Both Sides Now

Well. Later that night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time, thinking about what she'd said.

><><><><><

At the next party, there was no singing, but Geoff did come over at one point and make a suggestion. "You know, Radio Bean has open mic nights all the time. You two should think about it." Radio Bean was a coffee shop, slash bar, slash live music venue in downtown Burlington.

"Maybe," I said. I could do noncommittal like nobody's business. He just nodded like it was a done deal.

><><><><><

When it finally became our turn to host, Josh had decided to install a fire pit rather than a hot tub on the patio, and the guys were gathered around it, drinking beer and telling lies.

The women were in my kitchen when Debbie asked if there was any more wine.

"Josh!" I yelled out back. "Where did you put the wine?"

He looked at me quizzically. "What wine?"

"The wine I asked you to pick up for the party?"

"Oh, crap. Sorry babe, I'll go right now."

"Sit your butt back down, you've been drinking. I'll go." Right after I murder you.

I heard another, "Sorry, babe," but it bounced off my back.

I told the girls I'd be right back. Ingrid offered to ride with me but I thanked her and told her to stay and have fun. It didn't take me long to make the trip.

When I got back, I came in through the garage, and as I cracked open the door, I heard gales of laughter coming from my kitchen. Curious, I stopped to listen. It soon became clear that they were playing Kiss, Marry, Kill. Debbie was just asking "Who would you kill?" and all the women yelled, "FRANK," in unison. More howls of laughter, including Debbie.

"Hey, I know he's an ass, but he's mine," she said.

"Okay, Gina, who would you kiss?" Debbie asked next.

"Umm... I guess, Harry?"

"Excellent choice," said Sue, Harry's wife. She was a cop and nothing fazed her. "He's a very good kisser. AND he's a teacher. If you do it wrong, he makes you do it over and over again til you get it right," she said. There was a lot of giggling after that.

"How about you, Jess?"

"Hmm. Probably... Thom. Sorry Gretch, but your husband is dreamy."

"Jessica!" Gretchen protested, laughing.

"What? It's true!"

More laughter.

"Okay Gretchen, how about you? Who would you kiss?"

"Oh, that's easy," she said airily. "Holly."

My heart stopped. Dead silence from the kitchen.

"Okayyy?" said Debbie, finally.

"Come on, have you seen her? She's talented and sweet, and so hot! I saw her sunbathing in a bikini once, and Oh. My. God. Yep, totally Holly."

I didn't hear any more. I crept back into the garage and closed the door as silently as I could. I slid down to the floor with my back against the wall, my heart beating again, finally.

Was she being serious? Or was she just being Gretchen?

Fuck. I covered my mouth with my hands, my eyes wide. I remembered that bikini. It was scandalous, especially for me. The only place I'd ever dare wear it was in private, but I forgot about the upstairs window in Gretchen and Thom's house. She had seen me in it? Oh God. But she thought I was hot?

It's not like I could run home and hide, this was my house! Shit. Okay, I could do this. I picked up the case of wine, and this time I made a lot of noise coming in.

Debbie just said, "Oh, thank God," and grabbed two bottles out of the box, immediately uncorking one. I glanced around, and if I wasn't already tuned in on her, I might have missed a slight pinkness in Gretchen's cheeks when she glanced at me. It seemed that no matter what, whenever she was around, I always seemed to be more aware of her, of what she was doing. But it wasn't a conscious effort, it just happened. Did I mention I was very, very confused?

Fortunately, the game appeared to be over. We relaxed for the rest of the evening, made plans to get together for drinks one night next week, and after my third glass of wine, Gretchen and I discussed the idea of doing an Open Mic night.

She was sitting next to me on the couch, sideways, leaning back against my arm and resting her head on my shoulder. Using me as her own personal recliner. If I turned my head, I could smell her shampoo. Oh, my goddamn. Stay on topic, Holly...

"Do you really want to do it?" I asked. "Because frankly, the idea terrifies me."

"Yeah, I think I do. It would be amazing, Hol. But... it would mean a lot if you sang, too."

"Oh, no, no, no, not that." I shook my head vehemently.

'What about a duet then? Not singing alone?" she pressed, tilting her head further back so she was looking up at me sort of upside down. Oh, that's unfairly adorable, that is. I closed my eyes.

"Ugh. I'll think about it," I conceded.

"So, we're thinking about it. Good," she smirked, lowering her head.

"Brat!" I complained.

"Good thing you love me," she simpered.

I gulped, glad she wasn't looking as I felt myself flush.

Later, after everyone had gone home, was when I messed everything up. I told Josh what I had overheard in the kitchen.

Cue dramatic music.

"No shit?" his eyes were round. I guess it must have really turned him on, because he dragged me into the bedroom before I could finish cleaning up.

The next morning, I asked him to please not say anything to anyone about what I had told him. Since I had been eavesdropping, I already felt bad enough. He agreed, but I could tell it was stuck in his brain now.

><><><><><

At our next get-together, which was at Gretchen and Thom's, we finally admitted to the group that Gretchen and I were seriously considering the Open Mic at Radio Bean. Everyone immediately got excited, started talking about when, and what songs to play, and generally gave us all the free advice that we could handle.

Debbie brought us all to a screeching halt when she asked, "So, what are you going to call yourselves?"

"Hot Chicks!" yelled Frank. Then, "Oof!" He gave Debbie a hurt look, rubbing his ribs.

I suggested, admittedly uninspired, "Gretchen and Holly?"

"Boooo!!! Borrrringgggg..." came the catcalls from the group.

I shut up.

"Grolly? Or maybe just Golly? You know, G for Gretchen and olly for Holly," offered Gina.

"Nice one, babe," whispered Paul, ever the supportive husband. She dimpled at him. They were so cute together.

"Hmmm. Weird, yet meaningful. Has potential," mulled Harry.

"Två vänner," proposed Ingrid. "It's Swedish for 'Two Friends'."

"I like it," I said, repeating it a couple of times. "It kinda rolls off the tongue. But..." I added hesitantly, with an apologetic look at my friend, "It might make people think we're Swedish?"

"I fail to see the downside," said Rudi, faking indignation.

"Well, what about just plain 'Two Friends'?" proposed Gretchen. There were nods.

"Votes? Show of hands?"

We were split between Two Friends and Golly. As I sat there wondering how to break the tie, my mind took a left turn, and I felt this sudden burst of happiness. Here I was, surrounded by friends who wanted to be involved. Who wanted to be part of, and support, what we were doing, Gretchen and I. We had an idea, and they all pitched in, no questions asked. I had never felt that before.

Oh god, I thought, not again! I cry at every damn party we have! But I managed to control myself. At least this time, they would have been tears of happiness. Ingrid, of course, raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled and motioned around at all of us, and patted my heart. She nodded in understanding, her own smile matching mine.

Then I blurted, "Friends, by Golly?" and laughed, not at all serious.

There were a few chuckles, and then...

"Fog." It was Thom.

"Huh?" from Gretchen.

"Friends of Golly. But as an acronym. F-O-G. It's mysterious, and hidden, and ethereal, and all that crap. Just like you two."

Me? Hidden, certainly. But ethereal? Hardly. Gretchen, however... I flushed, but at the same time...

"You're a genius!" I gasped. He smirked and buffed his nails on his shirt.

With that, we looked at each other. "Any objections?" Gretchen asked. Head shakes all around.

So that was it. We were Fog.

Summarily, Thom appointed himself our manager. The next day, he called the club and got us a slot for the following month.

He told us what to expect. "Pretty simple. Show up on time, you get one song, and as long as you don't get booed, you can do another."

"Oh, that's no pressure at all, thanks Thom," Gretchen laughed.

"Don't worry, you guys are not gonna get booed, not unless a Death Metal convention happens to be in town."

She smacked him.

"What did I say?" he complained.

"Dunno, I just felt like slapping you."

I think a little of my drink came out of my nose.

><><><><><

The month passed very quickly. We figured we'd stick with the songs we were most comfortable with, so that meant the James Taylor song, "Something in the Way She Moves," that we'd done together the very first time I'd played for Gretchen, and then we agreed on "So Far Away," by Carole King. I knew she was a pianist, but I loved that song and had found an adaptation for guitar a while ago. Gretchen was familiar with it and we'd sung it for our friends once before.

We practiced a couple of times a week though, partly to make sure we knew them backward and forward, but also just to hang out. My jumbled feelings notwithstanding, she was becoming my best friend. I was really happy. Super nervous about the event, but other than that... that, and Josh. He would not leave it alone.

"Going over to play with Gretchen?" he'd say, and waggle his eyebrows, as if I could possibly miss the innuendo dripping from his voice. What the hell, was he 16?

Finally, I'd had enough. I just said, deadpan, "Yeah, Josh, we're gonna practice, then she's gonna fuck me with her strap-on. No sex for you later, I'll probably be too sore." And I marched out.

I so wanted to tell Gretchen what I'd said to Josh; she would have loved it. But doing so would reveal that I'd overheard her comments during the Kiss, Marry, Kill game, and I didn't think I was ready for that yet.

But I did limp around the house a bit the next morning, just to get a rise out of Josh. He looked at me bug-eyed. When I straightened up and gave him a disgusted look, he actually had the nerve to act disappointed.

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Before we knew it, it was Open Mic night. Waiting for our turn, I was petrified. Gretchen, damn her, was laughing at me!

"Come on, Holly, we've rehearsed a thousand times. It's going to be great!"

"Not in front of people," I almost wailed.

"Of course we have, at our parties," she countered.

"But those are our friends!"

"Stop it, you're being a silly goose."

That got a snort of laughter from me. Maybe she was right.

"Just remember, our friends are out there. Just play for them, okay?"

"Okay," I said in a small voice.

"There you go. Now come on, let's get warmed up."

Pretty soon, we were up. I heard the MC announce, "Please welcome, for the first time, Fog!"

There was a lot of cheering from our friends, and some polite applause from the rest of the crowd. I looked at Gretchen and she nodded. I took a breath, found our friends in the crowd, and played.

It wasn't even close to my best performance, since I was so nervous, but we didn't get booed, and got to play our second song. That one went much better, and we got a very nice round of applause. Afterward, the owner said we were welcome back any time, so that was a plus. Of course, everyone in our circle of friends raved. Made us autograph their napkins and some other silly stuff.

We did another one a few weeks later and tried a couple of new (for us) songs. We did The Mamas & the Papas, "California Dreamin'" as a duet, which was interesting. We had worked on the harmonies quite a bit before we were happy with it, and Gretchen was right, I wasn't as scared singing with her. Honestly, there was something about a duet... I didn't know how professionals did it all the time, because to me, it was so... intimate. I couldn't look at her while we were singing or I knew I'd mess up.

For our second song, we did Jim Croce's "Operator." I could relax and concentrate on the guitar, while Gretchen poured her heart into it, and it almost made me tear up a little, listening to the sadness that she was able to evoke.

We got some really good feedback again, and the manager repeated his offer to come back any time.

><><><><><

At our next block party, Frank of all people, came up to us and after some chit-chat, said, "Hey, so you know I'm a salesman, right? Well, a couple of months ago, my boss added Montreal to my route." Then he stammered a little bit. "I, uh, I asked a few people up there, and they said there are a couple of good open mic spots in the city."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. "Wow, Frank, you did that for us? Thank you!"

Then I hugged him. Dammit, I should have known better!

"Frank! Stop grabbing my ass!"

He just blushed and grinned, and I had to laugh. Gretchen was rolling.

"Sorry, Holly, I can't help myself. It's just so nice!" He gave me a lopsided smile.

Still laughing, Gretchen leaned to the side and very overtly ogled my backside. "He's not wrong," she said.

I couldn't stay mad. "Serves me right for getting within groping range, I guess."

He laughed, apologized again, and told us the names of the places he'd been given. With a rueful smile, he went back to talk to the guys.

"I'm telling Debbie!" I yelled after him.

Gretchen and I talked about it.

"What do you think? Just going to Montreal would be a blast! But playing there too? How cool would that be?"

I nodded, getting excited as I thought about it. "Okay. Let's do it!"

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"So, should we invite the guys, or make it a girls' trip?" I asked her.

She kind of glanced at me, then away. "What would you say if... it was... just the two of us?" And then she looked back at me, strangely nervous. Why in the world would Gretchen be nervous? She was never nervous.

I guess I waited too long, because she blurted, "Of course, if that's weird, we can ask the girls..."

"No!" I said, a bit too loudly, and she jumped.

"No," a bit more calmly. "That would be... nice. Just us, I mean," I gave her a soft smile, hoping I wasn't blushing.

She returned the smile, looking down again. "Okay. Great, that's... great." Wait, was she blushing?

Then she continued, "I'll still get Thom to set everything up, right? After all, he is our manager," she smirked, and suddenly she was herself again.

I laughed, relieved and yet intrigued, and found myself wishing to see more of the other Gretchen.

><><><><><

We decided that we would take Friday off. Montreal was a bit under a two-hour drive from Burlington, so we would drive up in the morning, check in to our hotel, relax for a bit, grab an early dinner, then head to the venue.

Just... there were a couple of incidents before we left. One was so unexpected and amazing, the other... not so much.

I was at Gretchen and Thom's house and we were going over a few last-minute details. As usual, we would perform two songs at each venue, the second dependent on how well the first went. We had them picked out, and rehearsed to death.

One evening, Thom, Gretchen and I were chatting before she and I started to practice, when Thom abruptly got up and left the room. He came back a moment later, and he was holding his brother's guitar. I looked at him, then at Gretchen. She shrugged. I looked back at him, and he was wearing a very serious expression.

"Thom?" I asked, a little anxiously.

Looking up from the guitar, he said, "Holly..." and he held it out to me, almost formally. "I'd like you to have this." Gretchen gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.

"Thom! No! This was your brother's!" I exclaimed, shocked.

"Yes, it was. And until you came into our lives, it was gathering dust in a corner. Do you have any idea how happy it has made me to hear it being played again? And played with love?" He had a tear running down one cheek.

"Far better it be played, Holly. Far better." He smiled and held it out again. "Please."

Gretchen was hugging herself, eyes wide, watching him, then me.

How could I deny him? I took it reverently, then set it down and hugged him.

"Thank you," I whispered. "I will treasure it."

As he hugged me back, he said, "I just have one condition."

"Name it."

He grinned suddenly, and said, "You have to promise to be our friend forever. So I can always hear you play."

"Easiest promise I ever made," I smiled, and hugged him again.

><><><><><

The other incident was when I told Josh.

"You're what?"

"Going to Montreal this weekend. We're doing a couple of Open Mic nights. And shopping too, don't forget shopping."

"With Gretchen?"

"Of course, who else am I going to do an Open Mic with?"

"Just you and her..."

"Joshhhh..." and he clearly missed the warning tone that was creeping into my voice, because he kept right on talking.

"...sharing a room. With the girl who literally admitted she wants to fuck you."

"For Christ's sake, Josh! See, this is why I waited til the last minute to tell you. I knew you'd make a whole big thing about it. I wish I'd never told you what she said. Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Come on, really? Two girls together? It's every guy's fantasy!"

That's when I lost it. I started to cry. "Well, it's not mine, Josh, so please stop, okay? I can't believe you!"

I had HAD it with him, I ran into my room and slammed the door. For once, I was glad the day-bed was in there. I threw myself down on it and cried.

I think I fell asleep, because sometime later, I heard a knock, and Josh's voice. "Holly, can we talk? Listen, I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say. Holly?"

My sleepiness evaporated, and suddenly furious, I yanked open the door. He took a step back, shocked at my expression. Remember, I was always the one who compromised? Well, not this time.

"You don't know what I want you to say? For God's sake, Josh, that's the most passive-aggressive excuse for a non-apology that I've ever heard! You're sorry, but you want ME to tell YOU why? Fuck that, and fuck you." I slammed the door in his flabbergasted face.

><><><><><

The next morning, we left for Montreal. Thankfully, Josh had already left for work. There was a note on the table; I assumed it was from him, but I left it there, unread.

Gretchen drove. I stared out the window, and I could tell she was worried; she asked if I wanted to talk about it, but I reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'll be okay." She left me be, at least for the moment.

Did I say only two incidents? Well, there were three. We arrived at Le Nouvel to find that our two-bed room was... not. We had been given a single, and they were booked solid.

Gretchen glanced at me, then did a double take; I guess she saw my uncertainty. "Holly, it'll be fine, I promise. Look, I'm only little, you won't even know I'm there." Oh, how wrong she was. But I just nodded. What else could we do? Maybe it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Hah.

We got to the room, unpacked, and flopped on the bed, our heads together.

"So, what's on your mind?" she asked.

"Nothing," I lied.