31. I had an idea…
I had an idea…
MARY
“So, I had an idea,” Betty said over the phone. “I asked the crew to include me in the VIP section. I said if they got us passes, then we’d let them follow us to the shows.”
Her words struck me down. On one hand, I felt relief. She worked it out without me doing a complicated dance of are they/aren’t they if I invoked a VIP pass. On the other, it meant we had to be on our absolute best behavior.
“And they agreed?” I rubbed my temples.
“Yeah. Look, I have to take off for my showjumping run. I miss you. I’ll text you the details.”
I fought an I-Love-You over the phone. “Best of luck. You’re going to kill it.”
Betty faded into the afternoon while I walked the grounds with Clarice. We watched the German UniVox act perform. It was a good show, but unlikely to best us. In a crowd of beautiful people, we looked less-than-remarkable. I felt too old to be here.
Around seven, my mobile buzzed as we hit up a lemonade truck. I checked it as we waited on our beverages and something known as a funnel cake that Clarice swore would be “worth it”. As I saw the text, I grinned like an idiot, unable to hide my happiness.
“What now?” Clarice asked.
“She fucking won!” I showed her the photo of Betty on her horse holding a silver plate.
“Good for her,” Clarice said. “God, you are so proud of her, Mar.”
“I know. I love her.”
The words escaped my mouth, leading to Clarice coughing.
A surly man punctuated it, “Clara!”
That was us. I grabbed our drinks and food. By now, she’d settled on a bench.
“Woman, you just… are we going to talk about it or…”
“Must we?”
“Talk about the low-key ‘I love her’? Yes!”
We tossed the cinnamon-sugar delight between us. Clarice dug in.
I explained, “Look, I felt it yesterday. I couldn’t help myself. I watched her do something massive. I was proud of her in a way I haven’t been of a partner since… probably Bea? It felt right. I don’t know why.”
“Someone should hire a van. She’s moving in.”
“You’re fucking delusional if you think she’d ever move into my place. She probably thinks it’s a dump but is too polite to say it.”
“You bought that house outright. You are proud of it.”
“I am, but she’s a fucking princess. You don’t understand. She drools over the mere mention of a walk-in-wardrobe with bespoke shoe storage. We are not the same.”
“Honestly, Betty may be rich-rich but nothing about her screams shitty or shallow. At least, I don’t think. So, she wants a closet? So do I. But closets cost a fortune.”
I sighed. “They don’t have to. IKEA has solutions.”
“Okay little miss Sweden, well I’m going to need a CPOL to come build me one. And you should talk. You’re quite literally a Certified Pre-Owned Lesbian from Sweden who should be capable of building her a dream closet.”
I chuckled at the notion. Clarice knew how much sweat equity I put into my house with Bea’s help.
“I doubt an IKEA solution would be on her plate. Her horse cost more than people’s houses—even posh houses.”
“Okay, but can you really hold that against her?”
“I am not.”
“Then why are you letting it make you feel insecure, babes? If we keep going, you can keep her in shoes for days.”
I shrugged. “I’m older, bitter, and she’s just so… jovial? She’s beautiful and quick-witted. She’s ambitious and assertive. She doesn’t shy away from a challenge or give up. She’s so fucking bossy.”
“Bossy? Is that a good thing?”
“Yes.” I blushed.
Clarice grinned, “These are all good things.”
“Yes. She’s the same woman who inspired ‘The Balcony’, Clarice. Speaking of which, she’s coming tomorrow, so we’re going to have to nix it.”
“Is she?”
“Yeah. With the crew. We cannot do that one with her around. I would die of embarrassment.”
“You do realize we will have to play it sometime. It’s on the record.”
“I didn’t want it on the EP. So, we have time.”
The EP would drop in a week, and it was all anyone talked about. I didn’t feel that the version of ‘Balcony’ was ready, nor was I prepared to lay my entire heart on the line about Betty yet. That song suddenly felt too precious.
“I tried not to think about it, Clarice. We need to change the setlist. Let’s sub ‘Mirrorball Daze’. It is way more likely to get people on their feet.”
“Fine. But you really need to get the rest of the band on board.”
She was right, but I couldn’t get past it.
“Look, we’re doing amazing. You can rest easy. I doubt she will even realize that song is about her.”
I laughed heartily. “Um… she knows what ‘Wayside’ is all about. She is smart. She’ll connect those dots.”
“Maybe she will be flattered?”
“About me talking about getting her off really publicly and my rage about how she’ll never come down from her balcony?”
Clarice winced as we were interrupted. For once, it wasn’t a fan.
Alia approached, looking more like a baby than ever in pigtails and jorts. It always hurt to see her so vulnerable when it was clear she was just a kid. She just wanted to hang out with friends, but she was being treated like an industry person.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Alia wrang her hands. “But I perform at noon tomorrow. And then you all are the evening show on the other stage. I don’t know what to do. I’d like to see you perform—no shade or ulterior motive—but I wanted to ask if that is okay.”
Clarice turned to me, still chewing her pastry.
“Of course,” I said. “We planned to catch your show, too.”
Clarice shot me a look like, “Did we?”
“Really?” Alia lit up. “Oh, my God, I would be so honored. You’re a fucking legend!”
Oof, kid, way to make a girl feel old!
“You’re too kind. I know we’re doing a mixer tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. You are more than welcome at any of our shows, sweetheart.”
“Good. I’m excited. Thanks! I am looking forward to hearing ‘Wayside’ live. I keep belting it out in my car.”
“That’s so sweet,” Clarice said. “I am sure you will kill it tomorrow.”
“Shit. I need to go. Jay will be missing me. But I saw you and… I wanted to ask.”
“Sure, dear,” I said. “And.. here… can I give you my number?”
She handed her mobile over. I put my number in and texted myself.
“Now, you have me on speed dial. I mean it. Please reach out if you need anything. We’re peers.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“I was you once. I have been on the popstar pipeline, sweetheart. And in that time, I wished I’d had more people in my corner.”
She bent to hug me, then raced off towards her handlers.
“That was genuinely sweet,” Clarice said.
“You act as though I am incapable—”
“She’s our competition.”
“No. Her handlers are. I wish her no ill will. She’s talented. The world is just waiting to chew her up and spit her out. I’d rather be there to help when she needs to flee the men abusing her.”
“You’re good people,” Clarice said sweetly. “I know you hate to hear it—you hate mushy shit.”
“I do.”
“But this is why you’re such a great partner and deserve someone wonderful, Mary.
Whether you want to hear it or not, you deserve a happily ever after.
You have a big heart. I gotta believe that is what your girl sees.
Your ability to support others—to hype them—is such a blessing.
All of us have been affected by your generosity. ”
I blushed.
“Stop! It’s true. You don’t have to be anything but respectful to her. You could curse her for what Max did—”
“That wouldn’t be fair.”
“You didn’t have to give me a chance. You didn’t have to write a song with me or to write ‘Justice’ for us. You didn’t have to sing on the damn record. But the point is, you did that.”
I nodded. “I wrote songs with you because you’re fucking talented, Clarice.”
“But you see the talent even in my spicy bisexual ass. I had a reputation for being emotional, but you didn’t care. You helped me channel it.”
“I do what people should.”
“Nah. You put off so much to help others. Listen to your dad. This is your chance to be happy. You could have it all.”
“That seems unlikely, though. That’s what ‘Balcony’ is all about.”
“And yet? You’re still here, babes. I must believe it will work out for you. There are few people who deserve this more than you. You need to figure out what you really want, Mary, and get it.”
“I just want to be happy,” I said.
“And what does that mean?”
“It’s stupid and pie-in-the-sky.” I watched drunk festival goers nearly fall on their faces.
“A partner. Kids if she wants them.”
“What’s so stupid about that? All of us want it—even my temperamental arse.”
I snickered. “You’re all lovable.”
She squeezed my hand. “Look at me, Mary.”
I turned.
“Mary, you’re lovable. I need you to believe that before you throw away what is quite possibly the best life you could have.
You finally have the recognition you need and a woman you love.
Stop worrying about the what-ifs or all the nasty insecurities people primed into you. This is your second act. Live it up.”
My tears welled at her sweet words. I wiped them away and sipped my too-sweet lemonade.
“It’s my third act, Clarice. My first was being a pop starlet jerked around by creepy men. My second was producing and taking the stable road because I had to care for my mum. Now, I’m free. You’re right.”
“Don’t waste it on worry, darling. You have so much to be grateful for. You have so many possibilities.”
“And so many roadblocks.”
“Be glass half full, okay? Love the moment now. Embrace the fact that if your greatest fear is a fucking closet, you are focused on being unhappy.”
Maybe Clarice was right? Maybe I was too focused on finding flaws in the story to live it authentically.
Deep down, I knew that Betty would accept what I could give her, but was that settling?
Only time would tell what that reality brought.
For now, though, I was ridiculously happy. That deserved some weight, didn’t it?
I took a deep breath. “At least I know it’s possible now. You’re right.”