23. Heartbreak Hangover
Walking into Kevin’s kitchen, I brace myself for ‘the look.’ The same one he’s been giving me for the past three days, combining pity and sadness and barely restrained frustration into a single, silent stare. Yet, when I emerge from the bedroom under the stairs and walk up to him, I still feel a pang of hurt when he fixes his eyes on me.
“You’re up early.”
He is already at the stove, frying sausages for our breakfast. I’ve come to learn a lot about Kevin’s domestic habits over the past few days, but the most impressive tidbit yet is that every morning, he prepares an elaborate breakfast. Surprising when I think about the fact that Kevin has gained so much notoriety for being my manager, he’s literally sinking in deals and should by all accounts have no time left for cooking.
On the other hand, though, he might basically become blacklisted if I don’t dig myself out of this depressive hole soon.
My dark mood, which already feels like a heavy cloud enveloping my body, dampens even further. I slide onto the stool and watch as Kevin dumps some eggs and sausages on my plate. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.” One way to stave off depression is to keep talking and not let the thoughts settle. Like they had last night.
Kevin gives me that look again. I let out a breath, anger seeping into me. “You can say it.”
He raises his brows. “Say what?”
“It.” I have no right to be mad at him. He’s done more than any manager would have, including not dropping me the moment I canceled my shows. I did that without telling him and showed up at his doorstep, crying like a little girl. And he took it in a stride and let me stay with him over the past few days.
But I am mad. Because he’s walking around on eggshells and treats me like a pathetic, weak person.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” Kevin goes off to a drawer and pulls out two forks. He hands me one. “Really.”
My fingers ball into fists. I’ve got to say, it feels good to finally feel something that’s not misery. Even if the new feeling is misdirected anger. “What you’ve wanted to say for the past few days. That I’m an idiot for not listening to you about Blake, and that you always knew this would happen.”
My heart thrums with pain when I say his name. I’m thinking about him literally every second, but I don’t let myself talk about him. I didn’t even tell Kevin what happened, but judging by his expression, he put it together real quick.
Kevin looks almost surprised. “Faye, I’m not thinking that. I swear.”
“The way you tiptoe around me says otherwise.”
There’s a wan smile at the corner of his lips. “I do no such thing.”
“Sure, you do. You’re annoyed that I’m moping around your house. You’re frustrated that I’m working hard on ruining my career again, and you have no idea if you’ll be able to save it this time around. You’re mad I didn’t listen to you about Blake and that I’m now going through this heartbreak, but you still feel sorry for me because I’m just plain pathetic.”
Kevin seems shocked by my little rant. I can’t remember ever expressing myself like this to anyone, ever. Maybe it does show I am growing in some ways, trying to detach from being a pretty little princess and speaking my truth. Living with Blake propelled me into a whole new identity, and I’m now walking all over it.
Blake. My heart twists again, and this time, I cannot help the tears that start to gather in my eyes. I blink them away, feeling beyond stupid. They don’t go so easily. In a few seconds, I have both hands to my face, and I’m bawling almost as hard as I did when I first walked into his house.
Kevin is on my side of the counter in a few seconds. “Oh, Faye.” His firm hand is reassuring on my back. “I don’t think any of that, I swear it. You’re not just a client. You’re a friend.”
For some odd reason, that makes me bawl harder. Maybe because it reminds me of my fake wedding, not having friends to serve as bridesmaids and having to enlist the help of my backup singers.
Kevin waits for me to cry it all out, which takes a good five minutes. Then he pulls up the chair beside me and repeats, “I promise I don’t think that of you. You’re not an idiot for falling in love.”
Falling in love. He makes it sound so simple. But that’s what I did. I’ve been singing about love for seven years without ever knowing what it felt like. And now I do.
“I’ve been there, twice.” He gives a noncommittal shake of his head. “In the real world, people get heartbroken every day and cling to the smallest ray of hope. I once spent three whole months checking my ex’s social media account, asking all my friends to look for the hidden meanings behind her posts and captions. I was down bad. Why do you think your songs are so popular? Everyone wants to believe that after their heartbreak and pain, they’ll find The One and live happily ever after, like you did.”
My heart swells with a fresh bout of shame. “But I didn’t. I was lying, and I never found anyone. There was nothing perfect about my relationship with Ben.” Nothing perfect about my situation with Blake either, I add silently.
Kevin seems to have read my thoughts. “Exactly, Faye. There’s no perfect love. That’s the lie we tell ourselves. Life is a mix of confusion and heartache and happiness and crazy. Sometimes, you fall madly for someone, and they don’t feel the same way. Sometimes, they do, and you’re the luckiest person on Earth. No one knows how these things play out, or what makes it happen. And you’re not a fool for trying. I’d rather be someone who’s open to the idea of love than someone who’s too much of a coward to even consider the possibility.”
He’s talking about Blake. I pause, wondering whether to ask him more questions. Thinking about Blake makes my heart feel like it’s a dartboard in use, but maybe I need to explore my hurts more openly.
I go for it. “You warned me that Blake isn’t open to love. How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Because it’s Blake. You don’t spend five seconds with the guy before he starts mocking love or romance or marriage. I first met him about ten years ago, and I was dating someone then. His first words to me were, ‘Goodluck with that.’”
A small smile forms on my lips. Ironic that Blake’s sardonic humor is the only thing I’ve found funny in almost a week.
“When she broke up with me three months later, Blake was there for me. But he was . . . relieved.”
“What?”
“He kept going on about how he had been sure this would happen at the end, anyway. That I should have listened to him. That’s when I understood just how averse to relationships he is. He would rather fool himself into thinking that all love is doomed to fail than try it out for himself.”
My heart sinks. “I knew that,” I admit. All Blake did since the moment we met was make fun of romance. “And I was stupid enough to . . .”
“Sometimes, we can’t help who we fall for,” Kevin says, gripping my shoulder. “But what we can do is make the best out of a bad situation.”
Tears form in my eyes again. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” If I hadn’t canceled all of my shows on a whim, maybe I’d have more hope of getting out of this hole. I haven’t been on social media, and Kevin has been kind enough to not give me any new information, but I already know I’m causing a stink.
“You can start by being honest with yourself, by standing up for yourself and telling the truth. Not just to your fans, but to yourself.”
“What does that . . .?” I start to ask, but then I cut myself short. I know exactly what he’s saying.
Back at the cabin, on the day my heart shattered into smithereens, I spent all of my time worrying about Blake and how he felt for me. I was too scared to let myself admit my feelings until I was sure of where he stood. I thought of fear as some sort of safety net, preventing everything from crashing. But when he told me how he felt, I was devastated anyway.
“I was inert around Blake.” It feels good to finally say it out loud. “For most of our . . . situationship . . . I played a passive character in my own story. I didn’t want to do anything that would be too needy or too desperate. I didn’t?—”
“Want to put yourself out there?” Kevin completes, his wan smile back. “I’ve been there. I get it.”
“I thought if I was brave enough to admit my feelings, he would wake up and realize he felt the same way about me.” I feel another sting at remembering Blake’s reaction, but it’s less of a pang than usual.
“Getting hurt’s good sometimes, though. It makes us confront the uncomfortable parts of ourselves.”
“Yes.” I have to admit that I’m still far from being the woman I want to be. I fled my wedding, thinking I could be confident and assertive, someone who lived life the way they wanted. I made a lot of headway on that, but not when it comes to Blake. The person I want to be would have admitted, full-on, that she loved him and wanted to be with him. That person would not have packed all their hopes in a song.
“I’m in love with Blake White, and he doesn’t want me.” The shards of glass stabbing my heart feel almost comfortable. “It’s going to take a while to get through that.”
Finally. I said it. Just doing that makes the dark cloud split in two.
Kevin grins at me. “Good to see you making so much progress.”
I nod, but my mind is still reeling with other thoughts. Yes, I love Blake, but there is so much more to it than that. All my life, I thought that the answer to a great life was enshrined in a great love. I’ve taught that to millions of impressionable young women around the world.
But that’s not exactly true.
Kevin’s stability and friendship succeeded in making me feel better than anything has in a while. Loving Blake was great. His desire for me was enthralling. But there’s so much more to a fulfilled life.
I want to explore those things. And I want to allow myself to be as vulnerable as I can.
I glance at Kevin. I already know he’s going to oppose my next series of ideas, but I’m going to pitch them anyway. And I’m going to follow through.
Kevin rubs his hands in delight. “So . . .” he says, evidently mistaking the determination in my eyes for something else. “Are you ready to go on air? Should we tell your fans that the show must go on?”
“No.”
He does not bother to hide his disappointment. “I know that breakups are hard and all, but your career . . .”
“I want to do what’s right for my career.” My ideas are filling me with a new surge of energy, a new hope. I stand up and start to pace, too jumbled to just sit in one spot. “I left my wedding wanting to give my fans my all, but you know what I did?”
“Lie?” Kevin takes a sausage from my plate and bites it, looking sour.
“Yeah.” I turn to him. My eyes are wide, and I can tell Kevin can probably see a bit of crazy in them. Still, I haven’t felt this alive in . . . ever. “I told myself I needed Blake to get through the PR mess of my fans hating me. That the only way to salvage my reputation was for them to see that I found love again, and then they would accept me. But you know what was missing?”
Kevin takes another bite. He looks confused.
I plow on. “Me. I was missing.”
“You look pretty found to me.”
I ignore his sarcasm. “I could have come to them and told them the truth. That life sucks. That life can be messy. That I’m not perfect. And yes, that I left my wedding and made out with a stranger barely a week afterward, but that I had not fallen in love with him at that point. And that now, after a fake relationship, I have fallen in love with him and that he doesn’t want me back.”
Kevin’s eyes are lit up with alarm. “I don’t think?—”
“And then I can tell them that there’s more to life than a perfect relationship. Or the perfect man. Even if the person doesn’t love you, you still feel love. That sometimes, life plays out that shitty. And that somehow, we find a way to move on.” I’m still torn over Blake. Maybe a part of me always will be. But I’m not going to wait around for Prince Charming to save me like he did the last time.
I’m going to save myself.
Kevin stands up, the sausage slipping from his limp grasp to the floor. “You can’t do that, Faye. Your career will implode. That’s two lies in the space of three months.”
I take a deep breath to calm the emotions raging inside me. “I understand you, really. But I want to tell the truth with my music. I’m not going to keep lying, not even to save my career.”
“Fuck,” Kevin sighs. He stays silent for a few moments, looking at the sausage on his otherwise spotless floor. And then, he mutters, “As your manager, I’d like to say this is a terrible idea. But as your friend, I’m hopeful. This is the only way to get your dad off your back, for one. And who knows? Maybe your fans are deluded enough to fall in love with you for being a total dork.”
“Or maybe,” I don’t feel as confident as I want to, but I say it anyway, “I’ll get new fans. Women who can relate deeply with what I have to say.”
“Fine.” Picking up the sausage, Kevin swings into action. He slips back into his seat and fetches a pen and paper. “First, you go back on social media and apologize. Say you’re working on something that’ll see the light of day soon. I don’t know how fast you can get an album ready, but I would start thinking of a title. Maybe Truth?Very symbolic.”
“I don’t want to release an album yet,” I say, walking up to him. “All I’ve got to do is apologize on social media, like you said. Then I’ll organize a single show, sing a few songs, and tell everyone the truth. And not just by singing, either. I could take an intermission. I don’t want it to be a large performance. A small event space would do. The videos will circulate the internet in seconds.”
Kevin’s pen is poised over the paper, and he has a pensive look on his face. “Your whole plan is nuts, first of all. Second, where on Earth do you think you can get a venue that tiny? You know, without your fans screaming at the door so damn loudly the whole building collapses and no one can hear you?”
I open my mouth, flummoxed.
And then it hits me.