Knowing we were on the Jumbotron, I covered my mouth and said to Ingrid, “Fuck my life and fuck you, babes.”
“Drink more,” she countered. “It helps.”
The girl with the braids continued to explain the rules as I looked to my brothers for support. Nate wasn’t sure what was happening, but shot a sympathetic look. Keir patted my back. I rested my head on his shoulder playfully, resigned to my fate.
“It’s going to be fine, woman,” he whispered.
Unfortunately, neither of us knew how much worse it would get. As things kicked off, Iceland went first with something I could only describe as yowling accompanied by guitar.
“That ain’t it,” Nate whispered.
I tried not to laugh.
“Up next,” the emcee announced, “is a group of programmers from Ireland. Inspired by the musicalSTOMP!, who banded together to create BASH!. And the song they will play tonight is…”
She nodded in the direction of a young blonde boy who stood and announced, “Control+U.”
By now, the Irish pot and pan band assembled. If Nate hated the Icelandic bit, he’d loathe this.
“Brace yourself,” I whispered.
The Irish band played their hit—a rhythmic, upbeat song about God only knew what. Nate hated it. Keir thought it was fine. Ingrid was all about it in a way I found slightly embarrassing.
“It is amazing they can do that!” Pappa declared as one band exited and the next entered.
“It is… something, Peder,” Keir agreed.
I spotted Mary emerging with her band. While she arrived with a guitar, she soon changed her strategy.
“Up next is a supergroup from the UK combining the songwriting chops of the legendary Marit Jensson and the members of Playground. Combined, they are the Zamboneys. Tonight, they are tasked to perform…”
An older teen with short black hair hopped up. “Balcony.”
I shook inside, nervous.
“Uh… should they be asking for that?” Ingrid asked. “It’s like really inappropriate.”
I wanted to die. I prayed Ingrid and my family only saw it for the banger it was rather than for the ode to Mary’s beautiful ability to make me come. I didn’t want to get into it.
“How bad could it be?” Keir snickered.
Mary tossed her guitar aside and settled at the piano on the side stage. She picked up the intro and spoke into the mic.
“So, this is… not what we planned for… but that is the fun of live. I wrote this on a piano, so I’m going to do it that way.”
If she knew I was in the stands with my parents, Mary didn’t show it. She played beautifully. I realized I’d never seen her play piano onstage, nor had it dawned on me this was how she wrote songs. She’d given me a new portal into her process which I found captivating. It was almost so beguiling that I forgot what the song was building towards. I braced for the chorus and looked around.
My father sat with his chin propped on his arm. Mamma leaned on his shoulder, watching Mary play. Ingrid was nearly dancing, mouthing every word in a way I found mortifying. Keir side-eyed me, the first sign of concern. As per usual, Nate was slow on a reaction.
The chorus hit and it was all over. When “in between your thighs” rang out, the place erupted characteristically. The linealwaysslayed even if it made me cringe internally. I failed to fight the resulting mortification. I looked at my family. Neither of my parents seemed bothered. Nate did a double take, probably scandalized by awomansinging such dirty things publicly.
Ingrid turned, jaw slack because she’d just put it all together, “Holy shit, that’s you.”
It was me. I was the girl Mary made paint new colors. I was the girl quite literally in the balcony watching this beautiful woman play her heart outaboutme. And as I sat there, I still hadn’t told my entire family the truth yet. Now, I felt Icouldn’t. The shock thatIwas the girl in the song would be too much.
Keir’s reaction further confirmed my assumptions, for he was now hiding behind his own hands, peeking out between his fingers, as if unable to function any longer with the knowledge that I had inspired a song he’d reduced in his mind down to cunnilingus and rage.
Fuck my life.
