52
Slater
“Of course I’m here, Ali. I’ll always be here to remind you to get the hell up and fight. Now talk, get some rest, and Slater, take care of her for me.” Lucky claps my shoulder before giving Ali a kiss on the head before he leaves.
Seeing her emerging from my bedroom had rattled me and rocked the foundation I thought I had safely underfoot. I’ve never wanted a girl to call mine. Yet, that’s what she is: mine. Never thought I’d want anything the way I want Alina Cassidy. She arrived like an unexpected storm, and has left me standing, open-mouthed, reeling with her impact.
Even after last night, seeing her at what she’ll tell me was her weakest moment, I saw just how strong my girl is. It can’t be easy to bear the brunt of an illness like that, one so powerful and all-consuming. One so vile it can rear its ugly head whenever and wherever, even when you think you’re in recovery like Alina. I did a lot of research online last night after carrying Ali up to my room. I’d cleaned her up as best I could, and dressed her in my biggest Sicken Union hoodie, then slipped her into a pair of my way-too-big-for-her joggers after she argued and cried that the sweater-dress still wasn’t covering her enough.
After all of it, I still want her, probably even more. Alina Cassidy is the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I hope she’ll listen when I tell her that. But if not? I plan to be around for the long haul to help convince her of her inner strength and capabilities each and every day. I know my girl can and will beat this. She just needs to forgive herself today, so we can work on tomorrow.
I’m falling in love with her.
The realization is staggering, and probably makes me nuts, but it is what it is. I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but something shifted between us last night. A bond was formed, and there’s no going back. I want to be her person. Lucky suggesting that Alina go back home fucked with my head, and Alina thinking I’d actually force her to leave the tour guts me, makes me feel like I’m having a panic attack. I can’t picture doing the Consequence of Sound Tour without her here. That’s selfish, so I need to remember this is about her, what’s best for her right now. We can’t move forward if she’s not at peace with herself, and as much as I hate the idea of her going home, I’ll do what I have to do to get her back to me when she’s ready, back to where she belongs.
We sit in silence after Lucky leaves for what feels like ages before Ali starts to talk.
“Maybe I should go home. I think I need more than just some strangers I don’t know to talk to about all of this. I think I might be better off to talk to Kristie in person. I never got to speak to her last night; there were a bunch of missed calls and text messages on my phone from her this morning, I’ll need to call her soon.”
“I think you have to do whatever it will take to get you back to me the fastest,” I tell her honestly. I figure after last night, honesty is what she deserves from me. “I’m not gonna lie and say it’s my favourite thought, you leaving, but I get it. And I want you healthy and ready to move forward with the tour, and with me.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No, it’s the other way around. I’m some schmuck who got lucky that you landed on that audition stage right in front of me, and are now here on tour with us where you belong.”
“Slater.”
“It’s true. I just want you to work on getting better. I’m ready to wait, ready to support and fight alongside you, every step of the way,” I say, dropping a kiss on her forehead. We’re sitting on the couch now, bodies turned inward, our legs touching, and all I can think about is how much I’m going to miss her.
“It’s only a few days. I’ll fly in, talk to Kristie, maybe go to a group or two, and then I’ll meet you guys in Montreal,” she says, but I feel it’s more to convince herself than it is me. But that’s okay.
“I agree. It’s probably best you speak to someone you’re comfortable with,” I tell her, although the last thing I want to do is encourage her to leave me, but that’s me being a prick. Ali will be better off away from the limelight for a bit. We have a few days between tonight’s show here in Edmonton and the next three in Montreal, so time is on her side, even if I’ll be counting the minutes until she’s back.
“Hmm,” she nods, seeming distracted.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’ll have to talk to the girls. I’m really nervous about that.”
“Trust me, they understand. They were pissed and upset for you after the press junket. Not once did anyone say they were upset with you. It seemed to me they understood why you’d keep something like that to yourself. Hell, I think we all would. It’s private,” I admit, hoping she’ll let herself off the hook for not being more forthcoming. All Paisley, Shiv, and Rox care about is their bandmate. Speaking with them this morning proved that Alina has an amazing group of friends she can count on, even if she doesn’t trust that notion fully just yet.
“Another thing,” she says. “Can you tell me what happens now? How my past will affect the band, and the tour? I’m freaking out about it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s hard to talk about. It brings up a lot of pain, and it’s the last thing I want defining who I am. Not that that makes much sense, considering that it does kind of define me.” She takes in a deep breath.
“Your eating disorder does not define you, Ali. It never will, don’t let it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good. You are so much more than last night, and I pray one day you’ll believe that, because I see it, baby. I see it.” I pull her in close, wrapping my arm around her, her head now resting on my chest.
“I hope so.” She runs her hand along my scruffy jaw. “I have a lot of things I want to share with you. To let you in, to show you just how much I trust you. How much you’ve come to mean to me. And I will. After I sort myself out a little more.”
“Easy, Ali. There’s no rush. It’s all right; you will, when you’re ready. I’ll be here whenever that may be. I’m a patient man. This is the last thing I want you to worry about. As for the press, it’s been taken care of. Victoria released a statement,” I say, and Ali lifts herself off my chest where she’s been nuzzling close to me.
“She did?”
“Yup. We had a quick meeting this morning, me and the guys. I wanted to get in front of this shit before Penny and those vultures took the story and spun it in a negative light. Especially when your past has no bearing on you, me, or the bands. It doesn’t define who you or Lucky are. You hear me?” I pause, making sure she hears what I’m saying. “We all have a past, and you were a little girl who lost both her parents. Vic released a statement basically daring anyone to try and make it something other than the tragedy it was, resulting in two children being left behind.” I worry she might get upset that I decided to release a statement without her input, but I only had her best interests in mind. I decide to leave out the part where Penny Donaldson was let go from her position at The Sound Byte, thanks to a few phones calls I managed to get in between my meeting and talking to Lucky while Ali slept.
“Wow, a statement, huh?”
“Yeah. It was kickass. I knew Vic would make it go away. And you should see all the comments on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram…basically, the world agrees, and they feel for you and Lucky. They’re slamming the magazines and news outlets that tried to make it a headline story,” I say, smiling, reaching for my phone so I can show her.
“No! Please, no more social media. I’m not ready to go back on, to see all the negative comments about the way I look,” Alina says, then immediately hides herself on my chest, hoping I’ll let what she’s just said go.
“What the hell do you mean, ‘negative comments’?” I clench, because I can’t help it. Never really being one for the whole social media thing, I never look. It’s always been Vic or the other guys who keep track of that sort of thing.
“Last night,” she starts, her voice vibrating against my chest, “I was upset, so I broke Shiv’s rule from weeks ago and I looked up all the mean things they’ve been saying about me on all the Sicken Union social media sites. Last night it was all over Twitter.” She pauses, and I decide I need to see this for myself. Swiping my phone, I open the Twitter app, pull up our account, and scroll through post after post, picture after picture, reply after reply. Then I do the same in Facebook and Instagram.
Alina traps Slater…
Slater Jenkins slumming it with guitarist…
Who is Alina Cassidy, and why the hell has Slater fallen for her?
Sicken Union losing their sound.
Ullapool lead singer on drugs?
Fife Jenkins headed for rehab.
By the time I’m done, I’m fucking livid. I’ve seen enough.
How do we not have anyone moderating this shit?
Not only are there bullshit comments about Alina, but also about the other bands, and all of us in Sicken Union individually, too. Plus, fans being nasty to other fans. Some posts are downright nasty, even to my jaded eyes.
“This is some bullshit. It’s stopping now,” I mutter, pulling up my Contacts list, intent on calling Victoria and having this shit dealt with from now on. I want disclaimers put on all our sites warning that inappropriate comments will be deleted and users blocked if they can’t follow the rules. How the fuck have I been so oblivious? Better yet, when the hell did people become so cruel? Don’t they realize that their comments have real consequences? And when did it become about anything other than the music?
“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Ali whispers. I toss my phone aside after ending my call with Vic, who apologized for not being on top of having the site moderators working more diligently, especially with the tour in play.
“No, I’m happy you told me. Like I said, I’ll do anything to help you, Alina, and I meant it. That was one little step in what I hope is the right direction.”
“It is. But I have to learn to let it go, too. Not everyone is going to like what he or she sees when they look at me or hear me play. And I have to trust that it’s just opinion and not truth, you know? I have to work hard to remind myself to let it go, to not internalize and think I can be perfect in everyone’s eyes, to remember that as long as I’m happy with myself, that’s what matters.”
“You’re right. You don’t need to worry about being perfect for them. You’re already my vision of perfection. And fuck them, anyway, ’cause I plan on making sure you’re as happy as you can be with yourself, and with me, and with who we are together.”
Lifting herself so we’re completely face to face, her blue eyes look strikingly clear. Ali gifts me with a beautiful smile before she utters, “You’re making it really hard for me to leave you.”
“No, baby. I’m just making it easy for you to want to come back.”