I don’t remember bowing as I always do at the end, and blowing kisses to them, smiling as they scream as one person. I don’t remember hearing them begin to sing the chorus ofHeartbreaker, thousands of voices united as one, as they wait their turn to file out.
I am no longer here.
The Elliot sisters chat room
Faith:OMG, Eden, what is going on over there? I can’t keep track of all the live videos popping up all over the Internet. You and Issy have broken Instagram, so that’s down. I have no way of finding out if you’re ok or not.
Faith: I am jumping on a plane right now to get you home. This has gone on long enough.
Manuela: For once, I agree. You need a ticked to Athens asap, Fee.
Manuela: And, if I might add, I am beginning to think that Eden might have left out a teeny tiny bit of info about her past.
Faith: Ummm, ya think?
Manuela: She did hint at having known Issy in the past, but I did not think that ‘past’ was back in Massachusetts. You know, while she was… there. I thought she was kept isolated by everyone and everything.
Faith: She was.
Manuela: Yeah, but on the phone, Isaiah said he knew her back then. For years. YEARS, Fee. How did that happen? What happened between them? How did she meet him? So many questions.
Faith: We should have asked him.
Manuela: Yeah, right. The man was calling us HOURS before appearing on a STADIUM. He just sat there talking nonsense about our names and stuff, instead of, I don’t know, getting ready for the STAGE. And we should have asked him for more…
Faith: Ok, fine, I get it, calm down.
Manuela: I will not calm down. The prince of pop just said that he loved our little sister on national TV.
Faith: As if we didn’t know that already.
three
I am not here.
I am no longer on the stadium floor, standing under the fireworks and the falling rain. I am not sprinting to the backstage area, to gulp down water like I just ran three marathons as I usually do. I am not thinking with relief that in a second, I will be in the back of the limo driving me back to the hotel.
Instead, I am remembering.
I am back in those woods, back before the woods.
I am remembering everything.
I am putting the pieces together, I am putting them back in place.
I am remembering everything correctly this time—as it really was.
I start telling the story to myself. There is a part of the story I know very well, but that is only my own point of view, my own part in it. I am now trying to complete her parts from what I have found out.
It's important, telling stories.
It’s what I have devoted my life to doing, after all. That’s what my songs are. Stories with just a few words and a whole lot of music. The important stories always are told with the fewest words.
But there are no words to contain the pain and agony of this story. Even so, I keep trying. I will remember it the right way this time.
I am no longer here.
I am inside the story.