The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 30. A Night to Forget

My family still sometimes struggles to understand what I find so appealing in a job that consists of six-hour rehearsals nearly every day, plus a concert each week. To be fair to them, sometimes neither do I. All kinds of routine get boring after a while. I see the same people every day, we share the same kind of gossip, we joke about the same people. The woodwinds section of the ISO is like a little club. We have our own jokes that nobody else understands. We make fun of guest conductors, protected by our tall music stands and by glance exchanges that speak more than any burst of laughter.

There are twelve of us in the woodwind section. Dmitri is the youngest, but not by much. Vác (full name Václav Tettauer), the principal clarinet, is just two years older than him (and a few months younger than me). The first time I actually saw Vác was when I was sixteen. I didn’t actually see him in person, but it still counts. He was one of the main characters in a ground-breaking movie: History Walkers. It was a sci-fi adventure directed by a woman, so it was bound to be awesome from the start. The plot involved time travel, space ships, and history lessons packed into nearly three hours of comedy, drama, and action. I took Gísli to see it on the first weekend of its release in Reykjavík. History Walkers the Movie was so successful that it became a TV series that runs to this day. Vác was in the first three seasons, and then he disappeared from the public eye for a couple of years, only to re-emerge as our principal clarinet.

I have to confess that I had my fangirl moment when I realised Vác was among the people auditioning for the ISO. As the newly-appointed principal flute, I was going to be among the musicians responsible for selecting our new principal clarinet. It was hard to keep my choice strictly professional, but Vác turned out to be an amazing player anyway. He’s kind of shy, and he tries his best to speak to us in Icelandic, but sometimes he messes things up and it’s quite cute.

Anyway, enough about Vác. Just because he’s a famous actor as well as the person sitting behind me in every rehearsal and concert, I shouldn’t dedicate a whole chapter to him. It doesn’t sound right.

My associate principal is a guy called Emil. He’s just a couple of months older than me, but his shaggy beard makes him look like he’s already in his thirties. We’re good friends, though we get competitive at times. Like when we’re playing contemporary music and the flutes get all sorts of messy runs that go anywhere and everywhere at horrible speed and we’re somehow expected to keep up. It’s a challenge to keep it together, though with this kind of music it usually doesn’t matter if we get things wrong. Contemporary atonal music makes so little sense that not even us trained musicians can tell when something is out of place. This means we end up playing more for the fun and the challenge than anything else.

I’ve talked too much about guys already. I hate when it seems like the girls don’t exist or are just there to glorify gay male relationships. I know I’m guilty of this on occasion, but I try to keep it to a minimum. Nowadays it only happens when Gunni is involved, because he’s really cute, and Dmitri likes him a lot. Their relationship seems nice and healthy, so I allow myself to coo over them.

The fact is, the women in the ISO are much nicer than the guys, generally speaking. We outnumber the guys 7:5 in the woodwinds. And we’re just that much more interesting. Take Eléonore, our principal piccolo: she came all the way from France when she was in her late thirties. She had a husband and three children and a job for life as principal flute of the Orchestre National de Lyon, but she left everything behind for the thrill of living in a place so different from everything she knew. She’s been with the ISO for twenty years now, and the whole of the woodwinds looks up to her as our experienced mentor.

Ugla is the principal bassoon. She’s the only other woodwind still under thirty, though she’s only going to be twenty-nine for another half-year. I had a crush on her for a while. We were partying after a concert, drinking more than we should, and she used our inebriated happiness to come out to me as a trans woman. To this day, I think I’m the only one in the orchestra who knows. Her revelation made me really curious about her life and her body and lots of things, and my crush developed from there. It’s embarrassing to say that I wanted to have sex with her just because she was trans. I never told this to her. We never had sex. I realised that I was being creepy and objectifying a person just because she had a different life experience to mine. Those were not healthy feelings (not to mention incredibly disrespectful), so I did some mental work to get rid of them. Ugla is a great friend, she looks awesome for someone her age (hehe), and she kind of does look sexy playing the bassoon, though anyone can look sexy with a bassoon. Bassoons sound like they want to melt your insides until you dissolve in goo of pure pleasure.

Sorry, not sorry for the mental image though.

All our bassoonists are women, which only helps make the whole section even sexier. I sound like a lesbian Dmitri now. That’s a mental image I don’t want.

Speaking of Dmitri, I’m going to punch him hard in the face next time he jokes about my boobs. His gayness is not an excuse to dismiss women’s bodies like that. What if he finds a guy who happens to have boobs like mine? I bet that would make him think twice about making those jokes again.

Our other two oboists are also women, which means that Dmitri is surrounded by females on all sides. I think he kind of likes it, though, because Isól (assistant principal oboe) and Silvía (principal cor anglais) spoil him rotten. They treat him like a cute little brother. Isól sometimes brings homemade cupcakes to rehearsal, and she always gives Dmitri a special one made with glitter, pink icing, and shaped like a penis. I still don’t know how she manages that. Isól even remembers to bring gluten-free cakes for Siggi, which is obviously why Siggi openly admits to liking her.

The rest of the woodwinds are all guys, so I’m not going to waste lines and words talking about them. They’re nice and all, but this story is already full of men telling their stories. It’s time for girl’s storytelling.

There is one more person I would like to talk about, though. She plays percussion, is two years older than me, and I love her to bits. Her name is Sarah Khan. She’s originally from Germany, though her mother is from Nigeria. We became close friends because she was always hanging out with Gísli during rehearsals, so naturally we were introduced by him and things evolved from there. We have many things in common besides music: we like to mountain hike, crappy soap operas, sci-fi movies, cats, and horror novels.

The other day I dreamed that the two of us had gone on a date that involved walking up a mountain in futuristic clothes (the kind that clung to our bodies and showed all your curves and sexy assets), guided by our guardian kittens. When we reached the top, we kissed and sat down to watch a Mexican soap opera that was being projected from the sky. I lay on her lap and she played with my hair. She told me she liked my ponytails. Then she read out loud a story about sexy lesbian vampires with plenty of blood and gore, and it somehow inspired us to take off our clothes…

And that was obviously when my alarm went off.

So, all this is to say that, by the time New Year’s came around, my life consisted of playing “mum” to three overgrown children at home, and gawking at gorgeous percussionists at work. Then there was a party, lots of drinks, and I woke up the next day with the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong. It took me a whole day of investigative work to realise what I had done, and how badly I might have screwed up.

(...)

I woke up on the first of January with a mild headache. I was in my bed, but the duvet covers had been changed. I didn’t remember changing them. Actually, I didn’t remember going to bed at all. I got up, intending to make some coffee to get myself back together before rehearsal, but I changed my mind as soon as I was out of the room. Gísli’s door was open, so I decided to ask him about the things I didn’t remember from the night before.

My friend was reading in bed, though he looked like he should’ve been sleeping there instead. His duvet was oddly nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” I greeted him. Gísli slowly raised his head. It took him a while to acknowledge my presence and smile.

“Morning. How are you feeling?”

“Bit of a headache, but I’ll survive. Have you heard anything from Dmitri?”

“No. I think he’s staying with Gunni until the rehearsal. I guess we’ll figure out soon enough.” Gísli had probably spent the night awake. He wouldn’t be the only person in the country doing so, but it still seemed a bit irresponsible of him considering we had to be at work in three hours.

“Do you want a coffee or something?” I asked, reverting to my role of the only responsible adult in the house.

“Maybe. I’ll help you.” Gísli followed me to the kitchen, fully intending to do fulfil his promise, but he somehow managed to nearly put salt in his coffee. This was not the kind of help I needed, so I told him to sit at the kitchen table (which was conveniently small enough to fit only two people), and wait for me. We drank our coffees facing each other. As soon as he took his first sip, he became noticeably more alert. “You threw up last night.”

“Did I?” I loved how Gísli went from tired indifference to blunt assertiveness with just a little taste of caffeine. “Not on your clothes, I hope?”

“No. I got you to the toilet in time.”

“Thanks. You’re a great friend.”

“About that…” Gísli hesitated. I knew that face. He wanted to tell me something I was not going to like.

“Did something happen? Did I do something to you last night?”

“No, it’s not important.” Gísli changed his mind at the last moment. He wouldn’t tell me after all. How typical. Like how he didn’t want to tell me he was auditioning for the ISO, as if I was going to be offended that he wanted to work at the same place as me. I only found out about that when I saw him at rehearsal.

But I had a feeling it was actually important. If Gísli wasn’t telling me, I had to find someone who would.

(...)

Rehearsals were always more funny when they followed a night of wild partying. Half the orchestra were bound to be at least a little hung over, and the other half had not gone to bed at all. This obviously affected our playing, but, being the distinguished professionals we were, we always made the best of it. We nicknamed those the WTF Rehearsals, where shit got done mostly in theory and the practice consisted of us laughing at each other’s blunders.

The problem was that this was the only proper rehearsal before the New Year’s Concert. The programme was made of pieces we had played thousands of times before, so this in itself wouldn’t be an issue. The tricky bit was that, since this was a special celebratory concert, we had decided to do some unusual things, like playing the whole opening number without the conductor, and instead, have the first trumpet walk down the stage to pretend to conduct us. This kind of thing actually needed to be rehearsed.

When I noticed that our first trumpet was among the people who had not slept for more than twenty-four hours, I thought it was going to be a hell of a WTF Rehearsal. It would be great fun watching him trying to coordinate his step to go from the very end of the stage to the conductor’s podium perfectly on time and without hitting anyone else in the process. But before we started playing, Gummi delivered the sad news that Isaac Anatolyevich Krylov and his wife had died in an accident. He had sent us an e-mail about it, but apparently most of us (including me) didn’t like to deal with work stuff while on breaks. The news came as a shock to us, and thus we quickly sobered up.

“We’ll change the programme slightly,” Gummi said. “The last half will be just Beethoven’s Eroica. The scores should be in the folders in front of you.”

“Are we going to do it especially for him?” Santa asked.

Gummi nodded. “We’ll celebrate Isaac’s life and his great contribution to the ISO. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I think we don’t need to drop the acts for the first half. What do you think?” Nobody voiced any opposition. We would do our fun stuff, and then play through Beethoven’s third symphony on a more serious tone. Gummi would most likely find a way to include a speech about Isaac as well. This symphony’s slow moment was a Marcia Funebre (funeral march), which made it ideal for the circumstances. The other three movements were the reason why the symphony had been nicknamed Eroica (heroic); they consisted of bombastic explosions of life and triumph, which also seemed quite fitting to celebrate the life of a guy like Isaac.

So, in the end, we played through rehearsal with a great deal more concentration and effort than we normally would have on a hangover day. The principal trumpet didn’t mess up his stunt for the opening number, and Sarah and the other percussionist didn’t mess their own stunt either (they had to march with snare drums across the stage during a certain part of the music. It had to be timed perfectly, because they started from opposite ends of the stage, met in the middle, and disappeared off-stage just as their part ended). Of course, Sarah was too good to mess anything up, so that came as no surprise.

During the break, I decided to ask around for information about last night’s party. I knew we had been a group of six: Gísli, Vác, Ugla, Emil, Sarah, and myself. We saw the fireworks, and then went to a club to get completely wasted. That was when my memory failed.

“Vác, can I ask you something?” I approached our principal clarinet. Vác had been sitting alone in a corner, eating coffee bonbons. He offered one to me, but I declined.

“What’s up?” He asked in English. I guessed he was too tired to concentrate on his third language, so I switched to English as well.

“Do you remember what we did last night after we got to the club?”

“Are you asking me because you don’t remember anything or because you want me to forget it ever happened?” Vác sounded concerned. His answer alone was reason enough to worry, but his tone made me even more anxious.

“I don’t remember anything. Did I screw up?”

“You kissed Sarah.” Vác started to tell me about the events at the club, and as he spoke my memories slowly returned to me.

The fireworks were beautiful. Sarah, Ugla, and I had watched everything in a group hug with me in the middle. We were laughing out loud in the streets for no reason in until we found a club that seemed nice and friendly. The music was horrible, as usual, but we weren’t there to listen to it. We wanted to dance and party until our legs gave out.

“I’ll show you how it’s done!” Ugla said, taking over the dance floor like she owned the place. Other people cheered her on, and she eventually pulled me over to join her. We kept our faces and bodies close, making it as sensual as we could without actually touching each other. It was good fun, and it told us exactly who the lesbian fetishists in the audience were.

We hadn’t really planned anything, but as soon as the men started to demand we kiss and make out, Gísli and Emil stood in front of them and started kissing passionately. Those men were outraged, and they ended up leaving the dance floor. Ugla and I laughed, glad to have such amazing company. She pecked me on the cheek.

“Give me another beer and I would’ve actually made out with you,” she said, grinning. I pretended to be offended.

“So you need to get drunk to make out with me? Am I that ugly?”

“Nah, you’re too gorgeous. The beer is for my self-control.” Ugla was still grinning. We had already established that all flirting during parties was not to be taken seriously and promptly ignored at work afterwards. It was our way of expressing deep friendship. We were free to flirt as much as we wanted, as long as there was no unwanted sexual contact.

“Ah, I see. Nice save. In that case, let’s get more beers!” I left to get the drinks. The queue was huge, but eventually I succeeded in bringing two beer bottles to the dance floor.

“Hey girls, already filling up, I see,” Gísli commented when he noticed our bottles were already half-empty. Vác and Sarah were somewhere nearby, but Emil was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s the only day of the year I’m allowed to party until five in the morning, I’m making the most out of it!” I answered. My friends laughed.

“Just don’t vomit on my clothes like you did at our graduation party. I don’t want to be in stinky clothes for the rest of the night.” Ugla looked at us questioningly. Gísli promptly elaborated. “Our graduation was the first time I saw Karen really drunk. She couldn’t even speak, and when I tried to take her home, my clothes paid the price.”

“Oh, I see…” Ugla put one arm over my shoulders and one over Gísli, making our heads get closer together like we were about to share a secret. “I’m a very mean drunk. If I end up kissing the two of you, I’m sorry.”

“Would you kiss us now?” I asked Ugla, just for the fun of it.

“I would kiss you both if you kiss each other too.” Gísli immediately panicked at the suggestion. Even drunk he had enough sense to know that he shouldn’t get too close to me. He had never properly talked to me about it, but I figured he had a very good reason to keep his distance. Like, we fucked every now and then, when we were both bored and horny (and once when Dmitri wanted a threesome but Siggi wasn’t collaborating), but it was always me topping, and he wouldn’t kiss me on the lips. I had to make it very clear to him I didn’t mind him touching my body either. It was cute to see how careful he was being, but it got really annoying when I was fucking horny and he wouldn’t do what I wanted.

Anyway, the kissing was a problem. Gísli would never kiss me, which meant I would never get to kiss Ugla. Which was a shame because the only loophole of our flirting agreement was that other stuff was allowed if we both agreed to it. I no longer considered Ugla interesting because she was trans, now it was because she was fucking sexy. It wasn’t a crush and it wasn’t a trans fetish. It was me being horny and wanting to kiss sexy women.

“Why do you need us? Can’t you just kiss Karen and get this over and done with?” Gísli asked. Ugla was a bit confused by his refusal, but I guess she was too drunk to care much.

“Sure. I guess I was just looking for an excuse.” She turned to me. “Can we make out now that the lesbian fetishists are out?”

“Hell yeah!”

The good thing about making out with friends was that from the beginning we were very clear on the fact that we were just friends, and that whatever we did wouldn’t change that. It was our friendship that allowed those intimate moments to happen, and it was safer and nicer than going after strangers. We didn’t have any romantic feelings for each other, but we still cared about each other a lot. So we wanted to have a good time, but we also wanted to make sure our friends were enjoying it just as much.

“I remember making out with Ugla, not Sarah,” I told Vác. The break was almost over. I could see Sarah getting back to her snare drums. Soon we would have to go back to work. I wouldn’t be able to face my crush until I was sure of what had led to the kiss.

“It happened later. I think Ugla had to go to the bathroom something. Ask her, I don’t know why you stopped making out. You seemed to be having lots of fun.” Vác pointed to Ugla, who was already back to her chair. The other bassoonists were not back yet, nor were the oboists. Dmitri was over at the violin section talking to Gunni. I would’ve thought it was cute if I wasn’t so worried about Sarah.

“Ok, I’ll talk to her. Better do it now…” I left Vác to his coffee bonbons and approached Ugla. I sat on Vac’s chair so I could be next to her. I didn’t think he would mind.

“Are you ok?” she asked me. She seemed just as concerned as Vác.

“I’m trying to remember what happened last night,” I explained. “I remember us having lots of fun, but I don’t remember what stopped it.”

“I left to get more drinks,” she told me, slowly and carefully like she was measuring all her words. “When I came back you were with Emil, Gísli, and Sarah. You seemed to be all flirting with each other, but then you said something that made Emil back out. You kissed Sarah, Gísli kissed Emil, and I think Sarah hit you. Then you tried to kiss Gísli, but he dragged you away.”

“No!” I couldn’t remember any of what Ugla was saying, but obviously I had messed up really badly. “What did I do?”

“I didn’t hear anything you guys were saying, so I can’t be sure. Vác and I ended up leaving the party on our own. Gísli said he would take you home. Emil and Sarah had already disappeared by then.” Ugla put a hand on my shoulder. Emil had just sat in his chair, and Vác was coming to take his rightful place. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more. Try to ask Gísli or even Emil himself.”

“Gísli doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s why I’m asking everyone else. I hope Emil isn’t too upset…” The man in question was sending us quizzical looks. The rest of the woodwinds were already in place. I had to go.

“Good luck,” Ugla said, squeezing my shoulder before letting go.

“We need to talk,” I whispered to Emil as soon as I sat in my chair. Gummi was getting ready to restart the rehearsal.

“Now?” he asked, looking between me and Gummi. He was worried we would miss something important.

“As soon as we get a chance.” Emil nodded. We played for maybe five minutes or so before Gummi decided he wanted the brass to play on their own for a bit. As difficult as it was to whisper while trumpets were bursting our eardrums nearby, I finally managed to get some answers.

“Is it true that you only hit on girls when you’re drunk?” Emil asked me. My lips still had the ghost feeling of Ugla’s on them. Damn, the woman knew how to kiss.

“Not necessarily. I think I just trust drunken women more than I trust drunken men,” I answered. Ugla had to come back soon. If I was lucky she would be willing to do more than just make out, though I guess worst case scenario, I could just ask Gísli to do me a favour when we got home.

“Aw, that’s harsh!” Emil said. To my delight, it was Sarah who answered.

“Nope, Karen is right. Drunken guys get even more entitled than they already are. They go from thinking our bodies are public property to acting like they are.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t trust you,” I added, pointing at Emil. Gísli arched an eyebrow. I was purposely not referring to him. But just as I talked about guys making unwanted advances, I leaned against Sarah, leaving my arm resting on her hip. Just a little lower and I would touch her ass. I didn’t pay attention to whether this made her uncomfortable or not.

Sarah was not the flirty type, at least not with me. As far as I knew, she was straight. Though Emil was straight too (he admitted to it like it was a crime), and he still had no problems kissing guys on the spot. So I guess I thought Sarah would be the same.

“Fine, stay away from me, then,” Emil said, stepping away from us. He didn’t seem particularly offended, but it was hard to tell because the lights at the club were getting really horrible.

“Oh, I feel so much safer!” I mocked him. Sarah laughed, and I squeezed her with my arm. She stopped. I turned to face her. “You know what, I think I really like you,” I told her.

“Thanks, I guess…” Sarah answered. Maybe she wasn’t sure if I was being serious.

“You’re better than those guys. I bet you can kiss better too.”

“You want to kiss me?” Sarah was confused. I had never asked to kiss her before, for the same reason Gísli avoided kissing me. But I guess I didn’t want to be like him anymore. And I thought there was no better time to take a stand than at a New Year’s party.

“Just a tiny, tiny, tiny little bit!” I answered. It came out a lot more childish than I wanted.

“I don’t know, Karen…”

“Please, please! It’s New Year’s; let me say I kissed the most attractive woman in the ISO today!”

“You really think that?” Sarah asked. She didn’t seem to believe me. I guess she had self-esteem issues because she was somewhat overweight, or maybe because she was black, or I don’t even know. But I was telling the truth. I found her hella hot, fucking awesome, and damn cool.

“Yeah! I can’t lie when I’m drunk!” I wondered if she was blushing. It was hard to tell under the club’s bad lighting. She still seemed confused, but at least she seemed more positively confused than before. If that is a thing. I don’t know if it makes sense. It did in my mind back then.

“Ok, if you’re telling the truth… but just a little bit, ok?”

“Sure!”

I kissed Sarah for the first time. I was enjoying it so much that I forgot it was supposed to be just a friendly kiss. I wanted to take it as far as I could.

‘As far as I could’ turned out to be her hand hitting my cheek.

“You’re freaking me out! Stop it!” I heard Sarah’s voice, but I was so shocked by her gesture and by the pain that I didn’t see her anymore. I didn’t say anything. Next thing I knew, Gísli was hugging me, and Sarah was gone.

“What the fuck did I do?” I mumbled. Emil heard me and squeezed my leg to show moral support. “I’m so horrible! What was I thinking?”

“Maybe talk to her tomorrow. Let things cool down a little before you try to sort it out,” he whispered. At least the brass were loud enough that we could attempt verbal communication without disrupting their sound.

Beside Emil, Eléonore mouthed that she wanted to know what was going on. I considered telling her later to ask for advice, but by the time the rehearsal ended I could barely acknowledge what I had done, let alone tell it to someone else.

(...)

“I want to tell you I’m sorry.” I turned to Gísli as soon as we got in the car. Thankfully Dmitri had been invited to go with Gunni and his hella-hot cousin to some sort of family event, and Siggi was staying with Arnar again. Gísli and I were alone; now was my chance.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. It was sweet of him to pretend I hadn’t fucked things up so badly, but this attitude would take us nowhere.

“For using you yesterday. I still don’t remember much of what happened, but I know I kissed you, and I know you probably didn’t want it.”

“It kind of depends what you consider ‘want’…” This was the closest Gísli ever got to admitting his feelings. His sweetness almost hurt.

“You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I probably made you feel like crap yesterday. You don’t deserve it.”

Gísli sighed. His eyes were shinning. I wondered if he was about to cry. The last time he cried in front of me was when he admitted he joined the ISO because of me. He had felt guilty then, because he thought I would find it creepy. I did think it was kind of unhealthy of him to want to be so close to me all the time, but I knew him well enough to be sure that he meant well.

Gísli was so sweet. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if I reciprocated his feelings.

“Sarah made you really upset,” he said. “I wanted to comfort you because I know how crappy it feels.”

“You were kissing Emil while I kissed her, weren’t you?”

“He didn’t like it much either. I acted on impulse and didn’t ask him about it. But I apologised today, we’re fine again. I won’t try to make out with him anytime soon.”

There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. Both of us had screwed up on some level. It was not something we wanted to be proud of.

“What happened afterwards? After the kiss, I mean.”

Gísli looked down. Obviously he wasn’t going to face me for that. “You were kind of a mess. Sarah was freaking out a bit, so Emil took her away.”

“What did you do?”

“I took you home and put you to bed.”

“That was it?”

Gísli didn’t answer. Well, actually he did. By not answering. Or some such.

“Look, I won’t be angry with you or whatever. I just want to know what the fuck happened last night. You’re my friend and I trust you. You can tell me anything.”

Gísli still didn’t look at me. I wasn’t surprised. It took him a while to start talking. “You kissed me at the club. You pulled me towards you and made us kiss. You seemed kind of desperate, and I think you were sad too. I didn’t really mind it much, but…”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“No, it’s ok. Really.” It was hard to be sure because of the angle of his face, but it looked like Gísli was blushing. It was kind of adorable. “We went home straight after that. You felt sick in the car, so I had to rush you to the toilet as soon as we arrived…”

“We’re almost there, hang on.” Gísli couldn’t find his keys. The world was spinning. I was holding on to his back to stay upright. His hand pulled me inside. Lights came on and we marched straight to the toilet. Stuff came out before I could even kneel properly. It tasted horrible. Gísli helped hold my hair back. He watched everything without saying a word. I felt a bit better when it was over, but the hollow feeling in my chest was still there.

“I think I messed up really badly. Sarah will never talk to me again.” I didn’t bother getting up. I just crashed onto Gísli and the two of us sat on the cold bathroom floor. I cleaned my mouth on toilet paper and rested my head against his shoulder. Gísli held me like I was a little girl crying because my favourite doll was broken. It shouldn’t have felt that comforting.

“I don’t think all is lost just yet. Talk to her later, make it clear you’ll never do that sort of thing again.” He put a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“But what if I do do it again? I don’t want her to hate me!” I think I started crying at that point. Gísli just held me, acknowledging what was happening without making me feel ashamed of it.

“You like her a lot.”

“No kidding, I want her to have my babies.” Gísli laughed. It was a deep, comforting sound. His voice in general was very soothing. It was the kind of voice they gave godly figures (at least the male ones), and now I understood why.

“I didn’t think you were the kind of person who wanted babies.”

“I don’t want them now because I have Dmitri and Siggi. They make me just as busy as a handball team’s worth of babies.” He laughed again. It almost made me feel better. I snuggled against his chest.

“I’m not one of your babies, then?” Gísli asked.

“No, you’re my greatest friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Thanks.” Gísli sounded like he was crying too. Oh crap. Oh crap. “I don’t know what I would do without you either.”

“I really like Sarah. I wanted her to like me too, but I guess I just made a fool of myself. You’re so lucky you get to hang around her all the time.”

“She is nice.”

“And she’s so hot when we’re playing. Like, she has some kind of cool energy. I love when she plays the marimba and the glockenspiel. It’s kind of magical. And the drums…”

“She knows her stuff. That’s true.” Gísli was definitely crying. I just had to keep screwing things up. What a brilliant start of the year.

“I guess nothing is ever going to happen now. I’ll forever pretend nothing ever did while I’ll secretly dream about that half-kiss that was so, so wrong. I’m a horrible person.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible. I still think you’re great.”

“Do you?” Gísli was definitely the greatest friend I could hope for.

“Yeah,” he agreed. I wanted to give him something nice for being so nice. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my shirt off. Show me how great you think I am with your hands on my boobs. Fuck me here. It’s gonna be fun and kinky, and you’ll get a nice reward for being such a great guy.” I should probably have felt cold without the shirt, but I wasn’t feeling much of anything. Sarah made me feel empty, but there was too much alcohol for me to process it properly.

“That’s not how things work.” Gísli struggled a bit trying to get me away from him. “Put the shirt back on. I’ll help you get to bed. You won’t have sex until you’re sober enough to make a responsible decision about it.”

“Aw, please, fuck me!”

“Karen, stop. You sound like Dmitri!” Gísli had a point. What was happening to me? It must’ve been the alcohol. I let him take me upstairs and help me brush my teeth and clean up. It was hard to believe I didn’t have enough motor coordination to walk on my own. It was scary, actually.

While Gísli was getting ready to sleep as well, my nausea came back and I made a new mess on my duvet. Gísli took it away, changed the cover of his own duvet and gave it to me. Any other day I would’ve protested, but I could barely stand, let alone argue. My brain turned off as soon as my head hit the pillow.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I told him. Gísli smiled a little. It was kind of adorable.

“Anytime. That’s what friends are for.”

“I know I hurt you yesterday and I know why. It’s a shame I don’t really like you that way.”

“I know.” Gísli was about to cry again. I felt sorry him. It wasn’t really his fault, but it wasn’t mine either. It just wasn’t meant to be. I hugged him, and soon felt wet tears on my shoulder. “I never tried to tell you anything because I knew. I didn’t want it to seem like I was doing things to make you love me back.”

“I didn’t take it that way. I know you’re not that kind of person.” Gísli was so sad. His cries were silent, but they didn’t stop. I wondered how long he had been hiding those feelings, afraid I would interpret it as emotional blackmail on his part. We’d known each other for more than half our lives by now. He might have felt that way since we hit puberty, which would mean more than ten years of keeping it secret. Maybe some of his tears were from relief.

“I love you. I want to see you happy; I don’t care who you’re happy with,” he finally confessed. Even though I was feeling like crap, hearing that there was someone who truly loved me made me feel a bit better.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.” I hugged him tighter. “In a way, I do love you. It’s not romantic love, but you’re very dear to me, and I want to see you happy too.”

“I guess I can live with that.”

Our hug lasted a good ten minutes. Gísli cried his feelings out, though he didn’t tell me what they were. Sadness, relief, happiness, whatever. At least things were out in the open now. I guess, despite all the epic catastrophes that plagued my New Year’s, at least I could rely on this small happiness to keep me going.