Twilight isn't by me, haha. Credit for Changes goes to Bowie. When I heard he'd passed I almost immediately worried about TiaL Edward and how he'd handle it. Looking back I guess that was the tiny little seed that I tucked away in the soil of my subconscious that eventually gave way to this.
SereneInNC is back as my beta. She's been with me from the beginning with these characters & I'm so glad she left beta retirement to work with me on this.
Without further ado, There is a Light... and It Never Goes Out.
xXxXx
Present Day - June 7, 2018
A door clicks open and for the briefest moment I hear the din outside my dressing room. It's the kind of dull roar the voices of a few thousand people make when they've come together for an event. Tonight is an event. Tonight I am the fucking event.
"Here you go, buddy," I hear Emmett say. "This has gotta be quick."
"Of course. Whatever times he gives me is golden."
A chair scrapes along the floor.
"Edward?" Emmett calls.
I look at myself in the mirror. I'm much older than the last time I did this shit. I've gone gray at the temples, and crows feet are etched at the corners of my eyes. Laugh lines are permanent these days, despite the fact I haven't been laughing much as of late. Nevertheless, I'm so much happier than the last time I did anything like this. And I'm scared shitless.
Heavy boots echo as they cross the dressing room, heading for the bathroom. "Ed?"
I splash water on my face and grab a towel to wipe away the wetness, then go for the doorknob. I eye pill bottles on the shelf on the way out of the bathroom, then pull the door firmly closed behind me. A kid no more than twenty-three nearly knocks over his chair as I walk into the room.
"You okay, Ed?" Emmett asks, clapping me on the back. He's fallen back into his role as security with seamless ease. Meanwhile, this old persona fits me about as well as one of Alice's leather jackets.
"Mr. Cullen." The kid rushes to greet me, stumbling forward with his hand outstretched. "It's an honor, sir."
"Ed?" Emmett asks again.
"I've got this," I assure him. His eyes meet mine and I nod. His smile lets me know we're not just talking about the skinny twirp with the writing pad and the iPhone in his hand. "Give us five?" I ask.
"No problem, buddy. Five minutes, kid," Emmett says to the reporter on his way out the door. Once again it opens and there's a swell of voices and music. It clicks shut and we're left in silence; just me and an adolescent reporter, hand outstretched.
I take a seat on the couch and lean back, trying to get comfortable. The boy makes haste to find his own discarded chair. His forehead glistens and he wipes a hand on the leg of his jeans. I watch as he tries to make up his mind about how close he should position himself. I remind myself I shouldn't pass off my insecurity to the kid in front of me. Making him sweat will do me no good.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Deep breath, son. Take a seat wherever you want. Let's make the most of this for you."
The boy's chest rises and falls, then his shoulders sink just a little. He manages to sit. His fingers quit fiddling.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Jim Dalton, Mr. Cullen."
"Call me Edward. I'm not your high school math teacher."
"No, sir. I mean, no, Edward. I should think not."
"Not like I don't know my way around a trigonometry problem." Thea's homework is challenging. We all help out from time to time.
The boy in front of me smiles tentatively.
"Where would you like to begin?" I ask. We have five minutes, and at this rate this kid is certain to leave empty handed.
Jim smiles. "Well, the beginning, I guess. How did this all start?"
I chuckle despite myself. "Do you know the Masens, Jim?" I ask.
"Are you kidding? The Masens were one of the seminal punk rock bands of the twentieth century. From your first show in '81 you set the -"
"I was joking. That's the long version of this story, and you don't have the time for it. If you want the long version, you should read -"
"Isabella Swan?" the boy asks. Hearing her name on the boy's lips makes my chest ache and I find myself catching my breath. "I have, Edward. We all have."
Fear returns, redoubled. I think about the pills. I think about Emmett's eyes. Where are Jasper and Alice? I remember Seth's words from earlier in the evening.
"Tonight's story isn't in that book, Jim. Tonight's story began in January 2016."
xXxXx
January 10th, 2016
I read the headline on my phone on a Sunday morning as I sat down for coffee. My hand began to shake and my phone slipped, clattering as it hit the tabletop. Moments passed, my vision blurred with unshed tears. At some point I realized I was rocking, my breath coming hard and uneven.
We hadn't spoken in over a year, but we'd been in touch. I'd received a text from David just weeks ago. I retrieved my phone from where it fell and negotiated the touchscreen with difficulty, now flowing tears making fingertip navigation difficult. Texts finally accessed, I scrolled.
Our good times will never rot.
Xoxo
He'd been saying goodbye.
I didn't know how ill he was, or I'd chosen not to ask. I'd ignored the signs. He was older, working himself to death on a Broadway production. I was jealous of his work, his music. I was always jealous. I was always so small in comparison to him.
After minutes spent contemplating his last words to me, I stood, but there was nowhere to walk. Bella was out with Rosalie at a spa by the Presidio. I couldn't imagine calling her and speaking the words out loud. David was dead. I never imagined the world without him in it, and since he was neither a dear friend or a lover, this knowledge was strange and unexpected.
My phone buzzed to life in my hands, startling me. I nearly dropped it again, but managed to hold on this time around. It was Alice. I held the phone to my ear, but couldn't force words out of my mouth.
"Edward?"
She'd been crying.
"Edward?"
"I didn't know." I heard my voice crack. I wiped at my eyes.
"No one did." She sniffled.
"How's Jasper?"
"How are you?" she asked, her reply a well-practiced deflection.
"I'm shit."
Perhaps our good times would never rot, but the world around me suddenly seemed putrid. I sat back down, then stood again. The day stretched gray and meaningless.
"Are you okay, Edward?"
"Ha." I rooted through cabinets, coming up with Scotch, glittering like gold. The aftertaste of morning coffee was bitter on my tongue.
"Where's Bella?"
"With Rosalie."
"Thea?"
"With Seth."
"Edward?" Alice was sobbing. Tears wet my cheeks as I poured a finger.
xXxXx
September 28th, 1972
"Edward!" Alice's voice echoed through the 59th Street Station. "Hey, Edward!" she called as she dashed down the steps and across the platform. I edged some of my classmates out of the way so I could hold the closing doors and Alice slipped onto the uptown bound A train, a little out of breath from her run. Her cheeks were pink and her dark eyes sparkled, a sign she had something on her mind.
"Thanks," she huffed.
"Yup."
I shifted from foot to foot, uncertain if I should try to find a seat or try to find something interesting to say to Alice. Alice Brandon was two years older than me. She'd lived in my apartment complex for as long as I could remember. She was always short for her age and I was tall like my dad, so as younger kids we'd often get thrown together, adults assuming similar stature equaled intellectual ability. Alice was kind enough about it and she put up with me over the years. She'd roll her eyes when my naivete showed at the edges: when at ten I'd wondered out loud how unwed mothers existed because you needed to be married to have a baby, or when at twelve I'd assumed someone smoking weed was smoking a cigarette. She'd be kind in the future too - like when I'd tell her I was in love with her. She always knew better, though.
It's because Alice didn't judge, and even better, she was the possessor of all this inscrutable information, that I worshipped her. As a little kid I'd wander around after her in the playground. While her friends might smirk and snicker, Alice would tell them to get over themselves and I'd be almost welcomed at the periphery of their existence.
My infatuation extended to Alice's mother who was as unlike my own mother as any two white women living in New York City in the 1970's could be. As far as I could tell, my mother woke wearing blue eyeshadow, with every permed hair in place, and a crease down the center of each leg of her polyester slacks. Meanwhile, Alice's mom left the house in torn T-shirts and dirty jeans with wild black hair tumbling down her back in unruly waves.
The one thing Alice and I had in common was our fathers, or our lack of fathers to be more specific. Alice didn't have a dad, at least not one I'd ever seen. Alice's mom had boyfriends, and sometimes they would move in with the two of them. Eventually they always moved out. My own dad was around sometimes. He'd 'swoop in' as mom said, and he'd treat us to new clothes and trips to the theater, and sometimes vacations to deserted beaches on the east end of Long Island or even farther. Once we all flew to Paris, and another time he took us to Berlin. Mom didn't speak about the times I found her crying and alone, though. She forbade me to talk about the time I couldn't wake dad up in the bathroom, or all the times we had to go get him at the hospital.
I know other kids whispered about my dad. They talked about him when he showed up at weird hours, unshaven and dirty with five cases of melting ice pops. They wondered about him when he'd been gone for a few months. Alice never whispered. She never said a thing.
"So, my mom went to Woodstock with Gary. They'll be home Sunday," Alice informed me on the train that Thursday afternoon.
"Really? Wow." I couldn't fathom being left by myself for days.
"She left me her ticket to Ziggy Stardust."
"Ziggy? Like in the comics?"
Alice rolled her eyes. "Really?"
The train came to a sudden stop and a large guy behind Alice stumbled into her, pushing her up against my chest. I held my breath as I held her upright. I could feel her ribs through her denim jacket. She was close enough for me to see little silver speckles in her eyes and smell the peppermint gum she was chewing .
"Um."
"Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars?" she asked as she stood back up, righted her clothing, and tucked her hair back behind her ears.
"Mars?"
"They're not really from Mars. Obviously."
"Obviously," I mumbled, eying my black dress shoes, then Alice's platform wedges.
"Come with me?"
"What?" I asked a little too loud. People next to me turned to look.
"Come with me to the show. It'll blow your mind."
"When?" I asked. I didn't know a thing about this band from Mars, but I'd go to Pluto with Alice if she asked me to.
"Tonight."
My heart plummeted. Despite both having absentee fathers, Alice and I had a vastly different homelife. Mom kept a close eye on me, especially since I got back from the hospital the last time. She seemed to think she could regiment my dad right out of me, which wasn't fair. I wasn't like my dad. Sometimes I couldn't get myself out of the bed, but I wasn't the most magnetic person in the room like he could be. I didn't draw people to me like bees to honey. I didn't make scenes. Anyway, mom had me up at dawn, then off to school in time to arrive ten minutes early. When I get home I had piano lessons, or fencing, or pottery class, or creative writing. She carefully planned so I'd never get stuck in my bed in the daytime again. Then at night mom imposed a strict lights out by 9:00.
Of course, by 9:30 I would be hiding under my covers with a flashlight. My only escape from all the monotony was in the form of the printed word. I'd read anything I could get my hands on, whatever book came my way. I devoured the classics, poured over existentialist poets, picked through early twentieth century playwrights, and even read contemporary romance novels - some portions many times over. The novels I loved the most were the ones that took me farthest from home. Science fiction managed to launch me completely out of the solar system.
Sometimes at night when I was reading in bed I'd hear Alice laughing from the open window. I'd look down onto the little playground and spot her and her mom. Her mom would be swinging on the swingset or climbing the jungle gym, often with a cigarette between her lips. Sometimes there would be a man there - almost always unshaven with shaggy hair. It reminded me of my dad when he was in a bad way. The thing is, my mom would never be seen in public with him when he looked like that, let alone climbing a jungle gym with him and her son in the middle of the night.
"There's no way." I sighed.
"There's always a way. An obvious way. There's a fire escape outside your window."
"Why me?" I asked.
"Who else am I gonna get to go?"
I could think bunches of people off the top of my head. With her big black eyes and pretty pink lips, Alice was adorable. She could ask fifty people on this train car alone. "What do you mean?"
"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Alice asked.
I shook my head.
"Exactly. Your mom'll never suspect it, and, well, it's just your mom. Sandra and Janelle's parents grounded them after last time. Your mom will never know."
xXxXx
Alice met me on the ground outside my window. She'd already pulled the ladder down, so I had an easy jump from the last step. "All cool?" she asked.
I was anything but. I'd bunched pillows and dirty clothing underneath my blanket in case my mom tried to check on me. I practically held my breath after lights out and jumped every time my mom walked by my bedroom door. I couldn't come up with anything to wear and settled on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans that were quickly becoming too small. Alice looked me over and I prayed I'd somehow come up with 'all cool'. Meanwhile she was wearing a leather jacket over a multicolored and sequined jumpsuit that tied around the neck. No, I was not cool.
As always, though, Alice didn't seem to judge. Instead, she held up a thin, white cigarette. "You want some?"
I shook my head.
"Edward, you're about to vibrate out of your shoes. You need this. Like for years now you've needed this. Trust me."
I didn't exactly trust Alice, but I always did what she said. Fifteen minutes later we emerged from the subway like we'd emerged into another world, Bright white spotlights swept through the night sky, while crowds of people with dyed hair and sparkling makeup, wearing leather and feathers milled around in a cloud of weed and cigarettes. The air was electric and I was sure I could feel it shaking around me. Or I shook. It was impossible to tell where I ended and the air began.
Alice grabbed my arm and nodded at someone ahead of us in the swirling crowd. "Was that Warhol?"
"War-who?"
Alice laughed. I laughed. This was funny. I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't have removed the smile from my face if I wanted to. I clung to Alice for support even though I was a head taller.
Alice shrugged off her jacket and her jumpsuit sparkled around her like she was wearing a star. She shook out her hair, grabbed my hand, and sashayed into the crowd. "We've got to run since we had to wait for your bedtime." Alice glanced over her shoulder at me and arched an eyebrow and I laughed again, choking on smoke.
A Clockwork Orange was playing in the theater as we entered, but I didn't know that then. I only knew Alice Brandon was holding my hand, the sequins on her top made my whole body tingle, and I couldn't stop smiling. Looking around, Carnegie Hall was revealed to me like I was seeing it for the first time. I'd been to countless piano concerts and orchestra performances there over the years, but I'd never noticed how the theater arched and swung outward, studded with dim lights like an extraterrestrial hydra, like a unidentified flying object about to quiver to life and take flight.
Suddenly everyone around us screamed. Alice squealed and pointed toward the stage where a thin man in a sequined jumpsuit (quite a bit like the one Alice was wearing) simply said, "Hello."
xXxXx
Ninety minutes later I was gasping for air, almost like I'd been punched in the gut. "What was that?" I asked as the audience hooted and hollered around me, clapping, stomping, singing.
Alice beamed. She threw her arms around my neck. "History. That, Edward Cullen, was history."
The two of us were swept up in the crowd and carried out of the theater and New York hit me like I was seeing it for the first time: the glowing billboards, impossibly tall buildings, and bright yellow taxicabs weaving between horse and carriages.
"Let's walk," Alice suggested, eying the hordes clogging the subway entrance, and it was the best suggestion ever. The city felt bigger, its colors more vivid, and my body burned from head to toe - the first time I felt like I was a part of it all.
"Why me?" I asked, stealing a glance at Alice as we waited at a light. "Those were excuses on the train."
Alice shrugged. "I thought you would like him. Since you've been back, I don't know, I just thought…" Alice glanced shyly in my direction. "What did you think?"
"I don't know." I honestly didn't know. I'd never seen anything like Bowie before. I'd never heard anything like Bowie before. I didn't know anything like him existed in the world. I knew there was a drug scene downtown somewhere, and I had a vague sense what I just saw might have involved more than the weed I'd smoked before the show. Sometimes people said stuff about dad and drugs, but I knew better. What was going on with my dad came from deep inside him, not in an alley or something. Anyway, drug use wasn't anything I'd ever have associated with the androgynous beauty of the music I'd just heard in Carnegie Hall. That performance stood apart from everything I'd ever been exposed to before that night.
I stopped as we were poised to enter the South side of the park and took a deep breath. "Is it because you think I'm…"
"What?" Alice asked, wide-eyed.
I shrugged, unwilling to look Alice in the eye.
"It's because I like you. Because you keep to yourself too much. Because you're a weirdo, I guess. But in a good way, and everyone back there was a weirdo too. You weren't there to be seen. You were there because -"
"Because you asked," I finished for her, the most earnest I'd ever been in my life up until that point.
Alice shook her head and her shaggy hair bounced around her face, reflecting silver and blue in the city lights. "So?"
I felt my face going red and looked quickly away. "Do you have another, um, like before?"
Alice did have another, and after a few puffs I felt the top of my skull lift off my head. Another couple puffs and my insecurity flew away to wherever the rest of my skull had gone. I smiled again and Alice and I laughed as we sang Suffragette City and Changes, dancing and twirling through the park on our way home.
Five nights later Alice took me to the Oscar Wilde Room at the Broadway Central. Five nights later she helped change my life forever.
xXxXx
January 10th, 2016
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes!
Don't want to be a richer man
I spun as I sang while using my glass of Scotch as a mic. Alice bobbed her head from the couch where she'd become one with the pillows.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes!
There's gonna have to be a different man
Another spin and the liquid sploshed in my glass, splattering onto my hand. I opened my eyes only to find Bella standing in the doorway radiating equal parts amusement and concern as I stood before her a sticky drunk.
"Shit," I mumbled, searching for a napkin. Coming up empty-handed I wiped away the alcohol with my sleeve.
Bowie went on without me as Bella relieved me of my Scotch and wrapped an arm around my waist. With her by my side, I was overcome with relief at the same time the grief I'd been holding at bay managed to bore deeper into my chest. Her concern made it all the more real.
"I heard on the way over. You could have called," Bella murmured as she went up on tiptoe for a quick kiss. I shook my head, but couldn't put into words why it hadn't been an option.
Alice applauded from across the room, clapping and laughing as she attempted to pull herself to sitting. "You okay over there?" Bella asked her agent.
"Ha!" Alice laughed. "Don't mind the drunk old lady in the corner." She gave up on standing and took another sip from her glass instead.
Bella's gaze fell on the nearly empty bottle of Johnny Walker on the coffee table.
"A drink?" I asked.
Bella eyed me askance. Neither of us was known to go for hard liquor on random afternoons. Little did she know I'd been drinking since mid-morning. No longer spinning, the room was rotating around me. I plunked down in the nearest chair.
"Did you know he was sick?" Bella asked.
I shook my head as I searched for my glass. Alice passed it to me from the end table.
"Should I cancel dinner?"
My head swam. "Could you cook?" Alice broke out in another fit of giggles.
Bella shook her head pityingly and began retreating to the kitchen. "I'll call Seth."
I tried jumping from the chair, but it was more of a lurch. "No! No, no, no. Let's do dinner. You handle the knives. I'll direct. You can be sous chef."
Bella stopped in her tracks and surveilled the scene in the living room one more time. Records were strewn on various surfaces, there were some dirty plates and an old photo album Alice brought over, not to mention a few splatters of Scotch here and there. "Yeah?"
Alice sighed. "Alright, if this is happening, you, my friend, are gonna need some coffee." She pulled herself to her feet and patted me on the shoulder as she passed me by. "I'll make some for the both of us."
Bella and Alice exchanged meaningful looks as Alice brushed past on her way to the kitchen. She talked a good talk about coffee, but I noticed she'd taken her glass to the other room.
"Are you okay?" Bella asked, giving into the chaos and pulling me onto the couch with her.
I shook my head. "I'm not even close, babe."
"You sure about dinner?"
I wasn't sure about much that day, but I wouldn't let it interfere with Bella and Seth's parenting arrangement. I kept myself unobtrusively in the background for Sunday night dinners, tolerating Jared's subdued fawning and Seth's begrudging acceptance in order to help maintain family harmony. Bella didn't cook, though. From the time she was eighteen I could never trust her to get herself fed, let alone to host a weekly dinner party.
"How old were you when you guys saw him at Carnegie?" Bella asked.
I twined my fingers with hers. "Sixteen."
"Wow."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Wow. He was doing this shit from the time I was a kid. He kept it up until -" The record ended and instead of finishing my sentence, I peeled myself from where I sat and squatted unsteadily to flip the vinyl. I'd kept meaning to change things up with the sound system set-up in the living room. It had horrible acoustics, Bella's gear was outdated and underwhelming, not to mention no man should have to squat to change a record. Bella made fun of me and said I didn't want to crouch just because I was old. It was partly true.
"When did you meet him for the first time?"
I took a moment to think back. Decades flashed through my mind in a blur as I stood unsteadily to my feet. "God, it must have been in '78 at CB's with… the rest of the guys." I finished the sentence quickly, but I'd had enough to drink that my reflexes were slower than I'd have liked them to be.
"With Kate?" Bella asked.
xXxXx
May 10, 1978
The crowd at CB's was off the rails that night. In addition to beer bottles the audience was also throwing their bodies at the stage. They'd make a mad dash and try to get hold of me - for a hug, for a piece of my shirt, for a handful of my hair. It was a strange rush, and with Jazz as my new drummer, along with Mike and Todd, we raged: loud, offbeat, out of tune, and angry. I stomped across the stage and screamed and the audience screamed back. I alternately yelled and grunted out lyrics about the pain I'd never been able to escape, except at times like that. I yelled until I was hoarse, until it had to end.
Finally, I leaned into the mic, holding on in order to simply hold myself upright. "Night," I huffed.
The crowd screamed and clapped, unwilling for it to be over. I didn't do encores, though. They were stupid. I loved hearing them scream, wanting more, knowing I was the one keeping it from them. Afterward I'd wander into the audience and strangers would climb all over me, seeking out my hands, my dick, and the deeper meaning to all of it. Little did they know I had nothing to give. It was the ultimate secret: I was empty inside.
Backstage Kate threw her arms around me. "You were fucking phenomenal," she whispered, her lips against my ear.
"Thanks." I looked for water. I found a warm beer.
"You know it was amazing, right?" she asked, trying to shake my shoulders and shake some sense into me. She always wanted me to see how incredible I was. I always wished I could.
Jasper clapped me on the back as he walked off to find Alice. Mike and Todd headed straight for the bar.
"There's someone I want you to meet." Kate grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the crowd. I was high on the performance. I wanted to revel. I wanted alcohol and adulation.
"Wrong way," I joked, tugging in the other direction.
"Come on, you wanker." Kate giggled. She bit my ear. "Trust me."
I trusted she was braless and that I could see her tits through her thin, white tank top. I trusted I knew what she had in mind, so I let her lead me down the dark, grafitted hallway.
Kate paused at the stage door. She bit her plump bottom lip. "Edward?"
"Here?" I asked, gathering her skirt in my fists.
Kate twisted from my grasp and pulled me through the door. "Edward, this is David."
"Shit," I gasped, as I took in the platinum blonde hair, blue-black eyes, and an oversized gold lame coat.
Kate wrapped an arm around the man's waist and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "I was finally able to extricate him from his adoring fans."
"Great show, Man." David Bowie held out his hand and I was at a loss for words, but I managed to clasp his fist in mine.
"I'm gonna go get Jasper and Alice, okay?" Kate asked, leaving me with one of my idols and a peck on the lips.
"I don't know who Jasper and Alice are, but it was all you up there. Brilliant."
"Th-thanks," I managed to stammer.
"You and Katy?" he asked, nodding to her receding silhouette.
"Not really," I admitted.
Kate turned, smiled, and blew me a kiss.
xXxXx
January 10th, 2016
"She introduced us," I confessed.
Bella smiled like this knowledge didn't bother her as she made space for me on the couch. I knew her better than that. I pulled her feet onto my lap. "What about you?" I asked, pulling off her shoes one by one. "When was the first time you met him?"
"In '89 at Daisy. With you, you idiot." Bella kicked me playfully and pulled her feet back to her side of the sofa. "It was the only time."
I needed to stop talking. I needed Alice to get back with some coffee. Of course I knew when Bella met Bowie. I'd introduced them. I'd wanted to keep the two of us hidden from the world, but Emmett somehow convinced me to leave the house. It was when I realized it wasn't our isolation making things perfect between us, it was Bella. I remember watching her from across the room that night, fresh-faced and fierce, with an easy smile and a self-conscious laugh, wearing my Dolls T-shirt. By the look of it, with her wild hand gestures and big eyes so intense, yet strung with stars, Bella was likely presenting Iggy and Bowie with a completely original and as yet unheard of analysis of one of their most recent pieces of work.
"You were beautiful that night," I gushed.
"You weren't so bad yourself," Bella replied, scooting closer.
"So fucking unflappable."
"Right! Scared to death."
"I doubt it. You were always fearless. It's one of the things I loved about you."
"Past tense?" she teased, leaning her head on my shoulder. "I'm not fearless these days? Or you don't love me anymore?"
"Hey, I can't joke like that today. My life changed when I saw him for the first time."
"Like when I saw you for the first time."
I wrapped an arm around Bella, pulling her closer. "Shit, was I your Bowie?"
Bella glanced up at me and melodramatically batted her eyes. "Depends how long you two dated."
I chuckled. "He never loved me the way I loved you."
Bella shook her head. "I loved you more back then. Entirely. Completely. Ready to swim the sound to get to your doorstep."
I understood teenage rockstar love. What would I have done if Patti Smith tried to hold a conversation with me when I was sixteen? I would have cum in my pants or pissed myself. I wouldn't have escaped the situation with clean underclothes, let alone leave her enchanted, yearning and conflicted.
"Our sixteens didn't compare."
"What if you didn't go to the show with Alice?" Bella asked.
"I don't even know. I probably would have ended up in some room alone, writing sci-fi fantasy novels. What about you? What if you didn't go to Jones Beach with Jake and Seth?"
"I don't know," Bella said, shaking her head, her eyes glazing over.
Bella would have been the same person, though, maybe with a little less heartbreak and a few more kids. Not me, though. If I'd never run into Bella I was certain I'd be dead. She was the first reason I found to really seek treatment. She was the reason I stuck it out.
"We don't talk about that night," Bella murmured.
We didn't. I met a child one night when I was thirty-one, while I was running away from my life. She stopped me in my tracks, and for the first time in a long time she made me see how beautiful the world could be through another pair of eyes. I knew enough to stay away, but I was too selfish to completely let her go. We're older now. We're both adults. I'm not proud of my actions, but I would never take them back.
I shook my head. "No." My eyes were wet. I was a drunken fool.
xXxXx
June 13th, 1987
After three relentless months on the road, Jasper, Marcus, Caius and the rest of us ended up on the south shore of Long Island in the sweltering summertime heat. We had one more show before we could finally break, and I was looking forward to two solitary days with no one to feel accountable for but myself. While our label found someone to keep me on the straight and narrow, they hadn't given the same consideration to Jasper who was once again newly sober. Alice was sick as a dog the last half of the tour, so it somehow fell to me to look after her husband. Everyone knew I could hardly take care of myself, so how in the world was I supposed to look after another grown man who was hell bent on getting high?
I couldn't blow off steam with Cauis and Marcus, either. Those days they were feeling left behind by Aro, who was pushing an image of me as a rising star. I fought back against it at first, but the truth was there was a growing gulf between us. An argument with Caius in Cleveland would have certainly come to blows if Emmett hadn't stepped in and broken it up.
So when they all wanted to back out of the show because of the rain, I wasn't fucking having it. The only thing that could make me feel close to whole was the audience, and I wasn't leaving without the burst of adrenaline - the third best thing to coke or one of my uncontrollable, internal highs.
I reveled in the audience that night. Almost everyone had left because of the drenching rain, and anyone who stayed rushed to the floor in front of the stage. I kicked water from the stage into their faces and they fucking loved it. I screamed like I used to in my younger, more punk rock days. It was personal again, I could see each of their faces again. It was intimate and decadent, it was insane - something I knew about. I fell in love with the audience and they loved me back.
The knot of kids yelled my name in the pounding rain. Soaked to the bone, water poured in rivulets so my hair clung to my face, my jeans hung heavy on my hips, and rain sploshed inside my boots. I stood and screamed in a downpour while the rest of the fuckers on stage wouldn't stand with me and wanted to go their own way. Finally, at the end, clothing seemed meaningless since it was stuck to my skin, so I pulled my shirt over my head, flung it into the crowd, and watched as it spun in the air, twirling and spraying rainwater before it fell into the writhing whorl below.
My heart flipped in my chest as I watched them pulling desperately, trying to get a piece of me. Those kids each wanted to fill up the gnawing hole in their gut, and they were here hoping song lyrics and a scrap of cotton might be the recipe for completion. For a second or two I felt like we were all there searching together and I was hopeful they might come away with something useful. Then I blinked and I was cold and alone on the stage. It was over and I could get the hell out of there and leave it all behind.
"What the fuck was that?" Caius spat, meeting me in the wings.
"It was a fucking show." I knew what he meant. I'd been doing my own shit on stage, counting on the rest of them to keep up.
"Not like that, Ed. What the hell were you doing out there?"
"You don't fucking like it, then -"
"Then what?" he challenged, stepping in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. Caius was my height, but built like a linebacker. We'd known each other for more than a decade, and I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him as angry as he was at that moment. "Say it," he demanded. "Say it to my face."
"Edward!" Alice called, threading her way through the crowd. "Where's Jasper?" She inserted her little body between me and Caius, glancing innocently between the two of us, like she hadn't a clue in the world the man wanted to hit me for fucking with the set. Caius rolled his eyes and stomped away, leaving a tiny puddle in his wake.
I sighed with relief and took a towel one of the stage hands offered, trying my best to dry my chest and to wring out my hair. "Thanks, Alice."
"No, really. Have you seen Jasper?"
"Everyone's seen Jasper. He was just on stage."
"Very funny. Where'd he go?" She stood on tiptoe, trying to peer a little higher than her four inch heels allowed.
"To the green room? To the can? I'm not his keeper."
Alice folded her arms across her chest. I noticed with some jealousy she was completely dry, from her spiky hair to her patent leather pumps. Not to mention she was wearing a shirt.
"Now you're all hands off. Sure."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I challenged.
"I think you know."
"Christ. I'm tired of people blaming me for things they won't even say out loud. Jasper makes his own decisions and I have absolutely no clue where he is right now, although I could fucking guess."
"I don't understand how you could -"
"Edward! Edward!" Aro shouted, pushing past the backstage mob. "Amazing show, my man."
"This isn't over for a second, Edward. After everything I deserve better than this."
Aro greeted Alice with a tight smile and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Alice withered like she'd been poisoned and I took the opportunity while they were distracted to start walking toward my dressing room. A dry shirt and a wallet and I could get the fuck out of there. All too soon, Aro was following close behind. I could tell by the way my skin crawled in his presence. I lengthened my strides.
"You have a minute?" he asked, trying to keep up.
"Not really." I tried to avoid eye contact with the crew. I didn't want to hear their false praise. Even worse, I didn't want to have to explain what the hell I'd been doing on stage.
"I flew someone in for tonight. Travis from L.A. I told him he had to see you with his own eyes. How the audience eats you up."
Aro grabbed my shoulder and I turned to face the man who was steadily making we a very wealthy, very well-known musician. I couldn't help feeling like I was being used, though, and Aro's touch left me sick to my stomach.
"You're amazing out there, son. You ever think -"
"No, I never think."
"You're limiting yourself."
"I'm not having this conversation, not now, not without a shirt and some dry clothes. Not in a hallway, and not before we head back to the studio next week."
"You should meet with Travis. Dry off. There's a bar not far from here - quiet, private."
"Yeah, whatever. Give me a few." I ducked into my dressing room, planning to quickly change and then to slip out with Emmett before Aro knew what had happened. Instead I found Marcus bare-assed, kissing some topless girl, while another knelt on the ground in front of him.
"Oh my god, it's him!" the topless girl screeched. "Jess! It's Edward Cullen!"
Jess' eyes went wide from where she knelt and her friend tried to peel herself from Marcus' grasp, but I bolted from the room and ducked into the band's dressing room. Before I could spot Jasper passed out in a corner, I pulled on the first random t-shirt I spotted and ducked out a side entrance I'd propped open earlier in the evening.
Outside and alone I felt a million times lighter. The air was cool and damp after the passing summer storm and I breathed a sigh of relief, attempting to put as much distance between myself and the stadium as possible. I took a deep breath. Then another. I spotted fireflies blinking in the underbrush, and calm water lapped lazily along the edge of the bay. I set off for the old pier, the same place Emmett found me the last time we played there, knowing he was smart enough to track me down, glad this time he wouldn't find me with a needle in my arm.
Eventually I'd have to have the discussion with Aro. I knew he wanted to see me on my own, but I also knew he didn't really give a shit about me. It felt like I was the only person standing in the way of the total destruction of the band. The thing is, I didn't know if I had it in me to defend its existence anymore. Caius resented me. Marcus fucked whatever walked in his direction. Jasper Whitlock was my best friend in the entire world, but he'd sure as shit sell me into slavery for enough smack. Those days Jasper broke Alice's heart on a daily basis, and as far as I could tell she blamed me for it more with each passing day.
Aro wanted to see me on my own, and to the rest of them that was my fault. Jasper was high as a kite and, according to Alice, it was my fault. Two kids were getting screwed in my dressing room. Who's fault was that? Who were they there looking for in the first place? You guessed it.
Fault found its home in me. It always had; it always would. It was born into me and flowed through my veins. Sometimes it made me soar and sometimes it dragged me so far down I couldn't imagine getting up again. It's why my mom locked me away, it's why they'd hooked me up to electrodes - to try to kill the faulty piece of me that had been fucking up from the beginning.
The inborn unworthiness is why I'd written a poem when I was a kid asking my parents to love me despite who I was. Back in the early days I'd screamed the words into the mic. Then when we recorded it for The Masens demo, Alice suggested a quieter take. Jasper tapped out something swinging and slow, and like a lullaby the words fell from my lips. The same words rippled out into the air around me that night, like my thoughts come to life. An octave higher, hesitant yet plaintive, the truth was sung sweetly, drifting on the damp breeze from the bay. Someone was using my words, asking my parents to like me for the person I was, imperfections and all.
I followed my song, and finally saw the slender outline of a girl on her back, lying on the old wooden pier. Her dark hair was wild about her head and my face was plastered across her tits, She sang and drew me in her direction like those ancient stories of sirens. If sirens had sung the sailors own songs they surely would have been irrevocably lost.
But as I came closer, my heart dropped. The girl with the sweet voice was no more than a child. Her face was pink and pretty and raindrops were hung like jewels in her hair. She had her hand over her nose, holding what I could only guess was a piece of the T-shirt I'd thrown into the audience. I began walking away, wondering where else I could hide myself so Emmett could come find me, but the girl stirred and sighed and I took a second look.
"What do you want now?" she groaned. Her dramatic delivery made me want to laugh out loud. I managed to hold it in, but I couldn't quell the smile that spread over my face.
"Want? I want to take a seat."
The girl's eyes shot open. She'd come face to face with an idol. I'd come face to face with the person who would change my life forever. She'd lend me enough of her confidence and light that The Masen's next album would appeal to a much wider audience, she'd finally help me feel a sense of home, she'd hold out hope for me when I had none, and her trust would give me the strength to try to be a better man, even after she was no longer there.
Yet somehow along the way, getting Bella back had become my endgame. I'd stopped reaching. I'd become a man without a stereo system or a piano. I'd retired myself without realizing it. I hadn't made anything beside a meal in years.
xXxXx
January 10th, 2016
Alice Brandon cleared her throat, and Bella glanced up from our embrace to see her standing in the doorway holding a steaming mug in each hand. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was sad as a tear trickled down her cheek.
"This is enough," she murmured. Those words held decades long meaning for Alice and I. I bit my lip and Bella jumped up from the couch.
"Alice, I'm sorry. You lost him too," she said, helping her with the coffee before wrapping her arms around her friend.
"I should find Jasper," Alice mumbled, pulling herself loose. "Lots of loss today."
"You can't drive," Bella countered.
Alice shook her head. "I'm fine. Lyft. You've got dinner tonight. Good luck with that." Alice winked at me as she gathered her things and left me with a peck on the cheek. "Take care, you weirdo."
xXxXx
A/N: I'm a slower writer these days, and with characters I love this much I want to make sure I take the time to get it right. I'll update when I can. I hope you come along for the ride. xoxo ~BDC