by Nicole Reed
“I just want you to understand that, in my mind, there is no little drug or big drug, but some have a different perception. When someone hires me directly, they actually sign a form stating they will take no illegal substances of any kind while I work with them. As you know, the record label hired me, and Rhye and I have a strained relationship as it is. There are days I feel like I make a difference in his life, and then there are others that he’d rather I drop off the face of the earth. I got a call a couple weeks ago from Kelly at the record label to stop the drug testing for now. I think he’s probably been smoking marijuana for the last month. No, I know he has been. I’ve smelled it on him several times, and my hands are tied, Syn.”
“Have you asked him about it?” I whisper, my body numb.
He breathes out a heavy sigh, and rubs the back of neck with his hand. “Yes, and what do you think he says? ‘It’s just goddamn pot and everybody smokes it.’ I can’t fight him on this, Syn. I don’t even know where to begin anymore.”
I sit here, emotionally lost inside and physically hurting from a sense of betrayal. After gifting him with the one thing I had left to give, he goes out to smoke pot? Of course, I know tons of great, respectable people that do, even close friends of mine in the music business, but they’re not Rhye. I can’t stomach the thought of looking into his eyes again and seeing that dark, drug-shrouded, void.
“Syn, you can’t say anything to him. He’s on edge and too volatile. You will lose him, and it will have nothing to do with whether he cares for you or not. He’s months out now, and has to find his own solid ground again. It’s part and parcel of the process of overcoming addictions.”
I speak through the clogged emotion in my throat. “So we do nothing? Say nothing?”
“For now, yes. I can tell he’s anxious about the road and how everything will work with you. He hasn’t said that to me, but I’m beginning to read his emotions. As long as either he or the record label wants me here, I won’t abandon him, Syn. I promise you. But you have to listen to what I’m saying for now.”
My head nods in automatic response. In this moment, I’m numb, gutted, and I can’t complain. This is the reality that I accepted when I fought for Rhye. It’s my reality now.
Josh and I both turn our head at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Rhye walks through in black slacks and matching button up shirt. His hair still has crystal droplets of water dotted throughout from his shower. He glances at me, and I lose my very breath. I love him, and I’ll find a way to help him. One way or another.
“I’m almost ready,” he says, looking from me to Josh.
Clearing my throat, I reply with a tight smile, “Okay.”
Nodding, he turns back to walk into the room.
“I told you loving him wouldn’t be easy,” Josh whispers, and I close my eyes.
Hours later, I stand alone in a room full of incredibly talented musicians, sipping some fruity non-alcoholic drink. I’m actually wowed by the number of famous artists and starlets that have made a point to speak to Rhye tonight. He knows pretty much everyone and treats them all like run of the mill folks, while inside, I about die every time they approach us. He only laughs at me when I gush about them after they walk away.
After an hour of mingling, he excuses himself to find a restroom, leaving me to stand like a wall-flower amongst a room of hot house roses. I bring the sweet liquid to my lips and take a small sip, sweeping the room with my eyes for Rhye. This evening is not quite the romantic soiree I was hoping for, directly because of the conversation that Josh and I had this afternoon. When Rhye was finally ready, we left, and I haven’t said anything to him about it. Not that I could. The words get lodged in my throat when I think of Josh’s warning.
When forty minutes pass and still no sign of Rhye, I start to circle the room once again, searching for him. A sense of forbidding invades my soul, making me physically nauseous. I say a silent prayer that I’m overacting. Please, dear God, let me be wrong.
“Syn.”
I turn at the sound of my name, his deep voice a surprising comfort with this uneasy feeling overwhelming me. “Tag,” I answer, giving him a quick fake grin.
“What’s wrong, girl?” he asks, stepping closer to me and reaching out to touch my arm.
I glance down at his hand, not wanting him to notice my distress.
“Him. Right? Damn, Syn. Look at me,” his voice pleads, and I raise my gaze to his.
“What do you want me to do? I can take you back to your hotel room. Whatever you need.”
“Can you help me find him?” I ask, hating to do it. It’s not fair to him, but I don’t really know anyone else to ask or what I should do. I guess I could call Josh, but then it might be too late.
I watch the hesitation in his eyes. At first, I’m sure he’s going to tell me to jump into the nearest lake, but then, he gently reaches for my elbow and steers me toward some doors in the back.
“I’m pretty sure I watched the bastard go into one of these rooms earlier. That’s when I knew you had to be here, and I went to find you,” he says, trying a door that is obviously locked.
Walking to the next one, he turns the knob, and it opens. I follow closely behind him into the room, to see people sitting on couches, laughing and talking. I notice several publically married people, with someone other than their spouse, doing more than I feel comfortable to watch. Tag stops to talk to someone, but I can’t hear what they are whispering. My eyes search each face, hoping it’s not Rhye that I find.
“C’mon,” he says harshly, reaching for my hand to tug me through to another room. This one looks much the same. Black draped material adorns the walls from ceiling to floor and matching chairs, couches, and tables are scattered around; however, this time, different drug paraphernalia covers the tabletops.
“Stupid fucker,” I hear Tag mutter beside me.
Looking up, I see him staring across the room to where Rhye stands with his bandmates, obviously arguing about something. Before he can see me, some starlet walks up to him and kisses him full on the mouth, laughing as she pulls away. He doesn’t become upset with her. He doesn’t fuss at her for taking something that is mine. No, instead, he swats her behind with a smile and goes back to saying something to Jared and Ian.
He’s killing me inside with his careless behavior. I know he isn’t intentionally hurting me; it’s just his life. I’m the invader, the clear intruder in his chaotic lifestyle. I hear Tag saying something to me, but at the same time, I hear Rhye’s voice from earlier telling me to come to him when I have concerns about him. I walk towards him, leaning down to sit my drink on a table as I go.
The closer I get, I hear Jared talking to him.
“Listen, Rhye. No drugs on tour, man. I’m not going to go through that shit again. You are either cool with that or we have a big fat fucking problem. So, which is it?”
“Jared, I just smoked some weed. Don’t fucking take it there.”
“Weed today, smack tomorrow. You are either clean or you’re not. It’s that simple, Rhye.”
Rhye starts to push Jared in the chest when he happens to see me. His eyes don’t waiver from mine, until he shakes he head and looks down. I walk until I’m in front of him; his band members stand to one side, and I’m on the other.
“Do you love me?” I ask, bending to look at his downcast face.
“Syn. Don’t. You can’t understand what it’s like. I’m trying the best I fucking can,” he says, looking guiltier by the minute.
“Have you been with another girl since you and I decided to date?”
“No,” he replies, and I nod, believing him.
“Have you done any drugs?”
“Don’t fucking go there. Not many can be perfect like you, Syn. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do girl?” he sings, making a joke of me.
“That’s not fair, Rhye. Answer my first question. Do? You? Love? Me? I have a right to know,” I command, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. I don’t care who is
listening.
He leans into me, bringing his mouth to my ear. “And I said ‘I want you.’ I still do. I’m doing my fucking best here. I gave up the girls. What more can you ask for?” he says through gritted teeth.
“Did you give them up?” I ask, hurt and confused. What now, what happens? “And I can ask for more. A hell of a lot more from you. I deserve better and so do you. I’m willing to stand with you as long as you are trying to stay clean, and if you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel for you, then let me know now. Don’t pretend, Rhye.” I see the anger now. This is what Josh warned me about, but I can’t ignore what is happening. I love Rhye way too much.
“You don’t want to fucking do this here,” he says, jerking his arm away from me.
“Promise me then, no more drugs of any kind. Say it,” I beg, not caring how I sound.
He shakes his head and starts to speak. “Don’t make demands, Syn. You won’t like what I pick, and I’ve already gotten from you what you willingly gave.”
For once, the tears don’t come because I’m honestly too emotionally spent. Jared and Ian finally excuse themselves, done witnessing my pain and dismissal. I look down and glance back to see Tag’s boots in my view. I’m embarrassed, knowing that he has witnessed this.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I tell him, “I’ve only ever wanted you to pick me. Over the women, over the drugs, over your own selfish pain.”
Turning, I rush by Tag and hear him call out my name. I run swiftly away, not knowing my destination. I just need to be away from everyone, from Rhye. Finding an exit, I walk outside, glancing up at the clear night sky. I’m so angry at him, at his choices. For the first time in months, I question if this love can make it. If I’m strong enough for him. It’s all confusing inside my head, leaving me with too many unanswered questions.
“You need a ride?”
“Go back to the party, Tag,” I say, not turning around to look at him.
“He doesn’t care about you, Syn,” he says, whispering close behind me. “As soon as you ran out, he went back to talking to someone, like nothing ever happened. He’s not our kind of people.”
Whirling around, I ask him, “What does that mean, Tag?”
“It means, Syn, that this fast way of life is not for you and me. We are meant for slow and simple. It’s what makes us country folk happy. Long walks on green stretches of land, sitting out on the front porch playing our guitars, and high on life instead of whatever shit that boy is on. That’s you, Syn. That’s me.”
My tears finally make an appearance, seeping out of both my eyes, falling straight to the ground. “No. I love him.”
I hear him take a deep breath before blowing it out heavily. “It doesn’t mean anything if he doesn’t love you back.”
Staring at the ground, I watch his boots come to stand in front of me, and he reaches for my trembling hands, capturing them with his. In a low voice, he speaks to me. “I know I messed up, and I know now that you probably will never forgive me, but I can’t stand the thought that you let him hurt you. Cut your losses, Syn. He’s going to lead you on a chase, possibly ruining your career, while he gets high, not caring what it does to you. What happened to that feisty country girl that I met? She would never have put up with this horse crap from me. Where is that girl?”
Glancing up at him, I can’t hide the tears running rivets down my face and the uncontrollable sobs shaking my frame. “She fell in love with a broken boy.”
He grabs me to him, shielding me from everything but myself, my worst enemy.
“Let me take you away from here. I promise we will only go somewhere to talk. Give you some time to think things through.”
I need to leave. I need to get far away, so I can digest everything clearly. Nodding my head, I say, “Yes.”
Tag drives me to a diner at a rundown truck stop miles out of town. Sliding into a booth, we both order coffee. At first, we don’t speak, but as the night turns to morning, I start to tell him everything. All of my worries of never being what Rhye needs and praying that he will love me enough one day to change. Tag stares out the window, at first not responding, but then, he turns to me shaking his head.
“Then you can’t give up on the bastard. But damn, Syn. You really need to decide if all of this pain you are obviously feeling is worth it. You need to realize that you can’t change him. So you better be able to love him like the jackass he is.”
I nod and turn to stare out at the rising sun. Tears fall freely at the words of the boy I first loved. I question if Rhye’s actions can ever corrupt what I’m feeling for him? Do I want to walk away now, before everything becomes blackened by his inability to love himself? Part of me says yes, but then the other part, the one that knows he’s the one for me, whispers to hold on and fight. I have to make a decision now and never look back.
“Where the fuck is she?” my voice booms at her manager for the hundredth time. In only twenty minutes, we are supposed to go on stage at the Staples Center for the Grammys, and no one has heard from her since last night. “Goddamn it to hell,” I say to the wall as I slam my balled fist into it. FUCK! My fingers throb from the impact, but the pain doesn’t come close to this knee-dropping agony aching in my chest.
“Rhye, I don’t have a clue where she is, and I’m really worried. This isn’t like Syn. Maybe you can explain to me what really happened last night?” her manager, Trina somebody, says.
What happened? Shaking out my hurt hand, I turn away, running my good hand through my hair. Fuck! Things were going great between us yesterday. More than great, fucking amazing. She gave herself to me, and for the first time, I knew what making love was, but it also scared the fuck out of me. I’ve never not put a rubber on, and the scariest thing was that it never entered my mind until afterwards. That’s what she does to me. She gets under my skin, seeing everything that no one ever should.
I got caught up in her, and it freaked me the fuck out. For the past several weeks, the nicotine hasn’t been cutting it to help with my jitteriness, so I’ve been smoking a joint or two to get by. Nothing serious, but damn, everyone was making a big goddamn deal out of it. Yesterday, when I got the chance, I went out to burn off some of the freaked out shit in my mind. No big deal.
Last night at the party, things were going great until I majorly fucked up. I knew where all the good shit would be, and after using the restroom, I told myself I was just going to drop by to take a toke to get me through the night. You name it, and I could have easily scored it, but I only took a hit off a joint that this girl had burning and was heading directly back to Syn when Jared and Ian spotted me, and I got cornered to listen to their bullshit.
Syn must have seen that chick come by, right before she came over to me. What was I supposed to do? She was just being friendly, and I honestly didn’t even get a hard-on at her offer to give me some head. Then, Syn came storming in, blowing things up, and I was just pissed. I don’t need a momma, and I sure as shit don’t need her threatening me with her love.
When she ran out, I was going to run after her, but one of the record label suits saw what happened and was giving me a lecture on keeping our bullshit private. I watched that fucking bastard, Tag, go after her. I guess she left with him because they both seemed to disappear after the party. I went straight home, and Josh and I tried to track her down.
Josh told me about her knowing I was smoking pot. He reminded me that, sometimes, when you love something or someone, the best choice is to let them go. Putting them through hell, day after day, isn’t fair. Maybe, after I get my shit together, we can make it work.
I laid in bed all night, the same bed that still smelled like her, the same bed where she made me part of her forever. I love her and need to let her go. I sat up in the bed and grabbed my guitar. Josh’s words reminded of a song I heard recently called “Let Her Go,” and by memory, I tried to play it. The lyrics came to me as I strummed the guitar, and the words connected to the heart that Syn found inside of me.
All night, I stayed awake, waiting for her so that I could tell her that she needs to go before I destroy her. I knew she would fight me, and I was ready for it, but the hours passed, and Syn didn’t return. Suddenly, I started to realize that maybe I needed to talk to Syn about what she wanted, make sure that she truly wanted me out of her life, because I don’t want to hurt her. I need to tell her how much I love her. I fucking love her. What would I do without that crazy girl in my life?
This morning, I woke Josh up, pounding my fist on his bedroom door. When he opened it, the fucker only had boxers on, which was a scary image, but I did what I came to do and handed him my pound of weed. He didn’t say anything, just patted my shoulder and closed the door in my face. He was proud of me. I could tell. It’s how we are.
Nobody has heard from her today. Not me, not Josh, not her manager, and not even her band. Our performance is supposed to be an acoustic version of our song. Both of us will be playing our guitars while sitting and facing each other on stage. I can’t see her missing it, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I finally pushed her away for good. I have to live with that. Fuck, I love her, and now I have to let her go without it being what I want. “Damn, Rhye. Good job fucker,” I quietly murmur to myself. I’ve never wanted to cry so fucking bad, but I guess it’s never too late to develop a sensitive side because, right now, I want to bawl like a baby.
“Rhye, we are going to have to let them know to cancel your duet. We can’t hold off any longer,” Jimmy, my manager, says to me.
Jimmy has also been proud of me. I know this because he tells me every damn day. He wouldn’t be so proud if he knew the truth would he? But, it’s in the past now. I restarted my sobriety again today, and I can do it this time. It’s all about not giving up, starting over until it takes. That’s what Josh says anyway.
“Give her a couple of more minutes, Jimmy. Please,” I plead with him. I can’t miss the surprise on his face at my request. It’s not the Rhye that he remembers. He nods his head and walks away to speak with her manager, still on the phone trying to find her.
