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Before: Leave


Nick

Before the show, the last show of the American leg of the tour, we were all in the dressing room just a few minutes before doing our preshow prayer. Up on the stage, our opening act was halfway through their set. I looked around. Brian was winding the wire for his earpiece down his back and Kevin was reading an Environmentalist magazine, Howie was texting, and AJ was listening to his ipod under bright hot pink Beats. Me, I was gathering the nerve to tell them what I was thinking.

"Guys," I said outloud, "I gotta talk to y'all."

Howie looked up from texting after a pause. Brian stopped in a weird position. Kevin looked up over the rim of his glasses, and AJ, who hadn't heard me, was mouthing Borderline by Madonna as he did dramatic hand movements. Kevin kicked AJ's foot and AJ pulled the headphones off, "What?" he asked. Kevin gestured at me.

"I have something important... to... announce..." I said slowly. Now that I had their attention officially, I felt less ballsy than I had talking to Ashley or thinking over the scene in my head. My tongue turned to sandpaper. "I've been um... doing a lot of thinking," I said. Kevin was nodding slowly, and I knew he knew what I was about to say, "And um.. I'm really... tired..."

"We ain't even been on stage yet, how the hell you tired already?" AJ asked.

Kevin cleared his throat.

AJ looked at him, "What? It's a fair question."

"I mean I'm tired of this." I waved my hands around the dressing room, "I just... need... a break from... it all."

Howie and Brian looked thunderstruck, Kevin looked resigned and yet at peace with the idea. AJ looked confused. Then slowly his face melted from confused to understanding to outrage, "No! No! You can't quit now!" he shouted. "We just got Kevin back! We just got all whole again! You can't quit!"

I cleared my throat, "I can't do this," I said, "I can't stand the sympathy looks and the support groups and everything that everyone keeps doing. I just wanna move on and forget the crash and I wanna be normal and not feel like my scar has completely changed my life except that it has completely changed my life and I can't both forget and continue on this tour."

"You can't quit!" AJ looked horrostruck.

Kevin intoned, "I think Nick's right. I think he needs a break to recharge."

"Fuck you, you would think that," AJ snapped rudely. He turned to me. "You can't quit the band," he said, "You're the only freak like me in this band."

"I'm freaky," Howie said defensively.

"You're a different kinda freaky," AJ responded. He looked at me, desperate, "What the fuck are we gonna do without you? We can't do this without you."

"We did it without Kevin," I pointed out.

"But it wasn't right," AJ argued. He looked at Howie and Brian, "Dudes, back me up on this, please."

Brian was staring at me, a frown on his face. "When?" he asked quietly.

"My flight's tomorrow."

"TOMORROW?" AJ bellowed, "Oh hell no! That would make our last show together---"

"Tonight," I said, nodding.

"Fuck no!"

"AJ, I'm sorry," I said, "But I can't stay here... I can't keep doing this... I don't even want to keep doing this. I want to go home."

"Fuck home!" AJ said crossly, "You can't just leave."

I sighed. "AJ... I need to."

"The door is always open," Kevin said, his voice a booming baritone. "Just like you all always said to me," he said, "It's always open."




Ashley

"You never look me in the eyes anymore," Chris said three nights later as we sat at the dinner table. I was staring down at my dinner, pushing it around on the plate with my fork. "Why don't you ever look me in the eyes?"

The honest answer was I was afraid of him.

"I look you in the eyes," I muttered, carefully avoiding his eye contact now.

"You don't," he said thickly.

I looked up, and our eyes met, but I could only look at him for a moment before looking away, my heart pounding.

He reached for his water glass, but the way he did I flinched back, half believing he'd been about to strike me. He looked at me in surprise. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Reflex," I whispered.

He scowled. Then reached over and grabbed my wrist. "Stop it," he said, "Stop acting like I'm some kind of fucking wife beater," he said.

I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent.

"You act like I make it a daily practice to whip you or something," he snarled, "It's ridiculous."

"I'm afraid Chris," I said, "You frightened me. You crossed a line, you can't expect me to just forget it this quickly."

Chris scowled even harder. "How the fuck am I supposed to make this up to you if I can't even touch you without you acting like I'm killing you?" he demanded.

"I don't know," I said honestly.

He sighed, "If you're going to keep treating me like I'm some kind of a monster," he said, "Then maybe I should just be the monster you think I am."

I stared down at my plate carefully, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I have every reason to be, you know," he said quietly.

I looked up, "What?"

"To be a monster to you." He put down his fork and knife and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I went online and looked at your cell phone's call list because I was curious about that lie you told me the other day, about how often he calls you."

My stomach turned. First of all, how creepy was that? Second of all, I knew what he was going to see. Nick and I had been talking, on average, twice a day for the past week. I stared at the table top harder, bracing myself, expecting him to blow his lid.

Chris inched closer, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him, into his eyes. He held my chin tight in his hand. I struggled to pull away, but he kept his grip firm. "Look at me when I am talking to you," he snarled.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words barely able to come out of my mouth because the way he was holding me.

He glowered down at me, then let go of my chin and sighed, running his hand over his head. "I don't know, I don't know where we went wrong, why I can't just get a grip..." he looked down at the table. I stared at him because I didn't dare to look away. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long snuff through his nose. He looked up at me, expectantly.

I felt like he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't have anything to say.

Suddenly he stood up, shoving his chair back so fast it left marks on the kitchen tile. He grabbed me by my shoulders, pulling me to my feet, and shoved me against the fridge, coming down on me with his mouth like I was something to be consumed. "Mmmfphh," I protested, pushing against his chest, pushing him away.

Chris stumbled backward and he stared at me. "What?" he demanded, "What? Now you're afraid to have sex with me, too?" he demanded.

"I'm not in the mood tonight, Chris," I said.

"You're never in the damn mood," he said. A flicker of something went through his eyes. He looked at me. "You'd do it with Nick if he was here, wouldn't you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Yeah you would," he said, slowly moving closer to me. He got right in my face, so close I could smell his breath and he bent low so his mouth was right in my face, and I was staring at the stubble on his cheeks, "You'd let Nick touch you and fuck you..."

"Stop it Chris," I said, pushing him away, "You're acting like you're drunk or something."

"How come it's okay for you to push me, but I can't push you?" he snapped. And he pushed me. Hard. I bounced off the fridge and stumbled, just catching my balance.

"Stop it," I said.

Chris laughed.

"I swear to God I'll leave," I hissed.

"Leave?" he laughed harder, "Where the fuck are you going to go?"

"Maybe I'll go to Nick, since you think I'm so fucking in love with him," I snarled.

I moved across the kitchen from him, frightened. "Look at you," he said, "You're fat and you're ugly. If he saw you right now, he'd be sick. He doesn't want you like that." Chris waved his arm at me, "Nobody wants you like that, you look like shit."

Tears burned my eyes, "You're so stupid," I screamed.

"Oh I'm stupid, am I? Then why is it that you can't seem to keep him calling you a secret from me? Why am I smart enough to have figured out this unfurling series of lies you keep telling me?"

"I'm not lying to you, you're just making shit up that isn't true. You're so fucking paranoid that --"

"That what? That you love Nick? That you want to fuck him like you won't fuck me?" He advanced toward me around the table and I moved as quickly as I could to keep the table between us. Chris shook his head, "You fucking bitch. What am I supposed to think when I see that you're keeping secrets from me? That you're sneaking around, spending your whole god damn day talking to him?"

"I'm not spending the whole god damn day talking to him," I snapped.

"No? What the fuck else do you do around here?" he asked, angry.

"I do house work," I replied, "I clean."

"You clean?"

"Yes," I snapped, "I clean the apartment everyday and I make you dinner and I have everything perfect the way you think it should be."

Chris turned to the sink. "You call this clean?" he demanded. I'd left a couple of dishes from cooking dinner in the basin. He picked up a plate, "Look at this. Is this clean to you?"

"I was going to clean it after dinner," I replied.

Chris turned and smashed the plate against the counter, "Why the fuck wasn't it done before? Were you too busy talking to Nick?" he shouted. The plate shattered, pieces flying every direction. He picked up a second plate, a pie platter I'd bought in Germany when Nick had brought me there years ago, and he shattered that against the sink, too.

"DON'T!" I shrieked.

Chris picked up yet another one, this one a mug from Disney, and slammed it down against the metal. The ceramic Minnie Mouse bow that was on the handle flew across the room. "Stop breaking the dishes! Stop it!" I cried.

He grabbed a plate and he whipped it in my direction.