There are less than two weeks until the playoffs start, and the Storm have clinched a playoff spot. So have the Charleston Cyclones, their arch-enemy team. So tonight’s game against Chicago doesn’t mean much, but the Storm and the Cyclones are currently battling in the standings, competing for home ice advantage. So the win is still important.
I can’t help but smile as I stretch out on the couch in front of the TV. This time watching Marek isn’t so bittersweet. I love watching him play but knowing that we had something so incredibly special and I fucked it up made it painful. But tonight, I know he’s forgiven me and also he’s done some soul searching and learned some things about himself, and my optimism has returned. I’m going to figure this all out with Blake and everyone, and Marek and I are going to be together.
* * *
Somehow Jada manages to get us all together the next evening at five at Blake’s office on Wilshire Boulevard. And while Harper is sympathetic, albeit surprised, about my decision, she takes Blake’s side about me living in New York. As do Bruno, Todd, and Anderson.
We talk about choreography and dance rehearsals. I know I’ll have to find somewhere in New York, but that’s not hard. I already have a recording studio I’ve used in the past. We talk about promotional events, tour preparation, and meetings to plan new albums, discuss marketing strategies, and organize future performances. The studio execs are in L.A.
“That’s not an issue in this day and age,” I say. “We can meet virtually so easily. We’ve done it before.”
We talk about collaborations because Antwon, a popular rap artist and friend, has been trying to work on a project with me for months. “I can meet virtually with him, too, if I have to,” I say. “Or we can meet when he’s in New York. Or when I’m in L.A. It’s not like I’ll never be here.” I’m getting frustrated but trying to stay calm.
Anderson finally nods and says, “You’ve obviously thought this through.”
“I have.” I lift my chin. At least he sees that.
I look at the others. I hate the looks on their faces—disappointment. Bewilderment. Displeasure.
I’m letting them down. Again.
A burning feeling of pressure expands inside me. My jaw aches from clenching and every muscle in my body is tight. I feel like crying, but holy shit, I can’t do that.
I draw air into my lungs and let it out. “I need to use the ladies’ room,” I say with a set smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I hike out of the meeting room and down the hall, passing offices and assistants who give me big smiles. In the ladies’ room, I shut the door of a stall and sit on the toilet. I blow out a long exhalation.
Okay. This is bad.
I lower my head into my hands, elbows on my knees. My heart is thudding so hard I feel it in my wrists. My throat. I swallow thickly.
Am I making a big mistake? What if they’re all right, and moving to New York will never work? What if I’m trashing my career, just when I’m trying to get it back? Maybe I should rethink this whole plan.
But… Marek.
I try to imagine staying in L.A. and having some kind of long-distance relationship with him. I would do it, if I had absolutely no other choice. But it’s not what I want. It’s not what he wants. He’s all in for us, and so am I. It was hard enough for the last year, being apart from him, and we barely knew each other. Now I’ve spent time with him and I know him better and I love him so much, it would wreck me.
Am I being dramatic? There are lots of couples who do that, especially in the music or show business. I could fly to New York often. Huge waste of time, though.
I straighten, tip my head back and stare up at the ceiling. My chest feels like a band is wrapped around it, tightening. I wipe sweaty palms on my jeans.
For a brief second, I wish my parents were here. But then I dismiss that because I know whose side they would be on in this. They’re the ones who told me my lack of discipline would keep me from being a success in music. Is that what this is? Am I making an impulsive, hasty decision?
I don’t deserve to be happy or have good things happen to me.
I swallow a small scream. I can’t believe that thought intruded into my consciousness. Is that where I am again?
No. I won’t accept that.
What have I learned? All those sessions with Eve have taught me so much about myself. I need to think about those things.
Everyone deserves to be happy.
I believe that.
That meansIdeserve to be happy.
I unroll toilet paper and drag it beneath my eyes.
