I fall back into the pillows, arm draped over my eyes like a makeshift shield. I’d give anything to fall asleep again, to forget my reality for a little while longer. To lose myself in the dreams that take me back to that night and make me believe, if only for a moment, that I’m still there.
Back when we went on our first tour, our manager, Francis, used to give me pills to help me sleep. There were different ones. One of them would knock me out completely and make me groggy for days. The other made me sleepwalk, but I would have the most vivid dreams. I used to take them just to chase those dreams, to keep him alive in the dark.
But I don’t anymore.
Pushing myself up to lean back against the headboard and covering my shame with the bedsheet, I drag my journal off the bedside table. Originally, I’d started writing in these journals as an exercise with my therapist, to make sense of my chaotic thoughts. These days, it’s a lifeline. I scrawl thoughts across the page, jagged and messy, hoping to capture forgotten details as if I could carve the ghost of him into something tangible. More often than not, I just jot down my thoughts in lines that used to turn into lyrics.
Drag me under, don’t let me wake
I’d sleep forever for one more taste
Hold me down in the dark, make me feel love
Could I change the ending if I sleep long enough…
But it’s futile. I can’t hold on to it. The words won’t stick, sliding through my fingers like water.
TWO
JESSE
The hum of the engines is almost enough to lull me to sleep. I sink deeper into the leather seat of the jet, my knees pulled up against the armrest, notebook open on my lap but blank. I haven’t written a single word since takeoff. The thought of going home has my brain stuck between static and silence.
It’s been months since I set foot in Raleigh. Even then, the last time was nothing but a quick blur between rehab and therapy. It didn’t really feel like I was home. Now we’ve got weeks off before we’re back in the studio, and no major shows until New York at the end of the month.
Rest and recovery should feel like a gift. I know I need them, but it feels daunting at the same time. I don’t know how to slow down. I’m used to being shoved forward by deadlines and shows and sound checks. There’s always something demanding my attention. If I stop, if I let myself just sit still, I’m afraid of what kind of noise my brain might make in the quiet. Even as a kid, I always needed to be busy. Otherwise, I’d drift aimlessly to anything to entertain myself, finding myself in some kind of trouble more often than not.
Naz drops into the seat across from me. “You ready to be home for a while?”
“I think so,” I answer, but I must not sound enthusiastic enough.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up. I’m just tired. What do you have going on when you get home?”
“Taking my grandparents to see the land and meet with the builders.”
“Ah, that’s right. Sorry, totally forgot about that.” I haven’t been the most present friend, and I feel bad about it. There’s both guilt and relief in his easy acceptance of my issues.
“No worries, man. We’ve been busy. I’m ready for a break.”
“Hard same,” Will calls out from across the aisle. Ari is asleep in the chair facing his, a confirmation of his exhaustion, too.
“What are y’all getting up to?” Naz asks.
“Gonna stick around for a couple days, then we’re going to head up to New York early. There are some clubs we want to check out.”
I have little doubt that the clubs he’s referring to are probably sex clubs. We went to a few as a group before. It wasn’t really my thing, but I appreciated the ironclad NDAs and discretion of the clientele. Sometimes I’d go just to enjoy a night out without being bombarded by fans or being followed by bodyguards.
“You’re still coming by for dinner, right?” I ask him.
“Definitely. I’m not about to miss out on seeing our band mama.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d hunt you down anyway.”
“Bet,” Naz says, laughing.
Will and Ari don’t have any family connections left in Raleigh, but they usually spend at least a day or two visiting old friends and coming by to see my mom. She’s always treated the guys in the band like extra sons, and they show her love in return. Naz has been my best friend since elementary school, so he might as well be blood.
