Sing For Me

It was something deep in Sharon’s gut that told her to knock on the door to Anette’s backstage room. An important nagging that just wouldn’t go away. It startled Sharon because she and Anette weren’t exactly friends. Nightwish and Within Temptation rarely interacted with one another, though they were always compared to one another, the bands never really talked. Maybe the guys did, but not the two females who fronted their respective bands.

Tonight was different though.

Sharon had watched Nightwish perform at the festival they were currently at. Both Within Temptation and Nightwish usually drew large crowds, and tonight had been no exception.

After carefully tapping her knuckles against the wood, Sharon wringed her hands together and let her eyes scan several cracks on the door and the tag with the name Anette Olzon written in cursive letters.

The tell-tale sounds of a throat being cleared and several sniffles made the Dutch’s stomach churn uneasily.

After the performance had ended, Anette had just been breezing by Sharon and the other people who had been watching the show from behind the stage while the guys quickly welcomed all the praises being thrown their way. Not once making the effort to follow Anette to check if she was okay.

As the door slowly opened, Sharon had to hold back a gasp as she came face to face with the Swede’s red rimmed eyes and the sorrow that could be found within them. As Anette seemed to register that it was Sharon on the other side of the door, she quickly squared her shoulders as a very fake smile began to form itself on her lips.

“Sharon, hi! Did you want something?” the Swede’s voice was husky and her accent prominent.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee or something from the catering tent.”

Anette’s smile faltered as she thought about the other woman’s suggestion.

“Yeah sure, just… give me a second, okay?” the Swede said before checking her make up in the mirror, wiping away traces of the now ruined mascara and eye shadow. The slouched and defeated posture did not suit the otherwise chipper and cheerful woman, and the knowledge had Sharon’s veins fill with dread.

“Really great show tonight. You guys were kicking butt!” Sharon said in hopes of getting Anette’s spirits up.

The Swede threw some tissues in a basket by the door and gave an incredulous snort.

“If you could call that great…”

Anette immediately saw through Sharon’s weak attempt and breezed by the Dutch on her way out the door.

“So, what about that coffee then?”

——————

Sharon and Anette were seated on a bench some distance away from the tour buses, paper cups once filled with coffee in the nearest bin.  

Sharon had come here to talk, but for the past twenty minutes very few words had been exchanged. The subject that itched to be brought up made the Dutch’s tongue feel like lead in her mouth.

The first part of the Nightwish concert had gone by smoothly, but it was during the slower songs that the name calling had begun. The audience had thrown rude comments about Anette’s weight, called her a bitch, flipped her off, and even screamed the name of her predecessor.

Sharon had watched as Anette had deflated more and more as the concert went on.

The deflation and total defeat had been swirling in Anette’s eyes as she had opened the door to her dressing room, causing Sharon’s mind to go haywire as flashbacks after flashbacks assaulted her.

“It was a disaster.” the Swede said and released a heavy sigh.

Several times her voice had hitched due to missed notes or lyrics while Anette had tried to keep her tears at bay.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The Swede scoffed and leaned back against the backrest on the bench, twisting her body so that she was face to face with the other woman.

“You may not think so, but the guys will blame me. Like they usually do. I’m the outsider, remember?”

Sharon saw the pain flicking by in Anette’s eyes. She recognized an injured soul when she saw one.

“Outsiders are important too. We fight harder for what we want, for being accepted for the things we love to do, for being ourselves.” Sharon said and felt a hard tug in her chest.

“Society condemns us for being different, they yell at us, push us, calling us names. They take every little-“

“Sharon-“ Anette tried to interject, but the other woman refused to stop her rant.

Sharon had become submerged into childhood memories. Like a black cloud they placed themselves in her conscious mind. Cruel laughter, fingers pointing, bruises on her skin.

“- happy feeling and crush it. You become afraid of going out, for going to school. You flinch for every little contact, for every-“

Anette burst into tears then, Sharon’s words becoming overwhelming. The Dutch too had tears in her eyes.

The subject of her being bullied had always been hard to talk about. What she had seen in Anette’s eyes as she had been standing there on stage in front of thousands of people had been the same look she had had during the lunch breaks while she had been hiding out in the bathrooms after being subjected to another one of her bullies “jokes”.

Sharon placed a comforting hand on Anette’s forearm and averted her eyes to the tour buses in the distance, trying to slow down her rapidly beating heart. This felt like a night of confessions. Between two women who hadn’t talked to each other before, but came together as truths became harder to contain.

“They didn’t want to be near me. I was the poor kid with the wrong clothes.” came the blonde’s voice, still hoarse from crying.

Sharon understood. Heartachingly so.

“But singing helped. It was my escape.”

“Mine too.” Sharon confessed and took Anette’s hand in her own and squeezed it.

“I sang when I was happy, I sang when I felt sad. During those moments I just forgot everything.”

Anette inhaled deeply and wiped away some tears from her cheeks and chin.

“And we still sing to this day. Just to forget.” Anette said and watched as a bright smile lit up Sharon’s face.

“That we do.”