Track 33: Side A

Don’t Tease

 

Lincoln

Two weeks after meeting with Archer in New York, he has me booked for an exclusive interview with someone whose name I didn’t bother to pay attention to. It doesn’t matter who’s interviewing me. They’ll ask me personal questions I’ll hate to answer, I’ll smile and answer them anyway, and we’ll all go home.

I told Archer I’d rather not leave Seattle again just yet, so he got the interview to come to me. I’m meeting them at a sound studio downtown where they’ve got all their cameras and shit ready to go.

I stop outside the building and take a deep breath. I’ve always hated doing these things. Normally, I’d cut beforehand to ease my nerves and take some semblance of control back. But I’m not doing that now. I’m not. I’m not. I. Am. Not.

I bang my head lightly against the side of the building and bite my lip, waiting for the wave of longing to pass. I don’t need my razors. I need Jace. I need to get better. I need to respect myself. I repeat the things Alex told me to repeat when I feel the urge to cut, and I force myself to take slow breaths.

When the urge doesn’t pass completely, I reach into my pocket and grab the washable marker Alex sent me home with at our last session. Instead of cutting, I’m supposed to draw on myself or write on myself why I shouldn’t cut as a reminder to stay strong.

I uncap the marker with my teeth and scribble Jace on my forearm and some of the tension eases from me. I write his name again, and I start to feel more in control. I wait a few seconds to make sure it really has passed before recapping the marker and shoving it into my pocket. I grab my phone and smile when I see a text from Jace.

 

Freckles: I hope your interview goes well. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.

Lincoln: I love you

 

 

Proud of myself, I pull open the door and walk inside to get this interview over with.

The interview ends up going fairly well, all things considered. I stumble through explaining my diagnosis and how I hope getting better will make me a better artist in the long run (insert jerking off hand gesture here). I manage a genuine smile when it’s time to talk about Jace and how happy I am to have him back in my life. For the first time ever, I talk about the true story behind “Cherry Lane”. Well, minus the part where I look like a total asshole. Jace and I discussed beforehand that making myself look bad wasn’t the goal, and that he was happy to have me gloss over those details in the interview. When the interviewer asks about the fate of Downward Spiral in the face of our hiatus and all these new changes, I feel myself cringe inwardly and give a non-committal answer.

I want more than anything for the band to make it, and to see where things can go now that I’m getting better and will have Jace to come home to. But I just don’t know what’s going to happen.

When I get home, Jace is waiting for me with an expectant smile. He tugs me into the living room and climbs onto my lap.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“It went…well. I framed things the way Archer told me to and definitely got some sappy, heart eyed looks when I talked about you, so I don’t think I came out looking too bad.”

Jace glances down and notices his name written on my arm, almost hidden by my tattoos if you aren’t looking too closely.

“You had a hard time today?” he asks, tracing the letters with his index finger.

“Yeah, but I did what Alex said, and I got through it without hurting myself.”

“I’m proud of you.” Jace presses a kiss to my lips, and I smile against his mouth. I wrap my arms around him and enjoy the feeling of wholeness in my soul.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

“I love you too.”
 

 

Jace

A few weeks after our trip to New York, Lincoln and I snuggle on the couch watching his interview air. His smile on screen is charming, but it’s not Linc. It makes me feel special to know I’m one of the few to see the real Lincoln underneath the rock star. I hold his hand as we watch him talk to the world about his bipolar diagnosis and his struggle over the years with the severe lows. When the interviewer asks about what prompted him to finally get help, the first genuine smile shines through.

“Everyone knows and loves “Cherry Lane” …well, I’ve finally had the chance to make things right with the boy I fell in love with as a teenager who inspired that song. He’s been my rock and the catalyst to me finally getting help.”

“You love him?”

“Very much. He’s…” On screen, Lincoln clears his throat, and my Lincoln wraps his arms tighter around me. “Well, I’d better not ramble on too much about him; he wouldn’t like that. But, suffice to say, I love him more than anything.”

“I love you, too.” I tell my Lincoln, turning my head and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He kisses me back, soft and slowly like we have all the time in the world.

“We should get a dog,” he says when he releases me.

“A dog? But what about when you go on tour?”

“I could take him with me, or he could stay here. It would be nice to have a dog together.”

A smile spreads across my lips. A dog is so…committed. A dog says we’re in this for the long-haul.

“Okay, let’s get a dog,” I agree.

When the interview ends, Lincoln tugs me off the couch and down the hall to the bedroom. We strip out of our clothes and fall into bed together, our hands everywhere and our hearts beating in tandem.

 

 

Lincoln

The morning after the interview airs, Lando calls me when I’m on my way to my therapy appointment. I hit the Bluetooth answer on the steering wheel of Jace’s car, which he let me borrow this morning. I didn’t bother to have my own car in New York because…well, it’s New York. But I make a mental note to buy one since Seattle is my new home base.

“Hey, Lando,” I answer.

“Hey,” he responds, his voice filling the car. “I saw your interview last night.”

“Yeah?” I ask, nervous to hear what he thought about the whole thing. The only person I told about my diagnosis before the interview was Archer. In hindsight, maybe I should have told them instead of letting them find out with the rest of the world.

“I’m not sure what to say. I guess I’m not really surprised. But, dude, why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s a recent diagnosis. I guess it felt weird to think about calling you up to be like hey, I’m super fucked up in the head. How’s your vacation going?”

“Sorry to tell you, but you being super fucked up in the head isn’t exactly front-page news,” Lando points out, and I snort a laugh.

“Fair enough,” I agree. “Hey, did you ever find him? Your long-lost love in Florida?” I know it’s a total non-sequitur, but I have to know.

“Yeah,” Lando answers with a smile in his voice.

“And?” I prompt, excited at the thought that maybe I won’t be the only one ready to change the way we’ve been doing things as a band. Maybe this will be a whole new start for all of us.

“And…it’s a crazy story that I can’t wait to tell you when we meet up next month to decide the fate of the band.”

“Have you always been this much of a tease?” I accuse.

“Possibly. And I’ll leave you with this…We’re not the only ones who had interesting vacations.”

“I know Jude didn’t get caught with any more hookers, so it must be Benji. Did he get back together with his ex?” I ask. God, it feels nice to just feel excited about something stupid.

“I don’t know; you’ll have to ask him,” Lando taunts, clearly knowing more than he’s admitting.

“You’re mean, and I have to go because I just got to my therapist’s office.”

“I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, man. I have a few new songs to send you, so keep an eye out for those later tonight. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good. Later.”

 

I sit in Alex’s office with a light heart and a smile.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Great. I mean, not great, I’ve been getting some headaches and nausea from the meds but honestly great.”

Alex chuckles at my answer and jots something down.

“That’s typical when you first start on Lithium, but it should go away as your body adjusts. And how are you feeling emotionally? Too numb or foggy?”

“No, I feel pretty good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. How’s everything else going? Any urges to self-harm?”

“Just a brief urge once or twice, but I drew on myself like you told me, and it went away. I had this big interview last week, and that was difficult. Normally, I cut before anything like that because it’s just too overwhelming. But I did everything you said, and I got through it without a problem.”

“Excellent.” Alex smiles and nods.

“Jace and I are getting a dog,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure he’d agree to it because it’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? Getting a dog is like having a kid. It means you’re really together.”

“It is a big commitment,” he agrees.

“I’ve been thinking about an even bigger commitment,” I confess.

“Oh? Do tell.”

 

After my appointment with Alex, Jace is waiting to go to the shelter to look at dogs together. We talked about getting a puppy, but decided we’d rather rescue a dog. It doesn’t take long at the shelter for us to find the perfect new family member.

“He’s so sweet,” Jace coos at a three-year-old Golden Retriever. My throat tightens as I look at him, memories of my childhood dog flooding my mind. I reach for Jace’s hand and squeeze, repeating to myself all the reasons I shouldn’t self-harm, until the urge passes.

“His name is Mozart, which fits him perfectly.” I squat down and slide my fingers through the bars for Mozart to sniff me, and instead, he licks me. “Yeah, this is our dog.”

We don’t waste any time letting the girl at the front know we want Mozart and filling out the application.

“This poor guy has been here for a while; it’s a good thing you came in today because he was scheduled to be sent to a kill shelter by the end of the week.”

Jace gasps and clutches my arm in horror. “Oh my god, you can’t do that. Can we take him home right now?”

“I need to get your application approved, but there shouldn’t be a reason you can’t pick him up tomorrow.”

Jace turns to me with a grim expression. “If we’d have waited, Mozart would’ve been put down. It’s like fate.”

“Yeah, Freckles, it is,” I agree.

It’s difficult to leave Mozart at the shelter, but knowing we’ll be able to pick him up tomorrow makes it a little easier. We head straight to the pet store and spend over an hour reading food ingredient labels to pick the best one, choosing a variety of toys, a dog bed, bowls, and a few different collars so Mozart will be able to change up his wardrobe every so often.

“I’m glad you suggested this. I’m really excited to bring him home tomorrow,” Jace tells me as we set up his dog bed and dishes when we get home.

“Me too. It might be nice to take him on tour with me, too.”

“Don’t,” Jace blurts with a hint of worry in his tone.

“Don’t take him on tour with me?”

“No.” Jace shakes his head, clutching a little duck we got for Mozart. “If he’s here, then I’ll know you’re coming back.”

His words hit me right in the chest, reminding me that even if he’s forgiven me, even if we’re on the right path, we aren’t all the way where we need to be yet. I stride across the space between us and sweep Jace into my arms, fixing him with a serious look so he knows I mean my words.

“I will always come home to you, Freckles. I know I still need to earn that trust, and I will. But I swear on my life, every minute we’re apart, I’ll be thinking of you. And the second we wrap recording or finish a tour, I’ll be on the first plane back to you.”

Jace nods, putting on a brave face and planting a kiss on my nose. “I believe you, Linc.”

“Thank you. But if having Mozart stay with you will keep you from getting lonely, he can stay when I’m gone.”

“Okay. We can play it by ear.”

“We absolutely can. We have the rest of our lives to figure everything out. And I promise you, we’ll figure it out together.”