Page 95 of With Stars in Her Eyes
I led her through the small space and pointed out a couple truly beautiful ones of Courtney in the golden hour. Her hand found my lower back whenever I pointed out features of the photos. Being touched like this, having her this close, was addictive.
When Courtney had seen all the prints, I brought up some of the ones I had not had time to print on my laptop while talking her through (probably info dumping) the film room setup when a strange, strained expression appeared on Courtney’s face. She was staring at the photo hanging at her eye level. Courtney was pretending to play the cello in it. After seeing Courtney play today, it was clear she had been making exactly the same expression in the golden-hour photo. It was like she could transport herself to a stage just by pretending to hold her instrument.
What had been a strained tension pulling on her facial muscles now appeared broken. So broken it nearly cracked my heart in half to see her staring like that.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“It’s… it’s nothing.”
I took Courtney’s hands in mine and led her into the main area of the studio. I had thought maybe the smell of the chemicals had bothered her, but even after we sat on the worn futon, she didn’t speak. I didn’t fill the silence. I waited.
Courtney stared forward just as she had in the darkroom. Now, her gaze was fixed on the golden astrolabe she had been excited about when I first brought her here.
She exited her trance as quickly as she had entered it and squeezed my hands between hers. “Sorry for going quiet. Just thinking about touring… it gets me in my feelings. I’m on the verge of giving up a lot of dreams, and some days it feels like a relief and others it feels like the end of the world.”
“Why?”
“Because I love it. But I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t know if I can stand up there and fail again.”
I nodded once and spoke gently. “I meant why are you giving it up?”
“What?” Courtney faced me with a shocking amount of surprise at the question.
“It seems like it’s inside you. I don’t know the full story obviously. And I can’t imagine what it was like to have something like a migraine like that happen in front of people, but… will you regret giving it up if you don’t try again?”
“Probably.” Courtney’s face shifted.
My heart sank. I had seen Courtney do this before. Something inside her was falling apart, but instead of falling apart on the outside, she shut down all the externalization on command. It was disturbing to watch it happen, especially because she didn’t need to do that with me. Some people might read her as stoic or flat, but,fuck,they would be so wrong. It was like Courtney felt everything, and I could practically feel the bottled-upeverythingemanating from her.
“Do you have to make a decision right now?”
“Pretty much in the next couple of weeks.” Courtney slowly inhaled and exhaled. “Sam said I should try psilocybin to try to manage the PTSD.” Courtney laughed like the idea was ridiculous.
“Oh my god, you totally should. The research is wild. It can be so effective.” I nodded emphatically.
“What? No. I mean, Ilookedat the research, but I just couldn’t make myself—”
“Why not?” I touched her chin. “You’re clearly devastated about this part of who you are, and we should try.”
“We?”
“I’m up for anything. I wonder where we could order on such short—”
“Oh, I have some. That’s not the issue.”
“Wait, what? You have some what? You have some psilocybin already?”
“Ms. Jeannie gave me some. I guess her and Marshall’s dad help out with some research institute at the university and—”
“Marshall’sdad,Dexter Greene PharmD, who used to fill my antibiotic prescriptions when I got strep throat in preschool, is your magic mushrooms dealer?” I doubled over with laughter. “What in the world?”
“As Sam tells it, I think he’s just a retired pharmacist who saw behind the curtain of modern medicine and didn’t like the impact of capitalism and politics on the industry. Honestly, I think these days he’s kind of an anarchist too.”
“Jesus, Mr. Greene has sure changed in twenty years.” I stood from the futon, extending my hand to Courtney.
“Where you…?”
“Where are ‘we’ going you mean.” I bent and planted a kiss on Courtney’s nose. “You and I are going on a little trip.”
