39 EVIE
E VIE
It’s odd how clearly I remember that Grammy performance, watching it on the television, just like any regular person from the sofa of my apartment, completely outside of their world.
Tommy playing his heart out in a driving rhythm on the drums; Alex’s hair tucked behind his ears, bent over the guitar; and Carter gripping a microphone with a dark intensity backed up with a production of screens and lighting, while music royalty sat mesmerized in the rows at the front.
They became stars that day. I see it as this sort of slow build to a beautiful explosion, making Carter’s world open up, a mass expansion of matter and energy heading out into the universe, unlimited, while at the same exact point, mine began telescoping inward.
I watch it like a film in my mind, every time the song is played on the radio, every time it’s played anywhere throughout the years—that song, that moment in music-industry history, marking a new trajectory of my life.
The moment he entered the world of celebrities and stars, and I fell back to Earth, a mere mortal.
Afterward, while I sat at home pale-faced in week-old pajamas, the guys were in a public relations frenzy.
I had so much I needed to talk to Carter about, but no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t seem to connect.
At any other time, I would have been okay—confident that he was just busy.
That we would talk soon. But I was completely alone and had the weight of the world on me, and what originally started as nervous thoughts soon turned into the terrifying realization that I might be losing him.
I would drag myself to bed, leaving messages for him in the evening, but when I woke up, I’d see he hadn’t ever called back—even though he knew that I wasn’t feeling well and that something important was on my mind.
It’s okay, I would rationalize. He’s in the middle of a crazy day.
We’ll talk soon. I would tell myself these things.
A sense of dread grew inside me as reality began to set in. I grew more anxious and practiced conversations with him endlessly in my head. Still, the conversations didn’t come.
It was the longest we’d ever been apart. Despite everything I’d been through in my childhood, all those dark nights spent alone by a night-light, those few weeks in my apartment were the loneliest I’d ever felt in my entire life.
He’d touch base here and there, little bits and quick updates or Good morning, love .
But getting him on the phone for an actual conversation that lasted more than a few minutes was next to impossible.
I left a desperate voice mail for him one night, choking back tears.
“Carter, please call me. It’s important.
” I waited for hours. But he didn’t call.
Just three weeks earlier, he’d told me we would always come first. But then I couldn’t even get him to call me back. One by one, cracks began to form in the foundation we’d so lovingly built.
He told me later that there had been no cracks at all.
That throughout this time, his love had remained completely steadfast and, remarkably, his commitment to us had only been growing deeper.
But I didn’t know that at the time. All I believed was what I had always believed on some level—that I would, of course, eventually lose him.
And we have to be careful about these things, because often what we most believe will actually manage to come true.
It was too far outside of my experiences at that point in my life to believe that I might possibly be someone worth holding on to, especially considering everything that had developed. And I saw everything through that lens.
Finally, he called one night, waking me out of a deep sleep. “Hey, baby! I miss you!” I could hear the bourbon in his voice and music in the background.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Got your message. I’m so sorry I’m just getting back to you now. What’s up?”
“Um, I just, I ...” My voice broke.
I heard Tommy laugh in the background, and Carter laughed in response to some unheard joke. I twisted the edge of my sheet in my hand, trying to not break further into tears.
“Hey, hey, Ev, what’s wrong?” The party in the background—the party that I was not a part of—raged on. I took a deep breath, collecting myself.
“I’m ... I’m just half-asleep, I guess. It’s after three a.m. here,” I reminded him.
“Oh, man, I didn’t even think about it.” I heard the guys call him again in the background, telling him to hurry up and that they were leaving. He told them he’d be there in a minute. I wilted.
“Where are you off to?” I asked, trying to keep the peace.
“I’m coming!” he called out. Then, “The Viper Room,” he told me.
“What?” I sat up. “No! Carter, Alex can’t go to the Viper Room.” The drug-soaked hangout of the Hollywood and music elite had developed a reputation of being cursed, thanks to the number of tragedies that had taken place within its walls.
“It’ll be okay; we’ll keep an eye.” He shuffled the phone and called out, “She’s worried about you, Alex.”
“Then tell her to get her ass out here already,” I heard Alex reply.
Again, a commotion and then silence. “All right, they’re not waiting. I have to go. Sleep well, love. I’ll call you tomorrow. We’re fine. All of us. Don’t worry.”
I paused. “Yeah. Okay.”
A quick exchange of “Love you,” “Love you too,” and I hung up, in tears again. The call had only made me feel worse.
The next afternoon, he phoned me again. “Hi, Ev. Look, I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to call to say I’m sorry about last night and to see if you’re okay.”
I sank. “You only have a few minutes?” Again.
“Yeah, sorry. I have to run out. But I wanted to call you first.”
“Carter, have you even noticed that we’ve barely spoken in weeks? And that every single time you call, you’re either in the middle of something or about to run out? It would be really nice if you would try maybe calling when you’re not busy?”
“Ev, look, I’m sorry. We’ve just been—”
“Busy. Yeah. I got that. But it’s funny, because you don’t seem too busy to stay up partying all night,” I snapped, immediately regretting it. I had no right to be angry with him.
“Wow. That’s not fair. What’s going on, Ev? You’re never like this.”
He was right. I sighed, frustrated with myself. Frustrated with him. “I’m just ... I don’t understand. Where the hell have you been, Carter?”
“Everywhere! Rehearsals for the tour, promotional bullshit, studio time, whatever we can do. Listen, Ev, I’m sorry. I am. But I’ll see you in a couple of days in New York, and I promise, we’ll talk then. And after that, we’ll have all the time in the world together. Right?”
Of course, he didn’t know the half of it. I stayed silent.
“Listen, I’m so sorry I have to say this. But I really do have to go. I promise I’ll call you later. I miss you.”
“Wait, how’s Alex?”
He paused. “He’s okay. But ... you were right. We had to get him out of there last night. But he’s okay. All’s well.”
I took a breath. We finished the conversation, and a moment later, he hung up.
I accepted the fact that I would just have to wait to talk to him in person, which, really, would probably be better, anyway.
In the meantime, I glanced at the suitcase and the empty rooms around me, completely uncertain about my future.