Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Ripe

Part 12

by Cerilla 0 reviews

Category: Metallica - Rating: PG-13 - Genres:  - Published: 2013-03-24 - Updated: 2013-04-07 - 2644 words - Complete

I couldn’t spend too much time caring about Metallica’s problems anyway, mainly because I already had to think about my own band’s problems. Long story short, Joel was being an asshole; he still nagged on me because I didn’t want to change my looks, accusing me of sabotaging the band and started to complain about the songwriting, saying that Ben and I were running out of inspiration but without providing any decent ideas. Things normally worked this way: both Ben and I would come up with a bunch of riffs and work on them together, with Craig throwing in some suggestions here and there; after a song was completed, Joel would add the lyrics. He knew nothing about writing music and Ben argued with him more often than not, since they were both hot tempered and pig headed; usually Craig and I avoided their bickering, but ultimately Craig couldn’t take it anymore and left earlier. I tried to play the mediator, but with little to no result, so I started to join Craig in his trips to the bar.
“I cannot stand those two motherfuckers. I swear, every time they start fighting I get the urge to smash their heads together.”
“Joel is being an ass, I don’t understand what got into him, he used to be cool.”
“Yeah, and all that pressure he’s putting on you… this used to be good, you know? I used to like it much more, now it feels like a chore.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you intend to quit!”
He sighed, lightning a cigarette, “I don’t know, it depends if Joel stops being a dick or not.”
“We’ll talk some sense into him. Joel is not stupid, I’m sure he’ll come to his senses and everything will be all right.”

One way or another, we managed to gather enough songs to make an album; the recording sessions were troublesome, there wasn’t a day we wouldn’t fight, every evening we walked away angry and tired. Joel hated Ben and me, Ben and I hated Joel, Craig hated Joel and Ben; basically, we got on each other’s nerves, we were hated even by the other people working with us. Slammed doors, the silent treatment, screaming and shouting and passive aggressiveness, we experienced everything; it was clear we weren’t working as a group anymore and we had no will to try harder to make things right. It didn’t come as a surprise Joel’s announcement to start a solo career the last day of recording; there would be no supporting tour for our last album –ironically, it was called ‘The Last One Kills’– and even Craig and Ben wanted to go their separate ways.

Once I was back at home, I shut the door, took off my shoes and dropped on the bed. I didn’t wash myself, I didn’t change my clothes, I didn’t answer the door or the telephone, I didn’t eat, I drank only when my throat felt absolutely dry. I tuned out the world outside and spent all the time laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, moving only to use the bathroom.
My band had broken up. Big deal. As sad as it was, it certainly wasn’t the end of the world or of my life. Then why did it strike me so bad? Fact was, I had turned my life upside down to be in that band, it had been my rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. My parents seemed like every other parents, they complained a bit about my passions, tried to subtly push me in other directions, but ultimately let me live them. This, as long as they didn’t interfere with their plans on me, in that case they would put their foot down.
When I expressed the wish to be in a band, I also made the statement that I didn’t want my life to be dictated by their expectations; we never had many problems before because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself until that moment and indulging in their requests didn’t cost me much.
A lot of drama stirred up from my decision and I was given an ultimatum: give up my new dream and let them handle my life or move out, become self-reliant and disappoint them. It wasn’t easy because my parents had pampered me all my life, infantilizing me so I would feel dependent on them, unsure of my own strength. Every time I made a mistake, they were sure to emphasize how immature and naïf I was, how unfit to face life and how needing of care. They knew better, they knew what was good for me, I was just a silly little girl.
It was possessiveness disguised as love. How manipulating, how cynic they were, using their little tricks and their guilt tripping to keep me under their thumb and how blind I had been not to realize it sooner. All in all, they had plans on me, they had put a lot of effort into them. And who was I to ruin it all for them?
I ran away and found out that becoming an adult was both terrifying and thrilling; I was responsible of my decisions and actions, I walked on my own legs. Sometimes it felt like a burden, and running back to my parents looked like the easiest way out: “Tell me what to do, show me the way, I’ll follow all your directions”; but I refused to be reduced as a child anymore, my existence wouldn’t revolve around someone else and be dictated by other people’s desires. Luckily, I met lovely people who wouldn’t exploit my eventual need for help to control me, but just hold me a helping hand to make me get back on my feet.
An important part of my existence was over and I was left in a limbo, a state of uncertainty. What was I to do?

One day, I woke up groaning, feeling heavy and sore. Those days –how many, I wasn’t sure– of inactivity and starving had weakened my body. I stank, for I hadn’t washed, I felt sticky and sweaty and had a foul taste in my mouth. I slowly rose on my feet, the need to pee too strong to ignore, and dragged my ass to the bathroom.
My stomach growled like a wild beast. I had stopped feeling the hunger pangs after a little while but now they were coming back stronger than ever; it was like my stomach walls were trying to touch and digest themselves, so I went to the kitchen to take a bite of the first thing I could put my hands on. My eyes dropped on the calendar pinned next to the fridge. Five days. Almost a week had passed since I had segregated myself.
In that moment, I felt I had to snap out of it, to keep going on with my life. I was done feeling sorry for myself. It was nothing new to me, I had always been prone to those ugly short periods of depression after some bad event, from which I would come out without any warning. It sucked, but I still wasn’t able to control my emotions any better.
In any case, Kirk would be back from Europe in a pair of days and I had a long list of things to do: housework’s were on top, then shop for groceries, check the mail, pay the bills and reassure all the people who had tried to contact me that I was alive and there was no need to call the morgue. Needless to say, when I spoke to my parents I didn’t tell them anything of what had happened.

When Kirk came back, he was upset because I hadn’t answered to any of his calls, so I had to explain all the story to him. He grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him to give me a tender kiss, I responded the kiss and laced my fingers with his, feeling a sense of safety and belonging warming my chest.
Kirk hugged me tight, saying that he was sorry but not to worry because I was so good I could form another band with no problems.
“Thank you for your kindness, but I think I’ll wait a little before jumping into the music business again. Not too much, just to brush off the feeling of disappointment.”
“Well, now we have a few days for ourselves, so let’s enjoy this time together. Concerns and bad thoughts be damned.”

We spent a lot of our time in bed, alternating sex with cuddles and sharing silly stories of what had happened during our time apart.
“So he kept on pestering me, although I had already refused his advances more than once. He followed me, tried to initiate a conversation every time I wasn’t talking to anybody else, never mind if I was busy doing something, and pretended to share my interests. One day I decided I had enough of him and sent politeness to hell; I had asked for a cup of green tea with no sugar, he asked for the same and said “I love green tea too! You see? We like the same things.” so I retorted, “Really? Do you too like cock? Cool!” and left him stunned.”
“I can’t believe you said that!” Kirk laughed.
“Why are you so surprised? You should know about my sharp tongue.”
“Yeah, and now the poor guy will never recover from that.”
“Well, he had a tear of blood running down his cheek when I walked away and he never talked to me again, but I’m sure he’s better now.”
“Oh God, I fucking love you, babe.”
I grinned and kissed him, “I love you too, Quirk.”

The last night before Metallica started the North American part of their tour, we invited Jason to dine with us and watch a movie; I proposed it to see how he was doing, he was a lovely guy and I felt a bit protective over him. At first I was afraid Kirk would refuse, because movie nights were something we used to have with Cliff and Corinne, but instead he agreed; maybe he was warming up to the new kid.
“‘Street Trash’?” he asked. I rolled my eyes.
“Sure, if you want to scar him for life.” We were trying to find a movie for the evening, a task that was proving to be anything but easy.
“What about ‘City of the Living Dead’?”
“Kirk, can you pick something different from horror for once?”
“Well, ‘Street Trash’ is more of a comedy horror.” I glared at him.
“‘King Kong vs. Godzilla’?”
“Ok, now you are just bullshitting me.”
“All right missy, why don’t you tell me your choice?”
“I was thinking of ‘Rollerball’.”
“Ugh, you are so predictable.” He sighed, “Maybe we should let Jason choose the movie.”
“I agree. Still, ‘Rollerball’ is an excellent film.”
“I know, I know, don’t you even start!” he said in mocking exasperation.

“You like to win easily, don’t you?”
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“‘Alien’? Really Jase, you could have said that you had no idea what to choose.”
“What’s wrong with ‘Alien’? It’s a great sci-fi horror movie, a classic.”
“Exactly, it’s like you tried to please everybody.” I laughed at Jason’s frown. “Not that I don’t like the movie, mind you, I love it.”
“Hey, he could have picked ‘Flashdance’ thinking it would please the lady of the house, I consider myself lucky.” said Kirk.
Jason rolled his eyes, “I know both your preferences well enough, that’s why I chose this movie. Can we watch it now or you want to keep on picking on me?”
“Aww, poor baby. He’s right, we shouldn’t pick on him, you assholes do that enough already.” I said to Kirk, stroking Jason’s hair. “Oh my God Jason, your hair is so fluffy! If I were a bird, I would nest in it.”
Jason grabbed my wrists and pushed me towards Kirk, “Hammett, subdue your woman.”
“Oh, you are all red like a tomato, that’s so cute!” I said, exploding in uncontrollable giggles.
“Pot and wine always have this effect on April, you have to excuse her... Newfluff.”
Kirk and I laughed out loud, Jason grumbled a little, but then joined us.
“Well, at least we have someone from the band who somewhat shares our tastes. James always says he would rather undergo anal surgery than watch a movie with us and we lost Lars after the David Cronenberg marathon.”

That year I spent my Christmas holidays at Kirk’s mother’s because she had asked me to join their family; that would make it the first time I would meet Kirk’s family. That didn’t put me in a state of stress, I already had Chefela’s approval and, as I told myself, panicking is useless if not detrimental, fix that in your mind, April, don’t let emotions take charge of you. That was a lesson I needed to learn.
Everything went beyond every expectation, I was greeted with warmth by everyone; Kirk’s relatives were full of tenderness and they genuinely loved each other, despite the lack of the paternal side of the family; it was so different from what I was used, I even enjoyed playing with the kids, which was total news to me.
“So, did you like meeting my family?” Chefela asked me.
“Absolutely! Thank you for inviting me here, it’s been one of the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” I exclaimed, guzzling down some handmade eggnog.
“That’s great, I’m really glad to have you here.” She said, taking a plate of biscuits to the living room.
Kirk, who was sitting in front of me, looked like he wanted to ask or tell me something but was unsure about it, so I pushed him a little.
“Darling, is everything ok?”
“I… I was just wondering… are you ready to come back to music?”
“Oh, well… maybe? I don’t know if I want to start another band right now, but I’d like to pick up my bass again; I’ve neglected it for too long.”
“In that case, would you like to become a Metallica roadie? You could be Jason’s bass tech.”
I was a bit baffled, but his proposal made sense; Kirk had always wanted me to come on tour with him and this was just the perfect occasion, of course he would ask. “Are the others ok with this?”
“Yes, I’ve already asked them and they said it’s ok, Jason too was glad at the idea.”
His eyes were so bright and full of expectations, I couldn’t have said no even if I had wanted, and all I wanted was to say yes. “Yes Kirk, I’d love to come with you on tour.”
He hugged me tight and kissed me, as happy as I had ever seen him. I was thrilled too, we would have much more time to spend together than ever before.

Author’s note: The last two chapters are longer than my usual, I hope I can keep up with it; by the way, I’ll post next chapter in two weeks. The title of Geryon album comes from the Latin phrase ‘Omnes vulnerant, postuma necat’ which translates as ‘Every hour wounds, the last one kills’, used as a reminder of the unavoidability of death.
Sign up to rate and review this story