Page 46 of Where You Are

I want to kill Tash one warm and muggy afternoon however, when she decides I need to take another step towards getting back to my old self and drags me running along the shore with her. I’ve still been taking long walks for the better part of the year, and since she’s put herself in charge of me and my wellbeing, she’s decided it’s time for me to get back to running.

Normally I’d argue with her that the morning is a better time to run because it’s cooler, but that’s not the case here.

After only twenty minutes, I get a side ache. That tell-tale bubble underneath my ribcage is a bastard and I feel pathetic, but I beg Tash to slow down to a walk while I stretch my arm over my head trying to work it out.

“Don’t you feel better?” she asks in anI told you sotone. “You need it every day. The endorphine, they good for you.”

She doesn’t need to tell me that, I was a runner for most of my life, but I nod anyway because I know what she’s getting at. I shouldn’t have stopped, especially when things were at their darkest and I needed it the most. There’s just something about that kind of deep, painful sadness that is so strong you just surrender to it. That’s where I was.

Now, so many months later, I feel small amounts of good things. A small amount of hope, small amounts of ambition sometimes. I’ve even caught myself smiling on occasion.

I’m not whole, not even close to it, and I think I never will be for the rest of my life. Rather, I’m just going to be a fractured version of what I used to be. However, I do feel myself healing -slowly, but healing nonetheless.

I consciously raise my chin a little as we walk, just like I do several times a day hoping it will have some kind of subconscious, placebo effect on my spirit. I try to be hopeful with each day, I really do.

Today is one of those annoyingly bright sunny days, making a smudge on my sunglasses all the more prominent. I pull them off to try to clean off the lens with the material of my tank top. Without them on, the sun hurts my eyes and I squeeze them shut before looking back down to wipe the smudge off. Before I can put them back on my face however, a wall in the shape of a rude-ass human slams into me. Hard. Not enough to knock the wind out of me, but it definitely leaves an ache in my diaphragm from the impact.

“Hey!” I exclaim, but when I look up to address the offending individual, he’s already maneuvering to walk around me and go on his merry way. I look over my shoulder watching him go as I rub the sore spot on my chest and he peers over his own, his eyes completely blank before he faces away again, never once breaking stride.

“You okay?” Sasha asks, rubbing my shoulder as we pick up our walk again.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grumble out, although I’m hoping that minor collision will buy me a few more minutes of walking before we resume our run.

She looks behind us before her eyebrows go up in recognition. “Ohh... him.”

“You know him?”

“Mr. Personality,” she simply states like that solves the mystery.

“Who?”

“He the boat captain on some of the excursion tour. I don’t remember his real name. I see him in staff meeting.”

“He does the boat tours? With an attitude like that?”

Sasha busts out in a giggle.

“He don’t do any talking, he just drive the boat,” she continues laughing and I can’t help but start chuckling along with her. Her sense of humor is adorable and contagious and gives me one of those flickers of hope that happiness is possible, before I’m just as quickly reminded why I was missing it in the first place.

MATT

I made it through the rest of the tour that concluded back in February, without any real setbacks. I had bad days, sure, where I wanted to be a reclusive hermit and not interact; to just be alone with my miserable thoughts and loneliness, but I didn’t give into any self-destructive distractions.

When I came home and went through the mail Kasey collected for me, I was thrown off-kilter when I found a postcard from an unknown sender. But looking at the photograph on the front, it didn’t take me long to figure out who sent it. The picture was exactly how Melanie described Thailand, where the card is postmarked. She said that was a place she’d go back to. No words. Not even her name; just a small doodle of a sun. She’s thinking of me, sending me sunshine. While that should lift my spirits and represent some shred of hope, it’s not what I want. I want her right here in front of me, telling me why; followed by apologizing and making love to me, promising to never do it again. When I examine it further, I notice by the date that it arrived back in October, a month or so after she left.

After being home a week, another one showed up. This one had a photograph of an aerial view of some body of water surrounded by rock, like a crater. The colors of the water shift from denim blue to jade green. It’s beautiful wherever it is, but my feelings toward it sour when I flip it over to see another small drawing of a sun in black ink. Complete with cute little rays radiating off it.

Why is she doing this? Is she trying to tell me something? She left me. Why would she reach out but not say anything? Why can’t she leave it alone?

Like the one before it, it goes to the trash, only to get fished out ten minutes later and put in a box in the top of my closet.

The next few months, I go through the motions; writing more songs, taking care of my house and spending time with my sister and Luna, all while avoiding memories of Mel cropping up everywhere I look.

And sure enough, the PR company we were with had to close up shop, leaving us and a few other acts free agents, but not for long. As predicted, Eli Costa was the first to put in an unbeatable bid, and like Ron instructed, we allowed him to swoop in with a promise to take our stardom to a new level.

It’s been both a blessing and an adjustment. In the short time we’ve been with him, he’s already gotten us into some seriously prominent appearances that we originally thought we’d have to put in a lot more time for, such as playing exclusive club openings in Vegas and doing a special on the major celebrity network. Since we’ve been with him, sales have gone up as well as video views and downloads, and our next tour in October sold out in minutes.

He’s not like our last rep, or even Ron for that matter. He’s definitely your stereotypical high-roller, and everything about his appearance and demeanor scream success. Mayzie, even though she’s respectful, doesn’t like him much. She appreciates his role in our career, but the guy always has a different woman, sometimes even two on his arm, and it creeps her out. The rest of us don’t necessarily care for it, but we take it with a grain of salt.

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