“Are you home?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because you weren’t at the airport, so we grabbed an Uber and have been out here for fifteen minutes. We were worried sick.”
Shit. Was it Thursday already? I had completely lost track of the days and forgotten that my parents were coming to spend a few days with me in L.A.
I rolled out of bed, groaning as the pain in my head intensified from moving so fast, and walked through the house to the front door. My mom had her arms around me before I even had the door fully open. She pulled back, took my face in her hands, and studied me for a long moment before stepping back.
“What’s going on?” she asked, tears lining her eyes.
“I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The look of worry on my mother’s face was enough to tear my heart out of my chest. “I don’t know,” I said, looking away, my voice barely audible.
“Eric, talk to me. Please,” she said.
I looked back into her eyes and lost it. My parents had been there for me my entire life, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie to them. So, I broke down. I told them everything. About how I felt more at home on the road than at home. About my inability to adjust after we came back. About how much I needed to drink now in order for it to do anything.
About how fucking terrified I was.
They stood there, listening and letting me lay everything out in the open. And when I was done, my mom wrapped me in her arms and told me how much she loved me. How proud she was of me.
Then we sat down and came up with a plan. I would call the guys, get them all here, and tell them what was going on. Ask if there was any way that we could put our next album onhold for a few months so that I could go to rehab and readjust to my new normal for a few weeks after.
Tell them that if they didn’t want to wait, they could replace me. It’d hurt like hell, but I would understand. We were on a fucking roll with our second album going triple platinum and our previous co-headlining tour with Breaking Benjamin breaking all kinds of records, so me dropping this bomb on them now and taking a hiatus was not ideal. I could only hope they’d understand and welcome me back when the dust settled and I figured my shit out.
I was more afraid now than ever, but I’d already felt a bit of the weight lift from my shoulders by coming clean to my parents.
They didn’t think I was weak. They didn’t think I was a disappointment.
They were proud of me. Supportive. Already making plans to be here when I got out to help in whatever way I needed.
That was the moment I realized two very important things.
One, how lucky I was to have people in my life who cared enough about me to nip something like this in the bud. Kill it before it got out of control. Before I lost myself completely.
And two, how stupid I’d been to believe that I’d ever been alone.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ty
? Crush - Tessa Violet ?
Eric and I stand at the kitchen sink in our RV washing and drying our dishes from breakfast. We left Charlotte after last night’s show and arrived in Orlando some time before either of us woke this morning. Velvet Shadows has two shows here before continuing on to Miami for two more shows, which means we’ll have several glorious nights outside the RV and in hotel rooms.
Other than the road crew, we’re the only ones who didn’t bolt for the hotel as soon as we woke up. Breakfast has become routine for us, and when we woke up, neither of us seemed to be in any hurry to get out of here, so we settled into the kitchen and started cooking.
I’m thankful we have a few days of shows and our interviews are officially on hold. Listening to him recount his descent into addiction has been a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.
He’s always been open about his struggles and even started a foundation to help those battling addiction after hisfirst stint in rehab, but when I hear him talk about those first few months, I want to travel back in time, wrap him in my arms, and protect him from it all. Be his armor. His outlet.
“What are you doing for the break next week?” he asks, handing me the mug he just washed and redirecting my thoughts. I dry it and set it in the cupboard above me. “Are you heading home?”
“Nah,” I say, taking the next mug from his hands. “You?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes focused intently on the soapy water in front of him. “I always use this time to go to my parents’ place and spend time with family.”
Friday night in Miami marks the last show of the first half of the tour, and we all have ten days off before we meet back up in San Diego to kick off the second half. I considered traveling home, but I worried that stepping back into my old life, even for a few days, would pop this bubble I’ve been living in.
