burrito?” I asked.
“Yah. Naturally. It’s tradition. Except we already ate ours.”
“Erik had the munchies,” Denise said.
“I’ll bet you did,” I said, hugging him tightly. “Thanks.”
“You’re not gonna cry over a burrito, are you? I can’t deal when chicks cry,” Erik said.
I wiped my eyes. “No, I’m not gonna cry. I’m just happy to see you guys, that’s all.”
“We’re happy to see you too, Brit.” I heard his voice first. It sent a shiver up my spine. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder and my skin went hot where he touched it. I slowly turned around to face him, drinking in the sight of him. He was as beautiful as ever with his sleepy green eyes, his hair curling down around the nape of his neck. He leaned over to kiss my cheek but I turned my head and he kind of hit me on the side of the mouth. It was like a bolt of electricity went through me.
“Hi Jed,” was all I could manage.
“Hi Brit.” Jed smiled.
“Hi Jed,” I said again.
Erik interrupted us. “Dudes, hate to cut the reunion short, but we gotta go play.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll just meet you guys after. I wanna get a good seat.”
“Seat?” Jed looked at me like I must have been kidding. “You’re playing too.”
“I am?”
“Of course you are,” Jed insisted. “You’re a quarter Clod.”
“But not anymore. You guys are totally doing awesome.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “And besides, it’s been six months. Who knows if I’ll even remember how to play.”
“You will,” Jed said.
“But I don’t have my guitar.”
“Oh man, wait here,” Erik said, and ran to the back of the van again. He pulled out my Gibson SG, my old friend.
“Where did you get this?” I wrapped my arms around my guitar as if it could hug me back.
“Girl, you’re losing it,” Denise said. “It was in Jed’s basement, where you left it.”
“Waiting for you,” Jed said, looking straight into my eyes. I felt faint again.
“But I’m out of practice, and you must have new songs…”
“Can we stop it with the excuses already? Are younot the Brit who barged her way into this band through sheer attitude even though you were just a kid and hardly knew how to play?” Denise asked.
I hoped I still was. “Yeah, I’m still that girl,” I said tentatively.
“Well then, shut up already, and get tuned.” Denise gave me her best tough chick look.
“Here’s set list A,” Jed said. “Golden oldies. All songs you know.”
“What was set list B?” I asked.
“The one with newer stuff. We would have played that if you didn’t show,” Jed admitted.
“But wouldn’t you rather…?”
Jed cut me off. “We have plenty of other shows to play that stuff. Tonight, we’re doing this set.”
“Brit, will you stop it with the questions? Do you think we came to Utah because of its punk-rock pedigree?” Denise asked. “We came to play a show with you.”
“You did?”
“Oh dude. She is gonna cry,” Erik said. “Let’s go.”
Clod’s first gig was in Eugene. I was a bundle of nerves before it started, even though it was just a backyard keg party near the university. When we set up, I was shaking so much I thought I wouldn’t be able to strum or sing or remember the lyrics to our songs. But then we switched on the amps, and Jed sent a wave of feedback out. The crowd quieted, Erik counted back on his drumsticks, and we started playing. All of a sudden, it wasn’t like I was in front of a crowd, or even with the rest of the band. I was alone with the music and it all just came to me instinctively. We played for a half hour, but it went by like it was seconds. When we finished, I was in a daze. Then, after, I was completely giddy. I couldn’t stop laughing all night. Erik was convinced I was stoned.
When Erik clipped his drumsticks for the start of “Dumbbell” at Cafenomica, I went into a similar trance. The last six months—no, the last few years —just washed away from me. I was
“Yah. Naturally. It’s tradition. Except we already ate ours.”
“Erik had the munchies,” Denise said.
“I’ll bet you did,” I said, hugging him tightly. “Thanks.”
“You’re not gonna cry over a burrito, are you? I can’t deal when chicks cry,” Erik said.
I wiped my eyes. “No, I’m not gonna cry. I’m just happy to see you guys, that’s all.”
“We’re happy to see you too, Brit.” I heard his voice first. It sent a shiver up my spine. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder and my skin went hot where he touched it. I slowly turned around to face him, drinking in the sight of him. He was as beautiful as ever with his sleepy green eyes, his hair curling down around the nape of his neck. He leaned over to kiss my cheek but I turned my head and he kind of hit me on the side of the mouth. It was like a bolt of electricity went through me.
“Hi Jed,” was all I could manage.
“Hi Brit.” Jed smiled.
“Hi Jed,” I said again.
Erik interrupted us. “Dudes, hate to cut the reunion short, but we gotta go play.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll just meet you guys after. I wanna get a good seat.”
“Seat?” Jed looked at me like I must have been kidding. “You’re playing too.”
“I am?”
“Of course you are,” Jed insisted. “You’re a quarter Clod.”
“But not anymore. You guys are totally doing awesome.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “And besides, it’s been six months. Who knows if I’ll even remember how to play.”
“You will,” Jed said.
“But I don’t have my guitar.”
“Oh man, wait here,” Erik said, and ran to the back of the van again. He pulled out my Gibson SG, my old friend.
“Where did you get this?” I wrapped my arms around my guitar as if it could hug me back.
“Girl, you’re losing it,” Denise said. “It was in Jed’s basement, where you left it.”
“Waiting for you,” Jed said, looking straight into my eyes. I felt faint again.
“But I’m out of practice, and you must have new songs…”
“Can we stop it with the excuses already? Are younot the Brit who barged her way into this band through sheer attitude even though you were just a kid and hardly knew how to play?” Denise asked.
I hoped I still was. “Yeah, I’m still that girl,” I said tentatively.
“Well then, shut up already, and get tuned.” Denise gave me her best tough chick look.
“Here’s set list A,” Jed said. “Golden oldies. All songs you know.”
“What was set list B?” I asked.
“The one with newer stuff. We would have played that if you didn’t show,” Jed admitted.
“But wouldn’t you rather…?”
Jed cut me off. “We have plenty of other shows to play that stuff. Tonight, we’re doing this set.”
“Brit, will you stop it with the questions? Do you think we came to Utah because of its punk-rock pedigree?” Denise asked. “We came to play a show with you.”
“You did?”
“Oh dude. She is gonna cry,” Erik said. “Let’s go.”
Clod’s first gig was in Eugene. I was a bundle of nerves before it started, even though it was just a backyard keg party near the university. When we set up, I was shaking so much I thought I wouldn’t be able to strum or sing or remember the lyrics to our songs. But then we switched on the amps, and Jed sent a wave of feedback out. The crowd quieted, Erik counted back on his drumsticks, and we started playing. All of a sudden, it wasn’t like I was in front of a crowd, or even with the rest of the band. I was alone with the music and it all just came to me instinctively. We played for a half hour, but it went by like it was seconds. When we finished, I was in a daze. Then, after, I was completely giddy. I couldn’t stop laughing all night. Erik was convinced I was stoned.
When Erik clipped his drumsticks for the start of “Dumbbell” at Cafenomica, I went into a similar trance. The last six months—no, the last few years —just washed away from me. I was
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