Everything We Are

by Janci Patterson

  Jenna laughs and turns into me, leaning her forehead against my jacket. “I’d rather not. God only knows what they’re doing by now.”

  I hold Jenna against me, closing my eyes and breathing her in and savoring the way it feels to hold her, when I wasn’t sure I ever would again. And while it doesn’t change any of the things that are broken between us, I feel a small ray of hope—like maybe, someday, we’ll be able to put this back together.

  It’s not a promise of anything, but I’m sure as hell going to stick around and see.

  Phil looks like he wants to kill us when he finally tracks us all down for our stage call. For such a small man—not much taller or bigger in general than Jenna—he can be downright terrifying, though I’m growing increasingly sure his general intensity is spurred on by his steady diet of Red Bull and antacids. “You’re on in ten minutes,” he says at Jenna. “Have you even done a sound check?”

  “We’ll be fine,” I tell him. Jenna and Roxie will be using equipment that’s already on the stage, and the truth is, if the rest of us sound terrible, it’s not going to do any more damage to our career than we’ve already done. We assemble backstage, and Jenna stares at the floor while Alec alternates between glaring at her and huffing dramatically. Leo and Roxie still haven’t stopped sucking face, even though Allison is bustling around them trying to fix what Leo’s done to Roxie’s hair.

  We haven’t stepped out on stage yet, and I already know this is going to be the most interesting performance of my life, not the least because I’m about to step out on a stage currently graced by Tina Fey.

  Tina calls us on, and we walk out on the stage, all of us projecting a confidence that at least three of us don’t currently have. Leo and Roxie are exchanging looks and smiling wider than I’ve ever seen—from Roxie, at least. I set up June while Jenna and Alec grab the mics and wave to the crowd, who clap and cheer uproariously. Alec has his backup guitar, which must have gotten here while Jenna and I were hiding, and Alec and Jenna hold hands and look as in love as ever, and before I’m even done tuning Roxie is looking at me, waiting for me to finish. I nod at her, and she starts to play.

  The number we’re doing—“When I Saw You Standing There”—is one of the faster songs on the album, and Roxie, fresh off the high of however far she and Leo got backstage, plays it even faster than normal. Alec turns under the guise of singing in Jenna’s direction and tosses Roxie a look, but if Roxie notices, she doesn’t slow down. I’m glad for the pace change, and more accustomed to following her now, so I focus on the music and play.

  When it’s over, Alec puts down his guitar and pulls Jenna into his arms and kisses her. The cheers swell, and I’m sure I’m glaring at them, but I don’t frankly care who catches me doing that on camera now.

  Tina Fey motions them over for a post-performance interview. Jenna leans giddily against Alec, and I can tell by the way her shoulders slump that she’s leaning into how worn out she feels. I can’t blame her. The sooner they get this over with and we all get off the stage, the better.

  Leo puts his guitar down and Roxie climbs out from behind the drums to stand behind Alec and Jenna, and I follow, positioning myself behind Alec’s back so at least most of the cameras will have an obscured view of my reaction to whatever Alec is going to say.

  It’ll be about ten seconds, I tell myself. You can handle not killing him for ten seconds.

  “Tell us,” Tina says. “Is there a limit to how cute you two can be? Because I think there are some cats on the internet who want their titles back.”

  Alec laughs. “I don’t think there is. And there’s a reason for that.” Then he turns to Jenna, kisses the top of her head, and says into the mic, “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

  The stage suddenly seems unstable beneath me.

  Jenna covers less well this time than she did at the concert. “What?”

  “Aw.” He slings an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Come on. We can’t keep it a secret forever.”

  I ball my fists. If Alec has finally had it enough to announce she’s leaving him in front of all of these people, right before we’re supposed to go on tour, I swear the minute we get off this stage I really am going to punch him.

  Jenna stutters something unintelligible, no doubt having the same thoughts I am. Alec grins at the Tina. “Jenna and I got married last week. We couldn’t stand it anymore, so we eloped.”

  My heart stops. Jenna looks at Alec, eyes wide, and I see her freezing between Stage Jenna who has to take this all in stride and Real Jenna who just told him to stop interfering in her life. It’s like they both have a hold of her, and she’s glitching, stuck between the two.

  Breathe, I tell myself. But I don’t breathe. Instead I grab Alec by the shoulders and shove him past Tina Fey in her glittering silver dress, past the stage mics and taped cords, pushing him as hard as I can right off the goddamn stage and into the audience.

  The crowd shrieks and then goes eerily quiet as Alec clatters into the first row of chairs and lands with his head in the lap of Kanye West.

  I stare in horror as Kanye’s chair tips and someone—is that Taylor Swift?—catches his chair, and the rest of the row scoots backward in this synchronous wave to get out of his way.

  And then Alec is rolling off of Kanye and staring up at me and shouting something that might be what the fuck, man? But my ears are ringing and I can’t hear. In fact, maybe the crowd hasn’t gone silent. Maybe my mind is just physically unable to process anything beyond the fact that I just shoved Alec off a stage at the VMAs in front of Tina fucking Fey and Kanye fucking West and the entire rest of the music industry. I stand there, seeing security climbing the stage to get to me. I feel as if I’ve fallen into Pagliacci, an opera about a clown who discovers his wife is cheating on him and murders both her and her lover on stage, right in front of the audience, as if it’s all part of the show.

  I was wrong. There was more we could do on this stage to damage our careers, and as the shock fades, I know I should be sorry.

  But damn if that didn’t feel good.

  Thirty-four

  Jenna

  When Felix pushes Alec off the stage, everything seems to break down, like the world is frozen in slow motion. Felix’s face appears on the big screen, looking stunned, like he hardly meant to do that. Other screens focus on Alec, who is cussing Felix out from the audience.

  Everyone is going to know, now. We aren’t going to be able to stave off the questions through the tour, and unless I want to lie and say I had no idea Felix had feelings for me, or he was just a friend being protective, we’re going to have to tell the truth.

  I don’t want to lie anymore. I never should have agreed to lie in the first place. And as security steps on stage, headed for Felix, I recognize this as my very last moment to come clean on my own terms.

  It’s not just about controlling the story. It’s about being clear what the story was in the first place. Tina Fey—Tina Fey!—is looking as stunned as the rest of us, and I take that opportunity to grab the mic from her hands, and step forward to stand beside Felix.

  “Wait!” I yell.

  The security guards pause for a fraction of a second, looking at Tina, who holds up her hand, though she does step warily away from us. I glance over my shoulder and find Roxie and Leo staring at me, their eyes wide.

  Leo cracks a smile.

  I pull myself up to my full height, such as it is, and start to speak.

  “That’s enough,” I say to Alec. I looks around at the room at all the people, fans and industry professionals. “I can’t lie to you all anymore. Alec and I broke up a year ago.”

  There’s a gasp, and the whole crowd seems to go still. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it, and not just because we got caught. “I didn’t want to disappoint my fans, and I didn’t want to lie. We were telling a story about love, and you all loved it so m
uch, and I wanted to keep giving it to you, because I believe in that story, but it’s not Alec’s and mine.”

  Tina Fey waves at security to back up—no way does she want to be the host that stops this. It’s going to be the internet’s most watched clip for the next month, and I’m going to be an internet meme for the rest of forever.

  But I don’t care. Because my mind is echoing the words I just said.

  I believe in the story. I said it with such confidence, even though just days ago I’d been so sure I could never believe in that story again. But here’s Felix, standing by my side because I asked him to, even though I broke up with him, even though I broke his heart as badly as he broke mine. Here’s Felix, still willing to hold me, even though I said I can’t trust him, can’t allow him to be in my son’s life.

  Here’s Felix, still loving me in a way I never believed anyone could.

  If that isn’t the story, I don’t know what is.

  And so I point at him, as all the screens in the room change to show the two of us, standing here together. Felix looks like he’s about to be run over by a semi, but he stays rooted to the spot. And while that might be out of sheer terror, I’m still glad he hasn’t abandoned me. “It’s my story with him,” I say.

  Tina’s eyes widen, and she’s looking around for something—probably a mic, because she’s clearly lost control of this show, but I’m not finished. “I’m sorry I lied, but I can’t do it anymore. And Alec—” I look down at where he’s sitting on his ass on a collapsed chair that no longer contains Kanye West and I’m half expecting Yeezy himself to come on the stage and take my mic away from me and say that Beyoncé has the greatest love story of all time.

  “Alec, you’re a dick,” I say, and the crowd emits another gasp. “You shouldn’t have said that. We are not married and saying we were was wrong, and so was the fake surprise engagement, so thanks for that. But I have to be real now, and that means admitting that I’m crazy in love with our cellist.”

  I think it takes until then for Felix to really process what I’m saying. Or maybe it’s that he’s staring at Kanye—there he is, standing behind Alec, glaring up at Felix with this mad dog look and very possibly his next single is going to be about this. But Felix finally drags his eyes away from Kanye and looks at me.

  I just said I love him. I said it in front of the entire world, considering the broadcast and the number of phones that are no doubt live-streaming as we speak. I open my mouth to ask if he can ever forgive me for not trusting him, and for being so scared that I ran away from this thing I want more than anything else in the world.

  But I don’t get a chance, because Felix closes the distance between us and cups my face in his hands. He holds my gaze for just a moment, and then he kisses me, and Felix Mays and I are making out in front of Tina Fey and Kanye West and everyone else in the entire world but damn it, the only people who matter to me at this moment are me and him.

  I wrap my arms around Felix’s neck and hang on tight, clinging to him desperately. The mic cord drapes down his back, because I’m still holding it just as tight, but someone must have handed Tina a mic, because she clears her throat, and we break apart and I have no idea if it’s been ten seconds or ten minutes.

  Oh. I have to finish this. I turn back to the audience. “To my fans, I love you all, and I hope you’ll forgive me. But I need to go spend some quality time with my boyfriend. Goodnight, Los Angeles.” And then I drop the mic—I see a sound guy wince—and kiss Felix again, and then security finally drags us off the stage and releases us in the wings, where we hold each other like we’re never going to let go.

  And I never want to, not ever again.

  Thirty-five

  Felix

  Offstage, everything becomes a blur. I’m still processing what happened, that Jenna said she loves me in front of everyone, that she accepted me back into her story, and god, that means she believes in it—and us—again. Roxie is yelling “Oh my god! Oh my god!” over and over, and Leo grabs both Jenna and me by the shoulder and shouts “We’re coming with you guys in the divorce!” Phil herds us all out to our cars and I realize I’ve forgotten my cello, but Phil is talking right in my ear. “I’ll get it. You two need to get out of here before you get mobbed by the press. Shit.” He mutters a few more obscenities while security lets us out the back of the parking lot, and Jenna and I are only able to say a few words to each other before we both have to drive away.

  “Meet me at home?” she asks, her eyes wide. Pleading.

  “Of course,” I say. And then she’s gone, and I have the drive back to Orange to wonder what the hell just happened.

  Jenna said she loves me in front of the whole world, but I’m still an addict with barely two months of sobriety. What happened on stage didn’t solve the problems, and worry gnaws at me. She didn’t think that through, not really. Will she still want me when things calm down again?

  I arrive at Jenna’s house just as the babysitter is leaving, and Jenna stands in the doorway, watching me approach. I’m afraid she’ll have changed her mind, but she pulls me inside and locks the door and holds me up against the wall so tight that I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. And even though I realize as she presses against my chest that I’m still wearing the ridiculous sparkling shirt and the enormous silver cross, the imprint of which is now going to be emblazoned in my skin, I want to freeze this moment and not have to deal with anything that comes after.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna says. “I shouldn’t have given up on us like that.”

  I gently push her back and look down at her. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept all that from you. It wasn’t fair.”

  Jenna shakes her head. “But you made a good point. You have to put your sobriety first.”

  I sigh and knock my head back against the wall. “I do. But addiction thrives in secret. Lying to you is never the best thing for my sobriety, even if I’m scared.”

  Jenna gives me a sad smile and settles into my arms again. “Will you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Can you forgive me?”

  She nods against my chest, and then seems to realize herself what I’m wearing and moves the silver cross out of the way. Not that I care about that right now. God, I wouldn’t care if I was wearing . . . well, there’s actually nothing I can think of worse than these crazy green pants and loud gaping shirt. But it doesn’t matter. She forgives me. She loves me. She wants to be with me.

  “But I still haven’t solved everything,” she says softly. “Alec’s right. I have issues, and I think it has to do with my past, and with Rachel’s death. Are you sure you want to deal with that?”

  I run a hand through her hair. I’ll deal with anything if it means I can be with her. “I’m still an addict. I always will be, and clearly I have a long way to go toward handling sobriety well. Can you put up with that?”

  “I can. Unless you go back to the drugs.”

  “I won’t,” I say, and I mean it. I’m sure I’ll have more bad days, more cravings, even strong ones. I still have to taper down off the Suboxone in a year or so. I’ll always be an addict; that’s never going away.

  But I can deal with it. I’ve stayed sober this long, and I can keep making that choice, one day at a time.

  Still. “But if I ever did, you are obligated to immediately kick me out. For you and for Ty.”

  Jenna looks up at me. “I’d have to,” she says. “And I would.But I believe you won’t do that. I still wish I could be sure, but I know I can’t, and I don’t want to be away from you while I figure it out.”

  This is the best news I’ve ever heard, and I squeeze her, and then guide her into the living room where we collapse on the couch. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure you can trust me with Ty?”

  Jenna nods. “I think part of me was using that need to protect him as an excuse, when really I was just afraid of gettin
g hurt.” She sighs. “Are you sure you want to put up with me?”

  “I’m sure,” I say, but part of my brain is panicking. I’m scared that tomorrow she’ll learn something else I’ve left out and I’ll lose her all over again. I’m worried this is all temporary, when what I want—what I’ve always wanted—is to commit to her and have that be real and permanent.

  I don’t want to say what I’m thinking, but I do want to be honest. But how honest is too honest? Am I just going to push her away again?

  I take the coward’s way. “How sure are you?” I ask.

  Jenna squirms. “If you still have doubts, if you need more time—”

  “No,” I say. “That’s not—” And I know then that the only way to communicate what I’m thinking is to just come out and say it. “I mean, do you still think someday you could marry me?”

  Jenna whimpers and puts her hand over her mouth. I feel like an idiot asking her this when she just told me she’s still scared to be with me, but her whole body turns toward mine. “Would you really want that?” She sounds . . . hopeful.

  The idea that she might cracks my heart open all over again. “More than anything. Do you think you could trust me enough to do that?”

  Jenna nods. “If you start using again, I really will have to kick you out. But I don’t think it could hurt any more just because we’re married.”

  She sounds almost apologetic about that, and I grip her hand in mine. “Okay,” I say, and I’m grinning like an idiot, which still doesn’t come close to showing how happy this idea makes me.

  “We’re going to get married,” she says. She doesn’t add a someday to that, and I’m afraid if I point it out, some bubble is going to burst. But I think she notices, because she adds, “Is that crazy?”

  “Yes. But I think I made an enemy of Kanye West tonight, so when it comes to crazy, I’m all in.”

  She squeals again, and squeezes me tight. The surreal feeling hasn’t left, and I wonder if I’m like that guy from the end of Brazil, charging through fantasies that are all in my head. But no, I’m here with Jenna, and she’s real, and I’m real, and being with her is the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.