ODAAT: Volume 2, Chapter 15

 

Time, Estranged

I realize I have a terrible relationship with time. I have trouble remembering things that have happened, and even more trouble remembering when. Time doesn't move the same way for me as it does for everyone else. My brain isn't linear enough. Every minute that passes in normal time is hours in my own time. I see everything happening in slow-motion. It feels like turning the page of a book is taking forever. Unless it's something big. Something tragic. Then, my brain fast-forwards through the sad parts and I come out on the other side of the disaster. I have to write everything down, or I won't remember it even happened.

It's a coping mechanism, I think. It's something my brain started doing when I was younger. It wasn't because I had a terrible life or anything. It was hard, of course. I mean, it's not easy raising yourself. It's difficult to see the adults around you acting like helpless children. I moved around so much as I kid. I lived in 15 different homes before I was 10. I can't stand staying in one place too long, which is probably why I'm so inclined to run. I don't even unpack most of the time. Now, being home is a nightmare for me. The lack of motion, lack of chaos, is chaotic to me. While another person might find comfort in stability, I feel restless.

Of course, if I'm asked about my childhood, I say I had the perfect upbringing. I recite suburbia, a two-parent home and a couple of siblings. I had a dog that I loved. I got good grades in school, getting a scholarship into Columbia. I had friends. I had direction in life. I had security. But I fell in love and threw it all away. Why? Because the worst thing you can do is tell them the truth. No one wants to hear about your tragedy of a childhood, because no one wants to compare their struggles to those of others'. My life was no worse than anyone else. In fact, I think it was fairly easy, all things considered. I never include the fact that in my youth, I spent time homeless. Living on couches and running from something that always caught up.

That's the thing about pain. You can never escape what hurts you if you live in a state of denial. The only way to overcome your pain is to embrace what pains you. If you can't embrace it, your brain develops those coping mechanisms. My brain decided; time, estranged. It helps to fade the days into weeks and the months into years. It helps to not remember what I've left behind so I don't spend the future dwelling on the past. I think about what has been and what will be. But I can't do it for too long. My relationship with time reminds me at every chance it gets that we've fallen apart. We call each other, on occasion. We send cards at Christmas. It's the polite thing to do, after all. But we're not friends. We're not family. We're strangers, time and I.

The only time I feel at peace is on tour – where no one else has any concept of time, either.

Frankie and I talked about that during our tour with Luke’s band. He actually had a stable upbringing. He had two parents and grew up in the same home. He had a bunch of siblings and family pets. His parents were still in love, which was crazy to me. He wasn't popular in school, but he wasn't bullied either. He was average. But, the restlessness was in his heart. He had a desire to see the world that was hibernating in his soul. The first band he had was a joke, but it gave him a glimpse at the world around him. He wanted to see more, know more, do more and be more. He wanted more. Period. We joked about settling down, what a drag it was. I told him that my boyfriend wanted to settle down, he told me his did as well. We actually bonded initially over the wanderlust of our hearts. Although it was all said in passing, he sparked something inside of me. I had a thought I had never had before about settling down with someone. Him.

I considered it more than I should have. But, it seemed logical. For us, settling down would have only been emotional. Physically, our home would be a tour bus. The location would be ever-changing. We would have thrived in our lifestyle of tours and music. The smell of sweat and bodily fluids embedding into the hair in our noses. Our muscles tired from always squishing into bunks. Coffee becoming the only way to start the day. But, I considered it. I know he did too. When that tour came to an end, he asked me to consider it a reality. We had bonded, we had so much in common. We wanted the same future and it only made sense we would spend it together. I told him I'd consider it when we got off that bus. But I got home, told Hunter. He got that phone call and everything changed.

I think it shook up my reality. I had indulged in these ideas with Frankie, but my future was with Hunter. I was going to stick it out with him and find a way to make it work. So, I said no to Frankie.

Then Frankie started dating Blake. They ended up touring together. Blake was a tour photographer for a world-famous band and Frankie was a homeless roadie. So, Blake invited him along on that tour. It was a big deal, since the two of them were an item. It made the band uncomfortable, but Blake did everything he could to get Frankie on that tour. It was entirely coincidental that someone overheard Frankie singing in an empty dressing room that summer afternoon. The manager of the band they were touring with asked to speak to Frankie the next day. He asked Frankie if he had ever considered being a professional musician. Frankie recalled his first band, how it was just a fun thing. He never saw it as a real career, but he loved playing music. He had written about 40 songs already and that was an impressive number. He was offered a contract on the spot for an album and a tour. That manager said he knew talent when he saw it and he wanted to turn Frankie into a star.

But, had I said yes to Frankie when he asked for that chance, he never would have met Blake. They never would have gone on that tour together. He never would have been heard. Never would have been offered that contract. He never would have seen his name in lights. Had I said yes when he asked for that chance, we would both be technicians, touring alongside famed bands. We would be backstage, drinking and cleaning up after their messes. We'd be telling stories to other stage hands and sharing laughs with the bands we worked for. Ultimately, we would have been in the background, helping others make their claim to fame.

But, I said no. That no from me gave Frankie the world.

We laugh about this as we board the plane, heading to California.