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Honestly, I thought he meant an only family reunion where my cousins and I would play music.Just another Sunday dinner but on a Friday.I should’ve asked.
The sheer magnitude of the event overwhelms me.This gathering rivals the size of the Montreal International Jazz Festival.Okay, it’s not that big.I doubt there are three million people in this stadium.
Maybe it’s more akin to Rock in Rio ...no, it’s smaller, probably like Lollapalooza.Though, there’s a stark contrast between those festivals and this one.We have an eclectic mix of music, ranging from the gentle melodies of classical compositions to the thunderous eruption of heavy metal anthems.
I attempt to steady my racing thoughts, but it’s almost impossible.I press my hand against my chest, trying to calm the storm of emotions surging within me.My breaths come in shallow gasps, and I can feel the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.Tension coils in every muscle, poised for fight or flight.It’s as if I’m standing on the precipice of a cliff, torn between the urge to flee and the resolve to stay because my family is here.I can’t just leave.
“Grey, are you alright?”Dad’s voice pierces through the noise, and I turn to find him watching me with concern clearly drawn on his face.His furrowed brows mirror the anxiety that consumes me.
Forcing a smile, I poorly attempt to push back the rising tide of unease.“Sure, I just didn’t expect this to be so ...crowded.”
Dad nods, though a flicker of doubt lingers in his eyes.It’s hard to fool my father.He knows all about my demons, he was there when I was in the middle of my last crisis.
“I’ve seen that face before.”Dad exhales, scrubbing his face with one hand.“Your mom had a breakdown during a concert.It’s okay to ask for help, you know.We’re here.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, hating that he’s worried about me.This day has to be special, not only for my parents, but for the entire family.
I inhale deeply.I can do this.It’s just one night.
“If you need a break, you’ll let me know, yes?”he says, his dark green eyes so much like mine fixed upon me.
People often say I look a lot like my father.While I’m not entirely convinced that’s true, I wish I could possess his strength and be ...well, a lot less broken.Everyone treats me like I’m fragile.They don’t trust that I won’t break down again or lose myself.
It’s futile to tell him anything, so I just nod and walk away, seeking something to occupy my time while waiting for the final set, where many of us will take the stage.Fortunately, I spot Zeke Hutchence, my sponsor.
“Does this get any better?”I ask, without greeting him.
Zeke glances at me before scanning the audience.“What exactly are we talking about?The crowd?When was the last time you performed in a big venue?”
“It’s definitely not the crowd.I just finished a tour last month,” I say, hoping he doesn’t ask me for context because the list is long.
“So you’re okay with the crowd, but there’s something that’s making you want to use?”Zeke asks.
I nod, realizing it’s not necessarily the urge to drown my sorrows in alcohol or drugs ...it’s more like I want to disappear.
“This reminds me ofthem,” I confess, my voice laced with the pain of their memories.“And how am I supposed to forget and move on when they continue to pop up here and there?”
“Especially when Sanford has been watching you since you arrived,” Zeke adds.
I close my eyes, fully aware of San’s intense gaze fixed on me even at this moment.His piercing blue eyes seem to sear through my very being.There’s a reason why he’s regarded as one of the world’s finest snipers.His vision is impeccable, and he always keeps a vigilant eye on his target.
I’m tempted to text him, demanding that he leave me the fuck alone.But I resist the urge.It’s best if I pretend he doesn’t exist—unless I need him.
And maybe that’s why I’m so restless.I want him like I want my next breath.I want to feel him inside me, claiming me and making me forget.We don’t belong to each other, but we can’t stay away from each other for too long.He’s the one thing that soothes me when I can’t breathe, but I have to push him away because I don’t deserve him.
No, I push him because I hate him.And yet, I have to pretend that I’m fine when he’s around me.It’s so fucking impossible, but as they say, fake it until you make it—or perhaps I’ll keep doing it until he shatters the remaining fragments of me.
“Yes, there’s that.”I’m not sure if Zeke can hear me when my voice is barely above a whisper.
“Have you two tried to solve your differences?”he asks.“Kiss it all better.”
“You can’t fix what happened to us,” I reply, glancing at the scars on my arms.
“It’s none of my business, but maybe you should cover them with tattoos.Let the past go,” Zeke suggests.
“Someone has to remember her—remember us,” I say, my voice laden with a mixture of pain and determination.
And maybe keeping the scars that remind me of those days, the torture, and how I lost them isn’t healthy, but I don’t know any other way.It’s now part of who I am.
