Bury me in all my favorite colors
Remission
We only had a couple of days left on the tour and most of it had gone by in a haze. That familiar haze of intoxication brought on by booze and drugs. But I could always stop. Anytime. By the time we'd get to NYC, I'd be sober again, for sure. I mean, the guys could do it too. Just stop once they got home, trade hard liquor for light beer, cleaning up their act for their families and girlfriends. I would just do the same. What happens on tour, stays on tour.
Mark had left again, with the promise of getting in touch as soon as he got back to LA. I didn't make him responsible for giving me drugs that night, if it hadn't been him, it had been someone else. And I had enjoyed myself. Even when he had bought me that lap dance. Just for the record, I hadn't touched. And I had thought about Lana the entire time, laughing about the fact that a professional stripper couldn't do much for me while she could get me hard within three seconds. I missed her more than ever but I was also scared of seeing her again, knowing that she would know something had happened the moment she'd look into my eyes. Not very good actors, neither of us. I had heard the pain in her voice over the phone and I had to end the conversation, feeling the lump in my throat and the guilt in my stomach, making me sick. She deserved better and it wasn't fair that I had made her so dependent on me, that I had gotten so dependent on her although I then went and did this to her. I was an awful person.
With that thought, I did another line.
'So you got any plans for your time off?' Brian asked me and borrowed my lighter to light a cigarette. It was two days 'til the show at Irving Plaza.
'Dunno yet.' I answered, absent-minded.
'Thought you said you and Lana are gonna go away for a couple of days?' Ray said and I cursed him for opening his mouth.
'Yeah, maybe.' I took a sip of my beer although it was flat and gross. 'We'll see how she feels.'
'Right. Well, let me know. 'Cause we might get together to discuss the schedule for the studio. Gotta start working on that new record.' Brian said and I looked down at my sketchbook. I was constantly writing lyrics. Some made no sense but some I could literally feel transforming into a song the second I put them down on paper.
'Whatever.' I muttered, ignoring the look he gave me. I needed a stronger drink.
The last stop before New York was Pittsburgh. And of course, the other bands as well as their crews wanted to party hard in order to celebrate. As much as I wanted to go to bed early to be fit the next day, it was impossible to say no. So again, I ended up at a bar, drinking and some dude knew some other dude and that dude gave me two 8-balls of cocaine, as a 'present' because I was so 'fucking awesome'. I almost threw it away. Almost dumped it in the toilet. But again, I was weak. I was so high that I didn't go to bed, still wide awake as the van entered Holland Tunnel, my comedown worsening my anxiety even more and I knew that I wouldn't be able to get through the day without getting more chemicals and alcohol into me.
*
Gerard had texted me, letting me know that he wasn't feeling very well and that maybe, I should come and see him and the guys play another time. An excuse, I knew it. And I let him know that I was coming anyway, that I couldn't wait to see him and that I would keep an open mind when watching them perform. He couldn't run and he couldn't hide from me tonight. No matter what it was that had happened, I would make him talk about it. We had been through this before, we had been through worse.
'Okay. I put your name down on the guest list.' he texted back, sounding cold. Or maybe it was my imagination again. He was busy, Lana, remember.
I was excited nonetheless. Excited to dress up for him, leaving the beanie at home to show off the short blond hair that was finally covering all of my head. Excited to see him live, soak up the energy from the crowd. And most of all, excited to give him the big news and discuss what I had decided.
I got to the venue just in time. Although I wanted to see him and say hi to everyone before the show, I knew that they would most likely not have time anyway since they were the first band to play. There was no point in stressing him out even more so I waited at the bar, watching as the crew prepared the stage and the instruments. I recognized Frank's guitar and butterflies started fluttering around in my stomach, knowing I would soon be seeing Gerard sing his heart out. Hopefully he wouldn't be too nervous with me being here and watching, he had always blushed when I told him about how I couldn't wait to see him on stage.
As the crew members left the stage, I got up to move closer. I looked down on myself, checking my outfit. An old Iron Maiden shirt, borrowed from Gerard, a short leather skirt and boots. My legs still skinny but more normal looking now, I had felt confident when I had checked myself in the mirror earlier, confident because I didn't have to hide my body anymore. The lights went out and I could see figures moving around on stage before they went on again and the music started, Ray's guitar heavy, the drums setting a fast, aggressive rhythm and then there was Gerard, like a deer in the headlights, his eyes hidden behind his black hair, his voice making my heart skip a beat. But there was something off about him. The way his hands moved, the way he clung to the microphone stand, stumbling around whenever he let go. I was waiting for him to look at me so I could be sure and at first I thought that maybe he couldn't see me due to the lights or due to the fact that I looked different but as the show went on it became clear that he was avoiding my gaze. Ray, Frank, Matt, even Mikey acknowledged my presence, winking and giving me the occasional smile but it seemed like I was non-existent to Gerard. What had I done? What was wrong?
Then finally, after silently begging and pleading for him to look up, I could see his eyes through the curtain of his now wet hair. And I knew instantly. That empty look, that darkness, that restlessness and panic. He was high as a kite. I felt like throwing up.
They hadn't even stopped playing yet when I left my spot, heading towards the double-doors that led to the bathrooms but I was looking for the band's dressing room. Sure enough I found the door, no security or crew member there to stop me. The music had ended and I could hear the roaring crowd, knowing that the band was leaving the stage. I sat down on the couch, my hands tucked under me as I began to rock back and forth, trying to control my fear and anger.
*
'That was fucking awesome!' Frank howled although I thought it had sucked. Not that I cared. All I wanted to do was to pack my shit and leave, avoiding any confrontation with Lana.
Yes, I had seen her in the crowd, as beautiful, no, more beautiful than ever, but unable to really look at her, too scared that she would figure out I had done almost a gram of coke and emptied half a bottle of whiskey before the show. All because I was too much of a coward to face her sober. Making matters worse.
'Oh hey Lana!' Ray said as he opened the door to our dressing room and I stopped dead in my tracks, the urge to turn around and run stronger than ever as they all entered the room, leaving me standing in the door. She stood from the couch, staring at me.
She knew. I could see it in her eyes. She had me figured out. And she was hurt, angry and hurt. Fuck. I sobered up almost immediately.
'Hey...' I mumbled grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my neck.
'Umm, you guys, let's help the others with the gear.' Matt suggested, eager to get out of our way, sensing the tension in the room.
They all took a bottle of beer, hurrying out of the room, slamming the door behind them, leaving Lana and I to ourselves. I took a deep breath, trying to remember what I had been thinking, inviting her in the first place. No, what I had been thinking, falling in love with her. Why? Why, knowing that I would cause that much pain? Why, letting her feel guilty for possibly causing me pain. No, she was the angel and I was the devil.
There wasn't anything I could say. Nothing to excuse what I had done. Nothing that could explain my behavior and fix this. I had royally fucked up and I knew that I had lost her. It was quiet in the room, minutes passing like hours as I watched her hold back her tears, and I wished I were dead.
'Lana, I-' I started but she gasped and I stopped.
'I just came to tell you that my cancer is gone. I'm in remission. And I'm leaving for Paris as soon as I can.' she said, almost whispering the words. My heart broke although it had no right to since I had broken hers. 'I'll pack your stuff for you. You can pick it up whenever you are sober enough.' she brushed past me and I grabbed her arm, our eyes meeting for a brief moment.
'I'm sorry.' I muttered and she freed herself from my grasp, holding my gaze for a few seconds longer before she took a step back, wiping away a tear and disappearing out the door.
I wanted to follow her but didn't.
*
The taxi driver gave me a weird look as I sobbed into the seat for the entire ride home, unable to take in my surroundings and hardly noticing we had arrived until he cleared his throat. I paid him with a generous tip and got out, hurrying inside my apartment building when my phone rang. I ignored it but it rang again so I looked at the caller ID. An unknown number. I picked up, trying to calm my breathing.
'Lana? This is Brian.' what did he want, I thought. 'Has Gerard left with you?'
'Umm no.' I sniffed, searching for my key.
'Do you know where he is?' he asked.
'No.' I answered, entering my apartment.
'Fuck...' he muttered under his breath and my stomach clenched. 'We can't find him anywhere but his stuff is still here. Could you please call me if you see him or hear from him?'
'Yes. Of course. But, I don't think I will. I mean...' I stuttered, not really wanting to discuss what had just happened.
'I know. But please, call me. He's...a danger to himself when he's like that.' my heart sank. Fuck, what had I done?
Brian hung up and I walked over to the dining table, sitting down with my face in my hands. What if something happened to him? What if he hurt himself? It would be my fault. Why hadn't I just stayed? Why hadn't I let him explain himself or offered to talk about it? It had just hurt so much seeing him like that. After everything we had gone through together, after all the promises he had made. The tears were falling again and I kicked off my boots, somehow making it over to the couch where I curled up, hoping that sleep would take away the hollowness in my chest. I couldn't help him. I had been convinced I could but I had been wrong. I had been able to keep him away from the self-destruction for a few weeks but that was all. Maybe I hadn't tried hard enough, maybe I had been too weak to really make a difference. I fell asleep, still crying into the pillow, wishing my cancer could come back just like his addiction.
The phone on the intercom went off, waking me. I could hardly open my eyes, my head throbbing as I glanced at the clock. 3.16am. Again, the sound of the buzzer echoed through the apartment and I got up, running over to the door, pressing a button on the intercom.
'What is it, William?' I asked the concierge, surprised at how croaky and weak my voice sounded.
'Uh-oh, Miss Lana, I apologize, I know it is late but your friend is here to see you, he said it's urgent.' William said and I was confused for a moment.
'What friend?'
'Umm, the young gentleman that's been staying with you, Miss.' oh no, I thought. 'I would send him up but it seems he is rather...umm...inebriated. To put it lightly.'
'I'm coming down.' I said, grabbing my key.
It probably wasn't the best idea. But I felt the guilt making me sick again and I couldn't just turn him away in the middle of the night. As much as I hated the thought of seeing him right now, especially in the state he was apparently in, I cared about him. I loved him. It hurt but I did.
He was leaning on the couch in the lobby, with a worried and disapproving William standing next to him like a cop, returning a rowdy teenager back to his parents. Gerard looked up as I walked up to him, but avoiding eye contact.
'It's okay, William. Thank you. And I'm sorry.' I said to the concierge and motioned Gerard to get up and follow me up to my apartment.
'Miss Lana, are you sure you'll be okay?' William asked and Gerard shot him an angry look.
'Yes, thank you.' I answered, waiting for the elevator doors to close.
He was in a bad state. Worse than earlier, worse than after Elena's funeral. Worse than I had ever seen him before. He could hardly stand up straight and he smelled pretty foul, a combination of the sweat from the show he hadn't washed off yet, alcohol and being on the streets all night. God knows where exactly he had been. I actually didn't even want to know. The only thing I cared about right now was the fact that he was here and relatively safe.
Mark had left again, with the promise of getting in touch as soon as he got back to LA. I didn't make him responsible for giving me drugs that night, if it hadn't been him, it had been someone else. And I had enjoyed myself. Even when he had bought me that lap dance. Just for the record, I hadn't touched. And I had thought about Lana the entire time, laughing about the fact that a professional stripper couldn't do much for me while she could get me hard within three seconds. I missed her more than ever but I was also scared of seeing her again, knowing that she would know something had happened the moment she'd look into my eyes. Not very good actors, neither of us. I had heard the pain in her voice over the phone and I had to end the conversation, feeling the lump in my throat and the guilt in my stomach, making me sick. She deserved better and it wasn't fair that I had made her so dependent on me, that I had gotten so dependent on her although I then went and did this to her. I was an awful person.
With that thought, I did another line.
'So you got any plans for your time off?' Brian asked me and borrowed my lighter to light a cigarette. It was two days 'til the show at Irving Plaza.
'Dunno yet.' I answered, absent-minded.
'Thought you said you and Lana are gonna go away for a couple of days?' Ray said and I cursed him for opening his mouth.
'Yeah, maybe.' I took a sip of my beer although it was flat and gross. 'We'll see how she feels.'
'Right. Well, let me know. 'Cause we might get together to discuss the schedule for the studio. Gotta start working on that new record.' Brian said and I looked down at my sketchbook. I was constantly writing lyrics. Some made no sense but some I could literally feel transforming into a song the second I put them down on paper.
'Whatever.' I muttered, ignoring the look he gave me. I needed a stronger drink.
The last stop before New York was Pittsburgh. And of course, the other bands as well as their crews wanted to party hard in order to celebrate. As much as I wanted to go to bed early to be fit the next day, it was impossible to say no. So again, I ended up at a bar, drinking and some dude knew some other dude and that dude gave me two 8-balls of cocaine, as a 'present' because I was so 'fucking awesome'. I almost threw it away. Almost dumped it in the toilet. But again, I was weak. I was so high that I didn't go to bed, still wide awake as the van entered Holland Tunnel, my comedown worsening my anxiety even more and I knew that I wouldn't be able to get through the day without getting more chemicals and alcohol into me.
*
Gerard had texted me, letting me know that he wasn't feeling very well and that maybe, I should come and see him and the guys play another time. An excuse, I knew it. And I let him know that I was coming anyway, that I couldn't wait to see him and that I would keep an open mind when watching them perform. He couldn't run and he couldn't hide from me tonight. No matter what it was that had happened, I would make him talk about it. We had been through this before, we had been through worse.
'Okay. I put your name down on the guest list.' he texted back, sounding cold. Or maybe it was my imagination again. He was busy, Lana, remember.
I was excited nonetheless. Excited to dress up for him, leaving the beanie at home to show off the short blond hair that was finally covering all of my head. Excited to see him live, soak up the energy from the crowd. And most of all, excited to give him the big news and discuss what I had decided.
I got to the venue just in time. Although I wanted to see him and say hi to everyone before the show, I knew that they would most likely not have time anyway since they were the first band to play. There was no point in stressing him out even more so I waited at the bar, watching as the crew prepared the stage and the instruments. I recognized Frank's guitar and butterflies started fluttering around in my stomach, knowing I would soon be seeing Gerard sing his heart out. Hopefully he wouldn't be too nervous with me being here and watching, he had always blushed when I told him about how I couldn't wait to see him on stage.
As the crew members left the stage, I got up to move closer. I looked down on myself, checking my outfit. An old Iron Maiden shirt, borrowed from Gerard, a short leather skirt and boots. My legs still skinny but more normal looking now, I had felt confident when I had checked myself in the mirror earlier, confident because I didn't have to hide my body anymore. The lights went out and I could see figures moving around on stage before they went on again and the music started, Ray's guitar heavy, the drums setting a fast, aggressive rhythm and then there was Gerard, like a deer in the headlights, his eyes hidden behind his black hair, his voice making my heart skip a beat. But there was something off about him. The way his hands moved, the way he clung to the microphone stand, stumbling around whenever he let go. I was waiting for him to look at me so I could be sure and at first I thought that maybe he couldn't see me due to the lights or due to the fact that I looked different but as the show went on it became clear that he was avoiding my gaze. Ray, Frank, Matt, even Mikey acknowledged my presence, winking and giving me the occasional smile but it seemed like I was non-existent to Gerard. What had I done? What was wrong?
Then finally, after silently begging and pleading for him to look up, I could see his eyes through the curtain of his now wet hair. And I knew instantly. That empty look, that darkness, that restlessness and panic. He was high as a kite. I felt like throwing up.
They hadn't even stopped playing yet when I left my spot, heading towards the double-doors that led to the bathrooms but I was looking for the band's dressing room. Sure enough I found the door, no security or crew member there to stop me. The music had ended and I could hear the roaring crowd, knowing that the band was leaving the stage. I sat down on the couch, my hands tucked under me as I began to rock back and forth, trying to control my fear and anger.
*
'That was fucking awesome!' Frank howled although I thought it had sucked. Not that I cared. All I wanted to do was to pack my shit and leave, avoiding any confrontation with Lana.
Yes, I had seen her in the crowd, as beautiful, no, more beautiful than ever, but unable to really look at her, too scared that she would figure out I had done almost a gram of coke and emptied half a bottle of whiskey before the show. All because I was too much of a coward to face her sober. Making matters worse.
'Oh hey Lana!' Ray said as he opened the door to our dressing room and I stopped dead in my tracks, the urge to turn around and run stronger than ever as they all entered the room, leaving me standing in the door. She stood from the couch, staring at me.
She knew. I could see it in her eyes. She had me figured out. And she was hurt, angry and hurt. Fuck. I sobered up almost immediately.
'Hey...' I mumbled grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my neck.
'Umm, you guys, let's help the others with the gear.' Matt suggested, eager to get out of our way, sensing the tension in the room.
They all took a bottle of beer, hurrying out of the room, slamming the door behind them, leaving Lana and I to ourselves. I took a deep breath, trying to remember what I had been thinking, inviting her in the first place. No, what I had been thinking, falling in love with her. Why? Why, knowing that I would cause that much pain? Why, letting her feel guilty for possibly causing me pain. No, she was the angel and I was the devil.
There wasn't anything I could say. Nothing to excuse what I had done. Nothing that could explain my behavior and fix this. I had royally fucked up and I knew that I had lost her. It was quiet in the room, minutes passing like hours as I watched her hold back her tears, and I wished I were dead.
'Lana, I-' I started but she gasped and I stopped.
'I just came to tell you that my cancer is gone. I'm in remission. And I'm leaving for Paris as soon as I can.' she said, almost whispering the words. My heart broke although it had no right to since I had broken hers. 'I'll pack your stuff for you. You can pick it up whenever you are sober enough.' she brushed past me and I grabbed her arm, our eyes meeting for a brief moment.
'I'm sorry.' I muttered and she freed herself from my grasp, holding my gaze for a few seconds longer before she took a step back, wiping away a tear and disappearing out the door.
I wanted to follow her but didn't.
*
The taxi driver gave me a weird look as I sobbed into the seat for the entire ride home, unable to take in my surroundings and hardly noticing we had arrived until he cleared his throat. I paid him with a generous tip and got out, hurrying inside my apartment building when my phone rang. I ignored it but it rang again so I looked at the caller ID. An unknown number. I picked up, trying to calm my breathing.
'Lana? This is Brian.' what did he want, I thought. 'Has Gerard left with you?'
'Umm no.' I sniffed, searching for my key.
'Do you know where he is?' he asked.
'No.' I answered, entering my apartment.
'Fuck...' he muttered under his breath and my stomach clenched. 'We can't find him anywhere but his stuff is still here. Could you please call me if you see him or hear from him?'
'Yes. Of course. But, I don't think I will. I mean...' I stuttered, not really wanting to discuss what had just happened.
'I know. But please, call me. He's...a danger to himself when he's like that.' my heart sank. Fuck, what had I done?
Brian hung up and I walked over to the dining table, sitting down with my face in my hands. What if something happened to him? What if he hurt himself? It would be my fault. Why hadn't I just stayed? Why hadn't I let him explain himself or offered to talk about it? It had just hurt so much seeing him like that. After everything we had gone through together, after all the promises he had made. The tears were falling again and I kicked off my boots, somehow making it over to the couch where I curled up, hoping that sleep would take away the hollowness in my chest. I couldn't help him. I had been convinced I could but I had been wrong. I had been able to keep him away from the self-destruction for a few weeks but that was all. Maybe I hadn't tried hard enough, maybe I had been too weak to really make a difference. I fell asleep, still crying into the pillow, wishing my cancer could come back just like his addiction.
The phone on the intercom went off, waking me. I could hardly open my eyes, my head throbbing as I glanced at the clock. 3.16am. Again, the sound of the buzzer echoed through the apartment and I got up, running over to the door, pressing a button on the intercom.
'What is it, William?' I asked the concierge, surprised at how croaky and weak my voice sounded.
'Uh-oh, Miss Lana, I apologize, I know it is late but your friend is here to see you, he said it's urgent.' William said and I was confused for a moment.
'What friend?'
'Umm, the young gentleman that's been staying with you, Miss.' oh no, I thought. 'I would send him up but it seems he is rather...umm...inebriated. To put it lightly.'
'I'm coming down.' I said, grabbing my key.
It probably wasn't the best idea. But I felt the guilt making me sick again and I couldn't just turn him away in the middle of the night. As much as I hated the thought of seeing him right now, especially in the state he was apparently in, I cared about him. I loved him. It hurt but I did.
He was leaning on the couch in the lobby, with a worried and disapproving William standing next to him like a cop, returning a rowdy teenager back to his parents. Gerard looked up as I walked up to him, but avoiding eye contact.
'It's okay, William. Thank you. And I'm sorry.' I said to the concierge and motioned Gerard to get up and follow me up to my apartment.
'Miss Lana, are you sure you'll be okay?' William asked and Gerard shot him an angry look.
'Yes, thank you.' I answered, waiting for the elevator doors to close.
He was in a bad state. Worse than earlier, worse than after Elena's funeral. Worse than I had ever seen him before. He could hardly stand up straight and he smelled pretty foul, a combination of the sweat from the show he hadn't washed off yet, alcohol and being on the streets all night. God knows where exactly he had been. I actually didn't even want to know. The only thing I cared about right now was the fact that he was here and relatively safe.
So good!!!
4/10/18