The guys were around me talking, making jokes, and getting in the zone. I’d missed them—missed this—more thanI thought I would. They were the only ones who truly got what this was like. The highs, the lows, the ridiculousness of it all.
“Guys,” I said, smiling as they all turned to face me.
“You good?” Josh asked, sensing that something was off.
I nodded once.
“I just…” I coughed, clearing the tears stinging the back of my throat. “I just wanted to say thank you. For waiting for me. For not giving up on me.”
“We do this together,” Max said. “Or we don’t do it at all.”
I felt my throat tighten as he repeated the words from my last rehab stay. As if sensing I needed it, they huddled around me in a circle—our arms stretched around each other’s shoulders—and we just…held space for each other. A moment of calm before the storm we were about to walk back into. A moment of complete clarity.
It was where I was meant to be. Right there—in that exact moment—with my brothers by my side.
The stage lights were blinding—a relentless sea of white beams that cut through the fog from the machines around the stage—illuminating everything and nothing all at once. My hands were slick with nervous sweat as I gripped the familiar wooden sticks in my hand, feeling the vibrations of the crowd ripple through me like electricity coursing through my veins. And in those few moments before I rushed out onto the stage, it hit me.
After everything, after losing the parts of myself that seemed like they might never come back, I didn’t know if I would ever be here again.
As Max, Kevin, and I took the stage, the crowd roared, and a flood of familiar energy crashed over me. I’d beennervous about how they would accept me back into the fold, but they were with me—I could feel it in the air.
The chords of our opening song filled the arena, and suddenly, I was pulled back into the present. The familiar notes came alive under my hands, and I was right where I left off. I could hear the crowd singing along, their voices rising in perfect unison with Josh’s, and the weight on my chest lifted just a little.
The song built to a crescendo, and I was right there with it, the music washing over me in waves. I caught a glimpse of the crowd in the front row, their faces illuminated by the stage lights. Some of them were singing, some were just watching, but their energy was undeniable, and there, in the third row, someone held up a sign that read, “LONG LIVE THE KING.” I smiled at them, and they jumped up and down, screaming and waving the sign like crazy, and I couldn’t help but get a little emotional.
It felt like a homecoming. More than that—it felt like a redemption I didn’t deserve but would gladly accept.
When we launched into the next song, I started to feel something other than the nervous tension.Gratitude. I was suddenly overwhelmed by it—by the fact that these people, these fans—still remembered me. Still cared. There were moments in the last two years when I didn’t think I’d make it back. There were days when I was at my lowest, days when I couldn’t see beyond the wreckage of the past, when I thought the band might have been over—that I might be over.
But there I was.
When we hit the chorus, I looked out at the sea of faces with their hands raised high, and something clicked. Maybe it was the music or maybe it was the family with me on stage, but I finally let go. Let go of the fear. Let go of the weight ofthe past. I started to play with a little more freedom, a little more joy. The song flowed through me, and I finally felt at peace.
Back in the dressing room after the show, the adrenaline started to wear off. The room was quiet, but the buzz of the crowd was still ringing in my ears. I was sweaty and exhausted, but there was this odd sense of calm within me. We’d done it.Ihad done it.
Max came in first, his grin wide. “FuckI missed that.”
Josh followed, laughing and wiping his forehead with a towel. “You were on fire out there, Eric. Seriously. You looked…free.”
I smiled, still a little unsure, but grateful. “I didn’t expect it to feel like that.”
“Don’t be so surprised,” Kevin said, patting me on the back. “You’re still you, man.”
Was I?
After everything I’d been through, was it possible? I had spent so much time thinking I’d become someone else, but maybe…maybe I don’t need to be one thing or the other. Maybe I can be both—Eric the musician and Eric the person trying to heal. Maybe they can coexist—the past and the present. The scars and the freedom.
The person I was and the person I was destined to be.
FORTY-FOUR
Eric
? Wicked Game – Stone Sour ?
It feels strange to be back at Madison Square Garden. Strange that it’s been almost a year since I met Tyler. Most of the time it feels like I’ve known her longer, and other times like I’ve just met her. I try not to think about how differently things could have worked out had I just walked past her that night. Walked straight into the arena and went about my business—sound check, playing the show, and going back to my room alone.
It would have certainly been the less complicated choice.
