I need you to need me first. I need you to want me more. The message says.
I will always want you. I have done nothing but need you, babe. I type back to her not even needing to think about it. I just send what I know, and she does too. It’s just a little harder to look past the fact that I am a douche bag.
Well, we will see, James Dean.
She types back as I look over at the couple blissfully in love. They are sitting down drinking wine. She is on his knee not a care in the world. Not even worrying about who sees or who is around. They just love being inside each other’s eyes and living within each other’s hearts.
I think I was scared that they would taint you, so I ran so you could stay hidden just for me.
I wrote back to her.
I will send her the video from today the day the flowers arrive, and tonight I will sing her Match Box 20’s If You’re Gone song. This is so me and her right now and I don’t want the leaving part, I want the story like what Gino and Bella have. Fuck! Shit! The show! Oh my god, the show! I check the time. Yup, totally going to miss sound check and I’m not even lost, or high somewhere. I am sober and enjoying the fruits of a lost day and finding the unexpected.
Walking over to the table I pull the two boxes out of the bag. Passing them over to Gino and Bella.
“These are to thank you for showing the world and a young douche bag filled up on ego that real love is there and it’s earned. When worked for and cherished it’s unique and beautiful.”
Bella opens hers and a gasp leaves her mouth. Tears roll down her cheeks as Gino blurts out.
“Oh no, no, no, too much, too much.” I take his face in my hands.
“No, sir, not too much. You both showed me that I was living wrong.” His eyes shine with tears as I kiss his cheeks, hug him and then take Bella in my arms, spinning her around and kissing her.
“The world is better with you in it. Thank you.”
“How do we thank you?” They say as I place her down picking up my bag and walking away.
“Stay in love.” I say over my shoulder.
“I will be back with my lady love and I will order your roses like I said. Just please stay in love.”
Walking from them I hear the soft mummers of Italian coming from their mouths and I smile as the rain falls softly around me. I opt to walk back and enjoy this moment. Clear eyes and clear mind. The show that night was just like any other: loud, insane and righteous. We know how to put on a good show even if our personal lives are fucked-up. We deliver. I went rouge with my song to Tru but fuck it, it needed to be done. I need her like Adam needed Eve and that damn poisoned apple. Tiny terror had a lot to say about my antics and requested that I look her in the eyes and supply her with a roadside drug test, but this was a backstage one and I laughed. She really thought I had lost it especially when I told her why I was late and missed sound check. I didn’t care though; I had met two of the most undeniably selfless people in my life. I was storing in all I could before the realty of addiction, a broken relationship and the nightmares that were so dark I wanted to run came flooding back.
I flicked a text to Tru before I hailed a cab back to the hotel. I didn’t wanna stick around for the after party. I wanted to speak to my lady, and I hope she picks up.
Hey just got of stage. Can I call in say 30 minutes? What’s the time there?
Tapping my leg as I rode the cab back, no message came back. Taking the lift to my floor, still nothing. Entering my room, nothing. Showering, still fucking nothing. I looked at the ring box on my bed and what it meant. My anger rose that I hadn’t heard from her and my need to numb it kicked in. Opening my phone, I fire another one.
I’m not high. I haven’t had a line, a taste, nor a, joint or anything all day.
Drying my body, I slip into grey track pants taking a glass of Jack and a pack of cigarettes from the table outside the air whops around me, my phone lights up.
Pity, I can’t say the same.
What the fuck does she mean. My stomach sinks, is she? No, she wouldn’t. Fuck, I know she is though. She’s high. Fuck it. I have broken her. She will hate me for more reasons than before.
Dialing her number while pacing the balcony over the NYC streets below my eyes fall across the skyline to 7th and 8th Ave. I can see Ciao Papa, his shop sign an electric blue, Ciao Bella, an electric red. Both are lighting the street in front of them. I can’t believe that I didn’t even notice this before. I was so high, so wasted that all I cared about was tits, ass, coke and numbing all feelings from my body and life. Now look what I have done to her. What she begged me not to. She warned me that I was dangerous for her sobriety and I have succeeded with bittersweet memories lacing us together. We both knew I wasn’t what she needed while I was high. Now I’m stepping into withdraws. I feel it, the shakes are starting. I can feel the cold beads of sweat rolling down my spine. As I down another shot of Jack and light my third smoke I silently beg her to answer. I press call again and I will ring and ring and ring till she picks up.
She’s just as good as I am at dodging the reality of just what we are: addicts. She was a happy, reformed addict. She had found the balance of living inside addiction. I made her break. She wavered, and she fell somewhere between me traveling from New Zealand to New York. Now I’m a world away and she is lost inside the turmoil that comes with falling off the wagon and oh my god, what a fall that is. She and I are each in the same boat.
Ten times now I have tried to call her, and she hasn’t answered. The voices in my head are screaming at me that something isn’t right. My heart is palpitating inside my chest. My hands are shaking, the addict in me is screaming, clawing at me to get high. Giving me all the excuses on why I should. You will feel better, you will think clearer, you will be able to plan, you will know what to do. Hey, it will be fun. You miss the feeling, you miss the taste, do one hit, one line, one joint. For fuck sake I scream at the top of my lungs while pulling my hair. My throat is searing in pain as I rip the soft tissue over and over with FUCK, SHIT, OMFG, TRU, FUCKING HELL, ANSWER THE STUPID PHONE. I repeat these till I can taste blood in my mouth as I dial and re-dial repeatedly. It’s just a constant ring. What the FUCK, Tru. Answer your god damn fucking phone!!!!! Falling onto the cold concrete of the balcony, my face buried in my hands, fear grips me. Overdosed, thoughts of her dying alone scream at me, scaring me to the point that tears roll down my face as I struggle to remember how to breathe. Raising my face to the stars crazy thoughts fill my mind as I pray to a God, I threw away years ago. Now I need him more than ever. Please, Father, please. If you hear me, I beg you to keep her safe. Please keep her here. I know that I fucked it all up. I wanna fix it. I don’t wanna waste it, so please keep her safe till I figure out how to save her.
Taking a few strangled breathes through the hiccupping of tears I haven’t felt like this since the night I held my big brother as he bled out in my arms. Fear laced with helplessness was covered in panic and irrational thoughts. My mind is plummeting through layers of memories and emotions as it seeks an answer, a clue, a sign anything to help me think of what the fuck can I do. Knowing that I am an insane plane ride away. I’m in NYC and she’s in New Zealand. She is a day ahead of me so since it’s 1:30am here it will be 6:30pm there. She should be getting ready for work, but something just isn’t right. It’s not sitting well the text, the missed, unheard or ignored phone calls. I feel that we both have fallen in love with a very bad habit and she has re-born hers and it has come back with a vengeance. Right, text the door man. He is a good old guy who adores Tru.
-Hey, its Jayden I’m trying to get hold of Tru. Has she come down for work today?
Sent….wait…waiting….mmmm…come….on….waiting….tick…tock….goes….the clock…another second bleeds into a minute….waiting…..
