Chapter Eleven
janae
Los Angeles
No one noticed me when I boarded the plane to Houston on Thursday morning. My oh my, what a change a performance, a fight, and trending on social media could bring. As I walked through the airport in Houston a few days later, people asked me for selfies and autographs. My crew had reverted to a small handheld camera to avoid drawing attention to the fact that I was being filmed. I smiled and chatted with old and new fans. Rays of sunshine pushed away the clouds that had covered me since yesterday while I’d been parked in front of my mother’s home.
As I was sitting in first class, passengers stopped and took pics on their way to their seats. The flight attendant had to step in and urge people to sit down so the flight wouldn’t be delayed. At the height of my fame, I’d flown private and chartered planes and never had to deal with fans trying to get my attention.
Pleased by all the positivity and love I’d received, I thought I could handle my fans until I stepped off the plane and walked through the gate. It was spring break in Los Angeles, and the airport bustled with teens and college students traveling. The airport was always noisy because of all the people traveling to and from there. I’d been here for seven years and mostly flew under the radar when I passed through this place.
This time, a group of UCLA students wearing their sorority colors and college gear spotted me. They began screaming and shouting and surrounded me, drawing an even bigger crowd. I realized too late that Del failed to arrange VIP services for me to help me bypass such a scene and I didn’t have any security. My crew were the only people who could protect me, and they were busy capturing the madness. I smiled, waved, and hugged until faces started to blur and blend into one. Clenching my fists, I tried to push air through my lungs. I couldn’t feel my face, so I didn’t know if I continued to smile or if my expression reflected my blinding terror.
I squeezed through the mostly Black crowd apologetically and hurried into a nearby single occupant restroom for privacy. I hated that I couldn’t place the lid on the toilet as I sat there, wondering how everything had blown up so fast that. A couple of years ago, I could walk through any airport without a second glance. No cameras. No whispers. No one checking for me.
I want this level of fame again, right?
My thoughts raced, and I couldn’t settle my mind enough to breathe and relax. I needed something or someone to center me. I couldn’t function. Immobilizing fear began to threaten my legs. If I had a Xanax, I would have popped it in my mouth and walked back out with my head held high, welcoming all the love.
“No,” I said sharply, and then lowered my voice to a whisper. “Pills are not an option. You can do this.”
My therapist hadn’t reached out to me since I’d left Los Angeles, and Adam must have blocked me. The only person who might have answered my call of distress had been indifferent to me last night at the show. Maybe he was trying to maintain professionalism, or maybe he’d realized he didn’t want to be my friend. None of that mattered right now. At this trying minute, I needed a lifeline. I needed Landon.
Tears sprang to my eyes when he answered almost immediately, saying he was in the same boat as me. Just hearing the light in his voice soothed me, and his admission energized me. I wasn’t in this rocky boat alone.
Feeling victorious, I strolled out of the restroom with my head held high, smiling and waving at others as Landon discussed ideas he’d had about our song and the upcoming tour. I didn’t process anything he said, still marveling that he cared enough to answer my call and was patient enough to stay on the phone until I reached the hired car Del had arranged for me.
I settled in the back seat while the crew headed to their rides, done with filming for the next month. My driver nodded before closing my door and hopping in the front seat.
“You’re in the car?” Landon asked.
“Yeah. Don’t want to get off the phone yet.” I looked out the window as the car eased into the busy airport traffic.
“It’s cool. I’m still driving.”
“What city are you most excited about?”
“Probably New Orleans because of the rich musical culture, and New York because it’s my home. You?” He asked.
“New Orleans and Chicago.” I pulled my legs up and leaned against the door, loving his voice.
“Chicago? Really?”
“I’m low key into cold weather, deep dish pizzas, and museums. You should take a walk with me down Michigan Avenue. Then we can eat hot dogs and take selfies at the Bean at Millenium Park.” I squealed. “I love that city.”
Landon chuckled. “You sound like a tour guide. Didn’t picture you as someone who remotely cared about anything not related to fashion or music.”
I rolled my neck slightly. “You do know your words hurt.”
He was silent.
“Landon?”
He quietly replied, “I’m here.”
“What’s up?” I shifted again to look out the window at the bright lights of the Los Angeles skyline in the twilight. For once, Los Angeles didn’t trigger thoughts of my ex and his new woman.
“I’m not trying to come across as judgmental or mean. Sometimes I’m not aware of how my words affect others or when I’m coming off rude. If I’m your moral compass, then you have to let me know when my tongue stabs.”
“Tongue stabs? You have a way with words.” I giggled. “Trust, I won’t have any problem checking you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I said, and meant it. I wanted to be an open book as I learned how to make friends again.
“It’s been three years. Don’t you have regrets?”
“Not really. I needed to do it at the time, and I won’t let what led to me using happen again,” I said, not quite ready for this type of questioning.
“If we’re going to be friends, and I at least believe we’re heading that way, you have to be honest with me.”
The aesthetically pleasing palm trees and mountains in the distance reminded me, as they always did, how far I had come from that little girl from the hood. I insisted, “I am being honest. I made a decision, and I have to live with the consequences. I can’t dwell on it.”
“Then where’s your necklace? You haven’t worn it since Saturday morning.”
I touched my bare neck. “I don’t deserve to wear it anymore.”
“Do you still have it?
“Yeah.”
“Then you should wear it again,” he suggested.
“It doesn’t work like that, Landon. I used. I lose my coin.”
“Says who?”
I sighed. “My substance abuse counselors. My therapist.”
“And even they’re divided. Some say once you’re a drunk, you’re always a drunk, and others believe that a substance user doesn’t have to look over their shoulders for that monkey for the rest of their lives. It doesn’t seem fair that you don’t get to wear the necklace anymore because you relapsed one day. It’s like the other thousand-plus days you didn’t use no longer matter. You already have fingers pointing at you, left and right. You don’t need the necklace to do that too. Wear it to represent what you’ve already achieved and what you will do again. Wear it proudly because you believe you can beat your addiction.”
“This might be the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” I chuckled as the car turned onto my street. “But I hear you, and I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
“Sounds like you’re not driving.”
“I’m sitting outside my house waiting to make sure you get inside yours safely, since you’ve been gone a few days.”
“And I thought chivalry was dead.” I smiled, pleased that I’d actually met a decent man who had no ulterior motives. A man who cared enough to make sure I got into my home safely, though he was thousands of miles away.
“Or I just don’t want your death on my conscience.”
I jerked my head slightly and gripped the phone tightly until I heard his soft chuckle. “If you were here, I would punch the mess out of your arm.”
“I’m good on your hits. I have marks, remember?”
“Then you know I don’t play,” I teasingly warned.
The car slowed down, and the darkness of my condo reminded me of my current reality, which was that I was utterly alone. “Mind staying on the phone a little bit longer? After being around people the last few days, suddenly going into an empty place seems the hardest thing ever.”
Landon simply replied, “I’m here.”
For the second time that evening, I wiped my eyes.
March 14
“What am I supposed to do when I need you?” I complained to Dr. K, otherwise known as Dr. Amanda Kelley, my psychologist. “That was a big night, and I didn’t have anyone to call.” I picked up my coffee cup and sipped while I waited for an answer.
“Is that decaf?” she asked with an amused smile while jotting down notes on her purple clipboard.
I rolled my eyes. “Doc, give me a break. I need something.”
“You already had your break, Janae. And you keep glossing over whether you’re taking your meds or not.”
I tucked one leg underneath my other leg on the plush yellow sofa as I faced the woman who’d been in my life since I overdosed three years ago. “The meds take away my creativity, and I don’t feel like myself.”
Her forehead puckered as she pushed her glasses farther up on her nose. “When’s the last time you took any meds?”
I shrugged, though I knew how long. Five months and ten days.
“Janae, we can’t continue this back-and-forth. You make great strides, then lose it the minute there’s strife. Life will always be hills and valleys, and you must learn to deal with challenges without falling apart. You’re no different than anyone else.”
Nursing my warm cup of java, I quipped, “You mean besides those of us who have bipolar? Or do you mean most people who look for an escape through alcohol, drugs, porn, violence, or whatever is the latest social media trend? You mean those people? I feel like I’m being punished for trying to get my life right. Can you give me credit for what I’ve achieved?” Landon’s words about wearing the coin again rang true, and I rubbed it through my T-shirt.
“What’s that smile for?” she asked.
“I didn’t realize that I was.” I lowered my gaze. Thoughts of Landon made me smile. We’d been talking on the phone every day for the past week.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I blinked. “You haven’t answered mine either. What am I supposed to do when I need you?”
She placed her purple notepad on the desk behind her. “I am your psychologist and not your friend. We have boundaries. We’ve been through this before. You know I care about you and want the best for you, but I can’t and won’t be at your beck and call. I gave you the numbers to call after hours if you’re in crisis. You chose to pop pills. Not taking your meds leads to more poor choices and impulsivity.”
“I don’t want to have to explain my issues over again with some random person. I’ve only called you a couple of times after hours in the three years we’ve worked together. Don’t act like I’m stalking you or something. I’m asking for something more. Advice or something tangible when my back is against the wall…” I held my hand up. “Besides meds. I’m less of a person on meds. I feel freer than I have in a long time since I stopped taking them. More vibrant. More alive.”
“Or is it because of a man?” Dr. K raised a sharp brow. “Love is a beautiful thing, but it doesn’t cure you. That smile is because of a man. Is it that musician who’s in the news for getting into a fight with Cash Black and pulling you out of the restaurant?”
I knowingly smiled and hugged myself. “He saved me, Dr K.”
“He wouldn’t have had to save you if you weren’t high that night. If you don’t get that you crave drama, then you’ll never heal.”
I shook my head. “He’s not like that. He’s not drama at all. He doesn’t drink or do drugs and prefers solitude.”
“It doesn’t matter what he’s like. I’m talking about you. You grew up in chaos. It’s your norm. For the past three years, you’ve been struggling with accepting that order and stability is the only way for you to manage your mental health.” She tapped the arms of her leather chair.
“You mean being less than who I am,” I argued. “Why can’t I be me without meds? I mean, honestly, what’s the difference between street drugs and prescription drugs? If I want to truly be clean, then I don’t want to put anything in my body that alters my mind. I want to learn how to like myself. Me.” I hit my chest. “I can brag about how much I love myself despite how everyone else hates me, but the reality is that I barely like myself. Instead of focusing on whether I took my meds or if a man is giving me false beliefs that I’m healed, help me get rid of these evil thoughts of demeaning and hurting myself. Help me control my raging moods.” I took another sip of my warm coffee before I pulled out my coin. “I put this back on because my friend, which is all Landon is to me, suggested that I keep wearing it to remind me what I had accomplished for three years and that I would achieve again.”
The ends of her lips curved downward as she settled back in her white leather swivel chair. “Does he know everything that you’re dealing with?”
“He will in time.” I met her concerned gaze. “I’m doing what you’ve been preaching to me all along. I need to trust. I need to be vulnerable without a motive. I need to have someone real in my life. You just told me I can’t rely on you after hours, and my ex, who used to be there for me, stopped taking my calls. I have no friends, and you know my family ain’t worth shit. Let me have this man, Dr. K. Please.” I gripped my cup harder. “Am I attracted to Landon? Yes. Have we had sex? No. Do I want to be different with him? Yes. I want to be different with him because he’s different than any man I’ve ever met. He’s a legit good man, and I don’t want to mess up. I can’t mess up.”
“Then you have to be mindful of your patterns with men, Janae,” she advised me.
“Why do you insist on focusing on the negative? I haven’t been with a man in a long time. Give me credit.” I could feel my temper rising. I needed her to believe that I could have a normal life. That I could have love.
Dr. K leaned toward me. “My job is to be real. If you want a therapist who will lie to you, then go ahead. I’ve been with you in the trenches, Janae. I’ve seen you at your worst and how self-destructive you can be. Last Friday was just an example of how wrong it could have gone if Landon didn’t intervene. Love is a powerful drug. You have to be sure you’re not exchanging that urge to use with relying on a man to fulfill your every need. It’s not fair to you or to him.”
I planted my feet on the hardwood floor and stared at the petite woman, who’d been both gentle and firm in her treatment of me. “I respect and trust you, Dr. K, I really do, but I’ve been alone for three long years working on myself. I can’t tell you when I last had sex since I stopped random hookups. Some of Friday night was my need to feel desired by a powerful man. The old Janae would have still found Cash and fucked his brains out once Landon had turned me down. I chose to seek out Landon, a man so unlike anyone I’ve ever dealt with. He represents stability and truth. I’m not afraid to say I want to be with him. I’m also good if we only end up as friends. He already gets me. Maybe that’s all I need right now. I can’t remain on an island of one anymore. I have to put myself back out there, win or lose. I can’t be afraid to be me. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” I hit my thighs with my hands, forcing some of my coffee to slosh from the little hole at the top of the cup. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the problem and I don’t have a right to love or to a good life.”
Dr. K adjusted her glasses again and sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right, this is your safe space… your path to healing. I’ve been so focused on you losing your sobriety that I forgot that you have made great strides. Most people who relapse avoid therapy or being honest about using again. You admitted what happened with your head held high. You have been dedicated to overcoming your trauma and substance abuse. So, let’s reset and begin again. We can choose to look at Friday night as a setback… or…”
“As a step in my winding path to healing.”
We smiled at each other.
Feeling heard and seen, I eased back in my fluffy armchair, ready to receive whatever advice Dr. K had to offer.