Page 66 of Down Beat
TWENTY-FIVE
Rey
“Black Hole Sun” - Soundgarden
The following night’s show was flat, despite the fact the rain decided to hold out. The crowd was pumping; it wasn’t their fault. Nope. It was all me… as usual. Hard to have a kick-ass show when the front man would rather lie on his back in a dark room and listen to Pink Floyd on repeat.
I didn’t sleep much. Couldn’t find it in me to relax when my mind decided to open the old albums, dust off the home videos, and show me a play-by-play of why I’m such a goddamn fuckup. “It’s all in your head” is the most common response I get from people who genuinely think they’re trying to help. “You need to think positive.”
Trust me, fucker, I’ve tried. I try daily. Fuck. Every goddamn hour of every goddamn day. Do you know how demeaning it is to stand before a mirror and try to do the exercise laid down to you by a shrink—tell yourself five things that you appreciate about who you are—and to fail after number two? Nope? Well then I bow down to you.
I know it’s all in my head. It’s chemical, it’s mental… whatever the fuck it is, the most important thing to know about a condition like this is it doesn’t go away. You learn how to manage it, and some days you fail.
Kitty asked me a simple, honest question and I froze. I mean, fuck it, I put the fucking words on my skin so that people would see them. So why did I choke?
Why am I now sitting here six days later on a goddamn bus to our next stop on the tour, constantly waking my phone so it goes back to her message on my screen?
“Googling how to get a stick out of your ass?” Emery asks as he drops onto the narrow bench seat beside me.
I kill the screen and then slide my phone onto the small table facedown. “How much longer do we have before I can get out of this fucking sardine tin?”
He squints as though consulting some map in his head. “Less than an hour, I reckon.”
“How the fuck do you know that without looking?” I tease, leaning back and spreading my arms wide across the back of the seat.
He gives me a cheeky grin while thumbing over his shoulder. “Saw the sign back there.” Emery jerks his chin toward my phone. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
He shrugs. “Don’t blame me then when you’re chugging pills and crying for your mom.” He rises out of the seat, yet stalls when I block him by stretching my leg out under the table.
“Sit down.”
He drops wordlessly, allowing me his undivided attention.
“Would the band do better with a new front man?”
He visibly pales. “What?”
“I wreck the mood, right? I want to know your honest opinion: Do you think there’d be more cohesion, that the new material would flow easier without my shit getting in the way?”
He sighs out his nose, slouching into the seat. “Is this you breaking up with me, man? Because I thought we were in this ’til death do us part.”
I chuckle. “Nope. No break up, sweet cheeks.” My face falls before I press again. “I really want to know what you think, though.”
He pauses a moment, staring out the window on the opposite side of the bus as the scenery buzzes by. Kris sits up near the driver, knees up against his chest as he plays Xbox. Toby lies crashed out in one of the narrow beds, snoring his ass off. Turns out the rain didn’t agree much with him, either, and he’s got a fucking head cold.
“Look,” Emery starts, drawing my focus back to him. “You are who you are, Rey. Take away the mood swings, the arrogance when you’re happy, and the drama when you’re not… what would be left just wouldn’t be you. You get me?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I think so.”
“My point is, if you’re unhappy, then change what’s within your control. But don’t go trying to be somebody else.”
“That’s fucking deep for you,” I tease in an effort to deflect from the fact I want to hug the shit out of his sorry ass.
He gives a soft smile as he rises again. “Sometimes I can be honest, too.”
Fucker hits me right in the feels as he walks away to rib Kris. I twist my lips and stare at the phone before me. It wasn’t Kitty’s doing that I can’t stomach talking about my issues. Not her problem that giving voice to my faults makes me loathe myself even more. Denial is a pretty flower that grows in your shade when the garden around you withers in the heat.