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The loneliness that comes when you want something you shouldn’t have.
Pounding my chest with my free hand, sweat soaking my brow, I look out at the people here for us and pause. The overwhelming encouragement I get in return nearly paralyzesme with admiration as my lungs struggle to catch up. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips, but it’s not enough. Never enough.
Not since I met her.
So I lean down, arms outstretched, and let the emotion wash over me. Bringing the mic back to my mouth, I vocalize the next verse and prepare myself for the hook.
Stalking back to my brother taking up the drums like a fucking pro—because he is—I lead the crowd into a clap that they pick up. I climb up on his platform, my back to the masses, and smack the cymbal when the beat allows. Silence fills the void as the tempo begins the descent for a drop, only the high-hat ringing out.
Four … Three … Two …
I push off from the platform and fling my legs up over my head, landing a backflip on time with the tempo coming back to life with a thump I feel right down to my fucking soul.
The audience becomes a mob in that moment, boisterous roaring piercing my eardrums over the sound of the music.
My head spins, chest heaving, but the song is coming up to the final bit and I have to be ready. I have to destroy my voice on this exit so that the next song has the rawness it deserves.
Dragging in a deep breath and stalking to center stage, I engage a scream I pull from my diaphragm and fill the fucking venue. The sound reverberates off of the walls, echoing back the anguish I dish out, and threatening to silence my vocals with its force.
Instead, I manifest all of my rage, all of my passion, hurt.
All of my disappointment.
Fuck, I miss her.
The front rows go still as I double over to keep the note going as long as possible, the tempo lengthening several beats longer than the recorded version that’s yet to be released.
Vocal cords screaming in pain, I go another beat, my forehead pressed into the floor, and fade the noise out on a cry as the stage goes dark as practiced. Except this time, there’s tears pricking at my eyes that I desperately try to blink away before I look up. A few escape anyway when I lean back on my haunches and search for my brother, my rock. I catch his reassuring nod to me from behind his set, his arms pounding the sticks against the drum as a distraction.
Eyes dried on my bare biceps, I spring to my feet with my focus still on Mac. Mic grille back to my lips, I ask the patrons for some love for my brother with a garbled sentence I’m surprised they understand.
And like he was born for this, he smashes the drums in a short solo for the love he gets, a grin on his face, his eyes meeting mine every few beats. I see the concern in them, but I just nod to him.
I’m ok.I mouth, some semblance of reassurance, but I know that he feels me and I really can’t lie.
The last few weeks have been hell. Still, I find myself wondering about her, wanting to share it all with her, feeling her absence to my core.
That’s gotta mean something, right?
A final nod to my twin, stronger this time, the band leads me into the final song of the show. The pièce de résistance of the album. The track set to hit the top 100 charts all over the world.
And with a broken voice, I sing of love and passion. Of a night to challenge the status quo, to change my life.
I sing of the night that broke me.
And in between my hoarse vocals, I offer words of encouragement to those that might find themselves in the same place as me.
I don’t know what’s next. But I know I have to try.
“Can you relate?What’s been taken from you?” I harmonize as best as my aching voice will allow.
“Who do you want there with you when the world comes crashing down? For me, it’s you and only you.”The crowd sways with the calmer beat as I serenade each side of the stage.
“If it all tumbles down tonight, it’s you I want by my side.”I pause center stage and breathe in deep the buzz of the audience.
Lights cut. The music stops.
“Cuz there’s no light without you here.”
