Sorry this has taken so long...
Reaching the end of the next block I finally see a cab and race to get to it before Ryan can catch up with me. Getting in I hurriedly give my address before looking behind me, just in time to see Ryan getting into a cab a few car lengths behind me.
"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you can get me there in under ten minutes."
The driver turned around to stare at me with a dumbstruck look on his face.
"I'm serious! Go!"
I guess the hysteric edge to my voice combined with the tears running down my cheeks where the deciding factor. He hit the gas, running a light right as it turned red, putting Ryan way behind.
Seven minutes later, we were turning down my street. I would soon be back in my safe haven, cut off from the rest of the world. Before the cab had even stopped, I threw the money into the front seat and jumped out. As I reached the front door of my building, I heard a car door slam behind me.
Looking over my shoulder as I turned the key, I saw Ryan heading towards me. How did he catch up with me?
Of course the one time I'm truly in a hurry, my key gets stuck in the lock.
"Come on! Come on, come on."
Glancing back again Ryan was at the bottom of the steps.
How can one word, or name rather, hold some much meaning. There was so much in the way he said my name. I finally lost it completely, slumping down against the door, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Oh Kae." Ryan was by my side in an instant. "Come on let's get you inside."
I will never know how, but he managed to pick me up and carry me up three flights of stairs to my apartment.
I have no idea what time it is, or what day it is for that matter. All I do know is that I just woke up with a horrible pain shooting through my entire body. How familiar this pain is, the pain of heartache. The pain of losing your reason for being. I numbed myself against this pain before, but feeling it again now...it's so much worse than I remember.
Turning slightly, I realize that someone is lying curled up against my side. It's no surprise that it's Ryan.
Getting up as carefully as I can so Ryan doesn't wake up, I make my way to the bathroom. Hopefully some cold water will help...with something. I don't even know. I just can't lay around feeling sorry for myself any more. I can't slip back into my haze of numbness.
Even though that is exactly what I want to do. Exactly what I need to escape this pain. But I can't. No matter how much it hurts that Brendon walked away, I know deep down that I have to try again. And just keep trying until I get through to him. I guess I have to thank Ryan for this sense of determination...or he's to blame.
Regardless, he is the reason I went today, the reason I even tried. No matter how much I hate it now, I will be so thankful when this finally works out.
Stepping into the bathroom I softly close the door and turn to assess the damage in the mirror. I was prepared to find a sad heartbroken girl with eyeliner smudged all around her eyes and down her cheeks. But what I see is a complete shock.
Of course the expected eyeliner smudges are there. And there is an unmistakable sadness in my eyes, but there is also a look of determination. My old stubborn determination. No matter what it was, once I set my mind on something I found a way to do it.
And seeing that look?
I can't help but feel a new since of happiness because now I know for sure that I will get Brendon to talk to me. I will get him to understand and I will get him to accept my apology.
Well, actually, I don't have much control over that last one...but hey, confidence is key. Or something like that.
I took a few minutes to clean myself up, since I somehow managed to, like, destroy my hair. And that combined with black running down my face...I was definitely looking a little mangy.
Taking one last look in the mirror before I go wake up Ryan, I feel something I haven't felt in months.
I like the girl staring back at me.
After hours of trying to reassure Ryan I would be fine alone, he finally left to go and check on Brendon. Jon had called the day before to let him know that Brendon had locked himself in his apartment. Not answering the phone or opening the door no matter how loud and obnoxious he and Spencer got. It took forever but I convinced Ryan that Brendon needed him more right now, and if it would make him feel better he could call every hour to check on me. With that settled, and the promise of him coming back to check on me first thing tomorrow, Ryan left. But before he was even out of the building he was texting to make sure I was ok.
Several days of listening to Ryan's complaints about the lack of food in my apartment, I have finally decided to venture out to a grocery store. A few boxes, some cans, bread, milk and ice cream should suffice to get him off my back for a while. I'm still too preoccupied with what happened at the signing a few days ago to really care about things like food.
Lately I only eat when Ryan comes over and forces me to. He guilts me into it with his 'I'm not going through this again' speech. It's not my fault that I'm so focused on my new goals that I forget things like eating, and occasionally sleeping. Now that I have my new sense of determination to go through with seeing Brendon again I have put all my focus and energy into preparing myself for that. We'll just ignore the fact that not eating and lack of sleep have been issues for months now...
Continuing my aimless journey down the aisles I keep randomly grabbing things and tossing them into my shopping cart. When I finally start to semi pay attention to my surroundings I notice that I have wondered down to the magazine rack. Scanning the titles I find the one I' m looking for, my favorite, AP. After flipping carelessly through the pages for a few minutes I stop short on a page announcing a new tour that starts next month.
I can't believe this.
They are going back on tour and no one said anything! I'm going to kill Ryan. How could he not tell me?
After scanning the dates and everything I realize it's not really that bad. It's only a month long. And they're staying on the West Coast. So I shouldn't be that upset, right? But I am. This could ruin all my plans. I'm not sure if I'll be ready to face Brendon again before they leave...Ugh. I can't think about this right now.
Staring down at the picture of the four of them a memory hits me so hard I drop the magazine. It's not even anything important really. Looking at this magazine just made me recall a few months ago getting an issue of Rolling Stone in the mail. The cover story had been about the guys and at the time it hurt so much to just look at it that I had considered burning it so I wouldn't have to see it, or be tempted to read it. But in the end I just buried it in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I have no idea why but I have an overwhelming urge to get home and find that magazine. Like right now.
So with my crazy impulses urging me to hurry up, I bend down to pick up the magazine I dropped so I can be a good customer and put it back where it belongs before heading to the checkout line. But of course, luck is never on my side and I sort of stumbled into the rack, sending it swaying dangerously back and forth. Scrambling to grab it so it doesn't fall over, I can only imagine the entertainment value of this situation for anyone who happens to be witnessing it. Imagine tiny little me, with my arms and legs stretched out trying to keep this huge rack of magazines from falling over. Like I could really do anything if it was truly about to fall.
With the situation stable, I grabbed my cart and rushed toward the front of the store. By the time I get to my car I have quite a list of incidents that will probably get me on some sort of watch list for people that should never be allowed into the store again. Aside from the magazine rack episode, I knocked over a tower of paper towels, ran over the feet of not one but three employees, angered another customer in line to the point of her storming out of the store, and I made my cashier cry.
What can I say, when I'm in a hurry I kind of get a little crazy...But just a little.
Thirty minutes later I'm sitting cross-legged on my couch with a diet coke in one hand and a bag of chocolate chip cookies in the other. Compliments of the unavoidable check out line selection.
Propped up against a glass on the coffee table, the magazine is taunting me, mocking me, calling me a coward. See after I frantically tossed everything out of my dresser searching for said magazine, I realized the article was written right after the last tour. Right after things ended with Brendon. I have this terrible feeling that it's going to be mentioned or implied or something equally awful. But even worse, I'm terrified of all the things it will make me remember. Things that I have tried for about six months to block out.
Don't read it.
Don't read it. Over and over.
Finally, after several more minutes of internal debate, the magazine wins and I'm tearing through it to find the article.
At first all I can do is stare at the pictures that take up most of the first page. All taken during the tour. One of them I recognize as a picture I took of Brendon during the first show. He was giving his usual enthusiastic 'we're so happy to be here' speech he always does right after the opening song. I remember he always had this one line he said just for the crazy, deafening screams it caused. After a bit of 'normal' screaming he would say something to the effect of 'You guys are awesome! Thank you.' More screams. Then "I'm not kidding, I love you." It was usually so loud at that point I thought my ears were bleeding. But anyways, that night when he said that line he looked right at me and winked. I snapped the picture and it came out amazing. It's Brendon, so obviously it's amazing. This picture alone is making me rethink reading this. I can feel the ache in my chest resurfacing, preparing to take hold again. Ready to drag me back to my state of hopeless self pity. And a week ago I would willing go, but today I'm going to fight back. It may be a small step for me to read this article, but it's a step in the right direction. So enough procrastinating. It's time to read.
Skimming through the first few paragraphs it's clear that this writer is no different from all the others who have interviewed them. They all try to match the natural wit and easy humor the guys have, but all fail to achieve it. So far everything seems to be the same old information just regurgitated in a different format. What band it is. Seriously? A one sentence bio of each member. The style of their music. Where they're from. Etc.
Although it's another typical topic to discuss, one part catches my attention.
One afternoon as we’re sitting down to lunch in a quirky little café in LA, the band says they come to all the time, we start up an odd discussion of their favorite places to eat across the country. Surprisingly, they like to keep it low key, preferring to find local diners in place of more upscale establishments. After asking why this particular café is so special, guitarist Ryan Ross explains that it actually had a part in the band finally getting signed and making it to where they are today. I guess if a place like this had a part in my becoming part of an internationally known rock group, I would frequent it as well. After a little bit of nudging, the guys start to relive how exactly they got where they are today.
Drummer Spencer Smith starts the story.
“Well, you know, when you live in a small town like where we’re from you don’t get many opportunities to meet people in the music business. So after graduation we pulled all the money we had together. packed up our instruments and some clothes and drove across the country to LA in Jon’s crappy old van.”
At which point Jon makes a very disgruntled face, that lasts exactly two seconds before he laughs and nods his head in agreement.
‘Wow. What did your families have to say about it?’
“Well obviously they were all upset at first and didn’t want to let us go, but once they realized they really couldn’t stop us they started to reconsider it. And after one of our close friends came up with the perfect solution it was easy to convince them. We just had to agree that if after one year things hadn’t worked out we had to come back home and go to college.”
‘So obviously things worked out but what exactly happened while you were here?’
“Well at first we just had to work on finding a place to stay. Which led to us having to find jobs.”
After prodding a little for more detail on said jobs there was a brief exchange between Smith and Ross, complete with a bit of name calling and what can only be called a glaring contest. Which ended with Smith on the verge of pouting and a very satisfied Ross resuming the story.
“Brendon actually got really lucky. He found this place. They have open mic nights five days a week. The owner agreed to hire the two of us and guaranteed us a slot for every Saturday night. Spencer and Jon got jobs at a hotel down the street. Spence was actually a valet since his, uh, people skills weren’t that great.”
Smith makes like he’s going to dispute the statement, then shrugs and confirms that at the time he was far from the charmer he is today. Which has Ross and even the unusually quiet Urie suppressing knowing grins.
Jon eagerly adds that he was a bellhop since he has “never had difficulty interacting with the human race.”
So I know it has been forever since I’ve updated this but hopefully some of you remember it…
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.
Rate and Review please!
And I’ll try to update again soon.