Making anything new was a drag on my daily life. The absence of any sort of vibrant day, or so I felt, put a damper on the creative process. Up north they had their own worries, but back at home things were getting worse by the day.
The same neighborhood I was in was bustling with the most frightening of activity, construction. Just up the road from me they were working on a vault. As soon as the construction of it started, so did everyone else's.
All my neighbors were laboring day and night to build their own fallout shelters, not like some competition, rather a precaution. I just hoped we would never have to run into the damn thing or any of the shelters the neighbors made.
The thoughts of what might happen, what might come our way was always crossing my mind. I got so caught up in the thoughts and fear I developed a little habit of mine. Marsha, a Tennessee gal got me interested in hard liquor. I sampled some of the moonshine she brought with her from home and almost died after having a swig. Then some time later I took a liking to the burn, the rush.
Moonshine turned to whiskey, and whiskey to bourbon, and bourbon to whatever else the store was not out of. It used to be I would get stares whenever I checked out a bottle, now I practically blended in. I joined in on a cult I guess, a group dedicated to tuning out what was going on in the world.
For a while that was my daily life, my weekly ritual, that was until I got a wake up call. It was a Sunday evening and I just got the bra off when the phone started ringing. There was a part of me that wanted to just fall back in the recliner and enjoy the jack I got on sale the other day, but some small part of lissie was still going for the loud device.
"Hey it's Melissa." I said half-caring.
"Mel? You sound kinda pissed, should I call back?"
I signed and sat back. "I just got back Charles what do you want?"
"Yess, uh Melissa babe..."
"Don't call me that. You know better." I said as I reached for the glass right next to the phone.
"Ok, I get it you're angry, frustrated, irritated...I get it. I've got two brothers fighting the damned commies up in Alaska, but I'm keeping my chin up."
"Well good for fucking you chuck." I said as I poured a little liquid relaxation info the fine crystal.
"Lord Mel, you need to get your act together and come over here right away. Trust me." Charles said, taking a deep breath afterwards.
"For what reason? I thought you just called to check up on me?" I said taking a swig.
"It was a conversation starter Mel, that and the bigwigs want you over here pronto for a photo shoot."
I almost choked on the drink mid sip. Setting the glass down I gave myself some time to recuperate before I looked in the mirror. A mess was all I saw, a once beautiful mess ravaged by fear, by worry, by loss.
"A photoshoot? Why would they..." I started as the thoughts trailed off.
Charles sighed through the other end, scratching what was left of his hair. "You should come over and hear for yourself Mel. Trust me, it will be good for all of us."
Really I did not want to get back in my getup I had on earlier, but the tone Charles used piqued my interest. There was something special the way he spoke and the intention of the sentence which hit me. The special something felt like hope, something I had not had in a while in or outside of the buzz.
On the evening I went there I thought everything was going to be just like it was whenever the higher ups at the record label called me. Creativity takes time for some people, and as of late I had been asking for a little more time with the new label making sure all was right. After all, I'm sure they would not want their latest proposed set of hits be duds.
Pulling into the lot where the recording studio was I spotted a few familiar vehicles and a truck backed up to the bay door. I just went inside as I usually did, not even thinking any more of what felt odd about this all, even semi-drunk. Charles never called me in at this time and raised all sorts of flags, but as of late the new alcoholic in me just ignored them.
Going through the usual series of doors I looked all over the place for anyone at all and came across a light just down from the break room. With the light came voices, some whispering to one another, mostly unfamiliar, and some I recognized. The source of the curiosity came from the storage bay where we kept the equipment and as I went inside the light blinded me.
Eyes adjusting I saw a stage setup with a nice armchair in the middle. A few staff were running around making adjustments to what seemed to be a living room, or what was made to look like one. Charles and the owner of the wonderful record label were standing behind the set, talking business I guess.
"Oh yes we could definitely use...Mel! Over here!" Charles said stopping mid sentence to wave me over.
I rolled my eyes for the first time in years. I think it might have been the jack I had earlier because I knew I was less sassy before the drink, before all the hurting inside.
"Mel I think you remember Ramona right?"he said motioning towards the seemingly ageless sixty-five year old.
"Hello again Melissa, thank you for coming on such short notice." Ramona said with her thick Cuban accent.
"It is a pleasure." I replied lying through my teeth."
The look on Ramona's face said it all. She was a third generation Cuban-American, her parents from Florida and their parents from the closed off paradise in the Caribbean. All business she had she took to heart, which is what I liked about her. Honesty was not only honored, but rewarded in her organization and I think what I was showing on my face gave away just how honest I was being.
"Melissa I cannot fathom what you must be going through right now, but you should realize what's at stake in this country right now. Both you and I know how bad things are getting at home."
She wasn't lying either. The country was crumbling all around us as far as the eye could see. You had whispers of secession all about the place, more so after Canada was annexed. Some felt the American government was going too far and the rest of the country felt if you weren't supporting the troops in Canada or Alaska you were a communist.
"Let me show you something." Ramona said with a smile as she motioned me and Charles over to the bay door. As we made our way over one of the staff working on the stage ran over to the door and started pulling on the chain lifting it up. Light flooded out of the open door, as well as a heavy sack or two.
"What's all this?" I asked looking at what all the truck I saw earlier was carrying.
Both Ramona and Charles looked at one another eyeing up the bags before them then nodding in agreement. I thought it was weird they were on the same page tonight, as of late they never were never even looking at the same paragraph. Now they were prying open bag after bag, dumping what looked like envelopes right before me.
Not a thought crossed my mind as they dumped the closest sacks on the floor before, all with more envelopes. Curiosity struck me as one of the envelopes landed face up, address and all where I could see it. Unlike my momma I had no problem with my vision, and without bending over I could see who it was addressed to in the first place.
Reaching down I quickly picked up the parchment and ripped it open. The nice blue envelope fell to the floor as I looked at what was inside. I never noticed it, but when I pried it open both Ramona and Charles stopped all they were doing and paused to catch their breath.
I read line through line of language I had never heard to describe myself, especially from someone so little. Her name was Susanna, a 12 year old girl from Massachusetts with a heart of gold. My previous album made a tremendous impact in her life, so much so she shared the holotape with her friends and family. I was looked up to by this girl as well as her mother who was going through the loss of her husband in Alaska.
The songs gave both hope for a better tomorrow. I never knew I could even do such a thing, not even in my current state. Quickly I folded the letter and put it in my purse, then bent over and ripped open another letter. The next was from a soldier who was unsure he was going to make it back home, the one after was from an older woman who had been abused by her boss, and grandparents worried about their kids, and, and...
"What is all this?" I said sobbing, my knees becoming weak.
"You wanna tell her?" Ramona asked Charles who was grinning from ear to ear.
"I dunno boss. Maybe we should let one of our stage hands do that for us."
Before I could look up to see what Charles was pointing at I felt a familiar firm grip on my shoulder. The last letter I picked up slipped out of my hand and right into a firm hand reaching out from behind me. Finally my knees gave out as that hand was met with another, both holding me up from falling on the floor.
"I know there aren't any icy patches down here Lissie but you've got to be more careful." Cedric said in a humorous tone.
I looked up at both Ramona and Charles and muttered a slight thank you before spinning around to wrap my arms around the love of my life. The staff working on the stage behind us stopped all they were doing to admire the view watching on as me and Cedric's faces latched onto each other.
He actually had the audacity to come up for oxygen first! Of all things! I knew he would pay for it later and I knew just the idea, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about what was to come.
Ramona explained to me about the flood of fan mail. I had gotten it before, but actually seeing what my music had done in so many peoples lives changed something in me. People were wanting to put a face to the music, a lady to look up to like Rosie the riveter. Women and girls alike needed a role model in this day and age, especially when stars like me were being brought to such acts as Porn. Stars who had such great vocal talent were being sold out for smut, told they would be bigger than they ever were. Sure they made more than I did, after all the prices people would pay for antidepressant nowadays costs more than a magazine or a holotape.
The stage was all for finding the right cover for what would be my greatest album yet, and I had the perfect idea. I was able to get Cedric to change into the uniform he left in the men's room and join me for the photo op. Charles and Ramona scratched their heads at the idea, and it never clicked until afterwards when I told them we were going to have a duet as the final song. None of them had the opportunity to hear my husband sing, but I had before he deployed to Alaska. He could make me and anyone else swoon with a voice like smooth coffee.
After doing our song in two takes we went back home that night. He took the alcohol and tried to pour out a drink and I locked it away. The confusion on his face was washed off when he found out why we didn't need anything to drink.
It was like my grandmama always said, "You'll know when you've found the right one when the honey is better than anything else you've had."
Yeah...grandmama led an interesting life.
