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I lean back as if she’s gut punched me. I’ve never actually put into words how I’ve been living, because I thought it was way too complicated for anyone to understand. Yet she summarized it while sipping coffee.
“I’ve been running for a lot of years. I’d like to think that there is still a piece of the real me left. Having you here…” I pick up the highball glass and gaze at the amber liquor as my mind drifts. “Having you around centers me.” I toss back the whole double shot of Jack Daniel’s, barely even tasting it.
She takes a breath then picks up her burger. “Speaking of the real you, maybe you should call your mom?”
I lean back in the chair. “That’s something that’s not up for discussion.”
“She’s sick, but she loves you.” She sets down her burger.
I shake my head. My mom and anything to do with her is something I try to avoid. “I give her money, bought her a fantastic house in Brentwood that she refuses to move into. I’ve had my fill of doctor calls and updates. So…” I grab the other shot and down it, breathing out the fumes as I look around for the waitress to get me another.
“Now I guess it’s up to her.” I slam the glass down.
“It’s not your fault. There’s no reason for you to pretend she doesn’t exist.” Her green eyes are filled with compassion, only she has zero idea what my mom was—is—really like.
She doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a child, scared and alone, watching your mom fall apart. The true hell of seeing her become someone you don’t recognize. That is the real me. That is my pain. It’s all consuming and rather unforgiving.
I was the child, yet I spent my first eighteen years taking care of her. Lived in fear, in terror of becoming like her. Christ, I’m happy when I wake up and find I’m still me.
Highs and lows, exhausting and painful. “Yes, she’s definitely sick, always has been. It’s too bad she won’t stay on her medication.” I stand up and grab my cigarettes. “I’m gonna go smoke, and we need to get back. You should take a nap.”
“Rhys?” She stands also. “I shouldn’t have—”
“What, Gia?” I lean down. “Drop it. I have a show in four hours.” Then I leave her and walk into the main dining room.
“Granger. Dude, welcome to Minnesota.” A couple to my right jump up with a pen and a napkin. I smile and start signing autographs. They love me, and I let them heal me.
Gone is the terrified boy.
In his place is a god. I laugh and take pictures.
This is what I do.
This is me.
How dare she remind me? I’m at peace not visiting my mom. The pain and emotional agony are too much to handle, especially because she could get help and won’t. I’ve begged her so many times. Sent the best doctors to her house.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen her. I went home to surprise her for her birthday. The house was a pit. No one should have to live in such filth, yet there she was, lying in bed with no sheets or blankets, unable to get up, and staring at a wall. The smell from her, along with the numerous drugs, was the last straw. I called Rafe and he brought in the best doctors. I even stayed and missed things I had to do with the band to help her. But as soon as she was admitted to that hospital, she was complaining about how she hated the way the medication made her feel.
And that was the last straw. I haven’t been back since. I pay people to come in and clean. I pay people to give her meds that she refuses. Some wounds are yours and yours alone. They own you, and you let them live inside you, fueling you, making sure you never have to see or be near that wound again.
“Rhys?” I turn and focus on Gia. She has her bag and holds my phone as she pushes her way to my side.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes blink back tears as if she understands my demons. She can’t. No one can.
“Let’s go.” She takes my hand. She has the softest skin, like whipped cream. I almost laugh—she has no idea how deep my agony goes or what she’s entering into.
Why do all the girls cry around you? At seven she knew. She should remember I’m no good. It’s not like I’ve changed. If anything, I’ve only gotten worse.
GIA
Past – Eighteen years old
Chicago, Illinois
I take one last look at myself, knowing tonight is the night. I’ve never looked or felt better. In the last week, they’ve included me in all of the band’s meetings and sound checks. I’ve taken incredible photos of all the cities and numerous shots of the band.
