Annoying Pest...

by K. S. Adkins

  “She was a fucking train wreck. I didn’t want her to suffer. I wanted her to go out there and just be…herself.”

  “How’d that work out for her, Chevy?”

  “I know I fucked up.”

  “You don’t get to blast her for something she can’t help, then lead her from one path back to another when it fucking suits you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? She took those goddamn pills because you told her to. She didn’t ask for them or for this shit. You gave them to her to make your life easier, not hers. Consider yourself relieved of duty. Better yet, do what you did last time and don’t bother with a goodbye on your fucking way out!”

  “Try relieving me,” I dared him. “And see what happens.”

  “Guy,” Tempest said, peeking her head out of the door. “Not in the hall. Come inside, I need to talk to you both.”

  “Fuck that,” he said loudly. Here was the one who never lost his temper going off the deep end and I was the catalyst. “You are not defending him this time.”

  “It was an accident,” she said, defending me anyway.

  “I don’t give a fucking shit!”

  “Enough, Guy,” she pleaded. “It happened, it’s over. We deal with it and move on.”

  “Deal with it? Look out the window, Tempest! They are ready to crucify you! He did this, and you’re the one who has to fucking suffer for it!”

  Closing her eyes, I knew he struck home, but she didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, she turned around closing the door behind her.

  Guy, who was far from done, pushed me down near the end of the hall so she wouldn’t have to hear it.

  Neither one of us noticed she was gone until it was too late.

  

  You’re a fuck up! Forever the fuck up! Every-fucking-thing you do affects her! Only she’s too in love with you to see the damage you cause! One day, one goddamn day, Chevy, you will take shit too far!

  I couldn’t stand the yelling anymore.

  Guy screaming at Chevy was making my insides raw. Yes, last night was a shitshow. But you know what? Shit happens. And in my life it happens regularly.

  Chevy felt responsible for this, but I took the pills. I didn’t check the bottle or refuse them. The fact was, I was beyond struggling and it was the first time Chevy wasn’t able to calm me down. He was desperate for me to have some peace, and in that moment, I wanted it, too. Just once, I wanted to go out on that stage on my own. I didn’t mind the nerves, they made me feel alive. It was the paranoia, the fear of dying in front of a sea of people, feeling all alone, that I was sick of. Chevy, despite mis-dosing me, had tried to help me.

  He wasn’t a fuck up; he was human, and he’d made a mistake.

  Buttoning my cardigan, throwing my hair into a messy bun, and peeking into the hall, I heard them arguing at a distance and ran for it. Hitting the elevator, pushing the button for lobby, I took a deep breath and exited. Heading straight for the front, I pushed the door open and embraced the madness.

  For some reason, people found my life newsworthy and sought to capitalize on it. The media wanted me to be more than I was. A tragedy to exploit for a paycheck. Minding my own business, staying humble, and out of the tabloids never worked out for me. They came after me anyway and they refused to stop.

  Standing there, all I could hear was the chant of my name. All I could see were anxious faces wanting a piece of me.

  All I had wanted was peace.

  All they wanted was to see me fall.

  Hotel security was scrambling to make heads or tails of the situation, but I wasn’t concerned about them. No one in the crowd was pushing forward so holding both hands up for silence, I took a deep breath and knew in my gut this was the last time I’d speak of it. The words were there ready to come out and for once, I needed them to actually listen to what I had to say. Because after today I refused to explain myself ever again.

  “To be perfectly clear,” I began, proud of the surety in my voice. “Last night, I did not overdose. I am not hiding an addiction. I’ve been honest about my struggle with anxiety. Which is a facet of my life I battle every day. Playing to a crowd isn’t a challenge, finding the nerve to walk out is. In my panic, I took a pill intended for evening. It made me very tired and disoriented, nothing more.

  “I know you want an interesting story, but I don’t have one to share. What I would like to share is my apology to the fans who had to witness it, the orchestra and singers who did not get to perform, and a thank you to the medics who responded so quickly.

  “I urge everyone to take a moment to empathize with anyone who suffers from anxiety or any other invisible illness. Millions of us do, we fight this battle silently, daily, and just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take the time to understand it.”

  When I paused to take a breath one woman wasn’t recording me or taking photos. She simply looked concerned, so when she asked me if I was okay, I responded. “I’m okay. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed. This is part of who I am. It’s part of what makes me, me. If my story helps at least one other person know they are not alone, then it’s worth the struggle. Thank you for listening to me, for coming here today, and for caring.”

  When the questions started, I backed away waving my goodbyes. When I turned and saw Chevy and Guy standing at my back, I touched each of their shoulders never slowing as I walked to the elevator with sass in my step.

  I felt powerful.

  I felt amazing.

  I felt proud.

  

  She didn’t panic.

  Not only that, she left the safety of the hotel room to address a mob, alone.

  While Guy went off to handle an irate Claire who flipped over Tempest’s statement, I sat at the table in our room watching her. Gone was the tension around her eyes and mouth. She was awake, alert, and…happy.

  With her guitar in hand, she had her eyes closed and was singing Can’t Help Falling in Love with You. Tempest loved Elvis and used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t why she was doing it now. Odds are it was just the first song that popped into her head.

  As much as I loved watching her, I needed her to scream at me, hit me, and order me to fuck off. Tempest wasn’t one to ride my ass. Only this time, I needed her to let me have it.

  After the fight Guy and I had, I knew my nights with her were limited. It’s true, I wanted all her nights, but the fact was, I still wasn’t good for her. Losing her again would hurt, but after watching her address the crowd, I realized she’s coming to terms with her anxiety and her quirks. I also realized odds were good I never would. Little by little she was making progress, and I wasn’t. With her show on track for tomorrow, there was no rehearsal or planning to do.

  This meant we had tonight and morning to spend time together. I wanted that time. Yes, she loved me. I knew she did, but she wasn’t investing herself in me like she once did. Tempest has been holding back, and I felt it. I don’t blame her for it because in her place, I’d do the same. However, the good news was when we fell apart once and for all, she wouldn’t break.

  She’d move on.

  Tempest would find a man who would bring out the best in her, ground her like I had done, only she’ll never have to cover for his ass. He would be a man who wouldn’t force pills on her, or make her feel less because she was dealing with something he didn’t understand. A man that didn’t have a temper, a criminal record, and wanted a home with a foundation. Tempest deserved to have stability. I’d like to think no man could ever love her like I do, but the fact was, how could he not?

  Tempest was a forever love.

  So when she asked me if we could take a ride on my bike, I did not say no. Because in a few days when her tour ended, we likely would, too, and I wanted to take every fucking memory with me when I left.

  “Turn here,” she said, tapping my shoulder and pointing. Pulling over, parking, and helping her off, she sets her helmet on the seat and starts walking. The park has seen better days. The gra
ss was tall, weeds sucked everything around it up, and the playground was taped off.

  Parking her ass on a big rock, she waves me over to join her. Resting her head on my shoulder, she slides her arm undermine to hold my hand.

  “I used to play right here, by myself, every day after school, even in the rain.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh huh,” she smiled. “Until fifth grade when I met you two. I used to love it here. I hated going home to nothing. As soon as the bell rang I ran straight here to play my guitar and sing under that maple tree.”

  “Why come back now?”

  “I missed it. This place is still special to me even though it went to shit. Probably always will be,” she sighed. Then facing me she whispered, “I was supposed to leave my footprint somewhere. Remember how I wanted to start a school for the musically gifted? I told myself when I had the means, I’d do these great things, but I never did—”

  “You’ve been busy, Tempest.”

  “Tempest,” she whispered. “Right.”

  “Don’t,” I warned her.

  “You want me to yell at you. You want me to give you another reason to leave me behind again. I’m not making you stay here, and I’m not pushing you out the door either, I’m leaving it up to you.”

  “What the fuck for?”

  “You’ve been my world for a really long time. I’ve relied on you too much, never asking what you wanted. Never once asking if you had what you needed. If you have a dream, I don’t even know what it is. You’ve given up a lot for me and taken on even more. What happened last night was an accident, but it was also a revelation,” she said softly. “I’ll love you until the day I die, but I can’t pretend I’m enough for you when we both know I’m not.”

  “Wait—” I tried, but she takes her hand back and stands up.

  “This year without you was not… easy. But it didn’t kill me. I learned a lot about myself. And I’m still here, still breathing, but I’m done making excuses. This park is like us, I think,” she said sadly. “Even though it went to shit, it started as a beautiful thing. A beautiful thing I should have taken better care of. It’s not your job to take care of me anymore. I shouldn’t have allowed you to and that’s on me. We’re grown now, our priorities have changed, we’ve changed. Losing you, the baby, and a dozen other trials later…” Wiping her eyes she turns away, but I stand putting my arms around her.

  “The fuck, Pest?”

  “I’ve put money aside for you and Guy. But when I do my final encore at Lush, you and Guy are off duty, forever. The money’s yours free and clear. You can travel, whatever you want. You’ll be free.”

  “Free of you,” I pointed out.

  “When you started pulling away I thought it was a phase, that we’d get through it. I never considered how hard it must have been on you being with me. It’s my fault for not asking, for not seeing. For not being strong enough to fight for what I wanted. I wish I could say during this last year I’ve grown stronger and could promise you my anxiety wouldn’t interfere. But I can’t promise you that because I’m not stronger. My anxiety is winning and we both know it. So when you leave, Chevy, all I ask is that you say goodbye. Don’t leave me waiting by a door that doesn’t open or a call that doesn’t come.”

  “You brought me out here to dump me?”

  “Dump you? We aren’t together.”

  “Which part did you miss? The one where I told you I was back? Where I said it’s only you for me and then fucked you? Which fucking part, Pest? Tell me, so I can trigger your goddamn memory!”

  “I told you I was empty!”

  “And I filled you up!”

  “What?”

  “We’re together,” I growled in her face. “Get used to it. Clearly, I haven’t annoyed you enough. Looks like I need to step up my game.”

  There was no question this made me the absolute worst kind of asshole. Because I was the guy that pulled her close now only to push her away again later.

  When she struggled, I wanted to protect her and when she was strong enough, I planned to leave her. Maybe she wasn’t the problem at all. Maybe I was. But one thing was clear, when it came to her, I sucked at making the right decision.

  

  Just like old times, we were yelling in each other’s faces.

  Seriously, I don’t even remember what started it. The whys of it didn’t matter because neither of us needed much reason to fight. We excelled at it, it was foreplay for us and we’ve been at it for hours.

  An hour ago he’d stopped being annoying and was now just working to piss me off. With Chevy telling me what to do, how to do it, and that his word was law. Then you had me giving it right back, telling him to shove it up his ass and reminding him he was an idiot.

  According to Dr. Chevy James, the medical expert, I could get a handle on my anxiety by changing my routine and meditating. Apparently, all I had to do was shift my focus and my find my fucking Zen. No matter what I say, he doesn’t hear me.

  So far he’s called me a baby, a quitter, and drama queen. While I didn’t believe he meant these things, I can’t say hearing them helped matters either.

  I was sick of explaining why I was the way I was. That I couldn’t fucking help it and even begged him to cut me some slack. Chevy’s response was to blame Guy for being too easy with me. He blamed me for allowing it to progress this far and made it clear he expected me to break the cycle. I was breaking the cycle the only way I knew how and that was by letting them both go by ending my career. The three of us couldn’t keep this up any longer. One of us had to take a step forward, and I decided it would be me.

  He forgets that I know him. I know the shit he doesn’t say. So all of this fixing me crap was fluff. Sure he said he’s staying, and I’d bet even a small part of him wants to, but the bigger part doesn’t. The crux of the problem is this that he loves the power which comes with knowing he’s the one who protects and calms me just as much as he hates having to do it. I actually understand this and don’t blame him for feeling that way. I know I’m a full-time job, and I wish he understood I hated that I was.

  In Chevy’s eyes, I’m flawed.

  To him, I use anxiety as a crutch and an excuse. An excuse to what, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m using up all of his patience, and he’s already at the end of his short rope.

  In a few days when this tour ended, he’d start up his bike and leave, which meant I couldn’t afford to get invested again. I must have come further than I thought because knowing he’d bail didn’t send me into a spiral. Mostly, it just left me hollow.

  When I didn’t back down, he grabbed his jacket and announced, “I need air,” before slamming the door behind him.

  Calling a cab, I slid my arms through my jacket, fit his ball cap onto my head, and walk to the elevator. When the driver arrived, I eased in and gave directions. On the way over, I gave the theatre notice I was coming and watched the city pass me by until I got there.

  Knocking on the back door, I briefly flashed my face and was let in without issue. I would be granted the privacy I asked for while inside the auditorium.

  Walking on stage, I stared at the banner hanging in front of the curtain with my name on it, and I felt very small. The venue was larger than life, my name and face everywhere.

  Only I didn't see me.

  Right now, standing on stage I didn't even know who I was. What I did know was all of this was for me and it didn't feel real. I didn't feel like I belonged here. Ditching the cap and shrugging off my jacket, I sat behind the piano staring down at the keys.

  When the tears filled my eyes I didn’t brush them away. Instead, I took a deep breath and let them hit the ivory. With blurry vision and a burning nose, I wished I could go back to when it all started and have done things differently. At the very least, I would have ensured both my guys had the futures they wanted instead of them killing themselves giving me the future I thought I needed. I also wished I was tough enough to say, ‘This is too hard for me,
and I’m taking too much from you.’ But it’s too late for that. We are where we are because I never said anything.

  Perhaps I should have screamed at him that I was only human during our fight. Sometimes I think it was easy for him to forget that I wasn’t always the girl on stage. That’s who Chevy loved most. The powerhouse who could hit the highest of notes and bring the crowd to its knees with little effort.

  That Tempest was strong, fierce, and fearless. She wore outrageous costumes, heavy makeup, and kick ass boots. And while it’s true she was part of me, she wasn’t all of me. Until he understood I was also emotional, uncertain, and afraid, Chevy would never fully understand me.

  Chevy wanted me to be Tempest at all times. What he didn’t see was that I was simply Pest; and he was all I needed. I wish he knew I would give this up, walk away forever, if I thought it would make him happy. If I thought we could be happy. Unfortunately, as long as I struggled with anxiety, Chevy would struggle with loving me.

  My fingers found the keys all on their own. Sound poured from the piano and filled the empty room with solemn notes. Unable to resist, my voice followed suit and uncaring of pitch or accuracy, I played my broken heart out.

  

  Never leaving the hotel, I had been getting my head straight when I saw her run to the cab. Following her, I let a breath out once I realized where she was going.

  Now I was standing near the rear exit watching as she sat silently at the piano. I’ve seen every side of Tempest. Except this one. I’d never seen her defeated, I didn’t think it was possible.

  When her fingers brushed the keys, bumps broke out on my skin. I didn’t recognize the song, but that wasn’t surprising. Pest listened to damn near everything and keeping up with her was impossible. When her voice filled the room, the pain and force behind it literally brought me to my knees. Unable to move, I stayed where I was and listened.

  I can hold my breath…