Sorry for the delay in posting-dang writerly woes.
As always, a huge thank you to Aileen, Paige and Di for their magical abilities and insights.
I should also say that we're on the downside now. There's only a few chapters left.


Blackbird

Chapter 10

. . . . .

Bella found life both terrifying and liberating without her mother.

For hours after she'd said the words, "You're fired," Bella wandered around her home feeling lost, alone, and angry. She wasn't used to losing her temper. She wasn't used to having to stand up for herself. Doing both of those had made her body shake uncontrollably, and had made her sick to her stomach.

After twenty-two years of having all major life decisions made for her, Bella hoped she knew what she was doing.

And while she was proud of herself for finally putting her foot down, essentially saying fuck you to her mother, to her manager, it didn't come without pain and horrendous loss. Even though she felt as if she'd never truly had a mother, she was losing one now. The hole in her chest widened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She was the only one who could comfort herself now.

The overriding thought of "what now?" followed her from the bedroom where she spent too much time crying into her pillow, back into the kitchen. Seeing the Velveeta cheese and the box of noodles sent her outside to the pool, where she angrily yanked off her top and shorts, then dove into the water. The headache she'd gotten from crying finally disappeared as she swam laps across her beautiful pool with the waterfall at the end.

The beauty of it all made her sad because there was no one to enjoy her view with anymore. Not that her mother ever really had—Renee had the smaller pool at the back of the other house, where she probably swam her own laps.

Which had brought to mind the thought of where her mother would live, because she couldn't stay there where they'd run into each other. It was an unforeseen repercussion Bella would have to deal with, somehow.

How on earth was she supposed to do that?

She was used to Renee doing the legwork. Or, in this case, the dirty work of having to tell her former manager to move out. She was used to someone else picking up the pieces, but damn it, there was no one else but her to do the dirty work now. Bella was an adult, and she had to stop leaning on others so much.

She . . . could do it. After all, she'd stood up to Trey and told him what she wanted. And she'd fired her manager when she wasn't going to back Bella's decision.

But those actions didn't keep her from feeling desperately alone and scared. Especially since she'd lost Edward, her strongest ally. Her lover. Her friend. The only person who'd seen the real her—the ugly side—and who'd stayed with her anyway.

Until her mother had shown up at their motel.

Bella still couldn't believe Edward hadn't called, that he hadn't admitted he'd made a mistake by letting her go. How could he just shut her out like that, after he'd shown such care for her all along? She'd felt so safe with him, so . . . loved. He'd never said the words, but his actions, the way he had touched her and looked at her, had hinted at it repeatedly.

So now, he didn't need her? Just because she'd chosen to leave with her mother and go forward with her career? Had he honestly expected she wouldn't return to her life?

Under the water, Bella screamed.

It seemed like a double-edged sword. Edward hadn't seemed to mind her dependency, but once she showed she had a backbone, he called it quits. But, it didn't make sense, because he'd said, more than once, that he wanted her to get help. Which meant he wanted her strong.

Unless it all boiled down to her mother, whom he'd never liked. He'd said she was a slave to her mother.

It had pissed her off at the time, but she knew it was true. Bella had grown up doing exactly what her mother wanted her to do, so it was something she was used to. It hadn't occurred to her that it should bother her until Edward had said the words, planting the accusation into her subconscious.

But she was no one's slave now.

Something she desperately wanted to share with him.

But he'd let her go.

It filled her with misery, because she wasn't the same weak girl he'd pulled up from the balcony. She felt differently now.

But it also gave her hope, enough that she climbed out of the pool, barged dripping wet back into her house, and placed a call to Trey. With a hand on her hip and determination in her voice, she told him she wasn't re-signing until they met her demands set in their meeting, that she'd fired her manager, and was looking for a new one.

Furious and yet resigned, he reminded her about his own demands, yelled at her to get her ass into the recording studio immediately, then gave her a couple of managers' names.

"What is going on with you?" he asked.

Too much to explain. "I'm evolving," she replied simply.

It was a damn good start.

After that, Bella showered, and as she stood under the hot water, she felt weighed down and alone, yet strong because she was learning to stand up for herself. It was scary and exciting, and she wanted to go see Edward. So she did.

Surely, he'd see she was different, that she was a better version of herself, that she loved him.

But he saw none of that. Nowhere in his eyes did she see the man who'd always seen her. Edward acted as though he was a stranger looking at another stranger. He didn't give her the opportunity to show him that she'd changed, let alone say the words. He just walked away.

Why? Just because she'd chosen to leave with her mother that day?

If only she hadn't left . . . but damn it, leaving had felt right, even though it had hurt.

Realizing he wasn't going to forgive her shook her to the core, forcing her to swallow back her tears, something she never had to do around him before.

Struck numb, she had to let him go, too.

Or, she was trying to, anyway. She had learned to need him, but now she needed to unlearn needing him.

She often reminded herself that she needed to stand on her own. No one else could make things better, not even Edward. He'd made that more than clear.

She had to do it.

She had to try.

. . .

Dr. Jasper Hale looked like a quintessential L.A. psychiatrist, with long, wavy blond hair and sapphire-studded eyeglasses, à la Elton John. He wore dark gray slacks and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His tie, emerald green with sapphire accents, was draped across the back of his desk chair across the room from where they sat.

Seeing where her gaze went, he grinned. "Are you a morning person, Bella? Because you'll have to make an early appointment if you want to see me in a tie."

"I'm more of a night owl," she confessed. "But I don't mind you not wearing a tie."

"We're going to get along just fine, then," he quipped. "So. I should mention that although I know who you are, I don't know who you are. I've seen your name in passing and know what they've been saying about you on TV. That said, I've not formed any opinions about what I've heard, nor will I ever judge you. Everything we share here will be held in the strictest confidence. Without your consent, doctor-patient confidentiality laws prevent me from revealing anything you say."

Then he lowered his face to look at her over the top of his surprising glasses. "That is, unless I fear for your immediate health and safety."

Bella took a breath nervously and nodded as he readjusted the pad of paper on his lap. She found herself dividing her attention between his friendly, direct gaze, and the gems on his glasses, and wondered if that was why he wore them. Sometimes meeting a stranger's gaze was intrusive when talking about painful things.

"I also want to say that there is nothing wrong with you, Bella. There are only things that have happened to you that have shaped your psyche and how you react to a situation," he continued. "You are not any mistake you made in the past, nor are you the problem you most obsess about. Do you understand?"

She shrugged self-consciously. "I'm not my own worst enemy?"

Dr. Hale cracked a small smile. "I didn't say that. Oftentimes, we are our own worst enemy. Our brains adapt to a certain way of thinking, whether it's positive or negative, and that sets the tone for our behavior. But no, I'm simply saying that any past trauma you experienced helps or hinders how you think, feel, and act. The trick is to rearrange your thoughts into something healthy."

"How do I do that?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"You have to train yourself to recognize when what you're thinking is defeatist, and replace those thoughts with better thoughts," he answered. "But first things first. Why don't you tell me why you're here?"

Bella swallowed, shifting in her chair. "I don't know where to begin," she said.

"Do you want to be able to tell your gardener that you don't like the way he prunes your rose bushes? Are you hoping to give a speech about your past? Or, do you want to hug the little girl you used to be? What's your goal, Bella?"

"I want to feel like living again," she whispered.

"Why don't you feel like living?"

"Because I'm alone," she choked out. "My mother—my manager—I had to fire. Um, I recently had two personal relationships end. I guess I was only with Kid so I wouldn't be alone, but Edward?" She had to stop before she burst into tears. "I still love him," she whispered. "And I don't have any real friends. I'm alone."

"Okay, so you feel like you're alone. And you've pointed out multiple failed relationships, on several different levels. These are issues we'll get into more deeply over our time together before we get you to a place where you can reach out to people and make friends," Dr. Hale said gently. "I imagine it's tough to make them when you're a celebrity, and not sure if the person with you is there for you, or for some other reason."

"I have assistants, all hired by my mother," she said thinly. It was embarrassing and painful to admit she was truly alone. "I think she made them uncomfortable, and that unease trickled down to me. None of them have been very friendly."

Dr. Hale's head tilted. "You can enjoy time with an employee, be friendly together, but true friendship is on a level playing field, Bella. I don't imagine a personal assistant would feel that he or she has much in common with you, considering what you do, and making as much money as you do. It's an imbalance of power, if you see what I'm getting at?"

But she wasn't powerful. Well, maybe sometimes if she had to be, but not really.

"I can see you look skeptical," he said. "This is probably a terrible comparison, but how comfortable do you think you'd feel around the President of the United States? Would you feel as if you could talk about anything you wanted?"

Bella made a face and shook her head. "But I'm not powerful."

"No? You employ several people who depend on that income. You command attention wherever you go, whether you want to or not. I haven't seen you perform, but I'm sure you're powerful on stage as well; you wouldn't be as popular as you are if you weren't."

He leaned forward in his chair, then spoke slowly and gently. "You said you fired your mother. If that's not power, I don't know what is."

Her throat almost closed in response.

"It was a long time coming–she didn't care about me anymore–she was only ever my m-manager," Bella stuttered, trying to convey three thoughts in one run-on sentence.

"What makes you think she no longer cared for you?"

"Um, the last memory I have of her as my mother was when I was eight or so," Bella said woodenly. "I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. She put a bandaid on me, then kissed my forehead."

"That's a good memory," Dr. Hale stated.

"It was the last time I remember her kissing me," she whispered. "The next year, she started to push me into singing and talent contests. It wasn't just an occasional show anymore. And the more I won, the harder she pushed me."

Bella tore a Kleenex from the box on the table beside her. As a little girl, she'd only wanted to make her mother proud by winning; how frustrating that it had backfired so spectacularly.

"So I tried not to win, but that didn't work either because she didn't let me play anymore. I had to always practice, practice, practice," she gritted, remembering and hating the old, never-ending routine. "When someone stole my bike, she didn't replace it. Whenever I cried about wanting to go outside, she used to tell me that she quit her job just to help me. I . . . felt so trapped, so alone."

Dr. Hale cleared his throat, catching her attention. Through a film of tears, Bella watched him push the glasses farther up his nose.

"No parent should ever say something like that to a child, Bella. You were not born to be beholden to your mother."

Hearing him say that was a revelation. A weight off her shoulders. It had felt impossible being responsible for her mother's happiness. Especially since she so rarely was, which had always made Bella feel like a failure.

For the rest of the hour, Bella talked about all the ways her mother had mistreated or ignored her over the years, going through a good portion of Dr. Hale's Kleenex box along the way. He never interrupted, and when he spoke, it was usually just words to show he was listening and understood what she was saying.

"Let me tell you about your mother," he said when it was clear she was all talked out.

Bella slumped back against her chair, looking at him hopefully. If he could help her make sense of her life, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much anymore.

"From what you describe, she sounds like a narcissist, which is to say that she seems to have a pattern of self-centered, arrogant thinking and behavior. Her lack of empathy and consideration for you, her intimidation and bullying, her need for admiration from those who discounted her in the past, all contributed to the way you were brought up."

Bella exhaled shakily. Her mother's actions weren't Bella's fault. And now she had a word for her mother's behavior. A narcissist.

"Your feelings of loneliness are valid, because a narcissist always believes they are right, that they know better, and so will discount you. I'm sure she made you feel inadequate and anxious, and as a result, you doubted yourself. Again, this is due to her emotional abuse, and does not mean anything is wrong with you."

"Why does it feel that way, then?" She felt all kinds of wrong inside.

"Because no one has told or shown you any differently, Bella. Your mother wasn't raising a child; she was grooming you to fill a void in her life."

"And that's wrong." Bella sniffed.

"It's definitely not healthy. How you are loved as a child impacts the biology of your brain, and affects how you function for the rest of your life."

Her throat tightened. "Does that mean I'm doomed then?"

Dr. Hale gave her a small smile. "Not at all. You're here to climb back on top of your mountain. The good news is that your brain is malleable enough all through life. You can change how you feel. You can intentionally change if you know what needs to be changed. Feelings of inadequacy and depression can be turned into feelings of self-assurance, positivity, gratitude, and inspiration."

He leaned forward in his chair, eyeglass gems twinkling as he nodded at her. "And I'm going to show you how."

His words made her cry again, and she could feel the widest smile on her face. It seemed too easy to be real, but maybe there was hope after all. If her earlier life had taught her how to feel inadequate, maybe now it could help her feel accomplished since she'd survived it. There would be no one to hold her back, no one to criticize her, no one to try to control her.

She was no longer her mother's victim. She was free.

Bella felt emotionally wrung out when she left Dr. Hale's office, but she could also feel that she was walking taller. She could feel she was at the beginning of something big, something terrifying.

She was flying without wings.

. . .

Mary Alice Brandon, who didn't look much older than twenty, stood ramrod straight at Bella's front door. Despite her young appearance, she looked like a dynamo in chiffon and lace, with a wide, ready smile. Her eyes, dark brown and almond-shaped, were as direct as her words.

"I've seen you perform before, and you're low-balling your talent," she began without preamble as Bella ushered her inside. "Kid Culprit doesn't have a tenth of your vocal skills, so I'm not sure what you're doing with him. Especially after the iHeart music festival. You need to kick that jackass to the curb pronto. And if you decide to choose me as your manager, that'll be number one on my list. But, no matter what you decide, I think you're an underrated, wonderful jazzy-pop singer who needs to keep her clothes on."

Bella was taken aback, and nearly stumbled up the staircase they were climbing. "I'm not singing with Kid Culprit anymore," she yelped.

"Hallelujah!"

"And, I've never taken off my clothes," she added.

Mary Alice, who probably stood a head shorter than Bella, winked up at her. "Oh, I know, honey, but you might as well have. Your record label is treating you like a cheap stripper, and that's a damn travesty. Yes, sex sells, but the horribly beautiful crassness of it takes too much attention away from your voice. Don't lessen yourself for the world, let the world catch up to you. Beyoncé said that."

Bella could barely take her gaze off the woman. She was a spitfire.

"The 'Blackbird' performance you did in a wrinkled tank and shorts? Well, its popularity speaks for itself," Mary Alice continued. "You don't need to flash your ass in butt floss to be successful." She leaned forward as if to share a secret. "Call me Alice, okay? We should be on a first-name basis after this, don't you think?"

"Um, okay," Bella said and laughed, enjoying Alice's refreshing candor. While she seemed a bit over-the-top, her effervescence was like music to Bella's ears. "So, how long have you been managing people?" Bella asked as they reached the top of the stairs and entered her cream and tan decorated living room. Just how young was Alice?

Alice turned away from the backyard view, her smile tightening briefly, before she sank abruptly onto Bella's couch.

"I'm between engagements, at the moment, which is why Trey gave you my name. He has a soft spot for me, even though he was a year ahead of me in college. But, even as a sophomore, I was his editor on the school newspaper. I've always been a type-A personality, and I succeed almost always," she said crisply. "Although I think he made a mistake in how he's representing you now, I know he believes in you, Bella. I believe in you. And I'm prepared to propel you to the heavens. Or, to the Grammys, whichever comes first."

Bella's heart leaped. Alice's enthusiasm was almost overwhelming, but what really got Bella was her smile and kind eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in helping Bella, and Bella was caring less and less that Alice might not have been as experienced as another manager might have been.

"You're not on TikTok and you don't have a YouTube or a Vevo channel," Alice said and made a naughty tsk-tsk sound as she shook her head. "I'd like to get someone in here to film a few moments of your life for those channels—just little, ongoing mini episodes of your life so people can get to know the real you, Bella. I think that's key right now. We want to have a strong bank of episodes before your album debuts."

"You want to film me?" Bella squeaked. "But I'm really not that interesting."

"Oh, pish," Alice scoffed. "Beautiful girl, people would love to see how you live." She stood from the couch and spun in a circle with her arms wide. "I mean, just look at this place! There's a friggin' waterfall right outside your French doors. I bet your guest bathroom is bigger than most people's bedrooms. This gorgeous U-couch alone must be sixteen feet at least."

Bella couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face. An uber-professional, Alice wasn't, but she liked Alice. She seemed to be joy-personified, something Bella needed badly. She also liked Alice's ideas, and loved her enthusiasm. It felt like the two of them could have a strong working relationship. Maybe they could even be friends.

"But your gigantic house is only a small reason why I think we should capture you on film," Alice continued with raised eyebrows. "You are the main draw. How you wear your hair, what you eat for lunch, and what you do during a recording session. Because you need to record the 'Blackbird' song now. Talk about a great moment or two. The birth of a song!"

Bella sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She'd never recorded in front of a camera before. "Did Trey suggest that?"

Alice crooked an eyebrow at her. "Trey has nothing to do with this, other than the fact he thinks I've got this in the bag, if I'm being honest. That said, he's already pushing me to push you, but we'll go at your pace and that's it. You've been through a lot of changes lately, and I respect that above all else. So. Should we get started?"

Bella bowed her head and inhaled deeply before meeting Alice's eyes.

"I'd like nothing better," Bella said sincerely, feeling as if a big weight had lifted from her shoulders. "Did you bring a contract for my attorney to look over?"

"I'll have a copy sent to Green, Barrow, and Bain first thing tomorrow," Alice answered.

It surprised Bella that Alice already knew her attorney's firm. Alice was young, yes, but she had made sure to cross her t's and dot her i's. It had to count for more than a little something.

"Meanwhile, could I interest you in dinner?" Alice asked. "After all, I won't feel as if I've done my job properly until I've wooed you over a dish of caviar."

Bella knew her smile was out of control, and embarrassingly, could feel her eyes swimming with tears. "Yes," she said.

Alice reached out and gently tapped the back of her hand. "Stick with me, beautiful girl. I might be young, but I'll more than make up for it with my performance. Having a good manager is essential, like breathing. I'm here to make your life easier."

"You're a breath of fresh air," Bella quipped.

"I can see my attitude is rubbing off on you," Alice said loftily. "Good. The plan is working. We have reservations at Firefly for seven. They'll let us in through the back door. No paparazzi allowed. Go get gussied up. I'll wait down here by your gorgeous pool."

"You're amazing, you know that?" Bella asked her.

"Thank you," Alice said, and Bella saw her eyes swim with tears. "It's been a hot minute since anyone's said that to me." After a moment, she shook her head as if to gather her thoughts, then waved her fingers at Bella.

"Now go, we don't have much time. Ventura Boulevard is a mess at night."

Feeling lighter and more hopeful than she had in months, Bella ran to her bedroom.

She could do this.

Survive.

With Alice, she could do it with flair.

. . .

Note: I've seen psychiatrists before, but I'm not one. My research is based on Google and the book What Happened to You? by Bruce D. Perry and Oprah Winfrey. It's a powerful read.