"Apologies" - Three Days Grace
Grayson
Earlier That Same Day…
Iwake up with a start.
An obnoxiously loud bang from down the hall—something slamming into the kitchen floor by the sound of it—indicates the house is already in its usual state of chaos. Typical for the morning of a show. No one in this damn place knows how to be quiet. I drag a hand down my face, groaning, because while I’ve been in bed for the last eight hours, I maybe slept for four.
I kick off the sheets, still twisted from another restless night, and head for the shower. Turning the water on as hot as it will go, I strip off my boxers and step under the spray, closing my eyes. It’s too hot, but I don’t care.
The water runs through my hair and I rake my hands through it as my fingers drag roughly against my scalp. For a moment, I just stand there, bracing myself with my hands against the cool tile. I’m hoping the scalding water will burn off the aching tension in my chest, but I have no such luck. My jaw clenches, and my eyes stay shut. Balling my fist and pressing it into the tile, I beg myself tofucking breathe.
The smell of sandalwood from my body wash invades my senses as I cleanse underneath my arms and below the belt. Normally the scent is comforting, but today, it’s almost nauseating. I wish for nothing more than for my anxiety to subside, because I’ve got shit to do today and none of this is helping.
Eventually, when I’ve had as much heat as I can take, I turn the water off. I grab a towel and rub it across my face and down the back of my neck. Wrapping it around my waist, I use my forearm to clear the condensation from the mirror. I look up at my reflection and, even though it’s blurred by stubborn water droplets, I see the exhaustion covering my features. How am I possibly going to face the day ahead?
We’ve got a huge show tonight. The biggest of my career thus far. We’re just one of the openers, but it’s shows like this wherebands get noticed and we’re already on the brink of life changing success.
I should probably shave. Or go back to sleep. Or try to actually give a shit. But none of it feels important enough anymore, and my anxiety is at an all time high.
When I finally make it downstairs, Brandon is flipping eggs while Tony and Eric lounge at the breakfast bar, although I know they haven’t been acting this innocent all morning. I take my seat next to them and sigh a little too loudly. It isn’t like I want the guys to know there’s something on my mind, but it feels like I’ve been holding my breath since the night before.
“Lily problems?” Tony asks as Brandon serves each of the rest of us a plate. “She’s on tour again, right?”
Lily Vance—my soon-to-be ex-wife, and the lead singer of The Dilemma. She’s a powerhouse, no doubt about it. Beautiful, talented, and sharp—but somewhere along the way over the last ten years, the idea of fame has twisted something in her as her own band hovers on the brink of success, too. The strong-willed, take-no-shit woman I once admired has become someone I barely recognize.
The decision to split isn’t all that recent. We’ve actually already started the divorce paperwork, and we’re about to reach the six month mark of when we can finalize it. I haven’t even told the guys yet, and I’ve been trying to hide the worst of the arguments from them. They don’t know how bad it’s gotten, but it’s at the point where I’m going to have to tell them something.
“Yeah, they’re on the east coast, I think,” I reply, trying to recall the last conversation I had with Lily that didn’t involve us screaming at each other.
“What, it’s been that long since you talked?” Eric asks. “I remember when you two used to talk, like, five times a day—at least.”
“Ah, yes,” Brandon says from his place at the stove. “I think we all remember that phase. Can’t say I miss it.”
“Well, we’re…” I start, trying to find the words. “We’re splitting up, actually. We started the paperwork to get divorced awhile ago.”
Tony chokes on his eggs. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s time,” I shrug, trying to play it off like it hasn’t been tearing me apart. “I didn’t want to burden you guys with all of this. Lily and I haven’t beenusfor a long time.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Brandon sighs, walking over to give me a pat on the back. “Are you sure it’s really happening? For the record—you’re never burdening us. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”
It’s a valid question. Being musicians, we have a flair for the dramatic, so yes, when we decided to split, it wasn’t the first time Lily and I had talked, orfought, about divorce. But it was the first time I allowed myself to admit I really couldn’t do it anymore.
“Positive. It’s over. If I’m being honest, it’s been over for years.”
“We’re gonna get you through this,” Tony says as he takes both of our plates to the sink.
“One hundred percent,” Eric adds from the couch.
After breakfast, we have a quick rehearsal, pack up our equipment, and hand it off to our production team. They’re descending down the driveway and Tony pulls out a cardboard box from behind his drum set, the rest of us groaning loudly.He tosses each of us a water gun, already filled up like he’s been planning this for days. Tony loves to make up games for us to play at the house, and most of them we end up begrudgingly enjoying, except when they end up with the fire department getting called. Yeah, that’s happened more than once.
At least this game involves a liquid, but I’m fairly certain it’s not water.
“Please, no,” I mutter. “Nottoday, Tony.”
“Yes, absolutely today,” Tony insists. “Each of you has been presented with a water gun. We will be running around the house shooting each other with these, each containing an unknown, suspicious liquid, and the wettest one will be eating this!”
