Chapter Nineteen
janae
On the short ride to Loews Hotel, I kept my hands in my lap and didn’t speak while Frankie and Jeri made small talk. I looked at them and envied their normality. Two self-assured, gorgeous women around my age with full lives outside of their careers. Frankie had a close relationship with her two brothers and parents and had a friend circle. She talked to them throughout the day. Jeri, an only child, was in a sorority and was close to her mother, with whom she spoke to at least once a day. I was sure they believed that with my fame and fortune, I was lucky and blessed, when they were the blessed ones. They had friends and family who treasured them and didn’t have to fight demons every day.
“You’ve been quiet for most of the drive,” Frankie observed. “Nervous about the event?”
Jeri added, “Don’t worry. We got your back, girl.”
My eyes watered, and Jeri grabbed my hand. I squeezed her palm. “Sorry, I’ve been a mess all day. Got into it with Landon, and now we’re done before we ever started. My fault more than his. And I guess I’m scared because I’m about to get in front of these people and announce for the first time that I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar.” I chuckled. “I guess you’re the first to know outside my doctors, my ex, and Del. I decided to use my platform to advocate for bipolar. It has been so hard to deal with this by myself. I might help someone else who suffers like I do. Maybe they won’t feel alone.” I wanted to add like I do , but I didn’t want them to feel sorrier for me than they probably already did. “I don’t know what people will say or if they’ll think it’s some PR stunt. I just know I want to take charge of my life for maybe the first time ever and do something constructive instead of beating myself up about having this.”
Frankie picked up my other hand. “I already thought you were a badass. Now I know for sure. Do you know how brave you are? You’re being honest about something that people keep a secret. And don’t worry about Landon. It’ll blow over. He’s been mopier than he usually is. I’m sure he already misses you, and you’ll make up. Even if you don’t, do you know who you are? You are Janae ‘MILA’ Warner, baby. Breaking records and hearts as soon as you step on the scene.”
I giggled through my tears and admitted, “Is it weird if I say I don’t know who I am most days, even with my success?”
Frankie leaned on my shoulder. “Nope, not weird at all.”
Jeri hugged me from the other side. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way. I have to take something for my depression.”
I studied her pretty face as she nodded. “How long?”
“Since I was a teenager. It was bad back then. Much better now. I’m on a low dose.”
I put the back of my hand against my mouth. “I was about to say something stupid and say you don’t seem like you’re depressed.”
“You don’t look like you have bipolar. Although I can tell you have a sharp tongue when you need it,” Jeri said before her gaze plummeted to her nails.
“Difficult was my first name for a long time. I thought I had to be that way to be heard and respected.” I firmly shook my head. “Not anymore. I apologize in advance for my mouth. My nerves get real bad sometimes, and the world seems to move slow while I’m already at the finish line. I’ll do better, and if my tongue is sharp, I’m giving you permission to check me. We have so much fun ahead of us, and I don’t want to ruin it with my ways.”
Frankie admonished me, “Then don’t put yourself down. At least not in front of me. We all got issues. At least you’re addressing it when most of the world doesn’t.”
I lifted my head higher. “Thank you for that.”
The car slowed, and my stomach roiled again.
Frankie squeezed my hand tightly. “Just be Janae.”
“Yeah. Just be me.” My breath rattled as I pushed air out of my lungs.
Fans and people crowded around the car as I got out and waved. A tall, redheaded woman with a high ponytail approached me through the growing crowd. She gushed as she gestured for us to follow her. “I’m Elaine Medow, program coordinator for Allies and Support for Mental Illness. I can’t believe we were able to get you to speak. When your manager called and told us that you’d been a supporter of our organization for the last two years and wanted to say a few words, we couldn’t have been more honored. I’ve been a fan for years.”
“Thank you. Glad to be here.” I gestured to Frankie and Jeri. “These are my friends who are here for support.”
“Aren’t you lucky you get to be friends with Ms. Warner?” Elaine smiled at both of them as we walked briskly inside the hotel. “I’ve been a fan for years.”
“I’m the lucky one.” I winked at Jeri.
People called my name as we rushed through the lobby. Two hotel security guards walked alongside us to keep people from getting too close. My fame was rising again. I prayed my decision to be open about my mental health wouldn’t block that rise.
“Your production crew’s already here and set up in the hall. They have consent forms for the recording and will do their best to keep the camera focused on you and edit if anyone doesn’t want to be seen.” She smiled. “You only need to speak for about five minutes. We know you’re in the middle of a tour, and we appreciate your taking the time.”
“So, when do I go on?”
“In about ten minutes. We’ll walk you straight in, and you’ll come forward once you’re introduced and do your spiel raising money for a good cause. Then, afterward, we want to take pictures.”
My stomach felt so queasy, and I kept my hands clasped to control the trembling. I nodded, telling myself that this would be done within an hour. I hadn’t told Del that I planned to announce my diagnosis publicly. Tonight would be my special announcement, because word would spread more quickly through social media than if I got word to the press myself.
The audience of about two hundred and fifty donors sitting at white linen-covered tables clapped and howled as I walked to the podium after the chair of the local chapter of Atlanta had so graciously introduced me. While I was waiting to speak, a ginger ale soothed the nausea, and breath control calmed my nerves. Standing before the diverse group, I reminded myself to just be me.
“Thank you, Linda, for that wonderful introduction.” Turning back to the audience, I chuckled. “I was standing out there nervous, wishing I was sitting with you and watching someone else speak. I don’t think I realized how intimidating it can be to speak in front of this many people when I’ve performed in front of thousands more. Maybe I need to sing my words to relax.”
The audience laughed, and one person shouted, “Go ahead and sing.”
“I want to make my time here with you short and to the point, and y’all know if I sing, we gonna be here all night. I know you’re anxious to let loose and dance the rest of the evening. I hear the DJ is amazing.”
A few more chuckles and nods encouraged me to confess before I lost the nerve, gaining more confidence from the attentive group.
“I am a relatively new supporter of the Allies and Support for Mental Illness. I was impressed by their advocacy work and all that they do for people with mental health diagnoses and the people who love them over the years. But I didn’t even know of ASMI’s existence until I was diagnosed with bipolar three years ago.”
The room grew quiet.
“No one knew tonight that I was going to make this announcement, and most people don’t know that I have bipolar. Now, I know that in ASMI’s name is ‘illness,’ and I finally understand why we want to keep saying ‘illness’ so that society can take us as seriously as all physical diseases, like sickle cell anemia and high blood pressure. This organization has done so much in advocating for people like me to be heard, treated, and respected for their challenges.” The more I spoke, the more the words tumbled freely.
“I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a ton of bricks, though I didn’t have a hangover. I started crying uncontrollably while starting a fight with someone who cares about me. I’ve been fighting the blues for a long time. I believed I was sick, which is technically the definition of ill. Yet, somehow, claiming I have a mental illness is a struggle that doesn’t feel right in my soul. Maybe it doesn’t feel right because of how society views people like me, or because I want desperately to have control of my moods and thoughts.”
Some nodded.
“This morning, I was in New Orleans with no idea that by the time my night ended, I would be in Atlanta speaking in front of you and announcing to the world for the first time that most of my struggles are because of a chemical imbalance.” I scanned the room. “I’d rather call what I’m dealing with a challenge, if you will, to living my life. Now, I don’t know your religious or spiritual beliefs, so I hope I’m not offending anyone as I tell you my testimony. Earlier today, I cried to God, asking him why I suffered with this affliction. Why is my life so unfair? Why do I have to go through so much sadness and pain, and it’s not even my fault?” I gripped the podium.
More heads nodded, and tears glistened in some people’s eyes.
“And the more the anger and despair churned in my head, the more I became determined to speak before you. Tonight, I only ask God to continue to give me the strength to persevere and embrace all that is me. To truly accept that there will be good and bad days. The sun and clouds. To help me believe that no matter how dark it gets, the light is on the way.” My chest swelled with pride that I was on this stage, baring my soul and taking control of my diagnosis and my life.
The audience clapped their approval.
“This decision to be before you today could be considered impulsive, and at the basic level, it is. But it’s definitely one of the best impulsive decisions I’ve made. Standing before you, telling you a private truth, is freeing in ways I can’t possibly describe. I can walk out of this event tonight with my head held higher than it has been in a very long time, if ever.
“From this day forward, I will use my platform to advocate for people living with bipolar and other mental health challenges.” I smiled. “I want to be the voice for people who don’t have one or for those whose voices are constantly shut down. I want people to know that they no longer have to handle all that it means to live with a mental health challenge alone. I hope tonight you dig deep into those pockets and donate to the largest grassroots mental health organization so that they can continue providing resources and services to the nation. So that we can continue erasing this horrible stigma associated with mental health.”
I scanned the audience and noticed a familiar hat, and my heart thudded painfully against my chest. Landon stood at the very back of the hall with his hands in his pockets, and he positively glowed when our eyes connected. He nodded approvingly, and the freedom I’d already experienced by speaking honestly with this group became an exhilarating high.
While grinning at him, I announced, “I’ll start with a personal donation of twenty-five thousand, and I’ll make sure my brothers in The Hollow Bones will match my donation.”
Landon shook his head ruefully, although his smile never faltered.
I concluded, “Thank you all for being supporters, and I thank you for listening.”
The crowd clapped loudly, and most stood up for me.
This was a new first on several levels. I’d received a standing ovation for talking in front of a room full of people about my diagnosis and had friends in the audience supporting me. I waved and walked off the stage with a newfound energy that I was finally starting to matter outside my talent.
The chapter president shook my hand as she walked back behind the podium to close out the program. People had already started gathering around me to take pics and request autographs. Frankie and Jeri congratulated and hugged me. I searched past the crowd of well-wishers for Landon, but he’d disappeared.
My happiness deflated like a recently released balloon. I’d thought he would stay around to congratulate me, and maybe we could’ve hung out. Then again, I’d told him I didn’t want to be with him this morning, and maybe he was simply honoring my wishes. I hated allowing my negative emotions to overrule what I wanted, which was him.
Over the past month, Landon had become a constant in my life, and I missed him already. What if he agreed that only being friends was best?
I kept a smile on my face for the cameras, wondering if I could bear the next two months being in such close quarters with a man who’d seemed to accept my diagnosis and whom I wanted so much.
More than three hours later, with no texts or calls from Landon, I’d just settled in my room after dinner with the ladies, who’d decided to join The Hollow Bones at their club appearance. I probably could have gone with them and sought out Landon. I just didn’t want to pursue him or any man anymore. It was exhausting, and I needed to focus on adjusting to my diagnosis while pursuing my career again anyway. I’d done something monumental tonight, and I’d diminished that accomplishment by focusing on a man. I’d spent most of the last three years alone and without a man. I could do it again and do my best to allow Landon to be the friend he’d originally wanted to be.
If he still wanted that role. Although from the way he couldn’t stop gawking at me in the elevator, he definitely wanted me. Ugh. I hated that my thoughts or perceptions, even if they were inaccurate, seemed so real.
I stepped onto the balcony of my room overlooking Centennial Olympic Park. Landon would probably love this view. The stars and moon were visible in the sky above the Ferris wheel. Would he ride a Ferris wheel? He seems the type to hold everyone’s belongings so they can have fun. What does he do for fun?
I laughed at myself and rubbed my chilled arms despite the warm April night. Obviously, he and I needed to talk again if I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I would apologize, explain myself to him, and see what could happen between us. Try to take it slow, as he and Dr. K had suggested I should.
I walked back into my room, sat on the edge of my bed, and pulled off my shoes. Then I stood to unzip the back of my dress. I allowed the material to puddle around my feet, then stepped out of the dress and picked it up to place in a bag to be laundered. Sleep would be a long time coming. Maybe I should reach out to Landon tonight, since I was the one who’d botched things and made him feel as if he owed me an apology. I would grovel until he forgave me. We could wear hoodies and share a hot chocolate at the hotel bar. Or find the pool and sit and talk. We could go anywhere or do anything. I wanted to see him and talk or not talk. Just wanted to be in his comforting presence on such an important night.
My cell buzzed in my purse on the bed, and my heart skipped. I quickly pulled out my phone.
Can we talk?
I held the phone to my chest and could feel my rapidly beating heart. He affected me too much. Landon couldn’t afford to fall for me, and I couldn’t afford the emotional roller coaster I already felt with him. It wasn’t too late to talk reasonably and walk away from each other. Maybe this time, we could ignore this insane chemistry and legitimately be friends and leave sex off the table.
Who are you kidding? You want that man more than you’ve ever wanted another man.
I thought about everything that had transpired from this morning until now. I’d left him confused, and he deserved more than how we’d ended things, especially because he’d shown up for me when I least expected it. I wouldn’t let my mind get in the way of my heart.
I replied,
Yes. Because I want to apologize for this morning and start over.
Are you in your room yet?
Yes , but I can come to yours or wherever you want to meet. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.
While I waited for his next text, I was startled by the knock on my door. I peeked through the hole, and Landon stood there with his hat cocked to the back, showing some of his curls. His hands were behind his back. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I slowly opened the door, deciding to do so wearing only a black lace strapless bra and matching panties.
His hazel eyes smoldered a trail of heat from my feet to my breasts to finally rest on my face. He held a purple hibiscus. “I had to see if I could still knock on your door.”
“Ooh, I hate you,” I muttered as I grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into the room. The door slammed behind him with finality.