twenty-seven
I wake up to the phrase ‘the musical scream that was heard around the world’ sweeping through every Issy Woo social media account and news outlet. I have no access to them on my phone—thankfully—but Skye sends me a few screenshots, with the note that ‘these are only the tip of the tip of the iceberg, holy smokes, Zay.’
Lovely. Just lovely.
I can’t be bothered with that mess right now.
Eden. I need to check on her.
I call Skye, and he yells at me for being awake and talking. I’m not supposed to use my vocal chords that soon after a show. So I swear at him and he tells me that Eden’s plane is somewhere over the Atlantic right now and she is doing ok, as far as he knows.
“What do you mean? How do you know as far as you know?” I ask him.
“Because I have been calling her every hour, on the hour, since she left Athens.”
“Oh.” I calm down a little. “Why have you been doing that?”
“For you, you absolute idiot,” Skye replies.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“If you want to thank me, go back to sleep right now,” he says.
I hung up on him.
I jump out of bed so fast I give myself vertigo. I usually stay in bed all day in-between shows, but not this time. My body is aching and my throat feels like I’ve scratched it with a garden rake, but I can’t be inactive a second longer. My mind is sharp and clear, and my heart is beating like a drum.
Eden is somewhere out there. My Eden.
I have a chance, no matter how small, of not losing her forever. It is an infinitesimal chance—but a chance nonetheless. A chance worth living for. A chance worth becoming someone I am proud of for.
And so it starts.
Saint Hope.
…
My phone pings with a message a few hours later. It’s Eden.
My plane just landed. Skye said to let you know in case you’re having a heart attack.
Can I text you back? I type, my breath coming short as if I’m running a sprint.
Aren’t you texting me back right now? she replies.
More than this.
Related to the songs? she writes.
Unrelated to the songs.
She’s typing. I wait, my eyes glued on these damn three moving spots. Finally:
Yes.
Yes?
I’d like that , she types.
I jump up from my seat, my whole body thrumming.
Good , I reply, and stop there, because if I don’t, I won’t be able to contain myself.
I can take it slow. Just watch me taking it slower than anyone ever has in the history of man. I will move at the pace of a snail. I won’t move at all: she will do all the moving, and I’ll just wait for her. No matter how long it takes.
…
I need to get start getting ready for my second Athens show.
I’m in a different state of mind today. I hit the gym for a few light weights and I do silent rehearsals with Jude. Last night, I was raw with pain and new information, but tonight I want to be a better artist.
This is a sold-out stadium tour and I have been acting like it’s the seventh circle of hell. It’s high time I started acting the way I’m supposed to: I am here to serve the music and these people who have paid their hard-earned money to see me. I am here for them. I need to get over myself.
Right now, everyone is speculating their little hearts out on the forums, but I have not had time to sit with what I discovered. I don’t think I have realized any of it is true yet, it just feels like a nightmare. But one thing I do know: my fans will be overanalyzing every facial expression I make tonight, every crack of my voice, every note I hit, every single little thing I do. And so I make a decision.
I will be there for them. I will show up for my music and for them.
I will bring the joy—the fans deserve it. And maybe, just maybe, while I am on the stage, Eden will be safe home, cuddled with her sisters and her dad, watching one of the livestreams. Listening to me singing to her.
I want her to see me at my best, not like last night. Not like any show she has seen so far. She has seen me sing bitter and broken. She has seen me sing like a mess. I need to redeem myself in her eyes—and in mine.
In the world’s.
I’ll never again fall to my knees except in gratitude and victory.
I remember thinking this last night. So much of the night is hazy, but I remember thinking that. I remember thinking: I will change anything so that I’ll never the person I was tonight again. I know I will leave this stage a changed man.
Well, it’s not easy.
It feels impossible at first, but I try to breathe through the pain and the ugly thoughts that are trying to pull me under. Somehow, I rise above it. It’s a constant battle, but I find out that I can still sing my heart off, even though said heart is broken clean through.
The first Athens show was all about me falling apart, but this one is just about music. This one is about being able to exist along with all the terrible things of this world. About learning to not be afraid of them. About screaming the words that carry our pain and sadness up to the sky, in defiance of all the horrors of this world .
People are requesting I perform Pierce Me again, and at first I say no—Jude and I aren’t ready. It wasn’t perfect last night, it was barely ready. But apparently, they are calling it my ‘new single’ all over the Internet, and videos of my performance have kept flooding every single news page and forum throughout the day. My team kept taking them down, but for every single one that was removed, ten more popped up. All within a single day. It’s a frenzy that makes everyone in the world go feral over finding last night’s version.
So, by the time my second Athens show is coming to an end, I have decided that I’m going to give them what they want: I’ll sing it again, even imperfectly.
Besides, I fully expect everyone to know the lyrics by heart already.
And, oh, they do.
You’ve made an Austen hero out of me
Look at me
I’m standing here
I’m Romeo, I’m Rochester
I’m Darcy and I’m Heathcliff
I’m freaking Mr. Knightley
Struggling for words
And oh I’m going full Wentworth
Writing letters, writing songs,
giving you my soul.
Begging you to pierce me
Pierce me
Pierce my armor
Pierce my soul
Rip me open
Take my heart
What’s left of it anyway
It’s yours
It’s yours
It’s yours
They belt every single word along with me. I even stop singing at some point and turn the mic towards the crowds. They sing the chorus flawlessly .
“What is happening!” I scream at them, laughing so hard my chest hurts. “How could you possibly know the lyrics already, Athens?”
In response, they roar as if the song has absolutely ruined them. Well, honestly, it has ruined me too. I finish Pierce Me , putting my soul into it. I am not distracted as I sing for them, perform for them. I am completely clear-headed when I ruin them. I watch as my songs rip them to pieces. And then, when I do the final drop to my knees, it is entirely intentional.
They explode in applause.
“ S’ agapame , Issy Woo!” they all scream, and I know what that means in Greek: ‘We love you, Issy Woo!’
“I love you too, Athens!” I scream back, my voice even more ruined than yesterday, and they erupt into an ecstasy of screams.
I feel like it would be stupid to try to speak in Greek and butcher their language, even though I am more familiar with it than they might think—I have learned Greek from studying their poets. But I am aware of how hard the accent is to nail, and to try to speak it, in Athens of all places… it might backfire majorly. On the other hand, I need to let them know I understood what they just told me.
Communication is a big part of my shows, always has been.
Behind me, the sky is exploding with fireworks and purple smoke as I wipe the sweat dripping down my forehead. I turn to face them one last time. I give them a low bow, spreading my arms and bending my waist until my head almost touches the ground.
“ S' agapame , Issy Woo!” they scream again, as one, so I decide to give it a try.
“ Sas agapw ki egw ,” I whisper into the mic, kind of wincing at my atrocious Greek accent. But while my modern Greek isn’t half as good as my ancient Greek, I can freaking tell them I love them back in their own freaking language.
Which is exactly what I just did.
My words are followed by absolute silence, as every single person in the stadium looks up at me with an expression of complete shock. As if they can’t believe their language just came out of my mouth. And then…
Then they scream.
Louder than they have ever screamed before.