Chapter Six
There's always something that triggers your first recognition of morning, whether it's the blaring of your alarm clock, or birds singing outside, or someone in your family screaming from the floor below that breakfast is on the table. Even sounds that you normally wouldn't hear during the day are magnified in the quiet of the early daylight hours, such as soft footsteps ascending the stairs.
My eyelids fluttered open slowly as these thoughts rushed through my mind, trying to guess what it had been today. My answer came sooner than it usually did, since he was standing right in the doorway. Carey had his arms folded across his chest, looking slightly amused. "'Morning, sleepyhead."
He burst into a wide smile, and suddenly, my whole day was brighter. "How did you get in here?" I asked. And did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?
Carey closed the door behind him and walked to the edge of my bed, sitting down. "You looked so cute when you were asleep… with your hair all mussed…" At that comment, my hand flew to my head in horror. "No! Molly, it looks perfect like that." He knocked down my hand with his and a tingle shot through my body just at his touch.
"You didn't answer my question."
Carey shrugged. "I'm not a stranger, you know. I just drove over and Fi let me in."
My eyes widened. "Did she say anything to you?" I was afraid to know the answer.
"Besides, 'Mom's upstairs'? No. Why, what's wrong?"
I couldn't tell him. Even though the damage had been done, I trespassed on Fi's property—it was still my duty to keep her secret exactly that. "It's nothing, really," I lied.
Carey appeared unconvinced but didn't question me. "Well, the reason I had to come over is because Mom rescheduled rehearsal—for today. So, I figured I'd drive you."
I sighed, gazing out the window. It was so beautiful outside today, and once again, I'd be cooped up inside a recording studio for God knows how long. Why was I always cooped up and away from my own life? Shaking my head, I planted my feet firmly on the floor and stood up.
Carey gave me a light peck on the cheek. "I'll be waiting downstairs."
I nodded, watching him retreat from the room. Once I had quickly showered, dressed, and put on my makeup, I met him in the family room, and we were on our way. I started to think that perhaps today wouldn't be so bad, after all it was just rehearsal.
"Hi Molly!" Irene greeted me at the door, a giant fake-smile plastered on her face. "This is the song we're doing today," she added, handing me some sheets of paper.
My eyes fell upon it as I glanced over the words wearily. I'm tired of this. It was a revelation I should have made long, long ago, before I fell into this mess. We all took our places, me at my microphone, everyone else to their respective instruments. Carey offered me a warm, you-can-do-this smile.
Only, I couldn't. At least not to the person that mattered, and this would be Irene. "Come on, Molly!" she said after the fourth time we started the song over. "Put more emotion into it. You sound like you're sarcastic!"
And then, all the anger, betrayal, and resentment that I had felt over the past few days boiled to the surface and just exploded. "I am sarcastic!" I yelled, glaring at her. "Irene, this isn't me! I used to love what I do, and now every day, I'm fighting against it. These songs are not me, this music isn't me. How can I put emotion into something when I don't feel it at all?"
After my little outburst, Irene stood there perfectly calm, as though nothing had happened at all. "Okay, guys, how about a break?"
"No!" I screamed, and the entire room fell silent. "Listen to me," I said fixedly, looking her right in the eyes. "I'm tired. I'm sick and tired of pretending that everything is perfectly normal, when it's the exact opposite. Do I have no say in what I do anymore?" Irene stared at me, looking somewhat bored. "You were my best friend," I told her. "Now you're just—my manager, nothing more. I'm not a recording artist; I'm a puppet, and you're pulling the strings. But you're not pulling them right now." I took a deep breath as I walked to the door and pulled it open. I spun around and faced her one last time. "I quit."
A collective gasp rose up from my band mates and Irene stared at me. "You can't quit!" she exclaimed.
I gazed at her steadily. "I just did." Then I turned and walked down the hallway without looking back. No regrets.