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That part of being Lachlan Marcus never did sit right with me though. That was all my band mates. They had a new girl every night. But for me, I’d rather be writing music and finding someone who might actually care about me.
Rather than the image of me.
Anyway, from there I got a part in a major motion picture and I divided my time between the band and the acting gig. Things were going well, but I guess I should have seen it coming when the band had had enough of me outshining them. They basically kicked me out. So I went solo and with no more effort I was bigger than ever, and I’ve barely had a moment to breathe since.
That was six years ago, and I’ve barely stopped for a minute. I developed a clothing line, a restaurant chain, starred in four more major motion pictures and developed a serious lack of interest in any of it.
I’m burned out and have learned the hard way that trusting people is a risk; one I’ve become more and more unwilling to take.
Enter my exit yesterday, and my subsequent retreat to this town, and now to this secluded cabin where I hope to figure out how to get the reins back on my life.
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but seeing that waitress today, feeling the reaction I had to her, made me think I was exactly where I needed to be for the first time in as long as I can remember.
But now, sitting here in this cabin, freezing rain tinkling against the windows and the roof, all I feel is claustrophobic. Like I’m trapped in this life and there’s no clear path to the other side. I need to get out. I know it’s not this cabin that I want to leave, it’s the life I’ve grown to resent, but I need to go somewhere, anywhere, just to clear my head.
I rummage through the clothes I bought at the thrift store and pull out a faded camo army jacket and stuff my arms though the sleeves, then head out into the cold.
I’m a big guy, jackets my size weren’t plentiful and when I saw the name stitched on this one, Reynolds, I thought it was a sign. That was my father’s first name and he always told me to look for signs in life. To be open to the visions that the universe gives us but as we get older, we grow suspicious and jaded.
Our genius fades.
On a deep exhale, I pull the blue knit cap I bought over my head and start down the path that leads away from the cabin toward the state land that borders this place.
The ground crunches under my boots as the freezing pellets sting my face then melt and run down, soaking the collar of the jacket and the front of my flannel shirt. There’s a low hammering in the back of my head and despite the size of my bank account and all the people that usually surround me, I don’t feel as though I have anything to be proud of in my life.
I think back on my childhood. We were not poor, but there was not much extra in my parents’ budget. But I remember a lot of love and a lot of laughter. The kind that flows easily and sinks its memories into your very being. I guess, I just imagined my life would always be like that and the irony is the more money I made, the more famous I became, the less secure I felt.
The less loved. And all the laughter evaporated.
Memories spin in my head and the strangest part is, she’s there in all of them. I don’t even know how that’s possible.
I stop for a moment on the trail. It’s dark except for this crazy reddish moon that’s full and streaming light everywhere, making the forest surreal and tinted with pinkish orange.
The weather’s alternating between stinging pellets of ice and huge cold drops of rain. This is the kind of weather that is even more dangerous than a snowstorm and the logical part of me wonders what the fuck I’m doing taking a long walk to nowhere out here tonight.
I don’t listen. I’ve followed my logic for a long time, and this is where I’ve ended up so fuck it. I’m following my heart, my feelings, and if I end up frozen out here tonight at least I found my freedom.
I listen to the sounds of the forest in the weather. The way the rain and ice hits the branches, and everything is covered in a coating of ice. The trees sway and creak above me and in the distance, I hear the sound of a large tree or branch giving in to the weight of the ice, slamming into the ground with a deep, dull thud and crunch.
