~ 24 ~ #3
“You’re bound to.” I’d been on the phone to her most days trying to calm her down before going on stage, so I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Let’s go home.” I took her hand, wondering which house that was going to be. Mine or hers.
She seemed to be wondering the same thing.
All this to-ing and fro-ing from each other’s place was getting a bit much.
We both had two sets of toothbrushes, toiletries, and basic clothes, and had been doing this for so long that it was getting tiresome.
From memory, I knew I had nothing in the fridge to eat and would place a safe bet that neither did Rona.
We couldn’t keep living like this forever and I didn’t think either of us wanted to split our lives like this indefinitely.
We were sleeping together every day, with the only time apart for if one of us had to travel for work – which lately had been a lot for us given Rona’s new touring dates or if I asked for a night alone, which Rona was able to give me without freaking out.
I’d been to Latvia for a World Cup qualifying match with the England team, commentating again for the BBC. When I was away, I’d missed her.
I cleared my throat. “To mine?”
“To yours.”
When we got there and got settled, I poured us some water and we sat of my sofa, Rona’s legs up on my thighs.
I stroked her leg, feeling my whole nervous system begin to finally calm down after this huge day.
With Rona, there really was nowhere else I’d rather be. She was my home. I looked over at her.
She was gazing at me softly, her eyes a little sleepy and her head resting on the back of the sofa. It was after one in the morning.
“By the way, I’ve been thinking, since I’ve put out this album and it’s about us, it’s only fair you should be able to talk about your relationship, us, on your podcast, if you want to. I’m working on handling the whole public attention thing better.”
“Yeah?” I nodded. “All right then, I will. Obviously I’d never share anything too personal and it would only be in service of the topic.”
“I trust you.”
I took a deep breath. “I know.”
“Oh and I meant to tell you.” Rona raised her head. “They’ve upgraded me to the Park Stage at Glastonbury on the Friday night at eight. It’s a prime slot. The Park Stage, can you believe it? There’ll be about twenty-thousand people there,” she croaked, her voice quivering.
“How do you feel about it?”
“Nervous.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe just for a bit. I am really tired and need to go to sleep soon.”
“Sure.”
“There’s something about the size and the scale of the festival.
Also, we played there in twenty-sixteen and it did not go well.
I fucked up my guitar solo, and the reception from the crowd was lukewarm at best and indifferent at worst. The crowd was there for the act on after us who were this alternative psychedelic electronic group that everyone was talking about.
I was at my lowest already before that gig and after it, I made the decision to leave the band. ”
“I didn’t realise. No wonder you’re worked up about playing there again.”
“It all feels like too much too soon. To be honest, I feel like cancelling. Would that be so awful?”
“You can cancel if you want. If you really don’t want to do it. Only you can know that.”
“Part of me really wants to cancel. Another part of me really wants to do it. I’m stuck.”
“You’re torn about it. That’s okay. You’re a deeply feeling emotional person, Rona. You’re amazing at what you do. Your friends and family clearly love you for who you are and I’m sure people appreciate what you’re putting out there. I’m sure the audience will be there for you this time.”
Rona gulped. “Thanks, Lily. That’s so sweet and so helpful. I wish I had more belief in myself. It’s like everything I was scared of happening is happening. The album going viral, all the attention, and now going back to where it all fell apart before.” Rona closed her eyes.
My heart went out to her. I wanted to take all this pain and discomfort away and to infuse her with the calm and confidence that I saw in her when she was making her music and performing when she was feeling safe and comfortable.
Rona had talent and presence, but in the end, if she didn’t enjoy performing to large crowds, was it worth putting herself through it?
Or was this a stage she needed to go through in order to heal something in herself?
“It’s a lot, my love. I understand. How can I best support you? ”
“Just this. Holding space for me to be a disaster. I’ll pull myself together for when I’m out there.
” She waved her hand off to the side, lazily drawing a circle.
“In here, knowing I can fall apart and show you how I’m really feeling means everything to me.
” Her voice was low and soft, almost mumbling. Her eyes were almost closed.
“Let’s go to bed, sleepyhead.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I pulled her up from the sofa, wrapped my arm around her waist and walked her to our bed.