by A.R. Rivera
39
-Angel
I was determined not to get a headache. There was no reason to get one. I wasn't stressing out. Well, I was trying not to. And I might have been a little grumpy from travelling and I didn't sleep so well the night before, but that was nothing new. I'd just gotten over one the weekend before and usually could avoid getting them more than once or twice a month. I was happy. I was engaged! To the most beautiful, amazing man on the planet, no less. Jake was the love of my life and I was travelling with him and the worlds' greatest rock band.
Ignoring the tightening muscles in my neck and shoulders, I watched the stage in front of me, kept my fingers on the edge. Later, I'd tell Jake to kiss my neck. His touch always loosened me up.
When the lights went out, the crowds' volume rose. My tightening muscles dissipated, relaxing as the cheering crowd reached crescendo. Fists rose higher and I could see the shadowy form of my Jake slinking to the mic stand. I reached out and touched his leg.
The stage lights shot up and the music kicked on, loud and vicious. Sounding so full and harmonious and passionate, it epitomized the struggle that the song spoke about. Jake was beautiful, screaming, grimacing with my torment and delight. It spiked my lust for his illicit mouth. His lean, towering frame, draped in brown and black commanded the audience. The beads of sweat grew as he worked the crowd, touching outstretched hands. The moisture poured down his glorious face as he sang and played my favorite songs. I watched, in awe, as he raked his hand over his dripping head. His fingers, my fingers, flicked the drenching wet into the faces of the crowd. He smiled. I smiled.
The audience was both captive and captivated by the strength of his voice. Pitch perfect, it never cracked or wavered. His finely tuned instrument unleashed its' resonance through parted lips, shooting through the air, piercing the hearts of everyone privileged enough to hear. Behind him, the bass thrummed in perfect compliment. The guitar wailed in adoring tones with perfectly meshed punk, blues and metal. I think there was even a little Latin in the melody.
That Angelica chick was good. Really freaking good. Too good to complain about. So good, that the entire band sounded better because of her. Electric and easy to watch as she played, looking out at the crowd like, 'what's up, bitches?' She had so much confidence-she was the shit and she knew it. She was a star.
She was terrible.
The drums thrashed in quick succession, carrying the rhythm of my heart; steadily pounding while the crowd chanted along. The culmination of sounds was all for him. My singer. He directed us, took us to our knees and made us dance while our ears burned from the volume. We screamed for more. We wanted to bleed.
I took a chance, glancing back at the crowds behind us. Avery was laughing and dancing. Everyone's heads were jerking back and forth, banging in time with the music. Of course they were. How could you not love it? The electricity! The energy of the band was a flood, washing over all of us. We had to move or drown in it.
I dove into the mosh pit, hanging onto Avery as she marched. Thrashing. Pounding. Arms and legs flew everywhere. Our cadence was violent and addicting. We marched in an endless circle matched only by the eternal beat of the music.
I kept my eyes trained on Jake, not wanting to miss one second while he thundered in his glory.
The song ended in a heart rending note that sailed up higher and higher until it broke through the ceiling into the sky. It hummed into nothingness while the band panted. Jake set one hand on his knee, bending down to take a long drink of water.
I took my spot back in front of the stage. Right in the center. I reached out and touched the cold metal of his mic stand. That caught his attention. He looked down at me with his big, beautiful eyes and smiled the most stunning smile.
All mine. Solely for me.
I mouthed two words: "We okay?"
Jake nodded and kept his eyes trained on me, scraping over my face. "Yeah," he mouthed back.
An excited laugh gurgled up from the pit of my stomach. Because my heart could hear his-it was so clear-it was like he was screaming at me. He wanted me there just as much as I wanted to be there. He chose me, still. He might be upset for whatever reason, but it wasn't enough to come between us.
The music began again, a tune I knew very well. It was one of my many favorites. I pumped my fist into the air and howled. Right on time, my Jake started singing. It sounded so much better than last night. I felt him reading my heart like his favorite book. He knew my every line. I heard my voice carrying over the others and wondered if Jake could, too. My hands floated with the music. My head sailed with the sounds of heaven.
Most of the people there didn't know this song. It wasn't recorded. They played it through twice during sound check, making sure they had the volume levels just right. They played eleven songs-five that would be on the new CD which was going to be recorded once we made it out to Los Angeles.
The last song was their most popular. It was called Sweet Pain:
Sweet, sweet pain
You caught me dancing in your rain
Soft, sweet lies
You know I'll always compromise
The music lingered, stretching until it disappeared into wild cheers; a seismic enthusiasm that shook the clubs wooden floor. The house lights went out again and the band members cleared the stage. The lights came up once more so crews could break down the instruments. Band Chick was helping. She waved in my direction. Avery and I waved back.
"What's she like?"
"Kinda bitchy. Kinda cool. She smells good, too. Like Lilacs or some shit. You might like her if she wasn't so fucking perfect. Come on, the merch booth is opening." We cut across the sticky floor, kicking empty bottles and trash out of the way-people were such pigs-and squeezing between couples to get to the growing line.
My heart was getting heavy again, thinking about what Jake said. He had no reason to be mad at me. Did he? I had decided at some point without realizing, that whatever it was, I would apologize. I would do whatever I had to do to smooth things over with him.
There were t-shirts and wrist bands with the bands' newest logo. It was the silhouette of a winged figure colored in red set against a black shirt and white lettering. White tour tees with the same logo. There were also a few black ones at the far side of the table, old band tees with the banned logo. It was a thick, red plus sign surrounded by a circle of stars. But the Red Cross, who had an ass-load of lawyers, sent the band a strongly worded letter about the similarities of the emblems. So they had to get new shirts.
Avery and I were stocking up on the old ones which no one seemed to want even though they were cheaper. But we each bought one for this tour, another hard copy of the album we already owned, and one wrist band.
Band Chick was suddenly behind the table, shoving the tweaker-looking stand-ins-a guitar tech-slash-whatever-you-need guy-out of the way. Band Chick started taking orders. Avery and me were already holding our merchandise, waiting to pay.
Band Chick looked at me. "Avery, right?"
"Angel." I corrected, wondering if she got my name wrong on purpose. And if she did, what did that mean?
"Angelica." She nodded. "Let me see what you got."
I handed her my stack. She looked through it, checked the shirts. "The old logo . . . in small. Half-off-we have trouble moving that size."
I almost gagged on her use of 'we.'
Once we thanked her, we took our change and made for the car. All our stuff was going in the trunk. Except the CD. The fan girl in me wanted to get it signed and add it to my collection. It must have seemed silly to some people that I acted like such a fan, but at the end of the day, that's what I was. It didn't matter that I knew them or that I was going to marry the singer. I loved the band. Their music saved me on a daily basis.
Avery double-checked she had the marker before we headed back inside.
Once the next band started playing, most of the crowd rushed to the front. Only a small group of people hung back, near the bar. I counted eleven. Mo
stly dudes drinking. Until Jake and Max appeared, freshly showered. Then, the barrage began. Men and women, young and old were clamoring, pressing passed Avery and me to get to them.
"Where did they come from?" Avery was laughing, getting jostled around.
A man shoved me aside; I bounced off a womans chest as she moved around me. The womans' eyes shrank, chastising me-which set Avery off. I begged her not to make a scene and get us kicked out.
She sighed and stepped to her right until she came face to face with Max. The two exchanged a few words. The only voice I heard belonged to Max. As he watched, Avery turned and walked away.
"But, we'll see you back at the motel. Right?"
Avery grinned at the comment and I knew then and there what she was up to. Max saw none of it when she turned back to give her answer. It was a limp stare. "Whatever."
We took our time strolling to the door. As I scanned the room for Jake who had been swallowed by the crowd, Avery stuck me in the ribs.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"You shouldn't always be the one waiting. You have to make him wait sometimes, too."
"Hey!" Band Chick appeared alongside us. "Jake wanted me tell you it'll be about thirty minutes before he can head out." She smiled. "In rock-speak, I think that equals two solid hours. Laters, Chicky." She patted Avery's back and disappeared into the crowd.
I rubbed at the lumps of stress forming at the back of my neck. "Why do I hate her so much?"
"Because she can do something you can't and that makes you feel inadequate." Avery put her arm around me when tears formed in my eyes. "I didn't say she's better than you or that you should feel threatened, because you shouldn't." She pointed between a few heads. "Look at them."
The throng was surrounding Jake, Max and Andrew. Band Chick-Angelica-was standing behind them with her eyes on Andrew. She was watching him sign a girl's arm. She didn't look unhappy about it, but as I continued to watch her, I noticed her gaze never left him. She only looked at anyone else when they spoke to her. Jake didn't speak to her at all.
Avery explained, "No one is trying to take your man, aside from the obligatory groupies." She amended. "But you're the only groupie he's interested in." She pointed again and I looked back.
Jake was standing in the midst of a herd, all clamoring for his attention. There were at least four people talking to him and more waiting for their turn. And in the middle of that chaos he was looking beyond them, at me. He mouthed a word, I think it was soon. And then he shifted to pose for a picture, shifting his eyes away from me to the camera in front of him.
Maybe Avery was right. Maybe I should make Jake wait, too. He'd shut me out, wanted me to suffer for answers that he could have easily given and alleviated my stress. It seemed like I had nothing to worry about from Angelica. She was glued to Andrew. Jake was the one acting strange, worried for some unspoken reason, he was the one pulling away from me. Since I joined him on the tour, I'd been waiting in the wings, begging for any morsel of affection.
Once my mind was set, I thought up a lot of reasons why we needed to leave the club. We had to get back to the motel room because there would undoubtedly be some kind of celebration for the newest band member.
Avery reasoned, "We have to welcome her with open arms. You know what they say about keeping enemies closer."
So, we should be ready with party essentials. Plus, I had to shower. I smelled like the mosh pit.
On the way back, we stopped at a local dollar store and begged the checker to let us in even though they were closing in exactly one minute. We grabbed junk food, and more chips and sodas and some mint gum.
The motel room was a huge mess.
"How did we do all this in just a few hours?" Avery was staring at the cluttered bathroom counter.
"We live and breathe." Immediately, I was grabbing the towels from the floor to hang them up.
"I'll make the beds." Avery twirled from the doorway. A second later, music was playing.
Once the bathroom was picked up and our clothes were put away, I headed over to help Avery, who was barely finishing the first bed.
After everything was nice and tidy, we sat down to watch the end of Sleep Away Camp on the free HBO and munch. Surely, the nights' celebration would call for beer so I needed something in my stomach. Also, if Jake planned to go a round with me over whatever set him off, I'd need two beers in me. Even if I offered up an immediate apology, he would want to talk through it.
After the first bag of chips, I was tempted to start on the second, but opted to share a small tray of cookies with Avery instead. After the movie was over, we decided to see what else was on and ended up watching a cooking show. The chef was starting swordfish.
Avery hopped up and drew back the curtains after her third check of the parking lot yielded nothing. We settled back in, remembering that everything takes time.
Anemic Psychos were just taking the stage when we left. There were a lot of people at the club and Jake wouldn't want to leave until he'd talked to and signed stuff for everybody. Then, there was always the chance of getting drawn into something with some of the other guys from the other bands on the tour.
By the time the swordfish was served, I was stuffed with junk food. I popped a piece of gum and watched Avery channel surf, wishing I wouldn't have followed her out so easily. I should have stayed behind with Jake. It didn't matter where I was or how assertive I intended to be. I was still the one waiting.
Time seemed to drag. The window was cracked open and there wasn't a sound from outside.
"I'm going to sleep." Avery announced and my heart sank. "Don't wake me up when they get here." She plopped down on the other bed and rolled to face the closet, adding, "I'm pissed."
When I looked out the window, the moon was high. There was also a white passenger van parking a few doors down. People piled out, but I didn't see Jake.
Or Angelica.
I turned back to tell Avery.
"I don't give a shit." She covered her head with a pillow.
After a quick look in the mirror and a quick brush of my hair, I opened my door. There were several people out in the lot. Max saw me right away and started towards me. I met him halfway.
"Hey girl," he said, "Jake's not with us." He slumped down to speak in my ear. "He came back a while ago then left again."
My stomach dropped. "Why?"
"Uh, he's doing something-said he'd talk to you about it when he's done."
I nodded my head, feeling disappointment flood my eyes. "Where's your newest member?"
"Over there." I followed Max's pointed finger to a small dark car that was pulling up beside the van and watched Angelica get out and walk toward Andrew who was standing with a mix of guys and girls, all smoking and talking. She was present and accounted for, at least.
I couldn't remember Jake mentioning anything about leaving me alone. That morning he'd said we'd bunk up again. Then, he was upset with me and wouldn't talk until he calmed down. I left him at the club and now he was openly avoiding me.
I wanted to close my eyes and let the pain wash over me. Instead, I opened them wide to keep the emotion from falling down my cheeks.
Max still noticed and gave me a big, warm hug. "You're good. He's just not ready to talk yet."
I wanted to know why Jake ditched me, but couldn't bring myself to ask. If it was something bad, I didn't think I could take it. Besides, I'd never asked Max for anything like that before. Then, I was distracted by a girl standing behind him, one who'd gotten out of the van at the same time he had. She was waiting over by the door, and then she was half way to us with a hand on one hip. She cleared her throat, reminding Max that he had better things to do.
Max turned and told her, "Patience is a virtue." Back to me he said, "I promise it'll be okay." He planted a kiss on my forehead. I was almost smiling when he pulled away. "You're his girl. He might be pissed, but he's still gonna take care of you."
I nodded, disa
ppointed, but also comforted as Max walked away.
The night was muggy as I stood in the lot long after everyone was gone. Sweat was building on my neck and back, watching other people pass by. They were living their lives and I felt like mine had stopped. Jake was mad and gone and it was work to take a step in any direction without him.
Eventually, I decided I should get back to my room. But on the way, I couldn't help but notice how extremely loud the lights in the parking lot had become. How unusually bright they suddenly seemed compared to just a moment before. Suddenly lights burst and flickered across my vision, blinding me with their bright and leaving me in the dark. The muscles in my neck and back seized in hulking knots that drew my shoulders up. My stomach constricted in a violent crush that took my legs out from under me. Avery's voice called out to me. I pictured her in the doorway of our room, imagined her lips moving, forming my name. Her voice was drowned by the extraordinary buzzing noise that burrowed into my ears.
Lights flashed, bringing me back to the parking lot. My knees were on the coarse asphalt. The night was so, so bright, like staring at the sun, or the end of the matchstick that lit the fuse of a migraine.
It was another migraine sweeping in, making me want to wail. Every cell in my body went into overdrive, preparing for the onslaught. Yes, I was hurting and I could barely see, but this was nothing. It was only beginning.
My temples started to throb, the pressure building and drawing inward, deep into my brain. My blood cells were skyscrapers inside my undersized head, trying to force their enormity through my insufficient corpuscles. They ripped everything in their path, tearing me fiber by fiber. I braced my hands over my head. How was I supposed to stay together? How was I supposed to survive? To breathe, when it hurt so badly?
All I could do was let Avery take me into the motel room. My legs didn't want to work. I couldn't see or hear anything beyond the ripping in my head, the rush of blood and the absolute hell it brought to the veins in my forehead, eyes, my neck and shoulders. My throat had closed. My mouth watered from the horrid pain. There was only one place I could go. Only one thing I could do to combat the migraine. I needed my pills and I had to lie down.
My vision cleared long enough to see Avery's lips moving. I think she was saying something.
Then, BOOM!
The room exploded with noise. Blaring lights from the lamp on the dresser. The piercing confusion of lights from the parking lot. The TV set: I swear, people could hear it from a hundred miles away.
Avery dropped me on the bed. Her deafening whisper blared that she was afraid to move me. She knew it would get worse if I didn't keep still. Although, I couldn't imagine I could possibly feel anything more than I did in that moment. But that is one thing about pain: you can never imagine anything worse until you feel it. Then, it's a whole new level of torture you never knew existed.
There was nothing that I could do except lay still in a dark, quiet room.
Avery shut off the blaring TV and the click was so loud, I think my eardrums burst. She rubbed my forehead trying to soothe me but even the slightest touch of her painted fingers just prickled in my skin and made me scream.
I cried, "Bathroom." I had to be on a hard surface. Carpets made noise. Beds were worse. The thicker the fiber, the more noise it made. I had to be in the bathroom. When I puked I had to be near the toilet.
Avery helped me from the bed and into the bathroom, somehow managing to touch me as little as possible. The biting pain of my headache made me crumple onto the tile and beg to be left alone. Quiet was my only solace. Darkness, my only friend.
"Light." The painful sound of my voice was like a chainsaw to the brain and needles to the eyeballs. It made me want to pull my teeth out for counter-pressure.
Avery turned off the horrible buzzing light and left the room, closing the door tight behind her. I knew she felt bad. She'd told me once that she wished she could trade places with me. As much as I hated to suffer those headaches, I would never ever wish it on another human being, but just then, I wanted to reach out to her, to beg her to take it away.
After some focused concentration, I managed to calm myself enough to deal quietly with the dread that seeped into my bones, corrupting every fiber of my body. I had no control over this pain; how bad it got or how long it lasted. I simply wished for the mercy of an axe. The explosive throbs felt as if grenades were going off inside my skull. The pieces of them ricocheting around my head, banging one spot and then another, but I somehow stayed intact. The reverb bounced in waves through my bones, into my jaw, down my shoulders, through my spine, and into my back. My teeth hurt, the soft skin of my mouth ached like my cells were crashing into each other. It would have been much more tolerable to just die.
The sounds outside my chamber tapered off, but the horrible buzz of the lights in the parking lot were still on loudspeaker. I tried to take solace in knowing that the sun would come up and the slicing buzz would eventually shut off.
The door to my tomb slowly swung open. Avery tip-toed in her socks over the tile-the noise was fingernails on a chalkboard-and set my pills on the floor near my mouth. Next to that, she set a glass of water, then tip-toed back out, carefully shutting the door behind her.
What was I going to do? Jake was coming. Part of me hoped he'd take pity on me and forget the whole anger-thing. But another part of me worried: how was I supposed to go out to California with him? What if the pain didn't go away before we had to leave tomorrow? What would happen if I got one of my migraines out there? What if I was alone when it happened? Who would help me, then?
Beyond the thin walls, I heard Avery moving. A soft tap on the clock radio and the low hum of Guns 'N' Roses, "Don't Cry" was playing. She knew that music always soothed my senses like a balm. I embraced this small mercy. Click-click from the door as it locked, a slide of the window and grating rings of the curtain rod as she closed the curtains. The music helped soften the sharp sounds, spreading its' white-noise over me.
Having a migraine is like suddenly gaining super-sensitive hearing. A most horrifically uncool superpower; a gift straight out of hell. A cursed present straight from the devil himself. I once explained it to Avery, and she was like, "But that sounds awesome." It was not. It hurt to hear people chattering five or six blocks away, hearing a fly crawl across the wall, or a light bulb burning. The fly may as well be playing castanets into a loudspeaker. His wings may as well be flapping into an amplifier set at decibels meant to destroy eardrums. It hurts like nothing in the world. And it had been my curse as long as I could remember.
The sound inside the room-my breath on the tile, the whistling blood in my ears, and temples, my horrible heartbeat-if only I could stop all of it. Find a way to press that button to halt the automatic breath, or mute my heart.
It took some time, but I managed to taper my breathing to a shallow pull. When it still bothered me, I reached slowly up for a towel hanging on the rack. The motion brought my migraine to a new level, but once I got the terrycloth under me to muffle the reverb of my breath on the tile, I could concentrate on the hum of the music coming through the door.
I let the tears seep out. It hurt to cry so I couldn't actually throw a fit like the pain demanded, but letting the saltwater drip down relieved some pressure. I just had to tell myself that I was not hearing anything. No one can hear tears.
After some time, maybe a month or only a few minutes, I managed to bury myself in the haze of music enough to relax.
I imagined I was inside my closet back at the Fosters trailer. I was listening to my music and curling into a ball. My arms tightened around my raised knees. I hugged them to me, forcing myself to get smaller and smaller. I tucked in and shrank. I got so tiny, that the pain couldn't find me, and slipped into fitful sleep.
