33. The Set
The Set
MARY
Looking over a massive festival crowd, I couldn’t help but smile. I was back. While I loathed admitting that performing with Alia had been a high that brought me back to another time, I wasn’t sure I was ready to explore MJen again.
We played the set well. The first few songs got people out of their seats. “Blue Jetta” predictably brought out dancing shoes. I smiled not to perform, but because it brought me joy to bring joy. This was the biggest show I played in over a decade. It was now or never.
As Alicia cued us for The Balcony, I realized I’d forgotten one major thing.
Clarice made eye contact with me and mouthed. “You never changed the set list.”
Fuck!
I could either stop this all now or play it off as planned. There was no choice in the matter. I set aside the fact that my girlfriend was in a VIP section watching this with my dad—all with a camera trained on her! I couldn’t react. I just had to play through.
C’mon, Marit. You’ve played songs about exes with them in the audience before.
But the nagging feeling that this would result in getting the wrong idea about us didn’t fade, as I called it in.
“This one is new. I wrote it at a time I was pretty broken up over someone. We channeled it and while I’m a little nervous to play it, here goes nothing.”
The crowd cheered.
Float on that energy. Play for them. Don’t run from it, Marit!
I listened to myself as I began, blocking the obvious fear.
“Five years I waited. Waited and pined,” I sang.
It was easy—easy until we got to the worst bit.
“You sit in your ivory tower,” I sang deep in my chest. “Far away and out of reach.”
I focused on my upcoming mix belt, clearing my head and visualizing my notes soaring.
“But in between your thighs,” I continued for effect, “I make you paint new colors. A fact only we can know.”
The crowd responded bigger than I could have imagined.
Screams of “Yaaaaas, queen!” filtered up.
As I walked down to be in the crowd, I sang the dirtiest bits of the song with abandon.
Every creed of person was there to celebrate.
My music was no longer too gay or too feminist. It wasn’t dangerously edgy or not commercial.
It was everything these people needed. Here on the main stage of the biggest music festival on this continent, I had them eating out of my hand.
“When will I get to call you mine? To share your world?” I took a deep breath. “To do more than hear you scream my name.”
The crowd got to its loudest decibel yet before I slowed, voice softening.
“But to have you say the sweet things I know you hold tight.”
The song continued. Every chorus got louder.
People sang the dirtiest of its words with me.
I knew we had an instant, unlikely hit here.
Too bad, I worried it came at the cost of a relationship with a woman I desperately loved.
Of course, I couldn’t worry about that. I played the biggest set of my life and my band counted on me.
We wrapped, finishing on the highest of notes. The sound of screaming was deafening, and the visuals of beach balls bouncing remained engrained in my memory. My legs still felt shaky—as if I’d been at sea for years before climbing ashore.
“That was tits!” Barry declared. “Fucking fire!”
Dad appeared, ready to hug me, but I pulled back.
“Dad I am so sweaty. I stink.”
“I played hockey! I can manage!” He hugged me tight.
I couldn’t fault him. After all, he came all this way to see me play. He must have been riding on the same high we all were.
“We should really get moving!” I said, in a race to leave before Betty somehow found me to argue before the cameras.
We made our cowardly way out, leaving Dad at the VIP hospitality suite. He’d go back to the hotel and rest while we partied with roadies, a thank you for all their dedication. That was the way we always did it. Without the crew, we wouldn’t have survived.
“You want a beer?” Barry offered, opening the cooler by the tour bus entrance.
“No, I’m good,” I said.
“What’s up with you?” Alicia asked, confused.
“I’m gross,” I lied. “I just need to shower.”