Authors: Alexia Purdy
Audrey
I pulled my
jeans on, feeling out of sorts. An unrelenting headache taunted me for three days, and it was really killing my mood. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, of course there had to be more to it. Life couldn’t be simple, ever. I was late. Again.
Running the brush through my long, bronzy brown strands, I stared at my reflection without make up. My skin was pale. I’d been sick on and off from a severe stomach flu or something for a week now. I had my suspicions about pregnancy, but after the last miscarriage, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. It’d broken me emotionally, and I didn’t want to go through it again. The disappointment, the depression it caused to know I’d lost the baby was the worst thing I’d gone through in my life. I prayed I wouldn’t have to go through the same heartache again.
But I had other worries to include alongside the old ones. I didn’t know who the father was.
Shit.
Letting out a slow breath, I glared at myself. How stupid could I be? I’d been with both Saul and Random around the time it would’ve happened…if I had the dates right. Never had I been so careless, and I was left with a hollow pit in my stomach that made me want to puke as the panic wafted in and out.
“What’s the plan today?” Saul’s voice drifted in from the restroom. It was deep and resonating, like listening to a sweet baritone singing.
“Oh, you know, going to get my annual doctor’s checkup.” I feigned a smile as Saul leaned on the doorway to the bathroom, grinning at me. His faded blue eyes appeared to watch me, even though I knew he couldn’t see the distress on my face. His slender yet muscular body was half dressed, showing off his wide chest that I could never stop admiring. He had a soft covering of light hair I loved running my fingers through. There was nothing but gentle love and adoration pouring from him, and it only made me feel more like the traitor that I was.
“Want me to go with you?” He scratched his light brown hair which he’d let grow longer since we’d been on tour. I liked it this way, scruffy and wild, though it often fell into his eyes and was a bit unruly. It gave his pristine appearance some gruff, a most desirable trait. Plus, he thought it would be good for the “rock ‘n roll” image.
“No, it’s okay. Stay here. I don’t think the OB/GYN office would be fun for you.”
“Audrey.” He reached out and grasped onto my waist, pulling me gently into his embrace. I faced away from him, letting him snuggle my neck with warm kisses. Letting out a blissful sigh, I let it relax me as much as it could. “I’d go anywhere with you. You know that.”
His tongue did sensual things to me—deep, captivating things which only he could accomplish.
“Thank you, but…it’s kind of a girl thing.” I turned and cupped his face, feeling the rough sandpaper stubble on his otherwise smooth face. “Really, I’ll be alright.”
His pensive eyes made me gulp down my fear, glad he couldn’t see the worry plastered across my face. I hoped my voice didn’t shake enough for him to catch on to me. There was a certain benefit to his blindness, even though there was little I could hide from his heightened senses.
“Alright. If you need anything, just call. I’m heading to the gym in the upper floors. Lonzo is going to spot me.”
I smiled. “That’s great. Have fun, Hon.”
He gave my booty a slight tap with his hand, grinning wickedly as I swatted him away. I heard him leave a few minutes later, quietly locking the door behind him.
I missed him already. He was such a good man, and it made me feel cruddy once more to know how epically I’d messed up. What would he do if he knew I was pregnant and that I’d cheated on him? Would he stay? Would he leave? What if the baby wasn’t his? All these questions plagued my head, causing it to tense enough for me to require a head massage. I kneaded my fingers though my scalp before running my brush though the tangles. Done, I tossed it across the counter and went to pull my shoes on.
Nothing I could do about anything now. Best to keep mum about things, for worrying couldn’t possibly benefit anyone now. I could possibly lose the baby again. Nothing to worry about really.
As I left the motel to walk to the nearby doctor’s office, my confidence built itself back up brick by brick.
Everything will be okay,
I told myself. Either way, I’d have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. There was no other choice.
As I sat in the waiting room, I continued to attempt to convince myself that the sky wasn’t falling.
But it was, and I could feel the pieces smacking into my head from above.
Denial at its best.
Liv
The rain slapped
turbulently against the windows where I sat on the edge of my bed, strumming my guitar. My melancholy mood plagued me into a somber space I couldn’t shake off. I’d been here before, in this melancholy place I often sought out when my mind was a jumbled mess and my heart was in splinters. Things were out of control, and I never saw it coming.
Feeling the twang of strings under my fingers as I played my heart out, I let the hollow of the guitar vibrate the last chord until I couldn’t hear it anymore. The notes drowned into some oblivion I wished to slip into, and I wanted to follow it more than anything right now.
“Fuck!” I yelled out into the emptiness of my hotel room. Well, it was more of a tiny studio apartment the record company was paying for while I stayed in the city for a couple weeks. Audrey and Saul had their own place down the hall, close enough to bother if need be, far enough away to garner some peace in my turbulent mind.
I slid to the ground and rested the guitar on the shag carpet that must’ve been vacuumed a thousand times, for its ends were all twisted like tiny little dreadlocks. Running my fingers through it, I wanted to rip out the threads and toss them away. But I didn’t. I could barely sit perfectly still, unable to breathe in too deeply for fear it might wake up my senses and force me to face the hot mess of my life.
I was pregnant. Positive about it. A woman didn’t need a doctor to tell her these things, though I’d picked up a test at the corner shop to verify it for myself. The two lines were undeniable, and I promptly tossed the plastic stick carelessly into the tiny waste receptacle in the hotel bathroom.
What now? What was I going to do now?
I groaned and ran my hands violently through my long, wild locks. I needed a trim; they were unruly and riddled with split ends. Even my black nail polish sat chipped and ragged on my short nails. I was makeup free, but there was nowhere to go anyway, so I didn’t bother putting any on. We were on break for a solid two weeks. No recording, no shows. Just as well. We needed it.
Crawling toward the window sill which spanned the length of the wall along one side of the apartment, I leaned against the cool glass, watching the sheeting rain pour down onto the fire escape and the streets below. It was the worst time to visit this vibrant city; the weather was skewed, and frankly, I was surprised they even let us hole down here at all. The expense for two miniscule studios was still a small fortune in this city. New York City in late winter was a miserable hell in the weather department, but it should’ve been more exciting to be here, regardless.
Tomorrow, I’d go outside. Maybe then the rain would take a break so I could wander the streets, listen to the street performers, buy some new threads, or maybe see a show. I always wanted to visit here, and it beckoned to me. Heck, it was still early enough, if the rain let up later in the afternoon, I was going to check out a bar down the street. It looked like a hip joint from the way it was always busy when we drove past it.
I needed to shake these blues away, get some excitement going, since the lack of adrenaline from doing our performances was starting to leave me aching for a hit of something. I wasn’t one to sit still in one place for too long. I needed out of this cage before I lost my mind.
Keeping my thoughts off Emilio, Jonas, and this pregnancy was difficult. It was going to take that and more to keep me from losing my mind. There had to be decent distractions available around here. The sooner, the better.
This was no place to be cooped up forever.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the melancholy drumming of raindrops splashing the exterior of the building. I could hear lyrics inside my brain aching to get out. Times like these wreaked havoc on my mental health, and the process of writing it out in lyrics and songs was therapeutic. I sighed and took one more glance out the window. There was nothing to do but move on. Keep going. Keep singing.
I reached for my guitar, pulling my sound equipment along with it to sit near me, and leaned against the window. I tweaked a few knobs and hit buttons on the mini drum pad. Beginning with a slow beat to cycle through, I let the low vibration fill me up. Next, I set up my microphone so it crouched level with my mouth. I pulled the guitar strap over my head again and began to strum out chords. Hitting the record button, I sang a note into the mike, letting it drag on until it faded, before thumping the pad once more. Turning more knobs to get duplicate tracks running, I added more background vocals this way, synchronizing the music along with interchanging beats.
It was time consuming at first, but once all the instruments were going and the recorded vocals harmonized in an endless loop, I started the song I’d been haunted by for days, already written out in my ever constant companion of a notebook.
“Nothing stays the same
No one ever does
And the bitter face you own
While you say you never have
Doesn’t cover the lies you’ve told
I’ve held your hand
Kissed your wounds
For I’d kill for you
This I do willingly for you
Drown in this river
I would for you
Sing until the notes run out
Just for you
There’s no one else but me for you
But you don’t think that way
How else do I prove this love to you?
When you just walked away?”
I paused, letting the beat continue without me. My background vocals echoed and haunted the apartment as they bounced across the walls and hit me like a gun shot. I let my mind wander to Emilio as I bobbed my head to the beat. The bastard hadn’t returned my calls this week. Sure, I’d called him at a time other than the agreed upon one, but I needed to talk to him. Maybe I’d tell him about the pregnancy. How could he profess his love and say he missed me when he didn’t even answer his phone? He could, I just knew it. But he didn’t.
Then there was Jonas. He at least told me he was on business back in Mexico for a week. They were both down there now, and it made me wonder if that was why I hadn’t heard from either of them. What did they think of each other? Emilio knew about Jonas, and I was pretty sure Jonas knew something was going on with Emilio and I. Why put me through these forced separations from either one? Something had to be going down if Emilio was too preoccupied to receive my calls.
Or maybe he was being monitored more than I’d originally thought.
I groaned, rubbing my face until my cheeks burned hot. This all left me confused, hurt, and feeling cast off. It made my emotions span from wanting to cry my heart out to a raw anger, boiling in my veins and ready to set the place on fire. I shook off the feelings, finding tears streaking down my face and dripping onto my shirt, regardless of how hard I tried to keep it at bay.
The music continued as I scanned the room. The bed was unmade. My clothes hung out of my suitcase and were strewed across the floor. Cables, equipment, and a sack of picks spread across the floor like snakes and frogs sitting in the pit, surrounding me. Snack wrappers littered what little carpet could be seen. One hot mess. I snapped out of my daydream and took it all in with a sickening horror.
I’d fallen to pieces. That wasn’t Liv. She wouldn’t let herself stoop so very low and crumble like ash. How did this happen?
I snapped. Slamming my hand on the power buttons, ripping cords out of amps and wall sockets with a ferocious fury. Tossing my guitar on the bed as I untangled myself from the mess of cords, I stomped off to the bathroom and took a good look at my face in the mirror.
This had to stop. This deconstruction of Liv. I could tolerate a lot of things but not this. I couldn’t disintegrate so easily. I wouldn’t let it own me regardless of how dysfunctional I could be. I turned the sink on and splashed my blotchy face with cold water. After drying off, I smeared make up on, rubbing it in until it was smooth and immaculate. Finishing up, I smiled at the composed face I’d created—every line in its place. Then, I raked the brush through the nest of hair I’d let go awry. Finally smoothing it into a manageable mane, I pulled it through a headband and tucked some of my hair into it, allowing most of it to fall out for a half swept up look.
Finally, slipping large hoop earrings onto my ears and swiping a bright fire engine red lipstick onto my lips, I stepped back and sat on the edge of the tub, studying the reflection of a very vibrant and confidant young woman staring back.
It was time to get back to reality. Damned be anyone who stood in my fucking way.