19
Alina
“Siobhán, you can come on back. Paisley’s moved on to wardrobe, so Kelly and her team will see you for hair and makeup now,” Victoria Vu—our assigned personal assistant for the tour—calls, peeking her head around from where flashing lights and the sound of shutters clicking are going off behind her, to where Roxie, Siobhán, and I have been sitting on the plush brown couches, waiting our turns.
Today we have a promo shoot and interview with the Toronto-based magazine, NOW. They’re running a spotlight on the upcoming Consequence of Sound Tour and its participating bands. And I feel like I might be sick. Sitting here, I can’t stop rubbing my hand over the tattoo on my inner wrist, wishing like hell I was anywhere but here.
“See you on the flip side, bitches,” Shiv calls, giving us a two-finger salute as she walks away.
“God, I hate this,” I mutter, and Roxie agrees.
“Thank goodness, I thought it was just me. I’m so worried they’re going to stick me in an outfit that’s about three sizes too small then take my photo. The last thing anyone needs to see is my gunt.” She expels a long sigh, and gazes down at the non-existent fat she thinks resides between her lower stomach and private area. It’s a comment that has me rolling my eyes. As if that were even a possibility.
Rox is pretty much the poster child for this kind of promotional shit: shiny blonde hair, bright green eyes, the clearest complexion I’ve ever seen, a petite stature, long legs, a tiny waist, and the perfect ass-to-boob ratio. I bet she even has a perfect Body Mass Index number to match her perfect white-toothed smile.
“What?” She gives me a dirty look.
“As if you have anything to worry about. You’re pretty much camera-ready all the time,” I say.
“Ha. Don’t I wish?”
“Whatever.” I dismiss her, picking up a magazine, not wanting to get into this with her right now. Not when, for the last forty-five minutes, I’ve been sitting here worrying about the exact same thing as what she was worrying about. But unlike Roxie, I’m not camera-ready, and it’s blatantly obvious. To be honest, I’m surprised they didn’t take me in first, since I’ll probably need to be sewn into my outfit to make sure my fat doesn’t bust it open at the seams.
“Don’t dismiss me!” Roxy snaps. “Just because you think I look good, doesn’t mean I think I do, Ali. Just because I’m thin, doesn’t mean I don’t have hangups about my body. How dare you think you know what it’s like to be me? I have stretch marks and varicose veins that a short skirt will show; I have knock-knees that give me stupid pigeon-toes when I walk. I have the limpest hair that takes me forever to style, and if you look close enough, I have one eye which slants slightly more than the other. Not quite like Sloth from Goonies, but it’s there. So, don’t for one minute think that because I’m thin, I think I’m perfect. Or say I should go eat a bunch of burgers, or how I can eat an all-you-can-eat buffet or get all the takeout I want and never gain an ounce. I have a paunch, and I have to work out four days a week. Fuck, I’m so tired of people like you thinking people like me have nothing to be self-conscious about.” She glares at me and tries to stand, but I grab hold of her arm and pull her back onto the couch, feeling like the biggest bag of shit ever. My nose stings and tears threaten to fall as I realize what a terrible friend I’ve been. I, of all people, should know better.
“Please. Don’t go.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Roxie, please. I didn’t mean it.” I start to hyperventilate a bit. “Believe me, I’m the last person to judge. I’m so fucked up. I’d never, ever mean to hurt you, or belittle your feelings. I was just caught off guard. I think you’re beautiful, so I shrugged off the idea that you might have your own insecurities. I’ve actually been sitting here freaking out inside about the same things. I’m so worried their clothes won’t fit me, that they’ll be pissed I’m not a size 2.” I meet her gaze, willing her to see my sincerity. “I didn’t mean to upset you. That wasn’t my intention.” I let go of her arm, moving my hands up to cover my face, distraught that I could have accidentally been so hurtful to one of my best friends. “I forget sometimes that I’m not the only one who’s hard on themselves,” I say, releasing a deep breath along with the admission.
“Hey, hey,” Roxie says, taking my hands in hers and forcing them away from my face. “Alina. Look at me. I know you didn’t mean it. I know that’s not who you are. I’m sorry I went off on you. I’ve been so stressed about the tour, worrying about all this promo and media bullshit. I just wanna play.”
“Me too. I’ve really been struggling,” I admit. I glance over to where she’s sitting beside me, wringing her hands, as I think about what to say next. I kind of want to share my struggle with someone who can understand it, but I also don’t want to say too much.
Smiling cautiously, she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear before continuing. “I know you of all people wouldn’t mean anything by it, Ali. I do, honestly. I see you. I know you understand how I feel.” She pauses, giving me the feeling she wants to say more, but is choosing not to.
I’m not stupid. I realize my closest friends pay attention to me, see the things I like to try and pretend no one does. But in reality, I know they’re all probably more aware of my issues than I give them credit for. So, deciding Roxie deserves a piece of my truth, I extend an olive branch.
“I do know,” I say, quietly. “Maybe a lot more than I should. But I’m working really hard to fix that, and I’m finally starting to see myself in a better light. So, please, please don’t think that I’d ever truly discount your feelings. I didn’t mean to be a bitch to you. I’m really no one to judge; my own list of hang ups is huge! I should know better, and I’ll never treat you like that again.”
“Well, thanks. And, good, I’m happy to hear you’re working on that. And you know I’m always here for you, right?” She extends her hand across the couch.
I take a moment to think about it, then slowly take her hand in mine. “I do. I really do know you are, and maybe one day I’ll take you up on it. Maybe we could even eat at the buffet together?” I lean in, bumping her shoulder with mine.
“You bet your tiny, tight tushy we will. We both could use it you know.” She eyes me, daring me to disagree.
“Baby steps,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“You’re incredible, Ali. I hope you’ll realize it one day. And, please, pretty please, for me, for Happenstance, and for the love of rock and roll, do not keep insisting on wearing that baggy-assed shit you hide in onstage. It’s the perfect time for a ‘baby step’,” she air quotes.
“I’m going to roll my eyes now, and I mean it, just so ya know…” I say, shaking my head.
“I would expect nothing less.”
“We good?” I ask.
“Better than,” Roxie beams, as Victoria comes in, telling us it’s finally our turn.
After everything that just went down, the last thing I’m feeling now is nervous. I’m suddenly excited to see how we look all dolled up and glamorous at the hands of the makeup artist, the hair- and fashion stylists, and the photographer. I might even take Rox’s advice and shed my baggy clothes for something new. Maybe.
And maybe I do have all the support I’m going to need right here? I’m just going to have to learn to trust it.