder and went to refresh her drink, and so, left to my own devices, I explored the first floor a little bit.

I found a room that appeared to be an office, which had a very nice wooden desk facing the window, and I could just make out a row of bookshelves to one side. When I pushed the door open a little wider, I saw something that took my breath away. On a stand in the corner was an acoustic guitar. And not just any guitar. It was a vintage Ovation Adamas, the non-cutaway style. It was gorgeous.

At that exact moment, Gretchen appeared at my elbow and caught me staring at it.

"Do you play?" she asked, startling me. When I jumped, she laughed softly, putting her hand on the small of my back. I was all over in goosebumps instantly. I could only pray she didn't notice.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she smiled.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for snooping. Just... that's a really nice guitar. Yours?"

"No, it's Thom's. Actually, Thom's brother; he was the musician. When he passed, Thom donated a lot of his other guitars and things, but this one was Charlie's favorite and Thom couldn't bear to part with it."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, how would you have known? It's been a few years now. Cancer. Anyway, neither of us play, so I had no idea. It's a nice one, you said?"

"Definitely. This one looks like it might be about 50 years old. It's hand-made."

"Oh wow. You know guitars?"

"No, not really. I know this one. I've always loved Ovations, especially this model. That you have one, it's crazy. If I ever win the lottery..." I sighed.

"So, you do play?" she repeated gently.

Busted.

"Oh... a little," I said reluctantly. I could see where this was going, and... here it came...

"Would you mind? I haven't heard it played in so long!" Somehow, she managed to ask without being presumptuous.

"With that? Oh no, I couldn't! It's worth at least ten times what mine cost, probably more!"

"It's okay, I promise. Thom won't mind."

"Are you sure?" I was afraid to touch it, much less play it. Also, as I said before, I was very introverted about my music. But that guitar... it was like her. Messing with my head. And she had asked.

"Positive." She smiled at me, and gave me a little push toward it, her hand once again at the small of my back, making me shiver. Taking a deep breath, I walked over and picked it up. There wasn't a strap, so I sat in the desk chair and tried to get comfortable. I spent a few minutes tuning it and then ran through several chord progressions. It sounded so much better than anything I'd ever played before that I almost cried.

But... play... what? My mind was a blank. Then something occurred to me, something that... well, I don't know what came over me, what made me think of that song.

That's a lie. Yes, I did. I knew exactly why I thought of it. Anyway, I took a moment, looked inward to where my music lived, and began to play.

The first few bars of the song were instrumental. I thought I'd just play the melody, as there was no way I was going to sing, so I was shocked when Gretchen joined in. Her voice was a lovely contralto, soft and a little huskier than her speaking voice. Perfect for James Taylor. Perfect for anything.

There's something in the way she moves

Or looks my way or calls my name

That seems to leave this troubled world behind

And if I'm feeling down and blue

Or troubled by some foolish game

She always seems to make me change my mind

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now

She's around me now

Almost all the time

And if I'm well, you can tell that she's been with me now

She's been with me now

Quite a long, long time and I feel fine

There were a couple more verses, but I was suddenly feeling overwhelmed, and stopped playing. I looked up from the guitar to see our new neighbors crowded around the door and in the hallway beyond, watching us. When I looked up, the applause started, and I don't know why but I started to cry.

"Holly! Hey, what's wrong?" Gretchen knelt beside me, a worried expression on her face.

"I have no idea," I whispered.

By then Josh had gotten to me, and Gretchen stood, sort of stroked my hair for a moment, then patted me on the shoulder and took a few steps back.

I smiled at her gratefully, then took a deep breath and wiped my face. I set the guitar back in its stand.

"Thanks for letting me play, Thom," I said, looking at him and Gretchen both.

He had a bemused expression on his face, but just said, "Any time, Holly, any time. It deserves to be played."

I nodded, looked at Josh, and said I thought I'd had about enough excitement for one evening, thanked everyone, and asked him to take me home. He nodded back at me, and we walked slowly out.

Choruses of well-wishes, thanks, and words of appreciation followed us.

Back at home, we sat on the sofa in the dark, and I rested my head on Josh's shoulder. "Sorry for losing it like that. I don't know what came over me," I said.

He just kissed me on the temple and said it was fine.

The next day, Sunday, Gretchen came by to ask if I was okay.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just normally very private about my music, but you asked so nicely, and then you sounded so wonderful when you sang..." I tried to hide my blush by taking a sip of my coffee. "I was really surprised. And then when I realized that we had an audience!" I half-laughed. "It just overwhelmed me." I looked at my hands. "Sorry. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"Never. I'm just glad you're okay. And you play beautifully, by the way," she added softly.

"Oh, thanks. Where'd you learn to sing like that?" I asked, trying to get the attention off me.

"Oh, well... would you believe church choir? My parents made me go, actually. I wasn't too crazy about the sermons, but I did enjoy the singing."

"Really? No offense, but you don't strike me as the church type."

"Oh? And what's 'the church type'?" she asked archly.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean anyth..." I tried to backpedal.

"Oh stop, I'm just fucking with you," she laughed.

I goggled at her; my mouth open. She closed it with a finger under my chin, still grinning.

"You're so mean!" I finally spat out.

She cocked her head airily. "I prefer to think of myself as... impish and tricksy."

I had to laugh. I knew we'd be friends from then on.

><><><><><

Spring turned to summer, and we settled in. We went to a couple more neighborhood parties, working our way around the cul-de-sac. We had one at Sam and Mary Ellen's, and another at Rudi and Ingrid's. I liked Ingrid quite a bit. She was definitely someone I could talk to, like the cool aunt that I wished I'd had growing up. She gave me a big smile and a hug when I told her that, and said it was the nicest thing she'd heard in a long time. She whispered that she had secretly always wished for a daughter. She and Rudi had two sons, both of whom moved out to Colorado for school and wound up staying. She said they tried to go out there at least once a year, usually in the winter, and the skiing was spectacular.

Anyway, at Rudi and Ingrid's party, Thom came up to me, acting all bashful, and he was holding the Ovation. With Holmesian cunning, I discerned his insidious plot.

"Umm, Holly, I don't mean to impose, or presume, or whatever, but... I... err, we... were hoping that you might play a little for us?"

"You know it's not fair, tempting me with that," I said, cutting my eyes at the guitar.

He grinned. "Sorry." He wasn't.

I mock-scowled at him as I took the guitar, and as I went through my warm-up, our friends just happened to gather in the room.

When I was ready, I peeked at Gretchen and she nodded. Looking around, I asked, "Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin." The older folks chuckled a bit at that, as I continued, "This one is for Ingrid."

I smiled at her and launched into "Brown-Eyed Girl." Gretchen came in right on time, and pretty soon everyone was nodding and tapping their feet. Most everyone joined in on the sha-la-la parts, and at the end, everyone was laughing and Ingrid had a big smile on her face.

"Thank you, dear," she said, grasping my hand for a moment.

Then Sue shouted, "Encore!" to more laughs, and Gretchen looked at me. I shrugged.

"Okay, here's a fin one. Err, fun one," I said. "Pun intended."

Nibblin' on sponge cake, watchin' the sun bake...

This time we had everyone singing along right from the start. "Margaritaville" was always a crowd favorite.

We went through a couple more, and then I screwed up. I tried to do something a little different, rather than another old standard. I mean, I thought it was a pretty well-known song, but I guess I should have asked first. Clearly, Gretchen didn't listen to new country! I started to play Taylor Swift's "Teardrops on My Guitar," and she just looked at me blankly. Oh, shit. I debated whether to just stop, but... in for a penny, in for a pound, and these were my friends now. Take a risk, Holly! I started to sing.

I saw Josh's head whip around to stare at me. Gretchen's mouth hung open. I gave a tiny shrug, and kept on. After a moment, she started frantically looking up the lyrics on her phone and joined in with me, and it wound up being pretty fun.

When I finished, Josh wore a mixed expression. I think maybe he was upset that I never told him I could sing. I don't know. He'd heard me practicing, but before now, I never sang, not when anyone was around.

The rest of the group were all smiles and compliments, and it made me blush. Gretchen hugged me and whispered, "You little sneak! Why didn't you tell me?" I just blushed some more, very aware of her closeness.

"Not something I ever really planned on sharing," I murmured. "Still not sure why I did. I never sing for people."

"Well, I'm glad you did. I have to say, I never expected such a sweet soprano from..."

Such a big girl. I heard it clearly in my head. My face clouded over. "And that's why." I got up and started to push past her. I felt like I was going to cry again. It seemed like every time I played lately, I cried. What the hell?

She realized it right away. "Oh shit. Oh shit, I'm sorry Holly, that came out all wrong!" She tried to grab my arm.

"It's fine," I mumbled, and kept walking, dragging her along behind me.

Now she was crying. "Holly, please, I'm sorry, please stop!"

I didn't know where I was going. Home, I thought, but somehow wound up in the bathroom. Gretchen pushed in right behind me and closed the door.

There was knocking and words of concern. I think I heard Gretchen ask them to give us a minute, but I didn't pay any attention to what was going on outside and didn't care. Just that I had this weight on my chest. Figuratively, at first, then literally. Gretchen had grabbed me around the waist and was crying on my boobs. It would have been funny, except... yeah, for what she had said. Her.

She was sobbing and trying to talk to my left breast. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I'm such an idiot..."

I didn't know what to do with my hands. I tried to pat her on the back reassuringly, but failed completely. She just cried harder. How did I wind up being the consoler rather than the consoled?

She managed to get herself under control, finally, and then all in a rush, she blurted, "Holly, you're my friend, at least I hope you still are, and I know I don't know you that well yet, but please believe me that I never want to hurt you, and I feel just awful..."

"Gretchen... yes, you're still my friend. And I guess I know you didn't mean it." She cried a little more at that.

When she calmed a little, I asked, "Can I tell you something?"

She looked up at me and nodded. "Of course!"

So, I told her. I told her about growing up a loner, always the biggest girl in my group of friends. I told her about Carrot Top, and my dad leaving, and my brother blaming me for it. I told her about my mother. I told her everything, even Craig. I think we were locked in the bathroom for an hour, sitting on the floor as I unloaded my life history on her.

At one point, Josh texted me asking if I was all right. I said yes, sorry for losing it, again, and that Gretchen and I were working through some stuff. Therapy, I said. Could he please tell everyone we were ok, and I hoped they didn't think I was a nutcase, and please send in some wine.

He LOLed and said sure.

Anyway, when I finally ran out of breath, she crawled back over to me and she hugged me, her chin resting comfortably in the corner of my neck and shoulder. It felt really really nice. She whispered fiercely in my ear, "That image in your head? That's not what I see. You're goddamn beautiful and don't let anyone ever tell you differently."