Healing

After the NYE show, the press and the label were relentless. Questions about my comeback and my relationship with Kiia were everywhere. I spent the remainder of the winter laying low, begrudgingly doing media to prop up the releases of Invisible and Curbside Dreaming, which were having tremendous success on the charts.

Invisible released the Friday after the NYE performance and sat at number one until the first week of March when we dropped Curbside Dreaming, which was still at the top of the charts as the band embarked on their first headlining arena tour in April. Mr. Borgen kept hounding me about when I was going to do a new solo release and tour, but I refused to play ball.

I was writing new material. After the show I had settled back into my place in Boston, and instead of going to clubs to scout local bands, I found myself sitting in my studio expressing all of my repressed emotions. A lot of nights I burned through ideas where I didn’t have enough inspiration to carry them to a complete song. When I thought I was running out of energy, I always found myself on the phone with Kiia.

I was always looking for an excuse to talk to her. I didn’t book anything on their tour, I just told the team where they should play, who they should talk to, and how much money they should make. I was supposed to be high level, but I couldn’t stop myself from being too involved.

By the end of March, my phone calls led to meet ups. We lived an hour apart during the nocturnal hours and two hours with traffic; I found myself in Providence more than I ever wanted to be there.

A week before they were leaving for tour, I found myself in her apartment for the eighteenth time since February ended.

***

I was sitting on her couch with an acoustic guitar, playing my way through one of the new songs I’d been struggling with. When I was with her it was so much easier to create.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” she said. “It doesn’t sound anything like your old stuff.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. “With the new material, I’m just trying to make something that is authentic to who I am now…it’s a lot harder to write by yourself.”

I didn’t mean it like that.

“I mean, ever since I left BTR, having the freedom to write whatever I want has felt more like a prison. I always doubt whether any of it’s good, or if it will live up to the standard I’ve set…BTR was commercially manufactured, sure, but I wove my soul into all of those tracks with a talented team around me. It was something greater than myself.”

I kept playing, as if the only thing that could heal me was the passage of time.

“Cy,” she said, sitting next to me now. “What’s so wrong if people reject you? Isn’t that part of what makes this so much fun.”

The sounds of my playing in D minor filled the apartment.

“I was horrified to release these new singles. I didn’t think our fans would understand us working with you. When we were touring back in the day, BTR and OH always felt like the sun and the moon of the industry…working with you felt like a betrayal to who we all were as kids.”

“The sun and the moon?” I said out loud. “I didn’t realize you thought about us at all.”

“Cy, everyone hated you because you were in the right place at the right time. I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but it wasn’t a secret how hard you guys worked back then…” she stopped.

“Don’t make fun of me for what I’m about to say, because it’s a little embarrassing.”

“I’m not going to make fun of you for revealing something close to your heart, Kiia.” I said softly.

“Well, when we met, I was happy when you told me how many times you’d seen us. Well, because every time we were on a show together, I’d go to see you too. I wasn’t a fan of BTR, but I saw you as our rivals. You were the standard of what a successful band was.” Her voice trailed off.

I started to play the opening riff to Skeletons.

“I need you to know that I used to soundcheck with this before shows back then.” I said, leveling with her.

“I wonder if we could have been close like this if we met back then?” I asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

She leaned on my shoulder with enough weight that I stopped playing the guitar.

“I think we would have, and we both would have been better off for it. We wouldn’t have so many rumors now,” she said, not hiding anything anymore.

“Are you ready for your first major headlining tour?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know. I’m excited for it, and I think we’ll do great, but I have a request,” her mouth found its way too close to my ear.

“If it’s something I can do to make the tour a success, I’ll do my best,” I replied softly.

“Come on the tour with us. Help us do media. Play Invisible and Skeletons with us every night,” She paused, softening her voice even more as she placed a hand on my chest.

“Be there for me when I need someone.”

It took everything in me not to fall apart on her couch.

I told myself that I would join them on the tour if she asked, but I didn't think she was going to. Even after all of these late nights together, I didn’t expect that she would admit that wanted, or even needed me.

“Yeah, I can do that…my schedule’s open for the rest of the year anyway,” I said.

I leaned into our closeness, placing the guitar on the floor and pulling her into me. We shared our second kiss, and then another. The moment took hold of us as our lips stayed locked in our tightening embrace, hands gently caressing.

I pulled away as her right hand slid up my shirt.

“Sorry about that, I got carried away,” she said, readjusting to a normal sitting position. “It was quite the moment, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said under my breath. “We’re both to blame, but I know better. You’re dealing with so much, I should know better.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Cy, I don’t understand; everything between us has been consensual, there’s nothing to know better about.”

It was so simple, except it wasn’t. I knew this was progressing the way we wanted it to, but the moment it became public the burden of public opinion would try to destroy us.

“I don’t know. Why does something that feels so right seem like the wrong thing to do?” I asked the ceiling.

We sat in silence for a while before she went to sleep in her bed. I passed out on the couch some time after that.