“You’ll get over it, let’s fucking gooooo!” He carries the vowel in a deep growl. Rhyit is in his element today, this is who he is without me here, who he’s been for the past few years while I’ve been gone. Straddling the line between belligerent and drunk so hard, it makes me wonder if I’m holding them back. If they aren’t going as hard because I’m here.
I clap my sticks above my head, counting us in to Riot Act, and we all play like this is our last show. By the third song of our setlist, sweat coats my arms and face, but I keep moving, keep the beat going.
I look down at my setlist knowing what’s coming but checking anyway. Pistol sits in bright red ink on the paper taped to my mic stand. I take a deep breath exhaling slowly, and I hope that one day I won’t have such a visceral reaction to this song, but today isn’t that day. I keep my head down as I tap lightly on the cymbals, the crowd cheering loudly knowing what’s coming.
“Let’s try something a little different, huh?” Rhyit says into the mic. “Pistol, can you come up here?” He asks, and I would love nothing more than to shove myself underneath my kit and not come out until this song is over.
“Sure,” I say, hopping up from my seat. I gingerly step down from the platform my drums sit on, praying I don’t roll my ankle and flash this whole crowd the hood under my skirt. I approach center stage, and Rhyit pulls me into his side as soon as I’m within grabbing distance. I want to push away from him, to run back to the safety of my drum kit, but the fans don’t need to see the animosity between us right now
“I was kind of hoping we could do Pistol together. Will you sing with me?” He asks, his smile may look innocent to everyone else, but I know that smile and there’s malice behind it. I plaster the fakest smile I can muster and nod my head. A roadie runs on stage and hands me another mic, I mouth a quick ‘thank you’ to him and turn back to Rhyit.
“Alright, you guys know this one…” he says into the mic, and I feel my heart free fall to my butt.
He starts the first verses of the song, and I feel like I could throw up. My skin prickles with awareness, and I cannot believe I did this to myself.
I hold the mic up to my lips as he ends the first part of the song, and when I open my mouth to sing my verse, no words come out. Rhyit notices my distress and continues strumming the guitar waiting for me, his eyes bounce from me to the crowd, and I chance a look at the crowd. Even in this heat, they’re holding lighters above their heads, swaying to the music, a few of them mouthing the words they know are coming.
“I hope you know, I hope you see.” I start, my voice cracking slightly as emotion overtakes me. The love all of these people have for this song hits me like a tsunami, wave after wave crashing against the ivory tower of selfishness I’ve built myself into. There’s a couple a few rows back that are holding each other, swaying to the music. We’ve performed this song before but not like this. I’ve never seen it from this vantage point. I continue singing my verse, and I look at Rhyit; I don’t think he expected me to do this. He probably thought I would say no and walk back to my drums, but I didn’t. His voice joins mine for the chorus, and we sing our love song, even with all the scattered pieces of our story laying between us, it’s still ours.
**********************
“I need you to tell me the whole story.” Rhyit says as I take a seat at the small table in the bus. “I truly cannot believe you kept this from me for this long.” Hurt flashes across his face as I twist my lips across my teeth.
“You’re not going to like it.” I look down at the table, inspecting the tiny rivets like my life depends on it. I can’t look at him and tell the story.
“I know I won’t. You were there, and I had no fucking clue. Were you at the after party? In the hotel? Jesus, what did you see?” Guilt lulls in his voice. I wasn’t at the after party, or the hotel.
“So, I flew in directly from LA after running away from the wedding. I was still in my wedding dress,” I laugh lightly, but his face remains the same, his green eyes showing impatience. “I got to Tacoma, got backstage in time for Pistol, watched you sing the song to some blonde in the front row, went to the green room, saw the drugs, threw up, and then I saw you walk down the hall to a different room.” I take a deep breath, I’m telling this story at Mach speed to get it off my chest. It’s been eating me alive for weeks now, and I think I’m vomiting words at this point. “I followed you into the different room where you had a girl below you, her legs wrapped around your waist, so I walked out, cried some more, ran into Alex, talked to him, shared a brief kiss, and then I left-“ I stop when his eyes flare.
“Back up, you saw me with a girl, and then you kissed Alex?” He asks incredulously, his head drawn back like he can’t believe it.
“Yes, I was sad, Rhyit. He told me he loved me, and then I-“ I stop, that moment in time flashing before my eyes. “I hurt him. I told him I gave you my heart a long time ago, and he didn’t deserve to have someone love him with only half of a heart.” I run my fingers through my hair exasperated. I’ve held this memory for a while now, alone, that bringing it up brings up all the emotions that come with it. Guilt being the top contender.
“And then?” He asks. “And then what? You just smashed your lips to his, and his heart broke enough with you walking away from him that he went out and overdosed? Trust me, I know that pain, I’ve been numbing it for years.” His tone is biting.
“There’s is absolutely no reason for you to be so fucking crude right now. I’m telling you the story. You wanted to hear it, I told you you wouldn’t like it and voila.” I wave my hands in front of him proving my point. “You’re getting mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m trying to understand.” He sighs. “What was the last thing he said to you?”
“The last thing he said to me was…that he would be rooting for me, always.” I bite at my bottom lip. “He stopped at the door before he walked out and started to say something but didn’t. Now I’ll never know.”
We both sit in silence for a long moment, memories of that night swirl around me, they’re close enough I feel like I could pluck one and replay it over and over again. Rhyit’s head is bowed as he stares at his palms where they sit in his lap.
“He said something else before that, he asked if we’d ever forget each other,” My nose burns as I remember the look on his face, the pain and unrequited feelings that swam in his eyes. I blink several times, willing the tears away. I clear my throat, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as raw as my throat feels. “I promised him I wouldn’t.”
Rhyit’s head is still bowed, but it moves slightly in a nodding motion. He heard me, he just can’t look at me right now.
“I’m sorry I kept it from you.” I whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t share my grief with you, and I’m sorry I didn’t let you shoulder some of this guilt.”
“Guilt?” He says, his eyes meeting mine as he finally lifts his head. His green eyes are blanketed with moisture, but the tears aren’t falling down his cheeks. He runs his palms across the front of his jeans, and I notice tiny wet spots where his palms were. He was crying, and instead of looking at me and letting the tears fall down his cheeks, he was collecting them in his palms so I wouldn’t see. My insides crack, he didn’t want to break down in front of me, he doesn’t trust me right now and that hurts.
“I knew he was high.” I sigh. “I asked if he was okay, he told me he was, but I didn’t know he was into hard shit, Andrew. I had no idea.”
“Yeah, neither did I.” He exhales loudly as his head tilts back to the ceiling. He scrubs a hand down his face and wipes the last of the moisture away from his eyes.
“You can’t blame yourself, I saw him every single day, you saw him for twenty minutes. If anyone should shoulder the guilt, it’s me. He was my best friend, and I had no fucking clue.” He throws his hands up in annoyance.
“Maybe neither of us should carry the guilt.” I say with a small shrug. “He was obviously damn good at hiding it. He didn’t want you to know, and if he did, he would have asked for help.”