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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 19 (Part 2): The Alley in the Rain

She’s crying. I made her fucking cry. I’m a horrible person. I chased her down the corridors of the backstage of The Vogue and finally caught up to her in the alley behind the building. It’s drizzling outside, a soft kind of rain that doesn’t seem to fit the mood. There isn’t any light except a street light in the distance and some moonlight. So I couldn’t see her cry. But I could hear it.

“What?” she shouted at me her voice cracking and I realized that there must be tears in her eyes. She tried to pull herself free from my grip on her wrist, but has now given up. She’s looking at me, waiting for an answer. Waiting for an explanation. I don’t know how to begin.

“Lola…” I begin with saying her name, not knowing what to tell her in the moment. What the hell was I thinking performing Black right in front of her? I don’t know what I was thinking. I haven’t been thinking much at all lately.

Black is the song I wrote the night after I talked to Chris about it all. When he forced me to talk about it after he found me fixing the oven, when he assumed I had suicidal tendencies. I locked myself in my room and just started thinking about all the people I’ve lost in my life. Her at that moment being the most recent. And the thing that I couldn’t get out of my mind at that point in time was the simple though that I lost her to someone who isn’t there anymore. But that one day I’ll lose her again to someone else.

“Was that song about me?” she asks me, seeing that I’m incapable of forming a sentence right now. I don’t know how to describe the tone in her voice right now… It isn’t exactly anger. It’s isn’t sadness either. Then I realize that it’s hurt. She’s hurt, she sounds like a wounded animal, lashing out in pain. I hurt her so bad, my stomach turns at the thought of it.

“Lola…” I begin again, wanting to apologize to her for the way she is feeling, wanting her to feel better. I can’t hurt her. I’ve hurt her too much already, I can’t hurt her anymore.

“Was that song about me, Eddie?”, she repeats more persistent and she yanks her wrist, but my grip is still tight on it, which she realized all too well. She did it to grab my attention even more, to bring me to answer her.

“I need to know”, she pleads with me and I once again hear her voice crack.

“Yes”, I tell her, not being able to say anything else in that moment. There’s so many thoughts running through my head at the moment and I’m incapable of forming even one into a coherent sentence.

“So you still care about me?” she asks me and I think I detect a trace of hope in her voice. Is that the first thing she thinks about right now, the fact of wether or not I still care about her? It’s seems such a futile thought for her to have. She should know better.

“Care?” I ask her surprised, taken aback about how she could ever even question such a thing. Her expression changes at my question.

“Oh… I guess you don’t”, she says the hope disappearing from her voice, sounding heartbroken instead. I’m so fucking confused. How could she ever think I don’t care for her. She yanks her hand free from my grip and starts walking away from me.

“Lola!” This time I shout her name instead of just muttering it and it makes her stop in her tracks. Good, because I need her to listen to me. She needs to let me explain.

“Just stop getting in your mind for a second and listen to me. Please, I’ll explain everything. I just beg of you to listen to me”, I plead with her. She stands there silently with her back turned towards me for what feels like an eternity. She contemplating about wether or not she should let me explain myself. She’s probably weighing the odds, seeing if giving me the chance to talk to her, is with the risk of her getting hurt even more by me. I understand her completely, she has every right to refuse to listen to my words; wether that is for self protection, or simply because I’m no longer worth listening to. Eventually she slowly turns around and walks back to me until she’s standing right in front of me. Her hand reaches inside of her purse and she takes out her packet of cigarettes. In the glimpse of a moment I’m reminded of a similar, yet very different situation. The first time I met her. When she climbed down the fire escape to come and say hello. How we shared a smoke in the rain, not knowing what was just around the corner for us. It seems like an eternity ago.

“You get the duration of one cigarette to explain yourself”, she tells me gesturing towards the packet. Her voice is cold and emotionless, very much controlled and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Deal”, I tell her immediately, accepting whatever chance she’ll give me to try and make everything clear to her. I have a feeling this might be my last chance ever to do so.

“You may begin”, she says and she lights her cigarette, signaling the beginning of my short amount of time.

“Lola… I…” I begin and I realize I’m stuttering, struggling to find words. I can’t do that, I’ve only got about two minutes to explain everything to her, to tell her what I want to tell her, and I need all of that time. So any second I spent on mumbling, tripping over my own words, is a second wasted. I take a deep breath and continue.

“Oh fucking hell I don’t know where to begin with you”, I tell her honestly and I see her raise her eyebrows ever so slightly in the moonlight as she blows out a drag of smoke.

“First of all I do so much more than just care about you. I love you”, I say and she looks gobsmacked. I don’t know why though, I mean, she must’ve known. But apparently she didn’t. Or maybe she didn’t want to see it. Wasn’t I clear enough towards her, or does she see herself as so unloveable that it never came up in her mind that I might be in love with her? I don’t know which one, maybe both, maybe none.

“There, I said it. I love you with all my heart. I’ve been head over heels in love with you ever since I first laid eyes on you. It’s been fucking killing me and I don’t think that it will ever stop”, I admit and I’m trying to look at her eyes. I need to see those big Bambi eyes right now. I need the reassurance they’re always able to give me. The reassurance they just gave me on stage that got me through the show. I need to see them, but instead she’s looking at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. Not seeing them right now almost physically hurts.

“And I don’t want it to ever stop. Another thing that will never stop is the pain that I’ve been living in ever since we decided that we weren’t going to work together. It’s been agony”, I continue. I’ve been in so much pain ever since she left my life. So much so that it drove me to do something that I swore I would never ever do. And I’ve despised myself for doing it ever since. I will never blame Layne for it, or even Lola. The only person I have to blame for that is me. I’m so fucking disgusted by myself for doing it. I’ve vowed myself to never do it again, promised it to whatever form of higher power there is, swore it on my dad’s grave. If I ever do it again, it better be an overdose because I couldn’t fucking live with myself if ever did it again. Lola can’t know. She can never know. No matter how our relationship evolves, she can’t ever know. It would kill her. And the thought of that makes me hate myself even more for doing it.

“And honestly I think we made a mistake. We made a huge fucking mistake. Because I’m willing to fight for us and try to make us work out. Yes, maybe you are fucked up. But so am I and I’m willing to accept that and help you get through the tough times, if you are willing to do the same”, I let out. I’m not holding back, instead I’m throwing all my cards on the table. I look down at the cigarette in her hand. It’s about halfway finished. She’s smoking slower than usual, I can tell. I see it as a good sign.

“And I know you are willing to do the same. Otherwise you wouldn’t have broken into a fucking restroom to help me calm down my stage fright”, I try to make it clear to her and I can’t help but laugh a little. She broke into a fucking restroom to calm me down. God, I love her.

“And I’m sorry about the fucking song. But that’s how I feel ever since I let you go. I wonder why you can’t be in my life in that way anymore and that you could perhaps be in someone else’s life and kiss them and hold them and love them. But why can’t it be me? That’s what I’ve been wondering all along. Why did I meet you right now? In this moment where you see yourself as too much of a broken thing to be with me, or with anyone for that matter”, I say and I realize how fucking hopeless and pathetic I must sound, but I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s the truth. The same thought pops into my head every single fucking day: why can’t it be me? Why can’t she be in my life? Why can’t I hold her in her arms anymore?

“But I love you. Oh how much I fucking love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. For the first time in my life all the fucking stupid love songs make sense to me. Even fucking Foreigner”, I tell her somewhat panicked and she laughs a little. She knows my hatred for the hair metal scene. Them and their poodle hair, spandex pants and fucking misogynistic lyrics. Don’t ever get me started on that new fucking Warrant song. Though I’ll never understand that kind of hair metal. But now I get the cheesy, sappy love ballads, even though I fucking hate to admit it. And Lola knows it. She’s got a small smile on her face as she bring her cigarette to her lips again, signaling me that my time is nearly over.

“And that’s why I had to let you go in the first place. I needed to do what’s best for you. Even though I’ve been more broken ever since.”

When I say those words, I see that she’s finished her cigarette, which means that my time is up. Maybe for the better because I don’t know what else to fucking say. Her expression has changed. The smile that was on her lips just seconds ago is gone and I replaced by a solemn look. I’m desperately waiting for an answer. I practically want to beg her to say something. But I have a feeling that nothing is coming. By now the rain is pouring down heavily. I didn’t notice until just now when I looked over at her and saw that her hair was soaking wet, some curls sticking to the side of her face. I let out a sigh and start making my way to the back stage door. She’s given me my chance to talk, but she never promised me an answer.

“What if I told you I’ve been miserable without you?” I hear her say from behind me as I’m walking away. Her voice is cracking.

“What?” is the only thing that I get out of my mouth. I turn around to look at her, but stay put in my place. I watch her from a small distance as she says the following.

“I’ve been miserable about you. I want to be with you. Yes, we have a shit ton of baggage but if we both give it some time to heal and help the other heal, we’ll be able to get over that. The thing is that I miss you every second, of every hour, of every fucking day and… I need you in my life. Because I love you”, she rushes all the words out, unsure of wether or not she’ll be able to make it to the end of the sentence, her voice is thick with tears. When she says those final words, she locks her eyes with mine.

In that moment I follow my heart and run to her. I take her into my arms and place my lips upon hers, kissing her for the first time since Thanksgiving. But now I know this won’t be the last time I’ll kiss her, and I thank God that it isn’t. It’s instead the first of many, many kisses to come.

Her arms wrap around my neck, one of her hands tangling herself in the hair at the nape of my neck, as the other grabs onto my shirt. I wrap one arm around her waist and hold the side of her face with my other hand. We’re getting more and more drenched in the Seattle rain, but we both could care less about the Seattle rain for once.

I decide to pull us to the side of the alley, so we can stand underneath the fire escape, because even though I don’t care about us getting soaked, us getting sick doesn’t seem like the most ideal scenario after all. I manage to do this with breaking the kiss and I can feel Lola smile into the kiss.

“I love you”, I whisper against her lips and her smile gets even wider, which in return makes me grin like a fool, but I don’t care.

“I love you too”, she whispers back and I kiss her again. This feels too good to be true. I need to pinch myself, because I must be dreaming. Soon enough I’ll wake up in my bed, all alone, no one beside me. But I can’t be dreaming, because my mind could never make something up that was this good.

“Be mine?” I ask her in between kisses. I need some confirmation that we’ll give this another try. That we will work on it and will try to make it work, no matter what. Because I can’t be without her any longer. I need her in my life again. I need her to be mine.

“A thousand times yes”, she tells me and I kiss her again. We stand there for a while, underneath the fire escape, making up for lost time. We reacquaint ourselves with each other lips and whisper sweet nothings in between kisses.

“So just to make sure, we’re gonna give this a shot?” I ask her for the millionth time. I think we must’ve been out here for more than half an hour now, though it feels much shorter. Under any other circumstances or if it were any other person they would have gotten frustrated with me for needing so much affirmation about this. But not Lola. Her hand cups the side of my face as she looks me in the eyes once again. I’ve missed staring into those big brown Bambi eyes. I’ve missed their warmth and the sparkle of mischief that lies within.

“We’re gonna give it a shot and work for it, even though it might be tough”, she tells me and I give her a quick peck on the lips.

“I love you so fucking much”, I tell her. Now that I’ve finally mustered up the courage to tell her those words, I can’t stop saying them. Probably because they’ve been haunting my mind for nearly two months now.

It’s been nearly two fucking months since the camping trip. Two months of us being apart. Two months of missing her. Two months of misery. But that is over now. Thank God that it’s over.

I hold her close, stroking her hair as her head rests on my chest, her fingers tapping my heartbeat onto it. Next to us the backstage door of The Vogue opens. We both ignore the sound, too caught up in our own little bubble, but that bubble is shattered by a loud scream.

“Oh my God”, Johnny screams out and Lola jumps up in my arms. She looks at me with a shocked look on her face and can’t help but chuckle. We both turn our head towards where we assume Johnny to be and we see that Johnny is not alone. Stone is with him.

“Fucking hell, Kiriakis, I just spent an entire concert next to the fucking amp and people were screaming on top of that, but your shrieks will one day be the end of my hearing”, Stone mumbles. He hasn’t noticed us yet.

“Now what was it? A spider? A curl of your wig?” Stone asks Johnny sarcastically. Johnny shakes his head and takes Stones head in his hands and leads him to look at us.

“What I saw was a very happy couple”, Johnny says excitedly. Lola and I hadn’t even gotten around to discuss when and how we were gonna tell the others that we were gonna try and make things work. But I guess that is now one thing less we need to worry about.

“Would you look at that”, Stone mutters under his breath, somewhat in disbelief. Then a smile spreads across Stone’s lips. Sure, I know he cares about me and that he sees Lola as a sister, but I didn’t expect him to be this happy about us getting back together.

“Vedder, I’m about to make you the happiest man on earth. Even happier than you already are right now”, Stone says as he makes his way to join us underneath the fire escape, Johnny following right behind him.

“I don’t know about that”, I tell him, though I’m looking at Lola the entire time. I don’t think I can get much happier right now. Any other positive thing that happens in this moment is just a bonus really.

“Well, what if I told you that the day after tomorrow we have a meeting with Epic Records to sign our very first record deal”, Stone says and I slowly turn to look at him. He’s got an inhumanly large grin on his face. It’s bordering on creepy, but I don’t care.

“Please tell me this is not some kind of cruel joke”, I mumble under my breath but both Stone and Johnny are aggressively shaking their head no, telling me that Stone was telling the truth after all.

“We’re signing a record deal?” I ask them somewhat hopefully. They can’t be serious. All of this is too good to be true.

“We are signing a record deal!” Stone confirms and I drop my arms from Lola -who is covering her mouth with her hands in disbelief and shock- and pull Stone into a hug. I know I’m probably killing him by squeezing all the air from him but I couldn’t care less in the moment. Stone doesn’t seem to care about it too much either, since he’s squeezing me tight as well.

Eventually we feel another set of arms wrap around us. When I open my eyes I can see that they belong to Johnny, who has transformed the embrace into a group hug. Lola is laughing besides us.

Eventually we break apart. My gaze immediately turns to her. She’s been quiet ever since Stone broke the news. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me tight.

“I’m so fucking happy for you”, she whispers before putting her lips on mine. I don’t care that Stone and Johnny are watching. I need to kiss my girlfriend to celebrate the fact that we just got a record deal. Jesus, I never thought I’d say those words.

“Oh, they’re gonna make the most beautiful children one day”, Johnny mumbles next to us, somewhat dreamily. I decide to ignore him. Lola thankfully does the same.

“Johnny, aren’t you getting ahead of yourself a little?” Stone questions Johnny, pointing out the fact that yes, indeed Johnny is getting way ahead of himself.

“It’s just a hypothesis”, Johnny says in his defense as Lola and I break apart. I’m so fucking proud of you, she mouths to me.

“Anyhow, let’s change the subject. We’re gonna go out and celebrate. We’re going to that one Mexican bar with the really cheap margaritas… What’s the name again?” Stone asks, turning to Johnny.

“No way José”, Johnny says excitedly and a look of disgust appears on Stone’s face.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I forgot what a horrendous name they gave that fucking place”, Stone mutters under his breath. His face looks like he just bit into a lemon.

“Anyhow, that’s where we are going. So are you love birds coming or what?” Stone asks. Lola is about to tell him that we’ll come along, but I decide to cut her off. As much as I want to celebrate right now, I’d much rather spend some time with her.

“I think we’ll sit this one out”, I tell Stone and Lola looks at me, her eyes saying something along the lines of: you sure?

“Oh I see”, Johnny says, a wide grin on his face.

“Stone”, he declares solemnly, “They shall not be coming with us, since they have to make up for lost time.” Johnny puts his arm on Stone’s shoulders and starts pushing him in the direction of the backstage door.

“A lot to make up for. We’re talking many hours of coitus non interruptus”, Johnny continues and Stone has a look of utter confusion on his face. Lola is laughing and I try my best to hold back a chuckle.

“I mean fucking, Gossard. They’re gonna do the dirty, the horizontal tango, they’re gonna go Marvin Gaye all the way and get it on. Do I need to make some illustrations so you’ll understand?” Johnny asks him and Stone lets out a somewhat disgusted, somewhat irritated groan.

“No thank you, that’ll suffice”, he tells Johnny and they disappear through the door again. Once the door closes Lola and I burst out in laughter.

“Those fucking two”, Lola says in between laughs as she is gasping for breath. She bent over double. I love it when she laughs this hard. God, she so gorgeous.

“Oh they will tell everybody”, I say, laughing as well. I can see the scenario that’s momentarily unfolding inside before my eyes. Johnny talking very loudly, telling everyone who is interested (and even everyone who couldn’t care less) that we’re back together, constantly poking Stone in the side to get some back up, even though he won’t need it. Poor Stone, his ribs will be bruised.

“Might I suggest something?” I ask her once we’ve calmed down a bit.

“Go ahead”, she tells me a smile still playing on her lips.

“I suggest we get a bottle of wine and get back to your place, because I don’t really feel like getting interrupted by Chris”, I say. The thought of Chris walking in on us right now, like Johnny and Stone did just seconds ago, seems a bit too much right now. Lola leans over and gives me a short peck on my lips.

“I love the way you’re thinking”, she tells me.

“Let’s go then”, I tell her and in a reflex I pick her up into my arms, causing her to laugh.

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 19 (Part 1): Black (Empty Canvas)

“Lola, thank God you made it”, Johnny shouts at me so his voice will be heard over the music booming through The Vogue. He gives me a quick hug, finding it much more important to sip his Vodka Cranberry at that moment.

“Of course I made, though it was a bitch to get in. Where’s Corrine?” I ask as I try to signal one of the bartenders in the hopes of getting a drink.

“She’s still backstage with the guys, though she promised to come and watch the show here with us. So she’ll be here in a few minutes”, Johnny tells me and I nod in response as I order myself a rum and coke. Tonight is Mookie Blaylock’s second show ever. At first I didn’t want to come because every time I see Eddie it hurts like a motherfucker. But then Stone, Jeff and Mike kept telling me how excited they were for this gig. Mike even dropped by my job at the hotel to beg me to come to the gig. Apparently there’s a few guys from a record label in the crowd tonight interested in signing them. I couldn’t not come. That would make me a fucking horrible friend and I couldn’t do that to the guys. Also I still needed to thank Eddie for the flowers he sent me for my birthday. It had been two weeks and I hadn’t yet been able to muster up the courage to call him on the phone. I wonder if he’s okay. I hope his stage fright isn’t getting the best of him.

“Are you okay Johnny? You seem awfully quiet today”, I tell after a few moments of silence spent between us, which is a very rare occurrence. He’s aggressively stirring around the ice in his cup with a straw.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go to the doctor tomorrow for a routine check up, but I know he’ll have to take blood and I just hate fucking needles”, Johnny tells me, sounding traumatized by the thought of it alone.

“Oh you big baby”, I chuckle and wrap an arm around his shoulders, gently squeezing the top of his arm.

“You’ll be fine, trust me”, I say and Johnny lets out a half whine besides me. I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to fucking worry but at that point Corrine appears in front of us and wraps her arms around both Johnny and I giving us a group hug.

“Hey, how are the guys? Are they nervous?” I ask Corrine and even though I say guys, I only care about one name. I’ve seen the other perform at least a hundred times and they’re always fine. It’s Eddie that I worry about.

“Most of them are okay. You know the normal preshow jitters”, Corrine tells me and I already feel that something else is coming.

“Eddie on the other hand. The poor guy is on the verge of a nervous break down”, Corrine tells me and my heart drops.

“That’s why I’m here. I know you guys to be on speaking terms and the last time you were able to calm him down. There’s a lot riding on this performance and the other guys are getting worried, because he’s nearly catatonic. Would you just please go and talk to him”, she continues. She practically begging me.

“Corrine, I don’t know…” I say. It could work and I could calm him down. Though the last time I did that was through kissing him, which isn’t and option now. But maybe I could be able to calm him down again. But maybe I could make him more stressed out and panicked than he already was.

“Please, Lola, I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t necessary”, Coco says. I know I could calm him down, I just need to trust my instincts.

“Okay, I’ll go. But I can’t promise anything”, I tell her and I start making my way through the crowd to get to the backstage.

“You’re a saint”, I hear Corrine shout. I shake my head at her commentary and continue to push my way through the crowd at The Vogue. The place is packed to mass capacity and there a bunch more people outside trying to get in. Most of them are here for Alice in Chains, that’s a fact. But over the last few weeks the Seattle Music scene has been buzzing with talk about Mookie. They’ve been working on a project with Chris and it’s already set to release in April of next year. So everyone is really fucking curious. Also because some of the old Mother Love Bone and Green River fanbase didn’t hear in time about Mookie’s first show. So even though people are here mainly to see the Alice guys, there’s more than a little curiosity towards the Mookie guys. I eventually manage to get to the back stage door.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” a guy asks me as I open the door. I turn around to look at him, judging from his clothes he looks like he could be part of the security crew.

“My name is Lola Carmichael. I’m here to see Eddie Vedder of Mookie Blaylock”, I tell the guy quite confidently. It’s something I picked up when I was dating Andy and needed to get backstage; just act like you belong her, because you do. So don’t be fucking nervous and stutter. The security guy however is not really having it.

“Why haven’t I heard your name mentioned before?”, he asks me and I practically want to roll my eyes, because for a hot second I think I’m gonna have to explain the whole fucking situation between Eddie and I and why I need to get backstage, preferably before they have to go on stage. But I’m saved by someone pulling me through the half open stage door.

“She belongs with us, it’s cool”, Stone tells the security guy who just shrugs, but I can’t help but give him a somewhat smug smile. Something along the lines of: told ya, motherfucker.

“Thank God you came”, Stone tells me as soon as he closes the door. He wraps me up in a hug that nearly squishes all the air from my body.

“You’re not the first one to say that tonight”, I mumble against his chest. Eventually he finally releases me from his grip and I’m able to breathe once again.

“So, where is he?” I ask him, wanting to get down to business. Also because I’m worried for him. I need to know that he’s doing okay. Because when Andy couldn’t handle stress in the past, he reached for fucking dope and that’s not what I ever want Eddie to do.

“He’s locked himself in the restroom”, Stone tells me sounding hopeless. I’ve been backstage at The Vogue before so I know where the restroom is. Without saying another word to Stone I make my way over to said restroom. I find Jeff in front of the door, softly knocking on it, though his voice isn’t exactly soft.

“Ed, get the fuck out here”, he mutters angrily. I shake my head and push Jeff aside. Jeff gives me a surprised look.

“That’s not gonna fucking work. He’s never gonna get out of that restroom out of free will”, I tell him and I rummage through my black satchel bag for something that will help the situation.

“Oh, and what do you intend to do then?” Jeff asks me. Oh Ament, you know me longer than today. you know I have a way of working around these things. Eventually I find a quarter at the bottom of my bag. I put it in the outside groove of the toilet door lock and turn it around, effectively unlocking the restroom door. I open it and give Jeff a look that says something along the lines of: I told you, never underestimate me. After that I close the door behind me and lock it again. I hear an aggravated moan from the outside, but decide to ignore it. The restroom is a bit bigger than a one person stall, but not much. Eddie is sitting on the toilet (thankfully he’s put down the seat and the cover and is very clearly using it as chair, rather than something else). He hasn’t even moved or flinched since I entered the room.

I kneel down in front of him and take his hands, which are in his lap, in mine. I use my thumbs to stroke the back of his hands.

“Eddie”, I softly say his name and nearly sigh out in relief when he slowly lifts his head to look at me.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him, not knowing what else to ask him at this point. He stays quiet for a second and I’m worried that Corrine wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he was nearly catatonic.

“Not really”, he eventually says. Good I’m making progress. My current plan of action is to keep asking him question so he’ll come out of his slightly catatonic state to then switch to a subject that always makes him happy and somewhat excited so that he’ll have the right energy to go on stage.

“What’s the matter? Why are you so nervous?” I ask him, making sure to speak calmly and softly because the last thing I need is for him to have a panic attack.

“There’s a lot riding on this show. There’s people from Epic records that are coming to see us, so it’s important we play well. And… I’m just scared to fuck up”, he tells me. I nod. I knew it was something along these lines. But I have a feeling there’s still some things that he’s holding back. But I know better than to try and get it from him all at once.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you yet for those flowers you gave me on my birthday. They were absolutely beautiful. So thank you”, I tell him, trying to change the subject a bit and also because I really needed to thank him for them.

“You liked them?” he asks me, somewhat shyly. It always confuses me when he acts shy around me. I thought we were past shyness, but I guess when we came to the conclusion that we could never be together that it set us back in our friendship as well. So Eddie sometimes is shy around me now. I don’t get why, but I do find it really endearing.

“I loved them, thank you so much”, I tell him and I can’t help but lean over and give him a peck on his cheek as a sign of gratitude. He gives me a small smile.

“Come here”, he mutters, somewhat shyly, somewhat pleading and gestures to his lap. I’m in doubt of about exactly 0.3 seconds before I oblige to his order and straddle his lap. I take his head in my hands and place a soft kiss on his forehead, stroking his hair in the process. Eddie wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. For the first time in a long time I feel good again. Why does this always happen? Why do I feel incomplete until I’m in his arms again?

“I’ve been such a fuck up lately. I just assume that this will go wrong as well”, he says, resting his head against my chest as I play with his hair. Oh my love, you weren’t the one to fuck up, I was.

“Eddie, would you look at me?” I ask him and he slowly raises his head until his baby blues meet my eyes.

“You’ll be fine. Because I’ve heard you sing many many times before and not once did you ever fuck up”, I tell him and I see a small smile form on his lips. Oh how I want to kiss him again.

“And if you get too nervous up there, just look in the crowd. Johnny, Corrine and I will be front row”, I continue.

“But there’s also about 300 other people and the guys from the record company. Those are the ones that get on my nerves”, he says somewhat hopelessly.

“Whenever it gets too much, just look at me. And imagine that you’re in the basement of the gallery, with just me there following rehearsal, like I’ve done before”, I try to reassure him.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything”, he eventually says and I give him a little smile. He’s out of his catatonic state and just seems really nervous now. But it’s the kind of nervousness that he should be able to handle.

“Lola…” he says my name and is about to say something else when we’re interrupted by someone banging on the door.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE GET OUT OF THERE! WE NEED TO GO ON IN FIVE!” Jeff shouts from the other side of the door. We both turn our heads towards the door. Eddie lets out a sigh.

“I guess it’s now or never”, he mutters and I turn my head back around to face him. I can’t help it, and tuck a strand of his hair behind his air.

“You’ll be okay, right?” I ask him, now more nervous than he seems. He is such a talented musician and so are the other guys. The though that they might miss out on an opportunity like this is nerve wrecking. Eddie’s voice needs to be heard. Heard by more people than all clubs in Seattle could hold and this could be his shot.

“I think so. And if I get too nervous I look for you in the crowd”, he says and I nod, shooting him another small smile.

“I’ll be there”, I tell him. Jeff is still banging on the door. He really needs to get out of here. I get off his lap and he gets up from the toilet as well. I’m about to turn around and open the door when Eddie pulls me in tight for another hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close as well. Jeff is still knocking on the door.

“Come one guys, this isn’t funny anymore”, Jeff says helplessly from the other side of the door. I gently force a bit more distance between Eddie and I, even though I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave his arms ever again.

“Eddie, we have to go”, I tell him and I notice how dangerously close our lips are. One kiss and he’d be so much calmer already. But I can’t. We can’t. We’re not those people anymore. Eddie nods and loosens his grip on me completely. I turn around and open the restroom door.

Jeff’s arms were still on automatic pilot and he could barely stop himself in time so he didn’t hit me in the face.

“Finally”, he sighs out very much relieved. He gives Eddie a scolding look immediately, but stops it as soon as he sees the look on my face. We awkwardly stand there for a few seconds. The backstage has become more busy. People are running around, trying to find their instruments, tech guys running around with cords, the stage manager yelling that they have two more minutes.

“Well, I’ll see you guys after the show”, I tell them and give Jeff a quick hug. I then turn to Eddie and pull him tight one last time, hoping to let him know that everything will be alright.

“You’ll be great”, I whisper in his ear and before he can say anything in response, I remove myself from his arms and start making my way towards the backstage door again.

I walk back into the crowd and soon enough I’m able to find Johnny and Corrine again. They’re front row already and I manage to snake my way through the crowd until I get to them.

“And? Did it work?” Corrine asks me eager to know. Knowing her the suspense of it all has been killing her ever since I left for the backstage. She holding on to her her glass -what I assume to be rum and coke- for dear life. It’s surprising the thing hasn’t shattered under the pressure yet.

“He’s talking now, so I guess I did something right”, I tell her as I squeeze in between her and Johnny to secure my place in the crowd. I promised him I’d be front row if he needed me, so here I am.

“God bless your beautiful soul”, she shouts out and wraps her arms around me so aggressively I nearly get tackled to the ground.

“Corrine, you should thank her. Not fucking kill her”, Johnny tells her and I nod in agreement. He gives Corrine a push at her shoulder and eventually she does let me go. Why do I always take breathing for granted? Especially with the friends I have, who see near suffocation as a sign of affection.

At that point we hear the mike switch on and the MC comes to to announce the guys. I hold my breath the moment they walk out on stage. Eddie is the last one to walk on. He seems okay, somewhat hesitant, but okay. He makes his way to the mike and looks around him, checking if the guys are ready. They all nod or give a thumbs up. Now it all lies in Eddie’s hands. His eyes are still screwed shut, but eventually he opens them and scans the first row. His eyes lock with mine and I give him a small wave. It’s just us in the rehearsal space of the gallery, or just you and me in bed when you used tot sing me to sleep. It’s just us.

“One, two, three…” he softly says into the mike and behind him the band begins the first tune. I recognize it as Release. I’ve heard them rehearse it many times. I recall when it was written. It was in the week that Eddie slept on the couch of the gallery. One day after rehearsal he came upstairs to quickly take a shower. I remember opening the door to see a puffy eyed and runny nosed Eddie on the other side. He told me it was nothing and I decided to let it go, not wanting to intrude. But after everything that he told me during Thanksgiving, the meaning of the song is so much clearer to me. If his dad could see him now, he’d be so fucking proud. By the end of the song there are tears in the corners of my eyes and I quickly wipe them away before anyone else can see them.

After that they launch themselves into a setlist consisting out of uptempo, high energy songs. First Once, followed by Alive, Why Go, Even Flow, Alone and Porch. The set is going very well and Eddie is crawling more and more out his shell. There is more audacity in his voice and in his presence. He even manages to look into the crowd instead of keeping his eyes shut. Every now and then his eyes still find me and I give him some form of reassurance; wether it’s a smile or a thumbs up.

“So… Uhm… This is our last song”, Eddie says after Porch. Honestly, I’m so sad their set is already over. I could watch them for hours and hours on end. The crowd isn’t too happy that it’s over already either.

“But that means that Alice will be out in a few moments”, he continues and the crowd cheers. Knowing Jerry Cantrell, he’s probably grinning ear to ear back stage right now.

“But we have one more song to go. It was written in a dark hour, hence the title Black”, and with those words the band kicks in behind him. I’ve never heard them play this before. I can immediately tell it’s a more slow song, and I’m excited. I love their high energy stuff, but in my humble opinion you can only get to know the core of an artist in their calmer works, where the emotions are able to come to the surface.

I’m mesmerized by the beauty of his voice once again. I’m so entranced that I’m only vaguely listening to the lyrics. But then Johnny and Corrine start tapping my shoulders at the same time. They share a knowing look and I’m completely and utterly confused. What? I mouth at Corrine, not wanting my voice to was out Eddie’s.

“I think he wrote this about you”, Corrine says and a chill runs down my spine. What? That can’t be? Oh please don’t let it be so. But when Eddie gets to the final part of the song I know Corrine is right.

“I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a star in somebody else's sky. But why, why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?” Eddie sings and for the first time during the song he opens his eyes and they immediately find mine. The pain in his eyes knocks the wind out of me.

They finish up the song and take their bows. In that moment I don’t think about what I do. I start to push my way through the crowd again. I hear Johnny and Corrine call my name, but I ignore them. The fastest way it is through the backstage and then through the emergency exit. I make my way to the backstage door. Luckily this time the security guy doesn’t stop me and lets me right through.

The moment I get into the backstage the Mookie guys are getting off stage. So I decide to make a run for it.

I hear Stone shout my name but I just ignore him as I run around the labyrinth that is the backstage trying to find the emergency exit.

Another person shouts my name. I know who it is. It’s the one person I can’t face right now. I can’t see him right now. I take a sharp turn around the corner and eventually see the emergency exit right in front of it. I push it open and run through it in one swift motion. Even though I’m impressed by my successful run so far, Eddie is by far faster. I’ve only been able to run a few yards when Eddie’s hand catches on my wrist, stopping me in my running and pulling me back.

“What?” I shout at him, only to realize my voice is cracking because of tears.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 18: 21 Years (Empty Canvas)

I woke up around nine in the morning and immediately already wanted the day to be over. It’s December 3rd. My birthday. I’m turning twenty one today. For any other person their birthday is a somewhat exciting event, especially their 21st birthday. Not for me. I’ve always despised my birthdays ever since I learned the truth about the day I was born.

I grew up without my mother. I never knew her, though my dad talked about her a lot. There were all these pictures of her around the house. He always used to tell me the story of how they met. My dad -William Carmichael, Will if you’re close, never ever Willy or he’ll kill you- owned an art gallery in New York at the time (now he owns several, he’s made quite the name for himself). The New York art scene in the sixties was heavily influenced by one man and everyone knows his name. Andy Warhol. So one night my dad got invited to a party at Warhol’s Factory and low and behold, there was Mona Jones, my mother. Apparently she was dressed in a very Janis Joplinesque outfit, which kind of clashed with the more glamorous mods that were usually found in Warhol’s circle. For my dad it was love at first sight. My mom however needed some more convincing. He took her out on a date every Friday night for a month until she granted him as much as a kiss. But once the ball got rolling they were inseparable. This all happened in 1967 and by early 1969 they were married (my mom married my dad at the New York City Hall in a black mini dress, my dad however -still the more put together one- was perfectly suited up) and my mom was pregnant. That summer my mom convinced my dad to go to Woodstock (yup, the Woodstock, because my mom was one of the most badass women to walk the earth), even though she was about 5 months pregnant at the time. My dad always says that my love for any kind of Woodstock era music is a direct result of that. I don’t know if it’s true, but if it is, I thank my mother, because now I at least have a decent music taste.

Later that year I was born, on December 3rd. Which is also the day my mother died. Eclampsia was the reason. My dad described it to me as some kind of epileptic seizure that happens during giving birth. It’s more complicated than that, but he could never fully explain it to me without breaking down.

I only found out she had died on the day I was born when I turned sixteen and wondered about the exact date of her death for the first time. I had just always assumed that she at least lived for a few months after I was born. Her birth date and death date were not on her grave stone. She didn’t have a gravestone, instead she was cremated and her ashes were partially scattered in the Atlantic Ocean, part was kept in an urn by her sister/my aunt Isla who lives in Paris (this because my mom had always wanted to visit her sister in Paris and never got around to do so). So when I turned sixteen I asked my dad about when my mom died. He told me the truth and I have hated my birthday ever since. I blame myself even though my dad has made it very clear that eclampsia is not caused by the baby. But he refuses to see my point of view in the matter. If I hadn’t been born, if she never got pregnant, she would still be here.

So when I woke up this morning I already wanted the day to be over. This was gonna be the worst birthday ever, I knew it. Because on top of my usual being-consumed-by-guilt-because-I’m-the-reason-my-mother-died, I also had to deal with the I-royally-fucked-up-and-let-Eddie-go-when-I-should-have-begged-him-to-give-us-a-shot-feelings.

Those feelings had been consuming me ever since Thanksgiving. I’ve only seen him once since Thanksgiving, after a band rehearsal. I gave him back his shirt and flannel, though I didn’t want to. I gave them back about a week after Thanksgiving and I had slept in the shirt every night for a week. Just to have his scent on the shirt, somehow soothed me and gave me the illusion that he was there with me in bed, just a few inches away. The last night I had the shirt I woke up in the middle of the night and in my sleep-drunk state of consciousness was convinced that Eddie was next to me. So I reached over to feel the warmth of his body and cuddle up in his arms. only to realize that the space next to me was empty. And that it would always be empty. That he’d never be there anymore. It sent me into a fit of hysterics and I cried for about an hour, sobbing into the flannel until I had tired myself out so much that I fell asleep. The next morning I decided that I needed to give him his shirt back, because one, I couldn’t cling on to it forever, two because I was using it as a substitute to being with him. It’s like when someone is trying to quit heroin and goes cold turkey, only to double up the amount of cigarettes you smoke.

So I gave him back his shirt and flannel. We talked a bit and we were pretty cool about it. Just small talk, nothing major. But it felt so fucking weird to talk about stuff that didn’t matter, like we barely knew each other at all, even though we have quite the history together.

I tried to shake the negative feelings from me that morning, so I could at least have a somewhat enjoyable day, but they weren’t going anywhere.

I got out of bed, took a shower and put on some clothes. The last thing I did before leaving my place was disconnecting my phone. That way no one can ever leave me happy birthday messages and that kind of bullshit. Because it is not a happy birthday. I don’t do happy birthdays. I have a birthday and that’s it.

I left my place and executed the birthday plan I had last year, but never got to do. That plan was just walk around town all day, trying to think of anything else than the fact that this is the day my mother died. The only kind of treat I allowed myself on my birthday were cake, because I have a huge sweet tooth, and peonies. The cake however is not a fucking birthday cake with way too many extras. One slice is all I need for this festive day. As for the peonies, they’re my favorite flower. They were also my mother’s favorite flower, so it’s only fitting to got them on my birthday. Though I decided that I wouldn’t be getting any this year. I didn’t deserve them after all that happened.

That was the plan last year; walking around town all day, cake and peonies. That plan however got messed up by Andy. I had told him about my usual birthday funk and he decided that that year, I wasn’t gonna spent my birthday sulking away in a corner. I turned twenty after all, a new decade of my life was beginning and it needed a good start. Those were his words not mine. So instead we spent the entire day together doing silly stuff. We went to the arcade, we did laser tag, we went to Pike Place Market and we ended the day at his and Cornell’s place, where everyone was waiting and I had my first birthday party in many, many years. It was an okay day after all, but it was not what I wanted out of my birthday. I didn’t want the razzle dazzle of a whirlwind day. Nor did I want to get any more attention than usual, or have a party. Talking me out of the day of solitude thing was one thing, but pushing me to do all the other stuff was too much for me. But that was the thing about Andy. I knew he meant well and that combined with his very out there, extravagant personality caused it all to be a bit much for me. Though I never had the nerve to tell him that, because I knew he meant well after all.

Andy. Oh God, last year Andy was still alive. He was the person I woke up next to on my last birthday and fell asleep next to that night. He’s no longer here. I was walking around Centennial Park when that hit me. I looked at my watch and saw that it already was three in the afternoon. My thought wondered back to that time last year. Last year on this day, on this time I was at Pike Place Market with Andy. That realization hit me like a brick in the face and I needed to take a seat on a near by bench. As I let out a few sobs, I pushed myself to calm myself down.

I’ve cried for him so much, during his life and now that he’s gone. He is the man that has caused the most tears in my life. It used to be my father, but in the year and three months that I knew Andy, and the six months that have passed since his passing, he has surpassed my father on that list. A new person has also entered the top three, that person being Eddie. The reason that he currently isn’t number on is the fact that part of the tears I’ve shed for him are my own fault. Most of them actually.

But my dad used to be number one. I love him with all my heart and I know he cares about me a lot as well. But he’s hurt me in multiple ways. When I grew up, it was just me and my dad. Just the two of us. I spent a lot of time with his parents as well, because he had to work a lot. His parents (my grandparents, but I don’t like to refer to them as such, because I want to distance myself from those people as much as I possibly can) come from old money. They’re filthy rich. We’re talking penthouse apartment in the Upper East Side and summertime in the Hamptons and Martha’s Vineyard rich. The kind of rich high society people that think they are better than everyone else. That look down upon their doorman as if he were a rat instead of a human. The kind of people that will also have gala’s for charities but to only show off how fucking wealthy they are. The kind of people that do things like cotillion and teach their children to play lacrosse and cricket instead of basketball and baseball.

My dad’s parents had always hated my mother. She just didn’t fit in the picture of what they wanted my dad’s life to look like. They will never say, but they are happy that she is gone. And then they had me, their grandchild. When I was a kid and didn’t know any better, I let them do their high society bidding on me. I did ballet and learned French (my motivation for learning French was always being able to go to Paris to visit my aunt Isla). I was basically trained to be a high society girl. But what they hadn’t counted on is the fact that I had a lot more of my mother’s spirit than my father’s spirit and eventually I started to rebel. First it was in little ways, like starting to listen to rock music in my room with the stereo on the lowest volume and the door locked. Then it was black eyeliner, more than usual. Soon enough it was wearing a leather jacket over my private school uniform. They could all accept this as a phase that I was going through. They figured it would eventually go away. But then we got to my senior year and they demanded of my to attend cotillion and that was the last fucking thing I cared about. So when I refused to do it out of principals (because I think cotillion is a fucking waste of money, money that could be spent on important stuff, charities. That money could feed people, or help stop global warning, but instead it needed to be spent on pretty dresses), they were infuriated. That was when my relationship with them basically became non existent. They saw it as betrayal of the highest form.

My dad tried to talk me into it, but I was sticking to my guns. This was also when the relationship between me and my dad got rocky to say the least. He had dated a few women throughout the years, some were better than others. But the longest any of these relationships had ever lasted was two years. At that point in time he was dating this woman called Claire, whom he knew from his college days. Also upper class, his parents got along great with hers. And she was an absolute and utter bitch. This is not because I was biased. I was never biased when it came to my father’s dating choices, since I never knew my mother. So when I say she’s a stone cold bitch, that’s exactly what she is. She divorced her first husband after she found him snorting coke off some hooker’s chest. To be honest, knowing Claire, I understand the guy. She was a fucking psycho, always so fucking needy and dishonest, manipulative to a tea. She had twins from that marriage. Susannah and Johanna, or Blahblah and Blahblahblah as I used to call them. They were my age and had also been raised in the same high society world, but contrary to me, they absolutely fucking loved it. Needless to say that we clashed like there was no tomorrow.

Anyhow at one point my dad and Claire, or the step monster as I like to call her, moved in together. Which meant that Blahblah and Blahblahblah also moved in with us. We did have a four story brownstone in SoHo, so we had plenty of fucking space, yet they kept complaining, because it was in SoHo and not in their precious little Upper East Side. It nearly drove me nuts living with them.

But I survived. The thing that kept me going was the promise of college. I attended NYU for a year. For that I was a disgrace to the family, because I should’ve at least tried to get into Columbia. I told them to suck it -not literally though I wish I had- and went to NYU anyway. I was still living at home and so were Susannah and Johanna, because they did both get into Columbia. So basically nothing in my living situation changed.

I was swallowing it all up and then came the horrible news that my dad and Claire were getting married. I was happy for my dad that he found someone, but I didn’t want it to be that fucking manipulative gold digger. At the same time I was also getting conflicted about what I wanted to do with my life. I was studying History at NYU, though I had no clue what I actually wanted to do with my life. Basically what everything was adding up to was an existential crisis of immense proportions.

So that summer, the summer of 1988, after finishing my first year at NYU, the summer that my dad would marry the monster that made me feel like an outcast in my own home, I had had enough of it. On the day of wedding I packed my bags and did the only thing I wanted to do in my life at that point. I scraped together all the savings I had from working a job at CBGB’s behind the bar and I got myself a ticket to Paris to live with my aunt.

I lived with my aunt for a year. During that year my dad disowned me, his family disowned me and told me that I was the scum of the earth. And that is the reason he is number two on the list of men I’ve shed tears about.

When I was reliving all of that it was around five in the afternoon and I passed a pet store in the Westlake area. I couldn’t help but look through the window, wanting to see some cute bunnies or something. What I saw instead was not at all what I expected. Eddie was behind the register with one parakeet on each shoulder. I guess he must work there right now. I couldn’t help myself but look at him for a while, as he was scribbling things down in one of his omnipresent notebooks. I made such a huge mistake. I want to be with him. I need him in my life. And as I was looking through the window, I realized that we would never be like that anymore. I knew it before, but the window separating us in that moment made the distance that had come between us all the clearer to me.

His head turned and I quickly sprinted away from the window, not wanting him to see me and I continued my endless walk. I’ve always liked walking, it has always helped me clear my mind. When I lived in New York I only took the subway when it was cold, otherwise I would walk anywhere. When I lived in Paris, I always walked everywhere, even if it took me three hours because the streets were covered in snow. I spent about a year in Paris. During that year I lived with my aunt Isla, who married a French man named Pierre, who was the absolute kindest man. It was also the first time in my life I actually saw my mother’s urn. Aunt Isla has it placed in front of a large window with lots of flowers always surrounding it. “Your mother needs sunlight, she adored the sun”, is the explanation Aunt Isla gave me. Aunt Isla and I always got along well. She came over to New York twice a year just to see me and we’d write all the time. So living with her was like a dream. She also loved it. I guess part of that has to do with the fact that she and Pierre never had children.

So I spent a year in Paris. I worked in a bistro in Montmartre. And on one night this fiery redhead walk in talking in a very American sounding French accent. I started speaking English to her and I’ve never seen anyone look that happy in their lives. We started talking to each other and she eventually helped me close down the bistro that night. The girl was an exchange student from Seattle, who was in Paris for a year to study art. That girl was Corrine Neely and she’s been my best friend ever since that day.

We spent our time in Paris together by going to jazz clubs and the occasional rock bar (though French rock isn’t really the best). We visited all the major museums and spent many afternoons on the terrace of Shakespeare and Company, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, trying to look as French as possible.

And then June came around and Corrine had to go back to Seattle. And I was alone in Paris. I was also starting to feel like I was outstaying my welcome with my aunt. Not that she or Pierre wanted me gone, but I felt like I couldn’t stay there forever. So I started planning my next move. New York would never be an option again. Though visa wise it would be best if I went back to the States. But I had no one left there. No one except Corrine. And that’s why in a somewhat impulsive move, I ended up moving from Paris to Seattle in January of 1989. Corrine and helped me find an apartment and it’s still the same apartment that I live in.

The day I moved in I only had one suitcase and three boxes of stuff to my name. Two guys helped my carry them upstairs whilst I and Corrine looked on. One was Corrine’s friend whom she had just started dating at that point. That was Jeff. The other caught my eye immediately. His name was Andy. Fast forward three months later and we were dating.

At this point during the day it was nine in the evening and it was getting too cold for my liking. So I decided to go home. But first I made a stop by the liquor store, seeing that I was now finally able to buy my own booze. I bought a bottle of wine and when the guy asked for my ID, I promptly gave it to him.

“Oh, look, it’s your birthday!” he exclaimed somewhat surprised.

“Yes, it is”, I confirmed even though he held the confirmation of that fact in his hands.

“It’s your 21st birthday and you’re out alone buying your own wine?” the guy asked as if the scenario that he had now just described was the saddest thing he could possibly imagine.

“Yeah. I’m not really big on birthdays. They’re not my thing”, I told the guy as I took the bag with the wine and the change from him.

“Such a shame”, he said. “Happy birthday!” he shouted as I left the store. One person has wished me a happy birthday today and it was a complete stranger. Maybe it’s for the better.

I made one last stop before I went home. I stopped at a deli down the street and bought myself a piece of carrot cake, because that’s my favorite even though most people find it disgusting.

And that is how I spent my birthday. I’m currently walking up the stairs to my apartment. Ready to drink my wine and listen to some Billie Holiday, because her voice sounds the most like how I feel.

I reach the top of the stairs and notice something on my doormat. Something I didn’t expect there at all. I reach down and put it. It’s a beautiful bunch of soft pink peonies. I quickly open my door and get inside. I put the bag with the wine and cake down and look at the flowers. There’s absolutely gorgeous. But who the fuck sent these? I look for a card and eventually find one suck in the middle of the bunch. I recognize the handwriting immediately.

Dear Lola,

Happy 21st birthday! Enjoy the freedom to finally ‘buy your own damn wine’ as you once put it. I remember you also telling me then that you buy your own flowers since no one else will. I also remember that peonies are your favorite. So here my little gift to you, I hope mine are just as good as the ones you got yourself.

I hope you had a great day and I’ll see you around soon!

Love, Eddie

I read the damn note over and over again until I can’t anymore, because my eyes are blurry with tears. The year I decided I didn’t deserve any flowers, he gets them for me.

Letting him go is the biggest mistake I made in the 20th year of my life. But I will never be able to get him back. He’ll find someone else, that will love him like he is supposed to be loved. And that’s for the better, because he deserves better. He certainly deserves better than me.

I open up the bottle of wine and don’t even bother to get a glass. I take out my piece of cake and light a cigarette. Looking at the orange ring of fire at the end of it, through my blurry vision it almost looks like a candle.

“Happy birthday to me”, I whisper-sing to myself.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 17: Would? (Empty Canvas)

If I had to hear Madonna declare her virginal feelings one more time, I was gonna shoot myself. I don’t know what was wrong with that fucking radio station, but it had been getting on my nerves all day.

I’ve recently started a job at a pet store, since it’s the only reply I ever got to the resumes I sent out. It’s just a temporary thing until we go on tour. And even though I’ve only been working here for a week so far, I can tell with 100% certainty that it’s the worst job I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve done everything. I’ve waited tables, I’ve filled up gas, I’ve worked at a convenience store, I’ve worked bars and I’ve worked night security jobs. The pet store is worse than all of them combined. Sure bunnies are cute, but cleaning out the shit out of twenty bunny cages takes away the cuteness. Now I get why they were so eager to hire me.

And today has been the worst day yet. It’s the first day of my second week there. It’s Monday. It’s December 3rd. It’s Lola’s 21st birthday today. I’ve only seen her once after Thanksgiving. I ran into her after rehearsal. She gave me back my shirt and flannel that she had borrowed on Thanksgiving. We made some small talk for a while. It’s good that we can act normal around each other. But on the other hand the whole encounter hurt like a motherfucker. It was as if our history was erased and we barely meant anything to each other anymore. It was as if we barely knew each other at all. All because we were trying to avoid talking about how we really felt.

I thought that the way I felt before Thanksgiving was bad. But this is even worse. I guess the main difference is that before Thanksgiving I still had hope that we could get back together. But now I see that that isn’t an option. And even though I know it’s for the better that we’re not together… I feel… More broken without her. I want her to be mine. I need her in my life.

During my shift my thoughts kept wondering to her. I wondered what she was doing, how she was feeling, if she was happy. In the flash of a moment I thought I saw her out of the corner of my eye, looking in through the window of the pet store. But my mind was probably playing tricks on me.

The worst practical part about this day was the fact that we got in some new parakeets that are too shy to be around humans yet. So apparently what you have to do is put them on your shoulder, so get used to being around humans. There were only two of them, so I put one on each of my shoulders. I’ve nicknamed them Alice Pooper and Fried Chicken. Alice Pooper was the one on my left shoulder, that kept shitting on me. Fried Chicken was the one on my right shoulder, that’s possessed by an evil spirit. The damn bird attempted to pierce my ear multiple times and has clawed open my shoulder completely. So I named him Fried Chicken, because that’s how I want him to meet his end.

At one point during the day this couple walked into the store. They were clearly on some date and were staring at a few of the puppies we had in store.

“Oh baby, they’re so cute. Can we get one?” the girl begged the guy, looking at him pouting. She made me want to hurl. I hate it when people call each other baby.

“Not as cute as you”, he told and at that point I actually nearly threw up. They were sticking to each other like gum underneath a shoe, continuing to talk back and forth about wether or not to get one.

“You know they euthanize the ones that don’t get adopted”, I told them after they clearly decided not to get one. The girl was about to burst out in tears as they left the store. The guy gave me an angry look, but I couldn’t care less. Also because in that moment Alice Pooper decided to unleash a new load of shit on me.

When I finally got off work, I had to make one more stop before I went home. It wasn’t something I had to do, but I really wanted to do it. Part of me needed to do it. It was an idea I had when Lola and I were together; the fact that we aren’t anymore didn’t stop me from doing it. Besides, it was only a little thing.

But I was still very relieved when I got home. I was afraid of running into Lola. I don’t think I would’ve been able to face her today and be happy for her and wish her a happy birthday without breaking down once again.

I’ve made a huge mistake. I should’ve never decided that we shouldn’t be together. I should have insisted on us trying. I should have fought for her. I should have tried to control myself, to fix myself for her, so that I could be the person that she deserves. The person that she needs. But I didn’t. And there is no way that she’ll ever give me that chance again. We were so close, so fucking close.

When I got home no one was there. Chris was probably hanging out with Susan. After Thanksgiving he told me about this plan that Jeff had concocted. A plan that apparently went horribly wrong. Step one of the plan was that Johnny would drive especially aggressive so that Lola would spill the pie on herself so she could wear my clothes. Apparently he nearly ran over poor Mrs. Anderson in the process and forgot that Lola’s pie came straight out of the oven, so she nearly got burned. Step two was that Jerry Cantrell was gonna try and seduce Lola at dinner so that I would get jealous. But on the day of the plan Jerry was too drunk to do anything other than attempt to braid McCready’s hair, so they enlisted Stone to take up Jerry’s role. I noticed Stone acting weird throughout dinner. But I just thought he was coming down with the flu. And then step three was to lock Lola and I in the kitchen and wait for the magic of some very early mistletoe to do it’s work.

I don’t know what got into Jeff to make up such a plan. Chris told me that Jeff just wanted us back together and happy; that he intended it well. He probably did, but a plan that involves Lola nearly getting burned is not gonna carry my stamp of approval.

I let out a sigh and shook my head at the thought of it all. I walked up to our phone and pressed down on the machine to check for any new messages. I heard the tape click and rewind a bit and soon enough Stone’s voice filled the apartment.

“Eddie, I have great news. Wonderful news, absolutely splendid”, Stone’s voice began. I wasn't as intrigued as I should have been though, so I just lay down on the couch and lit up a cigarette.

“We’re going on tour with Alice in Chains! Two dates in January in Canada and then two weeks in February up and own the West Coast. Also, Jeff and I got us a meeting at Epic Records, they might be interested in signing us. Anyhow, lots of reason to celebrate tonight. So when you get home and get this message you clean that rat shit off of you and get your ass over to Jeff’s place. You hear me, Vedder? Get your ass over here. Also don’t worry, Lola isn’t here. No one’s been able to get a hold of her today. Anyhow, get over here, preferably before Mike loses his speech abilities again.”

And then there was the clicking noise of the machine again letting me know that the message was over. There was a lot to process. I choked on my smoke when I heard we were going on tour. We’re going on fucking tour. That’s amazing. And they got a meeting with Epic? How the fuck were they able to do that? I thought they were still tied to A&M from their Mother Love Bone days? Does it matter? We might be signing a record deal. We might be making an album.

I was completely filled with excitement and was already getting up off the couch, stripping myself of my work uniform, so I could quickly throw on some other clothes and go out to meet the guys. And then Stone brought up Lola. No one has been able to get a hold of her today. Was she okay? Was she spending her birthday alone?

I shook the thoughts from my head and forced myself off the couch and into the bathroom. I took a quick shower, put on some fresh clothes and left the apartment. As I walked to Jeff’s place I didn’t know how to feel. One part of me was overjoyed, another part of me worried. Is she okay, I kept wondering over and over again. My thoughts wondered back towards earlier today, when I thought I saw her through the store window. Maybe it was her after all. But what was she doing there?

Right now I’m walking into Jeff’s street, I can see his building in the distance. Do I really want to go there? Do I really want to be around all these happy people, when there’s a chance that Lola might be out there all alone. On her birthday of all days. I’m pulled from my thoughts by some shouting.

“Vedder, about damn time”, Sean shouted hanging out of Jeff’s window. Both of the Mikes were also hanging from the window. McCready -or our Mike as we refer to him around the Alice guys- seemed to be shirtless, Starr -the other Mike- was wearing a cowboy hat.

“Mister California seems to have found his way after all. I thought you might have gotten lost”, Starr shouted and McCready was nodding in a gesture that read as: yeah, what he said.

“I’ll be up in a second”, I told them and entered the building. After ringing Jeff’s bell for about five minutes, they finally buzzed me in and I made my way to the apartment. The door is open so I walk in and I’m nearly tackled to the ground by a very happy Jerry Cantrell.

“Edward! Glad you made it. I thought you might not have come at all, considering everything”, Cantrell slurs, clearly already on his way to another alcohol induced coma.

“Considering what?” I ask him, ever so slightly confused as I take the bottle of Jack Daniels from his hand. He’s clearly had enough and I desperately need some.

“You know, the shit with the birthday girl. Her name was Lola she was a showgirl! With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there” Cantrell starts singsonging, making gestures about a very short skirt. Oh why did he have to bring this up again? Also why does everyone keep referring to the Manilow song instead of the Kinks song? Maybe it’s because the Kinks song is actually about a man?

“But you’ve seen her in less right? Tell me are her tits really as amazing as they seem?” he slurs now and his comment makes me want to punch him in the face. Good thing Jeff’s plan didn’t work out, because if he had actually flirted with her on Thanksgiving I might have cut off his arm with a meat cleaver.

“Jerry, leave him the fuck alone”, Layne says coming up to us. He seems to be in a less elated mood than the rest of the guys. Something which I can appreciate.

“Come on, you must’ve thought about them as well”, Jerry retorts, still referring to Lola’s chest. I take a sip from the Jack Daniels. That’s two comments now, one more and I’ll make him wish he was never born.

“Cantrell, I love you man, but right now you need to shut up and back off. Mike’s looking for you”, Layne says all of this very matter-of-factly.

“Which Mike? Our Mike or their Mike?” Jerry asks, more confused than I’ve ever seen him. He has the same expression on his face that a five year old would have if you tried to explain them the Pythagorean theorem to them.

“The Perry to your Tyler”, Layne explains and I can see the wheels in Cantrell’s head turning as he’s trying to figure it all out.

“McCready”, he eventually shouts out in his eureka moment.

“Cantrell!” McCready shouts from the other side of the room and Jerry leaves to be with his Toxic Twin. The longer I know the two of them, the more convinced I am that they have each bought an extra liver on the black market, paying for it with their brain.

“Thanks”, I mumble to Layne, taking another sip of the bottle. Layne puts his arm around my shoulder.

“I’m not having the best day either, so if you wanna leave soon, just come and get me. That way we can escape together”, he tells me before giving me a pat on the back and going over to Krusen (who miraculously seems to have joined us for once). I think I’ll take him up on the offer.

***

I managed to endure the raging antics of the rest for about an hour until I took Layne up on his offer. That hour was filled by Stone giving me a bit more details about what he had told me over the phone. He told me about the dates we were playing and the locations as well. He also explained that some people at Epic had offered to buy Jeff and him out of their A&M contract if we were to sign with them, but before that would happen they’ll come and see us play live on December 19th. The rest of the hour I spent talking to Jeff and Dave a bit. Jeff stayed deadly quiet on the topic of the so called FCK-plan. Which was fine by me. I just hope that he’ll keep his nose out of my business now.

After an hour I found myself talking to Layne in the kitchen and he suggested we make a run for it. I was all too happy to go along with it. We’re currently in Layne’s car on our way to his house. The Alice in Chains guys all live together in this house in the suburbs. Apparently it’s really productive for songwriting but not for much else. We’re blasting Mötörhead through the speakers. It’s about nine o’clock.

“What’s up with you?” I ask Layne. I’m referring to the comment he made earlier; that he’s not having the best day either. He isn’t really the most talkative person but neither am I. That’s why I like him. But I figured since we’re gonna spend some time together we might as well talk.

“Demri”, he says. I know Demri is his girlfriend. I’ve seen her twice before. The first time I saw her was at the welcome party Chris threw for me in my first week in Seattle. The second time I saw her was a few days later, backstage at our first gig, when we opened up for Alice in Chains. She seemed like a nice girl, gorgeous as well. Layne seemed absolutely smitten with her.

“What’s wrong with Demri?” I ask him, somewhat confused. Things seemed great between the two of them.

“Nothing’s wrong with her. It’s us that’s the problem”, he says and his words hit very close to home. It’s not her, it’s not me, it’s us.

“And what’s the problem with you two?” I question. I know I shouldn’t be so fucking nosy, but I’ve had quite a bit of Jack Daniels and then my sense for personal boundaries fades away. Also I’m interested to hear about a situation that’s maybe similar to mine.

“I love her. I think she loves me. But… Every now and then things just clash between the two of us. Most of the times we’re in sync, but other times we’re like water and oil. It just doesn’t mix”, he says and he pulls up into his driveway.

“I see and currently you’re not mixing”, I say trying to understand it all a bit better. We get out of the car and into the house. It’s messy, but I’ve seen far worse in my life.

“Exactly”, he says and he starts making his way to what I assume is his room. I don’t know this place so I decide to follow him.

“I guess that’s the problem of it all. With great love comes great pain”, he says as he walks into what I assume is his room and I follow in right behind him.

“Tell me about it”, I mumble under my breath. Layne starts rummaging through the drawer of his bed side table, clearly looking for something.

“Yeah, I heard about you and Lola. You wanna talk about it?” he asks, still rummaging through the door. I sit down on the edge of the bed and let myself fall back.

“Well, long story or short?” I ask, looking up at the ceiling, seeing what I assume are dead bugs that have been smacked with a rolled up newspaper and are now sticking to it. It’s got something Pollock-esque about it.

“Whatever you prefer”, he tells me and he seems to have found what he was looking for. I don’t know what it is because I’m still looking up at the ceiling.

“Well I’ll try and condense it. We were a thing, then we broke up and now during Thanksgiving we both had the same realization. Namely that we are both fucked up and scared to get hurt, or hurt the other. But instead of fighting for her and trying to make it work… I let her go”, I say and I can’t help but wanting to beat open my fists once again against the wall.

“And now you’ve come to the realization that you’re miserable without her. But because you let her go, there’s no way of getting her back”, Layne says and the accuracy of his understanding of the situation surprises me. I sit up to look at him. In front of him is the thing he was looking for. It’s a small cigar box, but I know that there aren’t any cigars inside.

“Yeah”, I say, confirming what he just said. I know Layne to be a user, I’ve heard people talk about it. Apparently it gets worse whenever he and Demri are apart. He taken out a packet of powder and a spoon.

“Well in that case you’re in a more miserable situation than I am. Because I know that Demri and I will probably get back together at some point. It’s what we do. It’s this constant push and pull”, he says and he starts cooking up a shot. I’ve seen someone do it before, but never this close. I’ve never done it before either. I never felt the need to.

“Does it really take away pain?” I wonder out loud. It’s an opiate, the strongest one at that. The best painkiller there is. And fucking hell am I in a lot of it. The realization that she’ll never be mine again. That I’ll never hold her like I used to. That she’ll fall in love with someone else someday. Someone that might be better for her than I’ll ever be for her, but never will love her as much as I love her.

Thanksgiving also brought up some feelings that I’ve refused to deal with in the past. My dad… I never even knew him. I saw him a few times as a kid, but I barely remember anything about him. I don’t remember his voice, or the way he used to move his hands. I don’t know what the exact color of his eyes was. I don’t know if we would’ve gotten along. How much alike are we actually? Do we have the same taste in music? All these things that I’ll never know… I’ve repressed them for nearly a decade and Thanksgiving brought them all back. I’ve been trying to deal with it, find some closure in it all. But the only person I can ask things about him is my mom, and she refuses to talk about him. So I’m kept in the dark once again. It’s agony and it’s consuming.

“Only temporarily, but it’s the sweetest relieve you’ll have ever felt in your life”, he tells me as he is now loading up the shot. I see a belt in the cigar box and take it without even having to think about it. Layne gives me a confused look.

“You don’t use”, he states the fact. I nod confirming what he just said. We’re both looking at the belt in my hand however.

“I don’t. But I’ve been in pain too much recently. I need something to take it away”, I tell him, making sure he understands whatever is driving me, even though I don’t know myself.

“You sure?” he asks me, somewhat worried. I could start a rant about how fucking hypocritical he’s being right now, but I don’t have the energy in me to do so at the moment. Instead I take off my flannel and put the belt around my exposed upper arm, pulling it, making it tight, forming my hand into a fist so my veins will appear.

“I just need it to go away. If only for a bit”, I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay then”, he says, letting out a deep sigh. He gives the syringe a few ticks with his fingers, making sure that all the air bubbles are gone. Then he takes my arm, pulling on the belt to make sure it’s tight enough. He looks up at me again and our eyes meet. His say: are you really sure you want to do this. Mine say: do it.

Layne nods and carefully slides the needle into my arm, then slowly pushes the contents of the syringe into my bloodstream. He takes out the needle and takes off the belt and for a second I feel nothing. And then it hits me as I fall back onto the bed, letting out a half moan as the euphoric numbness washes over me.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 16 (Part 3): Bandaged Hands and Salty Lips

I hate him. I fucking hate him. The next time I see him, I’m gonna kill him. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll cut him open and strangle him with his own guts. The wind is blowing around me on the rooftop and it’s drowning out my shouts and grunts as I slam my fists into the wall. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I can’t stop it. It’s like my body is on automatic pilot, trying to get out all of the rage. It’s probably gonna keep going for a while. The fucking bastard, how could he do this to her, is all I can think of as my hands keep crashing into the brick wall in front of me.

“Eddie!”, I hear someone shout my name. It’s a voice I would recognize anywhere at anytime. It’s Lola. Of course it’s her. As if this day wasn’t bad enough… Now she sees me like this. The thing that I’ve been trying to avoid the most of all is happening.

“Eddie! Stop!”, she shouts as wraps her arms around me from behind and tries to pull me away from the wall. She’s struggling, because I’m still going and I can’t fucking stop. But eventually she manages to drag me down to ground. I’m too caught up in my own mess -trying to still fight back even though I don’t want to be fighting her- that I don’t realize what happened. She’s on top of me now, holding down my hands on each side of my head. I keep thrashing around and I want to stop, I need to stop, but I can’t fucking stop.

“Eddie”, she says my name again, but much softer, more soothing and it breaks away a bit of my anger. “Eddie, calm down, it’s me.”

It’s her. It’s always her. She’s everywhere I look, always lurking in the back of my mind. My dreams consist of being with her, my nightmares of her being taken away from me or just generally not being there. Even though I haven’t seen her in about a month, she’s still everywhere. God, I miss her.

But it’s better that she’s gone now. She thought that she was saving me from her, when in fact it was the opposite. She was able to save herself from me. And thank God she did, because otherwise she’d have to deal with this. Yet here she is, on a rooftop on Thanksgiving, dealing with it.

I didn’t notice that my rage went and transformed itself into tears until she gently removes her grip on my wrists. One of her hands is coming down to touch my face, slowly and carefully as if she were trying to touch a wild animal. I move my head away, trying to avoid it. But her hand gently lays down on the side of my face, her thumb wipes away the wetness on my cheeks.

I slowly turn to look at her. I don’t want her to see me like this, but there is no other choice at the moment. Her eyes are filled with worry and pity and something else I can’t quite place. Don’t let it be pain, I beg to myself, I don’t want her to suffer because of me.

“Hey”, she says softly, her voice slightly shaking, but she forces a small smile onto her lips in an attempt to comfort me. She has no clue what’s going on, because I’ve done everything within my power to keep her away from it, to hide it from her. Yet somehow she’s here, in the middle of it all. But then those thoughts get pushed aside by those that brought me out on this roof in the first place. I’ve been trying to hold it in, but she’s breaking down my walls. I let out a sob I can’t contain anymore. She immediately pulls me into an upright position and takes me into her arms and I can’t even find it in me anymore to fight. One arm wraps around my back, whilst her other hand cradles the back of my head as I sob onto her shoulder, holding on to her for dear life.

We sit there for a while as my internal mess unravels in her arms. She doesn't say anything, she just holds me and strokes my hair.

How the hell did I get tangled up in all of this fucking mess? My life was a series of secrets, tragedies and lies until I was seventeen. And then the truth came out. I don’t know what’s worse. Living a semi happy lie or a heartbreaking truth. It’s been tearing me up and eating away at me since I was seventeen. I’m gonna be twenty-six next month. Nine fucking years and I’m still as broken as I was when my mom sat me down at the edge of my bed and told it to me.

Eventually I feel myself calming down somewhat. The adrenaline is flowing away and it’s leaving me with the realization that my hands are throbbing with pain. I slowly lift my head from her shoulder to look at them. They’re battered and bruised, blood dripping down from the cuts and pieces of skin that are no longer there. I did that. I’m a fucking monster.

Lola notices that I’ve lifted up my head and gives me some more space. In a split second I can see her wiping away some tears as well and it feels like someone stabbed me in the back. I did that, I caused that. I caused her pain and misery, just like Andy did.

“Your hands”, she whispers in shock looking down on them. I try to hide them away from her sight, but her hand catches on my wrist and stops me from doing so. She gently brings them closer and takes a look at them. I just look down at the ground, too ashamed if anything to look at her.

“We need to get these cleaned up and in some bandages”, she tells me softly raising my head so our eyes meet, in the same motion tucking the loose hair in front of my face behind my ear.

“I’m so sorry”, is the only thing I manage to say. I’m sorry for the fact that she had to see this. I’m sorry about the fact that she now feels like she has to deal with this. I’m sorry that I lashed out at her when she was broken, whilst she is able to find it in her heart to do the opposite. I’m so fucking sorry.

“Don’t you ever apologize for such a thing to me again”, she tells me sternly, but right thereafter gives me her kind smile again. That kind smile she gave to me only moments after we met, letting me know that everything was gonna be alright.

I nod as she stands up, gently guiding me up by my wrists, careful not to to touch my hands. She holds open the door for me and we make our way downstairs back to the apartment. The realization hits me that everyone is still there and will probably stare at me, seeing the fucking maniac that I am. Lola guides me inside and I can hear the conversation come to a halt. I just keep staring at the ground and make my way to the bathroom, ignoring everyone. It’s too bad that I have to deal with Lola seeing me like this, the rest is too much to handle right now.

“He’s fine, I just need to take care of his hands”, is the only explanation I hear Lola give to them through the bathroom room. Less than a minute later she comes into the room as well, the bottle of Kahlua in her hands and I can’t help but smile a little that she thought of such a banality in a moment like this. She unscrews the cap and hands me the bottle.

“You’d better take a drink to numb the pain. Because cleaning that out will hurt like a bitch”, she explains to me as she opened the cabinet underneath the sink to grab the first aid kit. I know better than to question how she knows it’s there. She probably knows this apartment better than I do.

She opens up the kit and puts it next to the sink, laying out a few of the items. I put the bottle of Kahlua down again and make an attempt to screw the cap back on without getting blood all over it, failing miserably. Lola gets the hot water in the sink running and gets a washcloth, holding it underneath the stream of water until it’s wet. She’s doing all of this meticulously, calmly, as if she knows what she’s doing. Though when she looks at me and hesitantly gestures for one of my hands, I can see that she’s scared. Scared that she’ll somehow fuck my hands up even more.

“You know, I can do it myself”, I say, trying to get her out of it. Also because every time she touches me, it reminds me that it’s different now. That those touches used to mean something different.

“Eddie, you can’t open a door or screw a cap onto a bottle, let alone that you could bandage your hands”, she tells me matter-of-factly, her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed.

“Fine”, I mumble and I give her one of my hands. She gently takes it and puts it underneath the water, using the washcloth to gently rub away pieces of blood that have already dried up. First I look at the water and see how it runs red down the drain. Then I look at Lola, as focussed as I’ve ever seen her, her brows knitted together in a frown and biting her bottom lip in concentration.

She must probably be thinking about how the hell all of this even happened. I know I would be wondering that if I were in her position. But knowing Lola she won’t ask, feeling like she might intrude. If this situation had turned out slightly different, I probably wouldn’t tell her what happened, but she’s now cleaning the blood of my hands… She has to know.

“My mom called”, I decide to begin explaining it with what she already knows. She picked up the phone after all.

“Eddie, you don’t have to…”, she starts saying, but I decide to cut her off then and there.

“I have to. It’s the least I owe you, considering everything”, I tell her. Considering the fact that she’s cleaning the blood of my hands. Considering the fact that we used to date and she never knew about this. Considering the fact that she opened up about her past as well.

“As you wish”, she says, quickly looking up at me, before wrapping my washed hand in a towel. She now takes the other one and starts repeating the process.

“So my mom called”, I repeat after taking a deep breath and I notice I’m already struggling to find the right words to explain. “She lives in Chicago. My stepfather, well ex-stepfather, lives in San Diego. My three brothers, technically half-brothers, went to see him shortly before Thanksgiving and my stepfather somehow managed to convince them all to stay there for Thanksgiving. Which means that my mom is now alone in Chicago with no one to celebrate Thanksgiving with. So that is why she called me”, I say. I got some of the basics out of the way, but now is the part where it gets hard. I contemplate about backing out, but decide against it. I need to be honest with her. Honesty is the least she deserves.

“I’m so sorry for your mom”, Lola tells me, now wrapping up my other hand in the towel as well. When I look at her eyes, I can see slight confusion in them. She’s probably thinking something along the lines that I’m crazy to get so worked up over a phone call.

“He does this a lot. Ever since the divorce he’s been trying to get my brothers away from my mother”, I try and continue my story. Lola is unwrapping one of the towels to examine my hand. She’s looking at it and then goes to take some tweezers from the first aid kid.

“There’s a piece of brick stuck in between your knuckles. I’m gonna try to get it out”, she warns me and I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come.

“How old were you when they got divorced?” she asks me, trying to distract me from the fact that she’s digging out a piece of rock from my hand. It’s not pleasant, but I’ve experienced worse. I once accidentally stepped on a sea urchin and it took Beth three hours and for me an entire bottle of wine to remove all the spikes.

“Seventeen”, I tell her through clenched teeth. I’m gonna have to drop the bomb sooner or later. I take a deep breath and decide to bite the bullet.

“Got it”, she exclaims somewhat triumphantly as she now holds a shard of red brick in the tweezers. “It wasn’t that deep, so you probably won’t need stitches either.”

“That’s also when I discovered that he wasn’t my real father, but rather my adoptive father”, I say and the expression on Lola’s face changes.

“You mean…” she says and I decide to finish her sentence for her.

“That I spent the first seventeen years of my life thinking he was my actual dad, to find out I’d been told a lie my whole life”, I explain. Before she can say anything I decide to just throw it all out now that I’m going.

“And you wanna know the shittiest part about it all? Turns out that my real father had already passed away when I was thirteen. Multiple sclerosis.” The look on Lola’s face right now is what I’ve been trying to avoid all along. It’s a look of shock, disbelief and pity. I can practically hear her think: oh you poor thing.

“So Alive is real then?” she eventually manages to say after she inspected the other hand for shards of brick and found them brickless. She has now started to disinfect them and it stings like a motherfucker. I nod in response to her question.

“Except for the insinuations towards incest, that’s fictional. But the whole while-you-were-home-alone-at-age-thirteen-your-real-daddy-was-dying-sorry-you-didn’t-see-him-but-I’m-glad-we-talked-thing is real”, I mutter through clenched teeth because the stinging of the disinfectant is really starting to hurt. Probably because she has to use a lot of it, since my hands are practically skinless now.

“So when my mom just called, all these feelings of anger came up again. And then this stupid thought popped into my head. I’ve never spent Thanksgiving with my real dad and I never will. Instead the man whom I called my father for years is now being a backstabbing bastard towards my mother. And he doesn’t care about me. He never did and never will.” That’s how I decide to finish the tale of fucked-up-ness that has been haunting me for nearly a decade now.

Lola doesn’t look at me, instead she’s focussed on wrapping my left hand in a bandage. I can see her concentrating on trying to make it not too loose and not too tight.

Part of me wants her to say something right now. I don’t know what I would want her to say, but part of me just needs to hear her voice right now. Another part of me on the other hand doesn’t want to hear her say anything at all. Because if she doesn’t speak about it, I won’t realize that she knows everything I just told her. And part of me doesn’t want her to know how truly fucked up I am.

She finishes up the bandaging on my left hand and decides to move on towards the right one. I squeeze my left hand a few times to check if the bandage stays put and it seems to be fine.

“Lola”, I eventually whisper her name, trying to get her to look at me instead of my hand. I’ve decided that her silence is killing me even more than her possible reaction.

“Yeah”, she mumbles, getting to the end of the bandage. She carefully secures it with a safety pin, finishing up her job. She turns around to the first aid kit again, packing everything up and putting it back underneath the sink. Please say something, I practically want to whimper, but I’m able to hold it back.

“I…” I start to say, but I cut myself off when Lola looks me in the eyes. She’s crying. This is why I can’t be with her. I’d make her miserable and sad all of the time and I could never live with the guilt of depriving her of a possible happy life with someone else. Someone who isn’t a fucked up mess.

“I’m so sorry”, she whispers and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in for a tight hug. I’m caught of guard by the whole thing for a second, but then I relax into it and pull her tight as well. Holding her so closely practically makes me sigh out in happiness. I don’t ever want to let her go again.

Eventually she loosens her grip and I decide to follow her actions. We slowly create more distance between us, but never quite let each other go. We’re looking at each other and in that moment I think we’re both thinking the same thing. I decide to take action and lean in to kiss her. The moment our lips it touch, it feels like I can finally breathe again for the first time in a month. She places her hands on the side of my face and I put mine on her waist. The kiss is slow and soft. Tender movements, as if we’re both afraid to break the other. I can taste the salt on her lips.

“I’ve missed you so much”, I whisper, my lips still lingering on hers. I don’t even care about the possibility of getting hurt by her. I just need her to know.

“I’ve missed you too”, she whispers back immediately and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“I’m so sorry about everything”, I tell her. I’m so fucking sorry. The guilt has been eating away at me for the past couple of weeks.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one that pushed you away”, she says and I shake my head. She firms the grip on the side of my face, making me stop that and forcing me to look at her.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that. Nor should I have shouted at you or gotten angry”, I explain. She deserved so much better than that and the realization of that has never hit me harder than right in this moment. She’s looking at me, ready to forgive me for everything.

“I shouldn’t have done those things either”, she whispers in response. We’re looking at each other and for the first time we’re seeing each other for who we really are. Two broken people, being held together by wet glue, desperately waiting for it to dry, but it hasn’t get. Right now we finally understand each other. We can see that both of us are a mess, desperately trying to solve it, when the only thing that’s able to heal us is time. And lots of it. I want to be with her, she wants to be with me. Yet we don’t want to risk it in fear of breaking the other, or being broken themselves.

“We can’t be together”, I whisper, saying out loud the words that we’re both thinking in that instant.

“No, we can’t”, Lola confirms, her voice cracking as tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Don’t cry, please don’t cry, I want to beg her.

“We’re both…” I start, but I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, afraid I’ll only hurt her even more by saying it out loud, even though we both know what’s going on.

“Too messed up to be good for the other”, she says eventually.

“Something along those lines. I don’t want you to get hurt”, I tell her, seeing that right in this moment that’s exactly what she is. What we both are.

“You deserve so much better than me”, I whisper and she vigorously shaking her head, trying to make me clear that it’s not true, even though it is. It’s true; she deserves someone better than me. Someone that’s able to love her better than I can. I nod my head trying to convince her of it all. But she’s not having it. I can’t help myself in that moment and kiss her again. And even though it feels so good to hold her in my arms in that moment and feel her touch, the salt taste on her lips makes me realize that this has to be the last time I’ll ever kiss her.

She breaks up the kiss and takes a step back. Her hands come up to her face to wipe away her tears. She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eyes once again. Oh my sweet love.

“I have to go. I’m sorry”, is the only thing she manages to say, her voice is still shaking. When she says those last words -I’m sorry- I have a feeling that she’s apologizing for more than just leaving in that moment. Even though she has nothing to apologize for. I want to tell her this, but she’s already disappeared through the bathroom door.

The realization hits me that a part of Lola just walked out of my life and that she’ll probably never return. I know I’ll still see her and that we’ll be in each others lives… But the moment she walked through that door a part of her left forever and she took my heart with her.

I stand there, leaning back on the bathroom sink, feeling nothing else than numbness for I don’t know how long. It could’ve been a minute, maybe it were fifteen minutes, maybe it was even longer. However when I decide to get out of the bathroom and walk back into the living room again, I see that most people are gone. Only Jeff, Corrine, Chris, Johnny and Stone are still there. I ignore the looks they’re giving me in that moment and head to my bedroom.

I lie down on my bed, feeling completely empty. I lie there and wait. Wait for sweet sleep to take me away from the pain.

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 16 (Part 2): The FCK-Plan (Empty Canvas)

“I can’t believe you actually did that”, Corrine hisses angrily at all of us as soon as Eddie and Lola leave the kitchen. I’ve never seen her like this before. Usually she the calmest, most zen person ever, but right now she’s practically boiling with anger. I wouldn’t want to be Jeff right now.

“Hey, I’m doing it for the greater good”, Ament defends himself as he stand up from the window sill and walks to the counter to take a piece of celery, but Corrine aggressively swats his hand away with her wooden spoon. Note to self, Corrine and kitchen utensils, dangerous combination.

“Greater good my ass”, she quickly retorts as Jeff rubs his hurt fingers.

“In his defense, it was only pie”, Johnny chimes in next to me. Oh Kiriakis, I’d stay out of it if I were you.

“And you, I can’t believe you went along with all of this”, Corrine says turning to Johnny, fires of wrath in her eyes.

“Corrine, honey”, Jeff tries to soothe her as he places a hand on her shoulder. She abruptly turns around, yanking away his hand and puts the wooden spoon to his throat.

“Don’t Corrine, honey me”, she bites back.

“It was only pie”, Jeff retorts, his hands held up in the air as to proclaim his innocence.

“Yes, exactly! Only steaming hot pie, straight out of the oven”, Johnny chimes in once again and I can’t help but turn around and hit my head against the wall. Jesus fucking Christ, all of you are idiots.

“How you actually lost your mind? You could’ve burned her”, Corrine screams out, but immediately quiets her voice as not to alert the people in the other room. She can’t alert Susan. If Susan knew what was going on, I’d get the scolding of my life.

“But she isn’t burned now is she”, I say, not being able to keep my mouth shut any longer. Let’s just hope that we can forget all of this and move on. But Corrine is having none of it.

“And you, I’m most disappointed in you”, she scolds me, now pointing the spoon at me. “I expected you to have some sense about all of this. Or maybe some respect for the privacy of your friend. But no, you couldn’t keep yourself or that stupid mustache of your out of it.”

“Corrine, I get that you’re upset, but don’t take it out on the stash”, I try and defend myself, automatically touching the hair on my upper lip. I think it looks good, Susan likes it, who cares what Corrine thinks.

“Then don’t do fucking stupid shit like this. They’re both adults. They will handle things on their own”, Corrine says, not directly at me, but at all of us. She does have a point there. I almost didn’t go along with the plan, but my part was so minimal that I figured it wouldn’t hurt.

“And how has that been going so far?” Jeff quips back and I once again want to hit my head against the wall. Oh Ament, you’re not gonna get fucked until Christmas. Now that I think of it, did he really have to put this plan in action on Thanksgiving of all days? He knows how stressed out Corrine gets when she has to cook.

“ Well how has your plan been going so far?” she retorts, folding her arms in front go her chest and raising her eyebrows. She somehow looks like the white ginger version of Aretha Franklin in the Blues Brothers.

“Touché”, Johnny says and I’d just wish he’d keep his mouth shut for once. He is standing next to me, so that means that when Corrine is angry at him, she angry with me by association.

“Oh zip it, you yellow monstrosity”, she tells Johnny, turning on her heels to look at the both of us.

“I’ll have you know it’s chartreuse”, Johnny defense his fashion choices. He is wearing the oddest, bright yellow matching suit. He looks like Big Bird’s gay cousin. I decide to keep that to myself, after all, I’m wearing my duct tape pants.

“Doesn’t make it any better”, Corrine says shaking her head, eying Johnny upside down. I bet she’s making the Big Bird comparison as well.

“I’ll have you know that the plan is working fine”, Jeff says and once again Corrine turns around giving him a scolding look. Damn you Ament and your fucking pride.

“Really? Because as far as I can tell you lost one of your three minions to alcohol already. Why even did you want Cantrell to help you?” she questions him and I once again want to hit my head against the wall. She doesn’t know about the Cantrell part yet. Oh, this is gonna send her over the edge.

“The plan was that he was gonna flirt with Lola to make Eddie jealous”, Jeff explains and I want to kill him for his honesty. This is not the fucking time. We’ve got a relationship to save and a dinner to eat.

“What the hell were you thinking? Mike and Cantrell are the two least dependable people in Seattle”, Corrine erupts again. She does make an excellent point there. Lola jokingly refers to them as the Toxic Twins of Seattle and it’s the most accurate description there is for the two of them together.

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way”, Jeff mutters about the need to reevaluate the plan. What is he gonna do about that? I hope he’ll just let that part slide.

“But no need to fear, I’ve enlisted Stone to take up Jerry’s task”, Jeff tells us with a big grin. Stone, fucking Stone, you’ve got to be kidding me right? Not that Stone isn’t a handsome guy, but he isn’t exactly known for his skills with the ladies. I can’t help but burst out in laughter. Something I shouldn’t have done, because now all eyes are on me once again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jeff asks me and his stupidity makes me laugh even harder. He enlisted the guy who steals her scrunchies to seduce her, really?

“Oh please, Stone has the sex appeal of a dead horse”, I tell him after I’ve calmed down a bit.

“Some people like necrophilia and bestiality”, Jeff defends himself and I have to repress another fit of laughter. it only comes out as a chuckle now.

“Honey, to tell you one thing, Stone might not really be the best option to seduce Lola”, Johnny tries a more sensible approach to lift Jeff from his foolishness.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Jeff questions, crossing his arms. Corrine is just looking on on the situation, with an amused smile spread across her lips. Great, she’s coming down from Mount Doom.

“Well out of all of you, Chris is the most fuckable”, Johnny says and normally I would love a compliment like that. But not right now, because it might get me into more trouble.

“Johnny as much as I appreciate that comment I will decline the task for various reasons”, I tell him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“First, I have a girlfriend. Secondly, I live with Eddie and I do not want him to kill me in my sleep”, I explain as calmly as possible, so I won’t get dragged into this.

“He will soon enough with that snoring of yours”, Johnny interjects and I just give him my death stare. Was that really necessary, Kiriakis?

“Lastly I’ve already done my part in this plan”, I finish through clenched teeth. I’m done with this shit to be honest. I’m now on Corrine’s side. They’re adults, let them figure it out. They’ll figure out soon enough that they can’t be without each other and in no time I’ll have to buy myself a new set of ear plugs to keep out the noise in the other room.

“Which is?” Corrine asks, an amused smile spread across her lips as she stirs in one of the pots.

“Make Eddie look dashing”, I start going over the mental checklist that was given to me by Jeff.

“Not really a lot of work”, Johnny decides to meddle in it again. If he’d just stop getting on my nerves. I love him very much, but sometimes he can be so damn frustrating. The fact that he looks like a banana right now isn’t helping.

“Zip it pie face, you nearly killed Mrs. Anderson in the progress of doing your part”, I tell him, trying to contain my frustration to a minimum.

“You did what?” Corrine shouts, the happy smile gone, anger back in her eyes. I shouldn’t have said that.

“She’s still alive, go downstairs and check for yourselves”, Johnny quickly defends himself, trying to bring the tension to a minimum once again.

“That woman has survived both World Wars, the Great Depression, Vietnam and Korea and most importantly Prohibition. She has survived my driving as well. Now Chris, do elaborate further on your tasks”, Johnny says, waiting for me to take up where I left. Where was I?

“I hung up the mistletoe”, I shout out excitedly, happy that I remember what I did.

“Mistletoe? It’s Thanksgiving you fucking idiot”, Corrine tells me, rolling her eyes. I get where she’s coming from.

“I was just following my instructions as handed to me by your wonderful boyfriend”, I say, putting the blame for the mixing up of the holidays with Ament, he’s the one responsible for this mess after all.

“So what was the plan exactly? Get Lola covered in pie so she has to change into Eddie’s clothes?” Corrine questions, trying to puzzle all the pieces together.

“According to Chris that should be very effective to rekindle the fire”, Jeff says pointing at me. Why does he have to do that? I was just out of the line of fire, and now he’s dragging me back to the execution block once again.

“Oh really?” Corrine asks amused, turning around to face me once again. Good, the anger has now hopefully vanished once and for all.

“Yes”, I say matter-of-factly. “I remember walking in on them one morning and Lola was wearing Eddie’s flannel. He couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of her whilst she made coffee. I was able to flee the premises before they decided to have breakfast if you know what I mean”, I explain. To be honest, walking in on them that morning was one of the cutest things I’ve seen in a long while. Eddie was standing behind Lola as she tried to get the coffee machine to work. He was placing soft kisses along her neck and it made her giggle. “Eddie, stop it”, she said still laughing. “Stop what”, he asked chuckling. She turned around and looked at him with the most enamored look I’ve ever seen on a person. “This”, she told him, before she kissed him. “You really want me to stop?” Eddie asked still slightly chuckling and this huge smile spread across his face as she shook her head no. He then kissed her again and I figured that they deserved some more alone time and quietly snuck back to my room.

It was good to see her happy like that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lola that happy. And Eddie was on cloud nine as well. Why did they have to screw it up?

“In this kitchen? You have cleaned it since right?” Corrine asks, somewhat panicked. Oh Jesus fucking Christ, here comes the kitchen neat freak again.

“Yeah sure”, I quickly lie to her, but I know he’s seeing right through me.

“Oh for fuck’s sake”, she mumbles and starts to aggressively scrub the kitchen counter with the towel that was laid on her shoulder just seconds ago.

“Let Jeff continue telling his plan. He never told me it completely”, Johnny asks again, now leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, ready to soak up the last juicy details.

“Yes right”, Jeff chimes up, ready to continue his plan. “So the clothes should bring back some good memories. Then we’re gonna sit them next to each other for dinner. Cantrell would’ve sat across from Lola and done the flirting, but now Stone is doing that part”, he explains.

“Bless his poor soul”, I mutter under my breath. Poor Stone, he really was the last person that should’ve been dragged into this. But after we explained the situation he was happy to ‘help’. He sees Lola as a sister, so if he has to flirt with her for her own happiness that that is what needs to be done, his words not mine.

“Eddie’s gonna get jealous”, Jeff continues and I have to repress a chuckle. That’s the only part of the plan that is not in Jeff’s hands, but in Stone’s awkward skills with the ladies.

“Then we’re both gonna send them to the kitchen, pretend the lock on the door is broken and let the mistletoe do the magic. It’s the FCK-plan. Flannel-Cantrell-Kiss. Nearly spells out fuck. I’m a bloody genius!” Jeff exclaims happily as he leans back against the wall, placing his hands underneath his head.

“It’s official. I’m in love with an idiot”, Corrine says, giving one of the pots a final stir. Dinner is ready.

***

So far dinner has gone off quite smoothly. We’re all sat around the table (which consists out of a bunch of garden tables and fold chairs we ‘borrowed ‘ from some gardens, it’s nearly winter, no one’s gonna miss them now), everyone has food on their plates and alcohol in their cups. Mike even has alcohol on his plate, claiming that the turkey as dry and need a bath, in wine. Eddie looked somewhat offended when he said that. Is that because he sees it as an insult to his turkey, or as a sacrilege to wine? I don’t know. Probably a combination of the two.

So far Jeff’s plan is still unravelling itself according to plan. At least somewhat. Lola is now dressed in Eddie’s The Who-shirt, which I see as a very positive sign, because The Who is both of theirs favorite band and Eddie loves that shirt more than words can express. So that Lola’s wearing it is a very positive sign indeed. Over top she’s wearing one of his flannels, a greenish-brown one. To be honest, he should’ve given her a more flattering color, but so far it seems to have the desired effect. Eddie is sneakily stealing glances, peeking to look at her when she’s not looking and she’s doing the same. As planned they are sat next to each other. I’m sat across from Eddie and Lola is sat across from Stone. And Stone. Oh poor Stone, bless his heart to be honest.

He’s been trying to give Lola some winks and comments, yet all of them fly under the radar. So much so that Lola now thinks that Stone is coming down with some kind of virus, rather than that he has been seducing her for the past half an hour. I’ve already whispered into Stone’s ear to tell him that he can stop since it’s not working and I’ve never seen him looked more relieved in his life. Jeff did give me a few scolding looks for doing that, but I’m willing to take those. If he had been more concerned with the outcome of his plan, he would’ve kept Cantrell sober. On the other hand, that’s quite the impossible task. Trying to get our stubborn star-crossed lovers back together is one thing, trying to install some sobriety into one of Seattle’s Toxic Twins is something else entirely.

Corrine is sitting at the head of the table, soaking up the compliments over all the delicious food she has prepared and she deserves all of them, because fucking hell, she’s a bloody great chef. Her food has made me want to thank her through song, I’ll put it on the next album; The Ode of Corrine Neely and her Cooking Skills. Maybe I should write a song about her and her spoon as well. Spoonwoman. Hmmm, I might be able to do something with that.

Dinner is running its regular course, everyone is eating way too much, but that’s the way things are on Thanksgiving. Soon enough we’re moving onto dessert. Corrine’s made peach cobbler and chocolate mouse (even though we told her she shouldn’t have done that, but there was no way of talking her out of it). And we now have Mrs. Anderson substitute pumpkin pie. To be honest, that’s the part of this plan that has upset me the most. The fact that it required the sacrifice of Lola’s amazing pie. I’ve been having dreams about that pie ever since last Thanksgiving. So much so, that I begged her and convinced her to make another one for my birthday, even though my birthday is in July. But I guess that Mrs. Anderson’s pie will be great as well, if we can still believe in stereotypes. So I’m looking at my piece of pie, ready to take a bite, filled with enthusiasm. And I am severely disappointed.

“What the hell?” I mumble with a mouth full of pie. Lola is looking at me with a knowing look, her mouth also filled with the dessert.

“Something wrong?” Eddie questions the both of us, now looking at his piece of pie like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“Yeah”, I say, not giving a fuck about my manners, as my mouth is still filled with pie. Something is incredibly off about this pie.

“I think I know what it is”, Lola says, after she bravely swallowed down her piece. Not that it’s absolutely horrible, but something is just off about it and I don’t know what. Eddie is looking at her like she’s about to explain string theory to him.

“It’s actually two things”, she explains as she starts dissecting the pie with her fork. “First of all, there’s no sugar in the crust, so she doubled the amount of salt, which makes it a savory crust, rather than a sweet one”, she starts her explanation, Eddie still deeply fascinated with her. Stone is gloating next to me, loading up his spoon with undoubtedly delicious chocolate mousse. Part of me wants to shove his face into his damn plate for that smug smile.

“The second thing is that there is no sugar at all, like whatsoever in the filling”, Lola says, taking some of the filling on her fork, almost as if to examine it for any trace of sugar.

“So technically it’s more a pumpkin quiche”, she mumbles, looking at it trying to figure out what to do with it.

“That makes sense”, Eddie says to us, clearly holding a piece of information that Lola and I are lacking. I should really swallow this piece of pie, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“She’s diabetic, she hasn’t eaten sugar since Louis Prima was alive”, Eddie tells us matter-of-factly and I’m stumped. Who the fuck is Louis Prima?

“He was this crooner back in the day”, Eddie explains to me, seeing my confusion.

“Honey, aren’t you gonna swallow that?” Susan asks on my other side. Stone erupts in laughter next to me, practically snorting chocolate mousse.

“That’s normally his line”, he says through fits of laughter and his comment makes me swallow the damn piece of pie out of shock. Lola and Eddie chuckling across from me, clearly trying to hide their amusement.

“How the fuck do you even know that Mrs. Anderson is diabetic?” I ask Eddie trying to change the subject.

“We talked about it when I fixed the whole in your floor. She figured I needed some company”, he explains shrugging.

“You know what would make this pie better. Like much better?” Lola asks and both Eddie and I are looking at her, waiting for our rescue.

“Whipped cream, and lots of it. Do you still have some in your fridge?” she asks and she’s already scooting back her chair. Eddie nods for the both of us.

“Oh, do you still know where I keep the Kahlua,” Eddie asks her and I’m completely baffled. First of all, Jeff’s plan seems to be working somewhat. Secondly, we have Kahlua? How did I not know this?

“Oh fuck yeah I do”, Lola says chuckling as she disappears into the kitchen. Eddie’s sitting in his chair with the biggest smile spread across his face and I can’t help but give him a knowing look. “What was that all about?” I ask him somewhat confused, but mostly happy. Eddie shakes his head and is probably gonna come up with some stupid excuses. But he’s saved by the bell. Well, not the bell, the ringing of the phone.

“I’ll get it”, Eddie says and he practically jumps out of his chair. The ringing has already stopped and I can hear Lola’s voice calling from the hallway.

“Eddie, it’s for you!” she shouts. The lucky bastard, but I’ll be able to confront him soon enough. Lola reappear in the living room with a can of whipped cream in one hand and the bottle of liquor stashed underneath her flannel. Probably to keep it from the Toxic Twins, good thinking. Lola hands me the whipped cream and I practically burry my pie underneath it. Once I take a bit I let out a sigh of relief.

“Lola, you’re a genius”, I tell her, finally able to taste sickly sweetness.

“Thanks”, she mumbles absentmindedly as she’s still looking towards the hallway. That’s when I notice what’s she’s picking up on. We’re the only two that really notice, because everyone else is too busy binge eating and laughing. But if you drown out that sound you can hear kicking coming from the hallway. Kicking, probably caused by a foot being stomped against a wall. And also an angry voice. It’s Eddie’s for sure. He not speaking loudly enough, so we can’t hear what he’s saying, but he doesn’t sound too good. And then it all stops. The phone horn is slammed down and soon enough we hear the front door being opened and shut with such a force that the noise cases everyone to simultaneously shut up and wonder what the hell just happened.

“I’ll go and check on him”, Lola says after we’ve all been staring silently at the hall way for the past minute.

“I have a feeling I know where he is”, she explains as she gets up and makes her way to the door.

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Chapter 16 (Part 1): The Chevy, The Pie and Mrs. Anderson (Empty Canvas)

The car horn honking is getting in my nerves. For fuck’s sake Johnny, how impatient can you be? We had a deal that he would pick me up at four in the afternoon. Yet he showed up at a quarter before four and expects me to be ready to go. He should know better by now. I leave everything to the last minute. So when I say four I actually mean five minutes past four. I open my window and look down. Johnny is hanging from the driver seat window, using his foot to blow the car horn.

“I told you I need four more minutes”, I shout down and he looks at me with a slightly evil look, a look that would not look misplaced on a Disney villain.

“It’s Thanksgiving! You know what that means. It means I’ve been starving myself for a week so I can eat without guilt. If you don’t get down here soon and we don’t get to the Cornell-Vedder residence in about twenty minutes I’m gonna eat my shoes!” he tells me and I just roll my eyes.

“Kiriakis, give me two more minutes, because if you don’t, we won’t have pie. Do you want that?” I tell him and I see a slight shift in his expression.

“You’re still baking the pie?” he asks and he sounds somewhat worried.

“Yes, I’m still baking the damn pie. Now stop honking that fucking horn. I’ll be down in two minutes”, I tell him and close the window again. Just as I close the window I hear the ping of the my oven signaling that the pie is finally ready. I take it out of the oven and put it on my counter on top of three towels. All of which I intend to bring to the car with me, so the thing won’t burn my lap.

I take one last look in the mirror. I’m quite pleased with myself. I’m wearing a black velvet wrap dress, some tights and my suede over the knee boots. It’s Thanksgiving after all, so I decided to make an effort. The fact that I’m seeing Eddie for the first time since we ended things might have added a little to it as well, but I’ll never admit that. I put on my jacket, take my bag and grab the pie along with the towels off the counter.

It’s quite the hassle, closing a door with a steaming hot pie in hand, but somehow I manage to close the door, put my keys in my bag and I make it downstairs.

“Finally”, Johnny screams as he sees me coming through the backdoor. He’s already got the passenger seat to his 69 Chevy Impala opened up for me. It’s a gorgeous car and he’s quite protective over it. It’s got this beautiful navy blue paint job and this really nice cream leather interior. I once asked him how he got such a nice car. Turns out that his dad owns a car dealership. They however don’t talk anymore. They haven’t talked since Johnny came out. As revenge Johnny stole this car. Well not exactly stole. He sees it as his inheritance since his dad disowned him. Anyhow, to say that Johnny is attached to Bluebell -yes he named the car Bluebell- is an understatement.

“I told you, I had pie priorities”, I explain to Johnny as I install myself in the passenger seat, making sure my lap is covered with the three layers of towels and the pie is secure in place, before I shut the car door.

“Yeah, pie priorities my ass. Corrine is making the side dishes. I called to check in on her. Apparently she’s been at Casa Cornell since the crack of dawn. Well at least the crack of dawn according to musicians standards, which is 11. Apparently she has been able to advert three nervous breakdowns so far, but we need to get there asap for moral support. Also because I’ve been dreaming about her stuffing for days”, Johnny explains as he starts the car. I’m holding on for dear life on the car door handle, my other hand barely able to hold the pie in place. Why the hell did I decide to catch a ride with Johnny with a steaming pie on my lap? How could I forget that he drives like he’s Dan Aykroyd in a Blues Brother car chase? But even for his normal driving standard, he’s driving aggressively today. I’ll blame it on his self induced starvation.

“You know, if one were to take that sentence slightly out of context, one could say that you sound very heterosexual today”, I tell him with a laugh, trying to relax a bit, because I’m stressed out. He just now nearly ran over an old lady. And she looks a lot Chris’ and Eddie’s downstairs neighbor Mrs. Anderson. I hope it’s not Mrs. Anderson, she already has so much to endure living under those two, the last thing the woman needs is a near death experience on Thanksgiving.

“That’s what famine does to me. It takes away all my natural flair and reduces me to the cave man that I am deep inside that I’ve tried to overcome so hard my whole life. I blame it on my Greek heritage to be honest. Yia yia Kallisto used to stuff my chubby little cheeks with spanakopita so much on holidays, that whenever a major holiday happens I turn into a merciless binge eater. I also blame my Greek heritage for the outrageous hair growth all over my body. You don’t wanna know how much I have to shave to give people the illusion of a female leg”, Johnny tells me, completely getting lost in thought. I’m quite used to it already to be honest. He tends to just become a spewing volcano of word vomit whenever he’s driving. I just hope that we get to the party alive.

I see that we’ve advanced quite fast and that we’re only a few yards away from the building. Johnny takes a sharp turn to the right, onto the guy’s parking lot and I’m miraculously able to still hold on and to save the pie. I let out a sigh of relief, but I let it out too soon.

Johnny abruptly pulls up into a parking spot, the car coming to a screeching halt. Something I was not ready for. Something I and the pie were not ready for. Because in the final jerk of movement the car makes, I lose my grip on the pie and it’s spilled all over the front of my dress.

“Oh my God”, Johnny moans shocked, yet somehow his reaction is over exaggerated, even for his standards. Jesus Christ, he’s probably more upset over the loss of food than the interior of car, which somehow hasn’t been blemished by the pie mess that’s currently sitting on my lap. I’m trying to think what to do, when the heath -that’s still very much oven level- of the pie starts to sink through my clothes. I quickly open the car door and get out. The pieces and chunks of pie all fall on to the pavement, still steaming. Johnny quickly comes to my aid and uses one of the three towels -the bottom one, which is the cleanest one- to clean most of it off my dress.

“Oh my God, honey, are you okay?” he asks me and for the first time he seems genuinely worried. Worried enough to wonder if I wasn’t burned, rather than when he was gonna eat.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, I mutter, calming down. Whenever I get panicked, I just turn dead quiet and go in shut down mode. Thank God I acted quickly enough, the damn thing could have given me burns. But after a quick peak down my very stained dress I can see that my skin is still unburned. Johnny looks down at the ground, sadness in his eyes.

“Such a shame about the pie though”, he sighs out, before meeting my eyes as I give him a very unamused stare.

“Such a shame about your dress as well, you looked beautiful”, he tells me and I just roll my eyes. Seriously, I could’ve been a burn victim and all he cares about is the fashion disaster consequences of the situation?

“How about we go inside and get you cleaned up before dinner. We’ll send someone out to get another pie”, Johnny says, proposing a reasonable plan of action. I nod, still too relieved by the lack of burns to be able to emote any other emotion than post shock, as we start to make our way to the entrance of the building. Just as we get through the door, we see Mrs. Anderson coming up to the door, angrily shuffling forwards with her walker and we decide to hold open the door for her.

“Happy Thanksgiving Mrs. Anderson”, I half shout at her, knowing the woman is practically deaf. No wonder, she lives underneath Cornell, who snores like a warthog. It must’ve taken away the last bit of hearing she had left.

“Thank you, Lola. Happy Thanksgiving to you as well my dear. And to you too Johnny”, she tells us with a smile, but she still seems somewhat distraught.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Anderson?” Johnny asks her, raising his voice so she can hear him, as he closes the door behind her. I’ve already taken her grocery bags from her. Johnny is now helping her hold up her walker and gives her an arm. The landlord in this building is the laziest mother fucker in Seattle (and that’s a lot saying, coming from us, the apparent slacker youth) and has been refusing to fix the elevator for the past year and a half. It’s absolute torture on Mrs. Anderson who lives on the fifth floor, so the rule among the building occupants and frequent visitors is that whenever you run into Mrs. Anderson you help her up the stairs.

“Yes dear, I just had a terrible fright earlier. Someone in a navy blue Chevy Impala nearly ran me over”, she tells us and I immediately give Johnny a scolding look and mouth the words to him: for fuck’s sake, you nearly ran over Mrs. Anderson. He gives me a guilty look as he helps her up the stairs.

“That’s horrible, Mrs. Anderson. I don’t get how those people are even allowed on the road”, I tell her and now Johnny is giving me a scolding look. Is that really necessary, he mouths at me.

“I don’t get it either, sweet child. But dear, what happened to your dress?” she asks me, sounding honestly shocked as we reach the third floor.

“Oh, I accidentally spilled our pumpkin pie on it”, I tell her.

“And now her dress is ruined and we have no pie. I’m surprised she’s taking it this well”, Johnny chimes in on the other side.

“It’s such a shame. I bet you looked like a million bucks before your dress got ruined”, Mrs. Anderson tells me as we get to the door of her apartment. She’s also got the beginnings of Parkinson’s disease so it takes her a while to actually put the key in her lock and open the door. Once it’s open we get in (part of the established rule is that you helps Mrs. Anderson until she’s safe inside her home and any groceries must be positioned on her kitchen counter, she’ll be able to handle things on her own from there).

“But I will be able to fix the pie, or rather lack thereof”, she tells us as she starts shuffling towards her kitchen and I follow her to the counter to deposit the groceries. On the counter top are two perfect pumpkin pies.

“I always make two pies. I still use the same recipe that I got from my mother and since I grew up in a big family it’s a recipe for two pies instead of one. I could easily half the recipe, but it doesn’t feel the same when I do so. Here, take one”, she tells me and it warms my heart. Sweet Mrs. Anderson, unbeknowingly feeding the man that nearly killed her.

“Are you sure?” I ask her, feeling guilty. I just can’t do that to her.

“Yes, dear, it takes me two weeks to finish these pies between me and Mr. Anderson and by the end we always get sick of them. So please take one. Enjoy!” she tells us with a big smile as I take the pie from the counter. She shooing us to the door.

“Now go and have fun! Happy Thanksgiving and tell young Christopher and Edward that I miss saying hello to them in the morning through the hole. Also tell them to get a hair cut, they look like my son did back in the sixties”, she says, waving us goodbye as we start making our way to the guys floor.

“Bless her heart”, Johnny sighs happily as we arrives at Cornell’s door. He’s practically dancing with glee. It’s probably because of the smell of food that’s coming through the door. Corrine’s an amazing cook.

“Bless her guardian angel you nearly killed the poor woman”, I tell him as I knock on the door. “Nearly”, he retorts as he gives me one last eyer roll before the door flies open. On the other side is Cornell, wide smile on his face, dressed in a pair of black pants covered in duct tape (what he calls his discount leather pants) and a burgundy shirt, that’s practically open unto his navel. He looks like a very festive space age pirate.

“Happy Turkey day!” Chris shouts out, hugging Johnny, meanwhile quickly eying me up and down, as if he is expecting something to be off about my appearance.

“Hi Chris, happy Thanksgiving. Don’t hug me, I’m covered in pie”, I tell him as he lets go of Johnny and closes the door behind us.

“I can see that. What happened,” he asks us and once again I have a feeling that he’s not as surprised or in shock as he should’ve been. The same feeling I got from Johnny.

“Johnny’s driving, that’s what happened. He also nearly ran over Mrs. Anderson”, I explain to Chris, who at that last part turned his head so quickly towards Johnny, he might have given himself a whiplash.

“What the hell?” he scolds Johnny, who is trying to ignore Cornell as he peers into the living room to check which of the guests have already arrived.

“She also gave us her extra pie, so we are not pie-less”, I further explain to Chris, trying to get some of the heath of Johnny. It’s not like he did it on purpose, did he?

“God bless that woman”, Cornell sighs out and he guides the both of us towards the kitchen.

“She also told us to say that she misses saying hi to you and Eddie in the morning. And that you should get a haircut”, Johnny chimes in but the both of us are startled by the shouting coming from the kitchen.

“Get out of my kitchen!” someone shouts as we open the kitchen door. Turns out it was Corrine, who is now playfully threatening the recipient of her shout with a wooden spoon. The recipient of the commentary turns out to be Eddie, who is defending himself his a pair of barbecue tongs. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, a T-shirt and a vintage looking blazer. He looks great. And I am covered in pie. Of course. Though there is one thing off about his look. He’s wearing one of his Steven Tyler scarves in his hair as a bandana. Then realization hits me. Corrine has the weird thing about kitchen hygiene, so obviously Eddie’s long hair would be taboo at the preparations for a Thanksgiving dinner.

“It’s technically my kitchen. And I need to check on the turkey”, he tells her, jokingly fencing with her whilst Jeff is looking on from the his seat on the edge of the windowsill.

“You care an awful lot about turkey for a vegetarian”, Corrine quips back as she fences back, but not before quickly checking on of her pots, making sure nothing was getting burned.

“It’s one of the only two days in the year I allow myself to eat meat. Thanksgiving and Christmas. So sorry, but I need to check on the turkey, rather than reenact Zorro with you”, Eddie exclaims, dodging one of Corrine’s jabs with a dramatic jump roll over the kitchen floor, which seems to have landed him right in front of the oven. Corrine laughs and turns her eyes away from him, now looking at me.

“Hi Corrine”, I tell her and walk over to her to give her a peck on the cheek and to put down the pie on the kitchen counter.

“Hi dear”, she tells me, now frantically chopping some celery on the cutting board with such a speed that it wouldn’t surprise me that she accidentally would cut off her own fingers.

“Lola, what happened to you?” Eddie exclaims now up on his feet again after checking the turkey. He’s looking at me with a very confused expression. Exactly what I need from the man I love after I broke his heart. Oh fucking hell…

“Hi to you as well Eddie”, I quickly retort and I can’t hold back the sarcasm. “Johnny came to too sudden of a stop with his car and that caused me to launch my pumpkin pie on my dress”, I explain and Eddie looks at me with pity in his eyes, before quickly giving Johnny a scolding look. The look he gives Johnny somehow makes me feel better. It makes me feel like he still cares about me. Though I shouldn’t feel that happy about it at all.

“Someone get this girl some spare clothes”, Johnny lets out, clearly done with being held responsible for my partially orange look and wanting to get rid of the evidence.

“On it”, Cornell exclaims and he’s practically already out of the kitchen.

“What about you, Eddie?” Jeff mutters through clenched teeth as he gives Cornell a scolding look. What the hell is going on?

“Any clothes will do at the moment to be honest”, I say to no one in particular. I just want to get out of these clothes so I can forget about my miserable entrance and so that I can start drinking.

“Yeah, sure, but won’t Eddie’s clothes fit you better considering your size”, Jeff says, still eyeing Cornell and Johnny. Cornell’s facial expression changes into something of a oh-yeah-right-good-point expression.

“Jeff does have a point there”, Johnny quips in, putting words to Cornell’s face after he quickly gives a scolding glance to Cornell as well. Fucking hell what is going on? This is getting more confusing every second.

“I don’t care whose clothes I’ll be wearing, just get me something, because I want to wash out this dress so it doesn’t have an orange stain on it”, I tell them, hoping to actually inspire some action to take place, instead of unexplained scolding looks. And I thought that celebrating Thanksgiving with friends would save me from the drama that normally happens when I spend it with my family.

“Fine, Corrine, I leave turkey watch to you”, Eddie promptly says and I practically want to kiss him to thank him, but I refrain myself from doing so. He puts the tongs down on the counter next to Corrine.

“Great, something else to worry about”, she mutters somewhat sarcastically. She does have a lot on her plate. Well not a lot on her plate, but a lot to get on people’s plates, which is nerve wracking enough.

“Honey, I told you I’d help”, Jeff chimes in, but immediately gets shot down as Corrine gives him a furious look. Something which is very unlike Corrine to do. I swear to God, something is going on here.

“If I wanted to poison people, I’d put arsenic in their food, much more effective than you in the kitchen”, she tells him though clenched teeth, though something tells me that her anger was caused over something else.

“Eddie, I’ve got it, get her some clothes”, she says as she turns to Eddie with a smile on her face and practically shoes us out of the kitchen.

We get out and pass through the living room to get to Eddie’s room. In the living room are Stone and Mike, the rest of the Soundgarden guys, the Alice in Chains guys and Susan, Chris’ girlfriend. I all wave them hi and make a quick explanation for my appearance, telling them I’ll be back soon enough.

One thing that immediately stands out is Jerry and Mike, or as I like to call them, the Toxic Twins of Seattle. They’re both already more wasted than Joe Perry and Steven Tyler have ever been. This is gonna be one hell of a Thanksgiving, is all I can think as Eddie and I enter his room.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 15: Jeffrey's Angels (Empty Canvas)

“Thank you guys so much. You’re my heroes!” my girlfriend exclaims as Eddie and I carry the last one of the canvasses up the stairs. Corrine enlisted me to pick them up and I dragged along Eddie for the ride, in an attempt to get him out of his post-camping trip funk.

“I thought I was your only hero. Honey, if we start doing threesomes you actually need to tell me beforehand. Also so that I’d be able to have a say in who comes into our bed”, I tell her with a wide grin as Eddie and I put down the last canvas. Eddie gives us both a confused and slightly embarrassed look before turning his eyes away, trying to find something more worthy of his interest to look at.

“Jeff, my dear, you know you always have and always will have my undivided attention”, Corrine tells me as she places her hands on my shoulders from behind, massaging them ever so slightly. I instantly relax, mainly because my back has been killing me from carrying all that stuff up the stairs.

“You better”, I mumble under my breath and I have to keep myself from actually purring out the words as she continues to massages my neck and shoulders.

“Yes what?” Eddie questions all of a sudden as he’s looking at something on Corrine’s easel. I give him a look of confusion, but he doesn’t see it as his eyes are glued to whatever he seems to be looking at.

“Nothing”, I say and try to make him understand my confusion, but we’re never gonna get there if he doesn’t look at me. It’s like he’s hypnotized.

“I thought you said my name”, he mumbles and takes a step closer towards the easel. Something in my mind clicks and I’m able to give myself an explanation, but Corrine is a bit quicker on her feet than I am.

“He said better, Eddie, not Vedder”, Corrine clears out for the both of us. Her hands fall from my shoulders as she seems to look up at Eddie, noticing him staring at her work. I practically whimper as she leaves me without the magic her hands were working just mere moments ago.

I however stop myself as I see a somewhat panicked look in Corrine’s eyes as she rushes over to the easel. I follow her suit, without even giving it a second thought. Curiosity has also been gathering inside of me, wondering what image had Eddie in such a trance.

Once I get there, it somewhat clicks. On the easel is a drawing, clearly by Corrine’s hand. On first notice I can immediately tell this is some of her better work. The more I look at it, the more impressed I am by her skill. It’s only after a second that I realize that her skill isn’t what has Eddie this enthralled, but rather the subject of the drawing. The likeness is uncanny. It’s Lola, without a shirt, just wearing jeans, barefoot on the couch, with her hair strategically covering some of her more delicate areas.

“She’s gorgeous”, Eddie finally mutters under his breath, in an attempt to break himself away from the piece of artwork.

“Thanks”, Corrine mumbles taking it as a compliment. I don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s talking about Lola to be specific and not about her drawing. I decide against it, because it’s good to see her accepting compliments, whereas usually she’d ignore them and would start to devaluate her own work.

“You guys weren’t supposed to see this”, Corrine tells the both of us on the side. None of us are looking at each other, we’re still fixated on the drawing. The detail on this is mind blowing. The way she got the contours of Lola’s jaw and the little mole on it. Lola’s slightly upturned nose. The curls and waves of her hair, each drawn individually with the greatest care.

“What do you mean?” Eddie inquires the same question that’s also on my lips. How come no one is supposed to see this. This drawing is some of the best work I’ve seen Corrine do in… In like ever. And I was really into her Pollock phase that happened last year, so that’s saying a lot!

“When Lola posed for this, we made a deal. She’d only pose like this if no one else were to see it”, Corrine tells us and I can feel my heart sink. I know her through and through and Coco is already feeling guilty over me and Eddie seeing this accidentally. So there’s no way on earth that she’ll ever put this up in an exhibition. She’ll probably take it of her easel as soon as possible, roll up the piece of paper and stash it away in a cabinet, never to be seen again. It’s so damn frustrating, because this drawing is so damn good.

“It’s a shame though”, I voice my opinion out loud, “Because it’s so fucking good.” My words seem to be ignored. Corrine’s eyes are focussed on Eddie who is focussed on the drawing of Lola.

“How is she?” Eddie asks Corrine, as if he can tell she’s looking at him, yet he has no way to know because he’s still looking at the easel.

“She’s been better”, Corrine tells him and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was pity in her voice. What the hell is going on? Why is Eddie asking Corrine how Lola is? Last time I checked, those two were as close as could be. And what is up with Corrine’s concerned look?

“It’s my fault”, I swear I hear Eddie mumble under his breath before the guy finally looks away from the easel to announce: “I think I’m gonna go now. See you guys around.”

Without even waiting for us to say goodbye or something along those lines, he makes his way to the door and leaves without even looking back. To say I’m confused might be the understatement of the century.

“What the hell was that?” I ask out loud and look at Corrine, who has one arm across her chest, her other hand instinctively touching the base of her throat. She’s staring at the door through which Eddie just disappeared. I know this stance, this is her Oh-you-poor-thing-stance.

“Honey, Corrine to earth!” I say, waving my hand in front of her eyes until she eventually snaps out of her trance. She blinks a few times and looks at me, immediately rolling her eyes at my frantic expression.

“What is going?” I ask her, because the suspense is killing me. What the hell is going on? Does Corrine know the reason why Eddie has been a zombie ever since the camping trip? If so, why the fuck hasn’t she told me yet?

“Just forget it”, she mutters as she shakes her head and turns towards the easel again. She starts taking away the pins that are holding the drawing in place.

“No, I will not forget it”, I tell her and takes her hands in mine. Partly so she’ll look at me, partly because I don’t want her to stash away this drawing. It deserves more recognition and appreciation and it’s not gonna get that when it’s gathering dust at the bottom of her closet.

“He’s been like this for more than two weeks now and it’s driving me insane not know. And I know that you know what’s going on. So tell me”, I plead with her. She lets out a sigh and puts a hand on my cheek, her thumb softly stroking my face.

“No, Jeff, I can’t”, she says, but part of me can tell that she actually wants me to know. That she wants to tell what this is all about. It’s just her damn honor that’s holding her from telling me the truth. Oh for fuck’s sake, honey, just tell me.

“Yes you can”, I tell her and softly place a kiss on her neck, ready to place more kisses. If I have to tease it out of her, I will. She’s used the same tactic on me before, so she can’t even blame me for it. She lets out an aggravated groan -not exactly the reaction I was hoping for- and pushes me away.

“No I can’t. I swear I can’t. It’s not my place to tell you”, she tells me again and now it’s my turn to let out an irritated moan. I love her to the moon and back, but her moral codes do tend to get on my nerves some times.

“Who cares of it’s your place or not, just tell me. I need to know”, I plead again and I decide to get down on my knees and give her my puppy eyes and pouty face. This usually does the trick.

“Jeff no”, she tells me, trying to sound persistent, but I can already tell that’s she’s wavering. Good to know that this old trick still works the magic it needs to work when needed.

“Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?” I beg her, holding my hands together in a gesture of prayer. Oh Saint Corrine, Love of My Life, Guardian of My Libido, please enlighten me and tell me what the fuck is wrong with my singer, is what I almost beg her out loud, but I decide against it. I can see she’s already on the verge of breaking.

“Don’t give me the puppy eyes”, she mumbles in a last attempt to get me to stop. But I’m not giving in. I need to know what the hell is going on, it’s been driving me insane for more than two weeks now. Eddie comes back from San Diego and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Everything is fine and smooth sailing and the we go on a camping trip. During the camping trip everything is still wonderful, but then…. Then we get back from the camping trip and he’s like a different person. Only a ghost of himself, except for when he’s singing because then he changes into yet another person. He becomes a fucking psychopath. It took us completely off guard, but to be fair, he’s never sounded better. And now he comes over here and stares at the drawing of Lola, muttering things, him and Corrine clearly talking about something that I lack the knowledge of. But no more! I, Jeffrey Allen Ament, will get to the bottom of this. Even if it’s the last thing I’ll do. though I hope it’s not!

“Please”, I plead one last time, throwing all my charm into the mix, even batting my eyes a few times for good measure.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’ll tell you, but you have to swear to stay silent”, Corrine finally gives in, sounding angry. I know she’s not angry at me -she’s got a specific Ament-I’ll-fucking-kill-you voice, and this is not it-, rather she’s angry at herself for giving in.

“Deal”, I tell her immediately, though I do feel a pang of guilt, knowing that I have pushed her into telling something she didn’t want to tell. But I’ll make it up to her. She’ll soon forget about her honor code.

Now that I think of it, the truth can wait for another second. I can’t any longer. I’ve been meaning to get my reward for my delivery services even before I fulfilled those. I attach my lips to hers, letting her immediately know my intentions. She can’t help but giggle.

“What about your urgency to get the truth from me?” she mumbles against my lips and I can feel her smile as I pick her up by her thighs, her legs wrap around my waist in an instant.

“There are other more urgent matters at hand”, I tell her as I lay her down on her bed, which is made up out of three mattresses.

“Thank God I’m in a relationship with a man who knows his priorities”, she laughs as I start to unbutton her shirt. I know my priorities damn well. The most important of those is to ensure the happiness (and satisfaction) of the woman that has captured my heart.

***

“So let me get this straight”, I try to reformulate everything Corrine just told me as I pull her closer and she plays with my hair. God I love it when she does that.

“Lola and Eddie were secretly dating and now they have broken up. They both think they are responsible. Eddie thinks he was too harsh, and Lola pushed him away because she’s still heart broken over Andy. Yet both of them are miserable without each and want to be together. Yet neither wants to see that.” Jesus fucking Christ, these two are acting like they are in a fucking Shakespeare play. It surprises me that Corrine hasn’t told me anything about this sooner. She fucking loves Shakespeare. So much so that she once insisted on roleplaying as Benedic and Beatrice from her favorite play Much Ado About Nothing. She’s got this thing for literary role-play. I don’t really mind it. It’s a good excuse to read more and it always ends in fun. Yet Lola and Eddie are role-playing one of his tragedies, whereas Corrine and I tend to stick to his comedies more often. The Taming of the Shrew was a lot of fun.

“Or admit that”, Corrine adds somewhat hopeless. I guess we’re both thinking the same thing.

“And then they call us a stubborn couple”, I joke trying to lighten the mood somewhat because the subject matter is quite heavy. Most of the times we talk about completely different things post-sex.

“They’re much worse than we are”, Corrine confirms with a chuckle. But when I look at her face all I can see is worry. Worry for our two friends who are in a miserable situation.

“On the other hand, we did take a while to give in to our feelings”, I tell her, trying to lighten her thoughts. It’s too much in Corrine’s nature to worry about others, so much so that she becomes miserable at the realization of her powerlessness in such a situation. My dear, you have too much empathy.

“Yes we did”, she confirms and places a short peck on my lips, but when she looks at me again the worry hasn’t disappeared.

“But they admitted their feelings as well, yet they still think they are better apart”, she sighs. I stroke her back a few times in an attempt at a reassuring gesture, but it doesn’t work. I don’t know if I can be a reassuring presence in this situation as it’s completely out of my hand.

“Whilst in fact they are both brutally miserable”, I state her thoughts out loud. These two have a lot of shit going on. If they’d just put aside their convictions and rationality for once and just gave into their feelings… Then Corrine and I would’ve probably already moved on to round two.

“Exactly”, she mutters as she keeps playing with my hair, focussing on it.

“Jesus fucking Christ and all his apostles, this is a messed up situation”, I let out in aggravation and Corrine chuckles. I was raised in a Catholic family and even though there isn’t much Catholic about the way I’m currently living, my cursing sometimes still bares the consequences of my upbringing.

“Tell me about it stud”, she tells me, emulating Olivia Newton-John in Grease. That’s one thing I’ve noticed lately, Grease keeps coming up in conversations in this friend group. It’s actually getting out of hand. But if we are assigning roles, I take Kenickie!

“And what do we intend to do about it?” I ask her for our plan of action. Corrine looks up from my hair and gives me a frown.

“We do nothing”, she tells me emphasizing the we. “I on the other hand convinced Lola to come to Thanksgiving and try and rekindle a friendship”, she continues putting an emphasis on the I. I can’t help but roll my eyes. She probably thinks me incapable of being helpful in this situation. I will admit I might not be the love expert, but she needs to stop trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She knows by now that I intend to help with whatever she needs, even if she doesn’t want me to. But even if she was not involved in it, I’d be making up a plan of action. I care about these fuckers a lot and they deserve their happiness. If that means they need a little extra help from me, then so be it.

“But you’re hoping to rekindle more”, I try and guess my girlfriend’s underlying motives, even though I think her plan of action will be ineffective.

“Precisely”, she tells me with a smile, punctuating her answer by booking my nose.

“Corrine, honey, your optimism never seizes to amaze me”, I say to her.

“I feel a but coming”, she says, sounding somewhat irritated. She knows me too damn well.

“But you’re an idiot if you think that that will be enough”, I state. How she thinks that they will magically get back together after talking and breaking a wishbone seems illogical to me.

“How do you mean?” she questions me questioning her naiveness.

“They’ve tried to work things out on their own and it’s quite clear that they haven’t been successful at it. They’re like kids. They need guidance and someone to give them direction”, I explain to her and I start making gestures with my hands. I really need to stop doing this, is all I can think as I feel my hand hitting the lamp on her nightstand. I quickly catch the thing from falling over. When I look back at Corrine she’s giving me an all saying look. What the hell am I supposed to do with you?

“Oh, Jeff, please don’t tell me you intend to play Cupid”, she mumbles shaking her head. Part of me is relieved that she’s not rubbing my clumsiness in my face this time, as she’s done many times before.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do”, I make my plans clear to her, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to emphasize the point I’m making.

“Lola deserves happiness after Andy and Eddie is a great guy who needs someone to love that will love him in return. Yet they are both too stubborn to see that they are perfect for each other”, I defend the plan that is forming in my head, which Corrine is already shooting down before she’s even heard it. Thanks for the unconditional trust, my love.

“That’s what I’ve told Lola and that’s what Chris told Eddie and they still won’t realize it. That’s why our best shot at them getting back together is for them to be friends first”, she tries to talk me out of it but I shake my head. I’m also still disappointed in Chris for not telling me what was going on, but I’ll confront David Lee Goth about that later.

“Nonsense. All they need is a little help. A push in the right direction if you will”, I say, sticking to my point. They need help and if I have to be the one to provide them of that help, then I will, even if it’s the last thing I do. I hope it’s not the last thing I do. My wish is to die either on stage or in bed, that last one preferably in coital position.

“And how do you intend to do that?” Corrine questions me, knowing that I will not back down.

“I have a plan. But for that I will need to get some more help”, I tell her. To be honest, I do not have a full-fledged plan yet, but it’s slowly taking form in my head. One thing I know for sure, I won’t be able to do it on my own. I’m already assembling a team in my mind.

“Oh dear Lord”, she mutters and lets herself fall back on the bed again. Normally I’d take this as my sign to start round two, but that’s gonna have to wait for a bit. I get off the bed and start walking to her kitchen area.

“Honey, I’m gonna use your phone”, I tell her, picking the thing up from the kitchen counter. There’s something red and wet on the phone handle. My guesses are it’s either one of two things. One: tomato sauce, two: red paint. I decide not to lick the handle as I’ve been betrayed by paint in her kitchen before.

“Who the fuck are you even gonna call?” she asks me sitting up on the bed again. She looks around the sheets for something and eventually finds it. I recognize my boxers as she throws them at me. Right, she has a no nudity rule in her kitchen. I pick the underwear off the floor and start putting it on, looking around for her number list. It must be here somewhere. I pick up a piece of paper and look at it. Chinese menu, dammit.

“What I hope to be my squad of tiny, diaper wearing, fat little angels. Because this Thanksgiving we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day”, I tell her with a big grin on my face and I can hear her sigh. Sigh all you want my love, but my plan is gonna work and you’re gonna thank me for it excessively when you’re the maid of honor at their wedding.

“There’s no way of stopping you”, she sighs out as she gets out of bed as well, picking up my T-shirt from the floor. She puts it on as she makes her way over to the kitchen. Normally I’d tear off that T-shirt in three seconds, but I need to contact my chubby angels first. Then however, I will show her all the TLC she needs.

“No there is not”, I tell her, once again making her clear how persistent I am about this matter. “Now where is your number list?” I ask her, getting back to business.

“On the fridge as usual”, she tells me as she opens the fridge to take out a bit of orange juice. Once she closes it again, she takes the number list off the fridge door and hands it to me.

“I love you”, I tell her and give her a peck on the cheek.

“I love you too, but you’re an idiot”, she says and gives me a smack on my ass as she passes me by to sit on one of the chairs at her breakfast bar.

“I can live with that”, I say and give her a cheeky smile, which she answers by an eye roll as she opens up her book of Keats poetry and starts reading.

My eyes scan the list she’s given me, searching for the numbers of the people I’ll need for my plan. I think I’ve made up my list of angels. Three to be exact: Johnny, Chris and Jerry Cantrell.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 14: Mom Jean Muse (Empty Canvas)

The steps squeak beneath my feet as I make my way up the stairs to Corrine’s apartment. Well, not really apartment. She lives in her art studio, which is an old ballet studio in what once was an old community center which the city closed about a decade ago. It wasn’t really located in the best part of town, but that made the rent cheap. The walls of the staircase were still covered in graffiti from squatters that had occupied the building some time ago. I reach the door of the apartment and knock. After a minute it opens, Corrine greeting me on the other side.

“Hey”, I say as she gives me a broad smile and pulls me in for a tight hug.

“Thank God you’re here. I thought you might not come”, she says as she lets me go and we both make our way into the studio. The wooden floor is splattered in paint, the floor to ceiling mirror on one wall reflecting the light that’s coming through the windows fills the room with brightness.

“What would make you think that?” I ask her as I take off my jacket and throw it onto one of her stuffy old armchairs, along with my bag. I’m quite sure a cloud of dust puffed out of the chair as iIdid that.

“Nothing…” Corrine says, stepping back on her words. I decide to let it go.

“Anyhow thanks so much for doing this”, she adds, giving me another one of her broad smiles.

“No problem, though I don’t see why you’re so damn excited about me being a model for some sketches”, I tell her as I look around the room. I can see she’s already set up her easel and other equipment, an array of pencils, charcoal and pens lying around on the tables along with all different kinds of paint.

“Because the only models I’ve had lately are Jeff and Johnny”, she explains to me with and exasperated sigh.

“And what’s the matter with that?” I question her as I sit down on the couch. From the way her easel is set up, I can deduct that that’s probably where I’ll be sitting for the next couple of hours.

“Well drawing Jeff is no problem at all, also because he’s very willing to pose in the buff, which is great…” she says, first with a smile on her face, but by the end of the sentence it has somehow disappeared as she’s pondering her words.

“But…” I nudge her to continue.

“If I have to stare at his naked body for hours and study and draw it… I don’t know, it kind of take the sexuality out of him”, she says sounding somewhat distraught. I know better than to laugh at this. Corrine is a highly sexual and passionate person, so I can see how this could be an issue for her.

“Which is something you don’t want”, I add in, attempting to finish off her thoughts.

“Which is something I can’t stand, because I enjoy fucking him a lot!” she says, probably a lot louder than she intended to. Thank God her neighbors are all stoners, who couldn’t give two shits about the noise.

“I see”, I say and nod, wanting to move on from the topic, because I really don’t feel like Corrine rubbing her wonderful sex life under my nose. Certainly not now.

“But what about Johnny? I ask, trying to change the topic.

“Don’t get me started on Johnny!” she lets out, sounding aggravated.

“You want some wine?” she quickly adds after that. The words haven’t even completely left her mouth yet and I’m already eagerly nodding. I need all the wine in the world after the complaints of Mrs. Moore in the President Suite all damn day. Sorry we got you Dom Perignon instead of Crystal, you stuck up piece of shit. She’s one of the three black widows that frequents the hotel I work at and they are all a nightmare.

“Do you even have to ask?” I say, letting out a little laugh as Corrine is making her way over to her kitchen.

“Gotcha”, she says with a smile as she takes a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and two glasses.

“But no what about Johnny?” I ask her again as she makes her way back over to me, uncorking the wine in the progress.

“He’s such a…” The frustration is evident in her voice as she pours us two glasses of wine.

“Diva?” I attempt to finish her sentence.

“Precisely”, she says, sounding somewhat relieved as she hands me one of the glasses of wine.

“I draw him with a skin roll and he thinks that I think that he is obese”, she clarifies herself after taking her first sip. I take out my packet of cigarettes and light one, figuring that I won’t be able to smoke for a while when she’s drawing me, as I have to sit still.

“Which is absurd”, I retort, blowing out the first drag.

“According to his words: ‘ladies feel insecure’”, she says rolling her eyes as she makes air quotes.

“Ladies? Oh God, please don’t tell me…” Before I can even finish my train of thought, Corrine is already completing it for me.

“That he insisted on me drawing him in drag?” she asks and I nod my head with a wide smile at the thought of it alone.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he did”, she confirms my suspicions and I let out a laugh.

“Oh my God, I need to see those drawings”, I tell her, taking another drag. I wonder which outfit he whose, and which pose. God, what I would give to have been a fly on the wall when this happened.

“Later”, she tells and takes another sip of her glass of wine.

“Because I need you in a calm mindset to model, and not frantically laughing at the exaggerations I made on his wig”, she explains and I nod, though I can’t contain my smile at the thought of it alone. I take another sip of wine.

“Then stop teasing me about it, because it’ll be the only thing I’ll be able to imagine”, I say as finish my cigarette and put the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Deal”, she agrees with a big smile, rummaging through her pencils, glass of wine still in hand.

“So… What do you want me to do? Do you have a concept?” I ask her as I try to think of a position to pose in. I’ve never done this before. She’s asked me many times, but I’ve always declined, telling her that I don’t have the time. Most of the times my excuses were made up as I just didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of drawing me, analyzing every bit of my body. But now I had to agree. Mainly because I’ve been a social recluse for the past two weeks ever since stuff went down with Eddie. I’ve just been trying to come to terms with it on my own. Truth be told, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I feel utterly miserable. Every time I hear them rehearse I want to storm down to the basement and beg him to forgive me.

“Yes, but only if you’ll agree to it”, Corrine says and she has a somewhat mischievous smile on her face.

“Depends on what I need to agree on”, I say, watching my words.

“Well I’ve got this image of you on the couch wearing those high waisted mom jeans of yours -by the way, thanks for wearing those”, she says and I let out a sigh of relief. If that’s all I’ll be fine.

“No problem. And I can do that”, I tell her with a smile, but my smile drops when she tells me the following.

“But there’s a catch”, she adds her voice filled with mischief. What the hell is she planning on.

“What’s the catch?” I question her, pulling my guard up a bit. It’s probably not gonna be an outrageous request, but then again, with Corrine you never know. For all I know she wants me to hold a monkey.

“I want to draw you topless, with your mermaid hair just gorgeously flowing down. Would you do that for me? Please?” she tells me and I’m taken aback for a minute. Topless posing? Me? It’s not that I don’t trust her, or would feel uncomfortable wit her… But…

“Corrine… I don’t know…” I tell her honestly.

“Those drawings aren’t going anywhere and it’s just the two of us. And I’ve seen you naked before, so nothing new there”, she tries to reassure me and it’s somewhat working, but not completely yet.

“Yeah, I know but…” I say and I can’t get the words out of my mouth. What I want to say is that I’ll probably look ridiculous. That I’m not the kind of person she should be asking to do this. She should ask someone like Betty, who works behind the bar at OK Hotel, she’d be up for that. But me?

“But what?” she asks me, like I’m sounding ridiculous. I don’t think I sound ridiculous at all.

“I really don’t know if I would be able to pull that off”, I tell her honestly.

“Nonsense! You’re gorgeous”, she lets out in complaints as she’s sharpening on of her pencils.

“But…” I mumble, though I know that it’s no use, because she will find a way to convince me.

“Come on, you’d look so great”, she tells me with a pout.

“You see that’s the part I’m questioning”, I retort and I wrap my arms around myself, as if I’m trying to add another layer to the area she wants to see exposed.

“Well, I need to practice realistic drawing, so if I succeed the drawing will be a masterpiece, because you, my dear, are one of the most stunning creatures I’ve ever seen walk the earth”, she says and her words put a smile on my face. I don’t agree with what she’s telling me, but it still feels nice hearing somewhat say such a thing.

I’m reminded of something Eddie one said. I think it was somewhere during the night he got back from San Diego. I’d gotten up to put on another record -still naked, I don’t know what got into me, usually I’d drag along a sheet- and as a turned around he was looking at me with this smile playing across his lips. “What? I remember saying, feeling somewhat self conscious. “The way your body curves and your hair falls and your face…” he said and I sat back down on the side of the bed, pulling a cover up to my chest to cover myself back up again, as I prepared to hear something bad. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you’re like a piece of art”, he told me and those words put the most stupid smile on my face.

“Coco, I’m not Johnny. I don’t need as many sweet nothings”, I say, pulling myself away from my memories, because the after thought stings. That’s something I had, and have no longer.

“So you’ll do it?” Corrine asks me, getting giddy.

“Yes I’ll do it”, I confirm and she leans over to give me a quick hug.

“You’re the best. Now you strip down and make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll put on some music and get settled and then we can get going”, she tells me.

“Great”, I mumble as she walks away to her record player. I decide to do as told and take off my Zeppelin shirt and my bra. I feel exposed for a second, but try to shake it off. No one is gonna see the drawings, it doesn’t matter. I relax as soon as I hear the opening notes of Second Hand News by Fleetwood Mac rolling through the apartment. Stevie Nicks has a way of calming me down. Corrine knows me too well. I sit down on the couch and Corrine comes over and gives me some instructions for the pose. The pose we come up with feels comfortable. I’m leaning back against the couch, one leg on it, the other hanging off of on. My one hand is resting on my knee, the other is beside my body. She adjusts my hair, letting it cover most of my breasts, except for the underboob area, something I feel comfortable with. She tells me to look a little to the side, in something she calls a three quarter profile. When she’s satisfied she goes to stand at her easel and puts her pencil to the paper, beginning to sketch me.

“So, my dear, please talk to me”, she tells me, looking from behind the paper.

“It’s okay for me to move my lips?” I ask her, trying to move them as little as possible.

“Your lips and just your lips”, she tells me and lets out a little laugh.

“Okay, great. What do you want to talk about?” I say, moving my lips now.

“I don’t know, what have you been up to lately, because I’ve barely heard from you. Anyone for that matter”, she asks me. I knew something like this was gonna come up. She’s been smart about it though, making sure I’m trapped in a position, so I can’t run away and avoid talking about it.

“Not much really, just work”, I tell her, trying to brush off my recent loner behavior as nothing.

“Just work?” she questions me, raising her eyebrows as she peaks from behind her easel again.

“Just work”, I repeat, hoping she’ll let it go.

“And nothing else?” she further questions.

“Why is that so strange?” I retort. Sometimes attack is the best method of defense.

“No, not at all…” she tells me and for a second I think she has been able to let it go.

“Have you been hanging around with some people?” she pries for more and I have to refrain myself from letting out a sigh, because that would move my chest, and thus my hair and that would probably leave me exposed.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, trying not to frown as well. I know what she’s trying to get at, yet her methods seem somewhat unconventional.

“Like meeting up with certain people?” she asks me innocently.

“No”, I tell her quickly, hoping that the shortness of my answer will let her know to just let it go.

“So a solitary phase?” she asks me again. God, this interrogation is making me feel more uncomfortable than the fact that I’m half naked.

“I guess so”, I mutter, but then decide that we need to get to the point.

“Corrine I have a feeling you want to talk about something specific”, I tell her and normally I would give her a semi-death stare but I have to maintain the three quarter profile she’s put me in.

“No not at all”, she says quickly, scoffing the words.

“Coco, have I ever told you you’re a horrible, horrible liar?” I ask her, calling her out on her bullshit. She knows she doesn’t have to do that with me. She knows I’d rather have her be honest and get to the point, instead of insinuating stuff.

“What can I say? I’m a painter, not and actress”, she says in her defense and I can’t help but chuckle a little, though I try to hold it back to maintain my position.

“Good point, but what’s on your mind?” I ask her, wanting for her to just bite the bullet and get to it, because all of it is making me horribly nervous.

“I’ll say it, if you promise me to stay put, because that position is perfect”, she tells me, somewhere between panic and seriousness.

“Corrine you’re worrying me”, I say, because she actually is.

“Promise me”, she insists and I can’t help but let out a sigh. I’m relieved when I find out that my hair hasn’t shifted. Thank God.

“Fine, I promise. Now tell me”, I nearly command her, because the tension is starting to get to me.

“The other day I met up with Chris for some coffee”, she tells me as she peaks from behind the easel again. Would Chris know? I decide to act nonchalant for a bit.

“How is he? I haven’t seen him in a bit” I tell her, trying to stay on the subject of Chris for a bit, because I know there’s something else coming and I have a feeling that I know what it is. I feel the dread rise up in me.

“Since the camping trip you mean,” she dryly retorts.

“Yeah, how do you know?” I ask her, still trying to keep her away from the subject, even though I know she’s damn close.

“Because… Dear lord… How… I don’t know… I mean…?” she begins to stutter and I realize we’ve reached the subject I was trying to avoid.

“Corrine, please form some coherent sentences, because I do not want to be drawn with frown lines on my face”, I tell her, wanting to get it over with.

“He told me that you and Eddie broke up”, she answer matter-of-factly and I’m taken aback by her directness. I don’t know what to say, so I decide to stay silent. It can only benefit the posing. My mind however is filled with thoughts. So Chris knows. How does he know? Did Eddie tell him? Eddie probably told him. Does Chris hate my guts now? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. How is Eddie? I want to ask Corrine these questions and yet at the same time a part of me doesn’t want to know the answers at all.

“So it’s true then? Because when Chris explained the whole thing to me I was completely caught of guard, because I didn’t even know you were officially a thing. Like sure, I had my suspicions… But it’s over?” she asks me, putting her pencil down for a second and looking at me with eyes filled with worry and pity. Oh please don’t.

“Yes”, I confirm her questions, hoping that that one word will suffice, even though I know it won’t.

“Like over over?” she asks again to make sure.

“I’m afraid so”, I tell her, preparing for the questions to come.

“What happened?” she asks and I know she’s expecting a big answer, but I don’t really feel like explaining it all. It has been hard enough as is, without having to say those things aloud. Saying them aloud makes them feel so much more real and it just hurts.

“I changed my mind”, I say and I try to crawl back into my method of using coldness, but somehow my mind is refusing me to let me do that. I feel more vulnerable than ever. The fact that I’m half naked has little to do with it.

“Come again, please?” she questions, toying with the pencil in her hand, before putting it back onto the paper.

“I changed my mind. Remember when you and Johnny told me to give it a shot and see how it would go?” I try to start explaining to her, even though it feels like ever single word just wants to stay in my throat and doesn’t ever want to come out.

“Yes, the night of a thousand margaritas. I remember that night surprisingly well, considering the amount I had to drink”, she tells me, sounding very sincere even though she just referenced a night of heavy drinking.

“Well I gave it a shot”, I tell her and she perks up when she hears those words, but then reality hits her again, realizing that it didn’t work out.

“And?” she pries further, wanting me to continue.

“And it was great. It was wonderful. It was the best I’ve felt in a long time, maybe ever…” Goddammit, Lola, control yourself, is the only thing I can think of as I hear my voice cracking up. I cannot and will not cry. I’ve cried enough over the past weeks.

“Then how come it ended?” That question is one that will haunt me for eternity. How come it ended?

“Because I realized I was being selfish”, I simply say the answer I’ve been telling myself over and over again, trying to convince myself I made the right decision, even though I’m not so sure.

“Lola…” Corrine begins, but I can’t stand her bemotheringness right now.

“No, I was”, I tell, giving her the sternest look I can without ruining the profile.

“Eddie… He’s so sweet. He’s kind. He’s funny. He’s smart…” I want go on, but Corrine cuts me off.

“He’s gorgeous”, she adds, stating the obvious.

“Corrine”, I scold her, because this really is not the time to have this conversation. Again.

“Sorry”, she mumbles and gestures me to go as she disappears back behind the easel.

“He’s this perfect guy. And I realized that I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve someone like him. And he certainly doesn’t deserve to be stuck to a mess like me. And I made him see that.” I made him see that the hard way and the thought of those last moments together haunts me once again. Those words have been repeating in my head over and over again. Get out. My pleasure.

“What do you mean with that?” Corrine says sounding more confused than ever.

“I made him realize what a fucking mess I am and I gave him a way out. Which he took.” He took it and ran with and who’s to blame him. No one. He did what he had to do. What I made him do.

“That’s not what Chris says”, Corrine states and her words take me out of those horrible memories.

“What does he say then? What did Eddie tell him? That I’m a complete nut case?” I fire questions at her, sounding angry and sad all at the same time.

“No, he told Chris that he was the one that fucked up”, she says and she gives me a confused look.

“What?” I ask her, my voice nothing more than a whisper. He blames himself? How the fuck can he blame himself? I’m the one that ruined everything and pushed him away.

“Lola, sit still”, Corrine commands me and I hadn’t noticed I’d been moving my arms up to my face to hide in them until she told me. I put them back in their original positions.

“Sorry… But what do you mean”, I mutter, still completely taken aback.

“Now what I need you to do, is not talk and sit completely still, I’m gonna draw your face. Can you do that?” she gives me my orders and I nod ever so slightly. She gives me a nod in return and focusses back on her paper.

“Great” she mutters. “It will also give me a chance to explain what I heard without you interrupting me with your self-denigrating monologues.” I wish I could scold her at this moment, but she’s got me in a place of complete obedience.

“From what I heard from Chris Eddie’s been a fucking mess”, she begins and those words feel like taking a bullet to the heart. I did that, is the only thing I can think as the guilt washes over me.

“He’s been cooped up in that apartment, fixing everything in sight. The cracks in the walls, the bathroom, the holes in Chris’ room. He even repainted it. And miraculously enough he managed to fix their oven. Now that my dear is an early Christmas miracle…” He fixed the cracks in the ceiling? He did that? Because of that picture?

“But I’m getting lost in my train of thought. Anyhow he’s been a wreck. So about a week ago Chris confronted him with it -and apparently nearly had to drag the words out of him- he said that you guys had talked about Andy and that it got rough. And Eddie thinks he overreacted and is blaming himself. I’ve called Chris every day for a check up, apparently he’s been hiding in his room for the past week, working on music. You can talk now”, she tells me and pears around her easel once again.

“I don’t know what to say”, I say honestly. He blames himself? Because he overreacted? He had ever right to act the way he did.

“How do you feel about the whole thing? And be honest. I don’t want the I’m fine bullshit or the I-saved-him-from-the-wreck-of-a-person-I-am bullshit. How do you feel?” Her bemothering character is really shining through today. But it’s maybe what I need at the moment.

“Awful… Horrible… Miserable”, I tell her, obeying her orders not to bullshit her, also because I can’t bring myself to do it. Part of me feels numb, numbed in shock by the fact that Eddie still cares, or seems to care.

“Why can’t you two just see that you need to be together? Sure there’s some hurdles to overcome, but let me tell you something. If love was easy, nobody would care about it, because it wouldn’t be special anymore”, Corrine says and I know she’s right. But I don’t want her to be right. Because he deserves better. He deserves so much better.

“Where the hell did you get that quote?” I ask her and let out a small chuckle.

“My heart”, she tells me dead serious and I can’t help but roll my eyes at it all.

“Jesus”, I mutter. Though I know she has a right to use such quotes. She and Jeff haven’t always had it easy, so she knows what she’s talking about.

“What I’m getting at is that you need to work things out”, she says getting to the point. However much I hate it when she mutters and mumbles, I hate it even more when she’s as direct as this.

“I don’t think we can”, I answer. I really don’t know if we can. I would want to, but I don’t know if I’m able to do it. And Eddie… He probably can’t bring himself to do.

“You think you’ve ruined your shot at being together?” she asks me, worry coming over her voice once more.

“Yes”, is all I manage to say with chocking up.

“I think you haven’t, but I know there’s no convincing you. So I’ll try to convince you of something else. Talk to him again, try and be friends” she tells me as if it’s the simplest, easiest thing to do.

“I don’t know, Corrine…” I mutter. How can I ask him to be my friend after I hurt him like that?

“And I know the perfect opportunity. Chris decided to hold Thanksgiving at his place this year, in celebration of the fact that the oven is working. The whole gang is coming. You need to come as well and then you guys can talk”, she says and something tells me she’s had this planned out all along. Corrine Neely, you smooth bastard.

“Corrine, I really don’t know”, I try and get myself out of it. I’m not a holiday person anyway. I just prefer to sit them out on my own. Though last year they did drag me along for Thanksgiving and we had a great time.

“Too bad for you, because I already told Chris you’re coming and that you’re bringing that great pumpkin pie of yours”, she tells me with a wide grin and part of me wants to strangle her.

“Corrine”, I let out and I’m getting up from the couch. It’s only midway through the movement that I realize that I’m moving.

“Fuck I need to sit still”, I mutter and try to reposition myself as accurately as possible.

“No you don’t I’m finished”, Corrine tells me and I let out a sigh of relief, because there was no way in hell I would’ve been able to get back into that exact position again. I’m ecstatic to be able to move again, my neck was getting really fucking sore.

“Really?” I ask her, even though it unnecessary. Corrine is nodding at me.

“Yeah, come and have a look”, she tells me and gestures with her hand for me to come closer. I obey and get off the couch and instinctively wrap my arms around my chest. When I look at the drawing I’m completely stunned. The likeness is uncanny, yet somehow my features are beautifully displayed on the piece of paper in front of me.

“Corrine, it’s…” I want to say that it’s absolutely fucking stunning, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“It’s horrendous isn’t it”, she interrupts me, sounding disappointed.

“No it’s absolutely beautiful”, I tell her and her face lights up. She knows I don’t lie about these things.

“That’s because you are”, she tells me with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t flatter me, I’m still not pleased with you dragging me along for Thanksgiving”, I tell her and finally give her the stare of doom that I’ve been wanting to give her for quite some time now.

“But you’re coming right?” she asks me hopefully, a sparkle in her eye, still happy about her success in her artistic endeavor.

“Yes, I will. But I won’t make any promises about talking to Eddie”, I give in. I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. I need to apologize and I need to beg for his forgiveness. I need him, I realize now more than ever. Even though he doesn’t need me at all. Maybe us being friends would be a way to solve that. Only if he can find it in his heart to forgive me for my words. Part of me fears he can’t, though I hold out hope.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 13: The Oven Blues (Empty Canvas)

Damn this fucking oven. I swear to God… What the hell did Chris even do to this thing, I wonder as I’m using a flash light to look at the inside. The thing is covered in grime and burned pieces and some kind of goo that I have a feeling was once some kind of cheese, that has now melted and become part of the oven. Some dirt must’ve gotten in the cables and that’s why this thing won’t work anymore. I’m using a screwdriver to loosen up some of the dirt as I hear the door to the apartment being opened and shut, signaling Chris’ return from practice. I hear his footsteps nearing, yet I’m still surprised when he lets out a freak scream of my name.

“EDDIE!” he screams out and tugs at my legs.

“WHAT?” I shout back in surprise and in a reflex to look up at him I bang my head against the grill of the oven.

“FUCK!” I let out as I crawl out of the oven, rubbing my forehead. I have a feeling my face is covered in burnt cheese and that the grill might have imprinted on it. A worried Chris is looking down at me.

“I don’t know what the hell drove you to stick your head in the oven”, he begins his tirade, but is already sounding calmer when he sees my aggravated look.

“You’ve been down for a week, you won’t talk. The guys are worried sick, calling me to ask if you are okay and now I find you with your fucking head in the oven. Eddie we have to talk about this…” he says this last words with a voice dripping in worry.

“Chris, are you suggesting I have suicidal tendencies?” I ask him as I remove my hand from my forehead and lean back on my elbow to look at him, irritation plastered across my face.

“What am I to think? Your head is in the fucking oven!” he lets out and his voice is back to complete panic. I roll my eyes. Jesus fucking Christ, I clean the oven and now I have suicidal tendencies. The next time I take a shower he’ll probably storm into the bathroom, accusing me of trying to drown myself.

“Chris”, I begin, “First of all, it’s an electrical oven, not a gas oven, so even if I wanted to kill myself, it wouldn’t work. Secondly the damn thing has been broken since the age of the ancient Egyptians!” I explain to him the worried look on his face disappears when he realizes his own stupidity. He lets out a sigh and leans against the kitchen counter across from me.

“You do make some good points there”, he begins but the decides to further question me.

“But what the hell are you doing with your head in the oven then?” When he says those words I hold up the flash light and screwdriver, letting my attributes do the talking, but Cornell just frowns.

“I’m trying to fix the damn thing!” I explain.

“You wanna bake cookies or what?” Chris quickly retorts with his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised. Fucking hell, you try to do a nice thing…

“No, but the possibility of cooking a frozen pizza seems like a good reason”, I defend myself. The look on his face has now changed, pity plastered across his face.

“Oh Eddie…” he mutters and shakes his head, like a dad would do when his toddler drew on the wall with Crayola.

“What?” I ask him, getting irritated his his demeanor.

“You’ve got to stop this”, he says, still shaking his head.

“Stop what?” I ask him, completely confused, getting even more fired up.

“This”, he says and gestures with his hands around the apartment as if that explains it, but I can’t see what he’s getting at. Cornell has to stop speaking in fucking riddles, it’s driving me insane.

“Please clarify further”, I pry further with clenched teeth, wanting a damn explanation.

“You’ve been fixing up this apartment like a madman ever since the camping trip. First it were the cracks in the ceiling,” he begins and I feel a weird kind of rage inside of me. The same rage I felt when I woke up at 3 in the morning, went to the only 24h supply store in Seattle (which was on the other side of town) to get some spackle to fill up those damned cracks. The cracks that caused the dust and the laughter in the picture of her with the piece of shit.

“Then it was the toilet”, Chris is still going on, “Then it was repainting my room, then you decided to fix the holes in my room’s floor. To be honest I miss saying hello to Mrs. Anderson in the morning,” he says somewhere between anger and laughter when he references the whole in his room that gave view to our elderly downstairs neighbor.

“Mrs. Anderson deserves a decent night’s rest and she wasn’t getting any of it with your snoring coming into her apartment though that hole”, I explain in my defense, but I know he’s making a point. I’ve been running around like crazy, trying to find things to fix to keep me occupied. I made a list of things to do, next up is properly fixing the Pizza Van of Doom. I need to stay busy, otherwise I’m thinking of her… And that hurts too much.

“I never heard her complain about it. Maybe that’s because she’s 85 and half-deaf!” Cornell says, raising his eyebrows at me again, this time in victory as he realizes he’s got me in a corner here.

“I just figured you might need some privacy”, I mutter not wanting to look him in the eye.

“Again, Eddie, what is up with you?” he questions me again. For a second I contemplate about telling him what’s on my mind, but quickly decide against it, not wanting to deal with the hassle.

“Nothing”, I say a bit too quick. “I just figured I might do some work around the apartment, whilst I wait for some responses to the resumes I sent out.” I hope he buys it, but by the looks of it, he isn’t.

“You were waiting for responses before we went on that camping trip and then you were doing nothing, nothing but writing. And ever since we came back, you’ve been acting different”, Chris rubs it in my face. If he knew, he’d get why I’m acting different. But I really don’t feel like fucking explaining it. Also because it such sensitive matter and it concerns a friend of his. It’d just be awkward and could maybe lead to me and Chris fighting, and that’s the last thing I need in this moment. I don’t exactly have many people I’m close to in Seattle and to alienate my own roommate through a fight probably isn’t the smartest choice.

“You mean productive?” I retort, still holding out hope that he’ll just let it go.

“I mean antisocial”, he says quickly, giving me a knowing look. Fuck, he’s really getting to the point of it. I’ve just not wanted to go outside. And rehearsal has become a dreaded thing. Not for the band or the music, because I still love those, but for the chance of running into the girl that I snapped at when I should’ve listened and held her.

“Pffff, what are you talking about?” I say in a final attempt to brush it all off.

“Something happened between you and Lola. I can feel it”, he says hitting the nail on the head. In a split second of lack of control I let my face fall. Something which Chris probably noticed, but I still feel the need to cover it up. Sarcasm seems a good option.

“Feel it?” I ask him with dramatically raised eyebrows, looking at him like he’s insane, even though he’s right.

“Yes and Johnny feels that’s something been up as well”, Chris adds. Obviously Johnny feels something is up as well. My friend Alex in San Diego has a theory that gay men are psychic and I have a feeling there’s some truth to it.

“You and Johnny should start a fortune telling business if you’re so good at guessing other people’s sentiments. The wise Madame Sandy”, I say, words dripping in sarcasm.

“And her monkey Cornell.” I gesture at my friend, who just rolls his eyes as response.

“Haha, your sense of humor also has worsened”, he says dryly. For a minute we just look at each other, waiting for the other to say something. The silence is loaded with the words unsaid. Words that I don’t want to say and that Chris can only guess at at the moment.

“Just spit it out, I know something is up”, he eventually spits out, as if he wasn’t able to hold it in any more.

“I can’t deal with your coping mechanisms any longer. You’re walking around covered in dust, grease and paint, barely saying a word. You’ve been wearing the same clothes for a week, you really need to take a shower as well. It’s not really that you stink, but that splatter of paint on your forehead has been driving me crazy for days…”

When he says those words, I instinctively rub my forehead. When I look at my fingers, I see tiny dried up flecks of the beige paint I used. It was the only color they had at the 24 h supply store. I figured Chris wouldn’t mind beige. Anything was better than the yellowed wall of that old drug den. I actually found splatters of blood, probably left by a needle, still stuck to the fucking floor.

“The guys say that during rehearsal you’re dead quiet”, Chris continues, “Until you start singing and then your face and attitude apparently change. They like the voice it gives you, but they’re worried. I’m worried,” he finishes up his soliloquy. When he says those last words I do feel a little pang of guilt. Towards him and toward the guys, but I quickly decide to push it away.

“I’m fine, mother”, I mutter annoyed. When will he let it the fuck go.

“EDWARD WHATEVER-THE-HELL-YOUR-MIDDLE-NAME-IS VEDDER!” he shouts out, trying to grab my attention even though he never lost it. His sudden shouting however scared the shit out of me and I jumped back, accidentally closing the oven with a clang behind me in the process.

“It’s Louis”, I mutter, even though I know better than to interrupt him in this moment.

“Really? Louis? I pictured you more as a Harold, or a Richard perhaps. Maybe even Eustace”, Cornell says, getting lost in his thoughts and a sea of ridiculous middle names. I might use Eustace one day as a cover name.

“Anyhow that’s beside the point”, he says, snapping out of it after muttering Zachariah. I have a feeling he won’t let it go and now I’m getting irritated because Cornell has a habit of swerving around the point of a conversation so much, that he eventually forgets the point. And I need him to get to the point so we can get this over with.

“Then get to it then”, I mutter and I notice I’m clenching my teeth again. I need to stop this habit of acting like a pregnant woman with mood swings every time somebody gets on my nerves. Or people need to stop getting on my nerves. Probably a combination of the two.

“We’re gonna sit down and you’re gonna tell me what’s on your mind”, Chris says and I’m surprised that he got to the point that quickly. Must be a new personal record. I bet his mom will record it in his baby book.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell did I do to deserve this?” I say and let myself fall back on the floor. That reminds me, I need to wax these floors as soon as possible. The years of wear and tear have left the wood in a horrible condition. There’s knife marks in the fucking floor next to me. That God Chris doesn’t cook that often, it seems like a safety hazard.

“Act like a fucking nutcase”, he lets out and is now pulling at my legs… “Now get off the floor and on the couch” he says as he lets my legs fall back to the floor.

I mutter something along the lines of fine as I get off the floor and on the couch. Chris is right behind me. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and hands me one of them as he sits down on the couch opposite of me. He takes the packet of cigarettes -we’ve gotten into the habit of buying packets to share around the house and our own to keep in our jackets as when we go out- off the coffee table and throws it at me. I take one out as he takes the ash tray and lighter from the table as well. He places the ash tray in between us and uses the lighter to uncap his beer. He then throws the lighter at me and I do the same thing and after that I light the cigarette. I throw the lighter back at Chris, who is now holding an unlit cigarette in his hand, waiting for the fire that will give him his nicotine hit. He lights the cigarette and we both simultaneously take a drag and blow it out. He’s looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I figure I might let him wait a bit. I take another drag and look at him with raised eyebrows. What now, huh, my look asks him.

“So”, he eventually says, raising his eyebrows as well as he ticks off a bit of ash into the ash tray.

“So what?” I retort with sarcasm as I take a sip of the beer.

“Are you gonna start talking or do I have to drag it out of you?” he asks me and I just give him a dull stare in response. Whatcha think, monkey boy?

“It’s Lola isn’t it?” he says matter-of-factly as he takes a swig of the bottle.

“Why the hell do you think it’s Lola?” I reply. It’s only after the words leave my mouth that I realize my response was too quick and too frantic.

“By your tone you just confirmed my suspicions”, he says, analyzing my words. I hate it when he does that.

“But to answer that question…”, he continues after blowing out some smoke.

“You were super happy before the camping trip. She came over nearly every day, or you were at her place. When you weren’t together, you were calling each other on the phone. And since that camping trip, it seems like she has disappeared from your life without a trace. No more calls, no more happy, smiley Eddie, no more socks on the door”, he says and wiggles his eyebrows at that last comment. He’s been hanging around Johnny too much lately, though I can’t blame him. I haven’t exactly been the life of the party as of late and our drag queen friend is extremely entertaining after all.

“Are you insinuating my behavior is because I have blue balls?” I ask him dryly, taking a drag.

“Not only physically. Emotionally as well”, Cornell says with a sincerity not usually associated with those words.

“Emotional blue balls?” I question him and I have to refrain myself from laughing.

“Exactly my dear”, he exclaims. “So tell me what happened…” And with those words he’s eagerly awaiting my response.

“Chris…” I mutter, not knowing how to begin. Not wanting to begin at all.

“Okay, maybe you’d rather not, but I’ve found that talking about your emotions helps”, he says and somehow those words work like a guilt trip on me. Talking about your emotions helps… And when Lola did it I freaked out. Because I realized how that fucker hurt her and that there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing to protect her, because all the damage had been done. I felt so fucking angry and didn’t know what to do with it, so I snapped at her.

“You’re not gonna let it go, are you?” I question him with a sigh.

“No”, he says, vigorously shaking his head.

“Well you know we were dating”, I begin and take another drag off the cigarette and blow out the smoke.

“Oh I know, I heard it many times”, he chimes in with an eyebrow wiggle to go along with it.

“Really?” I let out. I can’t believe he’s bringing this whole situation around to talk about sex noises. And if this is the time to file noise complaints, I should start about his snoring. There’s a reason Mrs. Anderson is half-deaf and that reason is the human leaf blower called Christopher Cornell.

“Sorry, do continue”, he says quickly as he realized this is not the time to ask which position in the fucking Kama Sutra caused a certain noise. Oh and by the way, huge disappointment, I read the Kama Sutra (I needed something to do on that fucking security job and a yoga instructor from Bali whom I met surfing kept going on about it). Turns out it’s a book about yoga and maintaining your body and there’s barely any sex in it. It was still an interesting read, but I can’t hide the fact that I was somewhat disappointed at not seeing contortion style fucking.

“And now we’re not”, I simply state, referring to Lola and I’s status.

“What happened?” Chris immediately fires back.

“You don’t wanna know”, I say and take a sip, hoping that he will get off my case. I really don’t want to explain.

“I do wanna know”, Cornell pries on and eventually I can’t hold it in any more.

“Andy”, I snap and Chris is surprised. “Andy happened”, I say and I can see that Chris is trying to put the puzzle together. He’s getting somewhere.

“That’s why I don’t wanna talk about it, because I know he was a good friend of yours… And…” I cut myself off before I say anything that could possible cause damage.

“And what? Chris asks, continuing his prying.

“Honestly?” I ask dryly, pushing out the cigarette.

“Yes”, Cornel says and he has to refrain himself to keep his volume from going up.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to say…” I begin with a disclaimer, because if I do have to talk about it, I will not hold back.

“But that guy was awful”, and before I can say anything else, Chris cuts me off.

“Eddie”, he mutters and there’s a somewhat pained look to him. But I’m going to continue to talk, he asked for it, so here it is.

“Let me finish”, I cut him off as well, before going on.

“Then you can scold me all you want. I bet he was a great friend and good fun and all that shit, but he wasn’t good for her. He dragged her down in this relationship where she probably was miserable in. She told me how she begged and begged him to stop with that fucking junk and he didn’t. And she loved him, so she forgave him for all of it when she just should’ve…” I got so caught up in the anger again that I’ve lost my words. I gripping the bottle tight, surprisingly it hasn’t snapped yet.

“Left him and found someone who was worthy of her”, Chris finishes my thought without even having to think, which catches me off guard.

“Yeah”, I say, somewhat astonished that he caught my train of thought that well. Unless…

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he begins and what comes next surprises me even more.

“We all know that. Many of us tried to get Lola out of that relationship, because it was destroying her, but she wouldn’t let him go. In many ways they were both addicts. He was her drug… She… Oh sweet Lola… She was and still is too good for him. Sure they loved each other and when things were good between them they made a cute couple. But most of the time it was her being helpless and miserable, because she loved him that much and his destruction was her own… We all loved Andy, he was a great friend and lots of fun to be around, but part of me hates him for what he did to her”, Cornell says, sorrow evident in his voice. The regret is the part I’m most surprised by. He didn’t…

“He didn’t force her into it as well, did he?” I immediately ask him what I’m thinking. I wouldn’t be mad at Lola at all if she did, but if that fucker wasn’t already dead he’d surely be if I found out he forced her into such a thing.

“Oh fuck no”, Chris says quickly, causing me to sigh out in relief.

“That’s one thing Lola would never do. No dancing with Mr. Brownstone for her.” His comment makes me smile. Partially because I’m proud of Lola for never doing such a thing, even though the temptation must’ve certainly been there, partially because of the references Chris just made.

“Did you really have to make a Guns ’N Roses reference in the middle of this conversation?”, I ask him and I can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Hey, Duff is from Seattle, we have the right”, Chris says with a grin.

“And that’s my way to deal with serious topics. I like to throw some banalities into the mix sometimes for a breather”, he explains and I nod. It’s a tactic I have used myself in the past. I think most people who’ve gone through some serious shit at one point in their lives have used it. Because if you keep being in that doom and gloom mindset, it fucks you up royally.

“I understand”, I say and give him a small smile, that all too quickly disappears.

“But he didn’t force her to do it, he may have offered her a few hits, but she always declined. The thing that destroyed her most of all was his death. For obvious reasons and more underlying ones”, he says and lights another cigarette and I take another sip of the beer. I’m mentally preparing myself for what Chris is about to tell me. I know it will hurt.

“You see, part of her always believed that his habit was just a phase. That he would one day clean up his act and that they’d have a happily ever after”, Chris says somberly as he bow out his smoke.

“But that never came…” I mutter and look down at my hands.

“Indeed, it ended in the opposite way”, begins agains and sadness washes over his voice.

“I was there in the room when they let him go. As soon as that monitor stopped, the room became dead quiet, I don’t even think anyone at that point had the audacity to even breathe. And then Lola let out this heart wrenching cry and took him in her arms. She rocked him back and forth and cried into his hospital night gown…” Chris stops for a second as we both visualize what he just told. He’s replaying his memories and it probably a thousand times worse than what I see. And what I see is already painful enough. She mentioned to me she was there, but the true pain of what it must’ve felt like didn’t come through to me in that moment in time. Now however it does and it makes me loathe myself even more for lashing out at her.

“Until they came to take him away”, Chris says after a minute of silence. “Jeff was the one that dragged her away and held her back kicking and screaming. Until she eventually stopped thrashing around and sobbed in his arms… I was crying too, everyone was. But my reasons were different. I was crying for her. Because when I looked at her I realized she’d given up on everything. Andy’s death… It shattered all her hopes for the future, any future really”, Chris says and you can tell by the cracking of his voice that there’s a lump in his throat. He cares about her a lot, everyone does.

“But how could she allow herself to be so destroyed by a person?” I ask after we sit in silence for a bit longer. That’s the main question that been haunting me over the past couple of days. How could she subject herself to such pain, and allow herself to become so broken in the process. I wanna be mad at her for it, part of me even is. Though I know better than that. My own mother had a similar situation, where she was stuck to a man that she didn’t love and he didn’t love her back. The fact that I have my own issues with that man is besides the point. Even without those issues, I’d still resent him. I guess that’s why I’m feeling the way I am about Andy. It’s a mirror-situation. The only difference between my mother and Lola in this situation however is that Lola loved Andy.

“Love”, Chris says and the words sound bitter coming from his mouth. “And it will haunt her for the rest of her damn life.”

“But she deserves so much better”, is the only thing I manage to say. She deserves so much better. She needs someone who will be there for her, love her, respect her, hold her during the darkest hours.

“You’ve got to be that person for her”, Chris says and he catches me off guard again.

“I can’t. I blew it, she’d never…” I mutter and I feel a sense of dread coming over me. I really fucked up.

“Eddie, she gave Andy a million chances. I don’t know what happened, but it can’t be worse than a heroin habit. You’re worthy of a second chance”, Chris reassures me and gives me a smile.

“Chris, I blew it. I lashed out the first time things got tough”, I try to make him clear and he just shakes his head.

“I’ve never seen her look at someone like she looks at you. Not even Andy. You’ve both got your issues and baggage and I know that if you were able to work through those, maybe with the help of each other, you’d be great together”, he says. Part of me feels great about what he just said. He cares about Lola deeply and if he trusts me with her I view it as a great compliment. Another part of me wants him to shut the fuck up because he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The picture of Lola’s past has never been clearer and even though it would be difficult, we could work through it. All the things she said that hurt me are only a result of her being in pain and not wanting to get hurt. I see that now and I’ve already forgiven her for it. We could work through it, I know it. There might be more fights, or hysterical sobbing, but I’d take it all in order to call her mine again.

My baggage on the other hand hasn’t come up yet and that’s for the better. It would scare her off, she wouldn’t want to deal with a total fucked up person again after Andy. And that’s exactly what she’d come to see me as. In order for us to work, I need to be honest as well, but that would change her image of me forever and I don’t know if I could handle that. Besides she’d find me a complete hypocrite, because I lashed out at her when she was only displaying logical pain, and then I’d drop the bomb of my past and would expect her to take it. She’d hate me even more for treating her the way that I did.

“I don’t know if I can and I don’t know if she can”, I say bitterly, realizing that I truly blew my shot with her. My shot a relationship with her, maybe eventually a life with her.

“If you’d excuse me, I’m gonna go to bed”, I mumble and stand up.

“Fine by me”, Cornell says, somewhat sullen, finally deciding to let it go, now that he got what he wanted.

“But I know you won’t sleep. Want one piece of advice?” he says as I place the empty bottle on the coffee table and stand up.

“If you can’t resist”, I mumble, already making my way towards the door of my bedroom.

“Put it into song”, he says and his words make my turn around on my heels. Once I face him again I give him a confused look.

“Put your feelings into song, who knows if something might come out of it”, Chris says again and I nod, not to confirm that I was going to do that, but to confirm I heard what he said. I run back around and enter my room, heading straight for the bed.

The room is pitch dark, the dark grey of the walls seeming black as the night falls through my window. I lay there in the darkness, realizing that I fucked up royally. She’ll never be mine again, because when she needed me most, I pushed her away. She was broken and I broke her even further. I’ve broken to many people in my life. Hurt too many people along my way. My hands cradle the pieces of broken glass.

I turn on the lamp on my night stand and grab my notebook.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 12 (Part 3): Goodbye Love (Empty Canvas)

The next morning we woke up around ten and started to pack up camp to head back to the civilized world. This however was not as easy as it seems, for various reasons. Jeff was the only one that forgot to bring regular clothes for the next day, so he was still stuck in his marshmallowed Chewbacca costume and was hating every second of it. Corrine was quite fine, but just kept laughing at him, which made Ament even more frustrated. Mike had a huge hangover and Stone was yelling at him for being such a useless pain in the ass which made packing up the tent even more difficult than it already was, because it was only worsening Mike’s massive headache. Cornell was also miserable. Due to sleeping in a tent and carrying Johnny his back was killing him. I knew he was probably exaggerating it a bit, but he looked like a crippled old lady. Johnny on the other hand kept complaining about hygiene or the lack thereof in the woods.

Eddie and I seemed to be the only ones that were somewhat in a productive mood, so after packing our stuff we helped the rest and eventually we all made our ways back to the cars.

Corrine, Jeff, Stone and Mike were taking the Pizza Van of Doom back to the city, Eddie, Chris, Johnny and I were taking Chris’s car. I was thanking the lord for that, because being stuck in the Pizza Van of Doom at that moment seemed like a very unpleasant experience, because Stone looked like he was about to explode any second. We said our goodbyes and started making our way back to the city.

We first dropped off Johnny at his place. I’d never seen anyone that happy to get back home. He gave us all warm goodbyes before running inside, singsonging in glee about the pleasure of taking a shower. Next up was my place.

When we eventually get there, I get out of the car and Eddie does so as well. He opens the trunk of the car and takes out my bag.

“You know I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself, right?” I ask him quite teasingly and he just rolls his eyes.

“Would you please allow me to be a gentleman and carry this up for you?” he asks me with a smirk.

“If you can’t help it”, I reply giving him a peck on the cheek. I however nearly knock him over when Cornell honks the car horn.

“Vedder, are you coming or what? I wanna get home, these spandex pants are riding up my ass and if I don’t get these things off within the next hour I’ll never be able to have children”, Cornell shouts from the front.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Eddie shouts back laughing, causing a very unamused Chris to stick his head through the window.

“Are we being funny?” he asks quite dryly, before adding: “So you coming?”

“I think I’ll just stick around for a while, I’ll see you back the apartment”, Eddie says, gesturing to my bag as if that’s the only reason that’s keeping him here.

“Oh, I get it”, Cornell says, some livelihood coming back to his face, “You wanna make up for a lost night. Again sorry about Johnny getting into your tent, you know how he can over exaggerate things”, Chris says sounding sympathetic and I have to muster up all my strength not to start laughing at him, because when it comes to his snoring, Johnny’s not exaggerating. Cornell turns on the ignition.

“Have fun, you fuckers. And remember be safe. We don’t want Vedder-Carmichael offspring roaming the earth. At least not yet!” And with the words Cornell drives off.

“You wanna know a funny thing?” Eddie says as we make our way up to my apartment.

“Please do tell”, I say as I fumble with my keys, trying to get in. Something at which I eventually succeed.

“He’s the second person that has already alluded to us having kids”, Eddie says before putting my bag down.

“Really? Who was the first?” I ask quite amused. It’s really fucking early in a relationship to already start talking about the idea of having kids and even though I don’t want that yet, it’s something that I’ve always wanted. Even though I had given up on the idea when I was with Andy. First of all, he didn’t want children, like ever… And he was very adamant about it. It would never have been a possibility, not even if we were in our thirties. Secondly, I’d given up on the idea, because I knew that however much I loved Andy, he wouldn’t have been a good father… At least not unless he made radical changes, which he didn’t. He wouldn’t make them for me, he probably wouldn’t make them for a child as well. And saddling up an innocent little thing with a junkie father was not something I intended to do. But with Eddie, somewhere along the line (meaning quite a few years in the future of all goes well and we’re still together)… I could see it happening. I bet he would be a great dad. Lola, calm down, you’ve only been dating for week and your biological clock isn’t running out of time any time soon, so calm the fuck down. If only he knew what I was thinking, he’d run away screaming probably. Thank God people can’t read minds.

“Jackie”, he says and turns to me, a goofy smile spread across his lips.

“Your boss in San Diego. Big lady with big heart?” I ask him, trying to get it all right. When he came back from San Diego he spent the whole night talking about everyone that he said his goodbyes to. He sounded somewhat melancholic and my heart still aches for him about it. there’s so many people that he’s left behind.

“Yes, that’s the one. She just started talking about it and she wouldn’t stop until I literally forced her to. But she meant well”, he says and first he’s looking at me and then something catches his eye. I turn around to follow his gaze. He’s looking at the picture above my dresser. One in particular, so it seems. I have a feeling I know which one it is.

“So that’s you and Andy?” he asks me after a short amount of silence, confirming my suspicions about the picture he was looking at. It’s a picture of Andy and I, on Cornell’s couch. I’m sitting on his lap and his arms are wrapped around my waist, squeezing me tight. We’re covered in dust and laughing our asses off. I’ve always loved that picture. I haven’t had the heart to take it down yet. Eddie’s probably noticed it before, but I guess this is the first time he wanted to ask me about it.

“Yes”, I confirm and step closer. We’ve both stepped closer and we’re looking at the picture together.

“You look happy”, he says in a small voice, somewhere between happiness and sadness. Happy that I was happy then, sad that I am broken now.

“We were”, I confirm and I can’t help but smile. “I remember the night that picture was taken. It was at a party at his and Cornell’s apartment… Now your apartment… Anyhow, we hadn’t really been dating that long”, I explain to him. He’s now noticing the dust and the bottles of alcohol all over the picture and points at it.

“Looks like one hell of a party”, he says with a chuckle, though I know it’s not really genuine. I understand, yet on the other hand, jealousy for a dead man seems unnecessary.

“It was”, I say, trying to ignore the underlying tone in his voice. “Stone decided he was Tarzan and tied a bed sheet to the ceiling fan, to use it as a liana. He started swing around and the ceiling fan came down”, I explain and contain my laughter anymore. Eddie laughs as well, this time actually genuine. Stone doesn’t get piss drunk often, but when he does his antics are quite legendary.

“Is that why the ceiling in the living room is so cracked up?” Eddie says after pondering for a while. Oh God, that ceiling looks like they have a sumo wrestler living upstairs. They have now replaced the ceiling fan with a lamp, but they haven’t gotten around to filling up the cracks yet. Not them… Not Andy and Chris. There’s no such thing anymore as Andy and Chris. It has been just Chris for a while. And now it’s Chris and Eddie. And Eddie shouldn’t have to clean up the old mess. One, because it’s not his fault and two, because he’d be doing nothing else. Everything in that apartment is about to fall apart.

“Exactly”, I confirm his question and he lets out a laugh.

“At that point during the night we were all too out of it to even care, so that’s why we’re cry laughing in that picture, because the only thing Stone managed to say at that point was: ‘Me Stone, me auwch!’” I finish the story and can’t help but laugh again. It’s crazy to think that all of this was how things used to be reality. That it used to normal. So much has changed so fast.

“Really, Stone? I can’t imagine him doing such a thing”, Eddie says and I shake my head. Oh my young Paduan, you have a lot to learn.

“That’s what happens when you give Stone tequila. Under any given circumstances do not give Stone tequila”, I tell him and Eddie nods.

“Noted”, Eddie says after making his mental note, making sure not to forget it. After that we’re both silent, still looking at the picture.

“You know… Andy and I… It wasn’t always like that”, I eventually say, giving voice to the thoughts that are spooking around my head.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I know it hurts you”, Eddie says and there’s this weird edge to his voice. It’s almost like he’s begging.

“No, I need to talk about it because you have a right to know”, I say, standing by my point. I’ve come to the conclusion that if I want things to work between us, I need to be honest with him. I can’t keep hiding it all away. He has to know. He has a right to know.

“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly and I nod as I wake my way over to my bed. I sit on the edge and gesture for Eddie to come and sit next to me, which he does.

“Andy and I… “ I start out, trying to find the words, but they are not quite coming to me yet. “Our relationship… It was tumultuous to say the least. When it was good, it was great and the best thing that could’ve happened to us. But when it was bad, it was horrible. We started dating in April of last year and everything was good. Too good… It was only after three months when I started noticing the needle marks on his arm that he admitted to using”, I say and those last words come out in a mumble as I’m trying to control the shaking off my voice. Eddie puts a hand on my shoulder and forces me to look at him.

“Lola, know you can stop at any time, okay?” he says, making sure I look him in the eye and understand. I nod.

“Yeah, I know”, I mutter and give him a smile smile, which he returns as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“But I need to get it out….” I say and decide that I will no longer hesitate. I need to get it out, it has been chewing me up inside that I’ve kept all of this from him.

“I tried to get him to stop. I tried to get him to rehab, but he refused… I thought at one point that he actually had stopped , and he might’ve stopped for a while. But then it started again, worse than ever. I begged him, and pleaded. But he didn’t want to hear it. I should’ve ended it at that point, but I couldn’t”, I mutter and take my time for a second, trying to find the right words to continue.

“Because you loved him…” Eddie attempts to help me finish my thoughts.

“Because I love him…” I say and only after I say it, I realize I’m still using present tense. I guess there’s a part in my sub conscience that just doesn’t quite want to accept the fact that he gone.

“And then one day at work, Chris calls in. And I remember thinking in that moment: strange, Andy never calls me at work. I pick up the phone and Chris is hysterical and explains me what happened” I say and I can see the pain in Eddie’s eyes. For both of us. For me and for Chris.

“I managed to get some time off from the hotel and went straight to the hospital… And there he was, lying in a bed, hooked up to a thousand machines… I sat by his bed for a week, until they eventually pulled the plug. I heard the monitors go silent.” I managed to stay strong through that story, but when I say those last words and am remembered of that horrible moment when the beeping slowed down and eventually stopped, I can’t help but let out the tears I’d been holding back. Thinking about that moment is so painful. Because it only feels like yesterday and I remember every single detail. From how his slight grip on my hand just disappeared and how his face fell into this kind of soft peace. How he looked painless. Then I remember completely loosing it, throwing myself onto him, trying to get him back, but I couldn’t. I remember Jeff dragging me off of him and holding me as I screamed and sobbed. He held me when I tried to go with him as they put the sheet over his face and wheeled him away to the morgue. Jeff held me for hours until I eventually had screamed and cried myself to sleep…

“Lola…” Eddie says my name, trying to bring me back to earth from going back in time to March 19th.

“No, Eddie, please, just let me finish, please”, I say to him, pushing his arms away. Him holding me right now feels, strange.

“Lola, please stop, I can’t bear to see you like this”, he says and it’s only now that I realize his voice is cracking up as well. I look at him and see tears in the corners of his eyes. My prediction had come true, I’m taking him down with me just as I said I would if I allowed myself to be with him.

“Like what..?” I ask him and I realize I’m letting out the resentment I feel towards myself in this moment and I’m unleashing it onto him. He doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t help it.

“Like what huh? A mess, a broken girl? Well sorry Vedder, but apparently you missed the memo that I’m an absolute wreck and there’s nothing you can about it. And I’m sorry if I’m ruining your image of me, but you need to fucking know. Because otherwise I’d feel like I’d be lying to you. Lying to myself”, I let out and I’m not yet screaming, but my voice is certainly louder than it was before. Something in Eddie’s eyes has shifted. From sadness to… Anger, rage, resentment. Not quite those things and yet all of those things.

“Stop it”, he mutters and it sounds somewhat like threat. But that only edges me on, working like a red sheet on a bull.

“You wanna know something? I was… No sorry… Am torn up about us”, I say and I immediately regret it. First of all because there’s this viciousness in my voice that normally would never, ever be there, certainly not towards him. Secondly because I realize I’ve opened the door to the end.

“What?” he lets out, the anger is momentarily gone and is now just replaced by full on surprise.

“Torn up, because I don’t know how to fucking feel about it all”, I say and I know I’m only digging a deeper hole for myself. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. I can’t half ass the truth any longer.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he questions me.

“I don’t know if what we’re doing is right. Because I had my one shot at love, or so it feels like, and I don’t think I can ever get that again. I don’t know if I can forget him, if I can move on. I thought about ending this before it even started, not wanting to drag you along into it… But look where we are, I’ve already dragged you into it more than you ever wanted. Maybe I should just let you go.” My thoughts evolved as I spoke, every new conclusion coming out straight away and I’m startled by the last one. I should let him go, I realize. He’s seen how bad it gets and he doesn’t seem to be okay with it. I couldn’t ask that of him. As I look at him in this moment pure confusion on his face, along with traces of anger and sadness, I realize that this is what I have to do. I can’t see him like this. And knowing I’m the cause of it all only makes it a million times worse.

“Let me go?” he repeats my words, like he’s never heard them before in his life.

“For your own good, so you wouldn’t have to deal with this”, I mumble, a coldness coming over my voice. I can’t bear to look at him, so I’m staring down at my lap.

“And how would that be for my own good, when it would just make me miserable?” he questions me and his words feel like knives. Don’t, please don’t say those things, I want to beg, but I know I can’t. Because we’d be drawn back to each other and I’d just make him more and more miserable. I can’t do that to him him. It would break his heart, it would break mine.

“Miserable for a moment, afterwards you’ll be so happy when you realize that you’re not stuck with me”, I say and try to remain calm. If I start crying now, or show more emotion than coldness, he’d take me into his arms and I’d be a goner.

“But what if I want to be stuck with you”, he says and my heart shatters. He tries to make me look at him, practically whimpering when I push him away. I can’t look at those baby blues. It would crush me only more.

“It’s not only your decision to make”, I say and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. I hate that I have to do this and that I have to do it this way. But I have to do it, for him. So he can go on and be happy.

“How is it not my decision to make?” he questions me, the anger back in his voice and it makes me flinch. “I get to choose who I’m with and I want to be with you…” Please don’t say those words. I want to change my mind and throw myself into his arms, telling him that I want to be his and have him kiss my tears away.

“Do you even want to be with me?” he eventually asks, soft anger still in his voice and I almost lose it in that moment. I have to try my hardest to not sob.

“Eddie, that’s not the…” I start saying, but he’s not having any of my excuses.

“I see, you don’t want to be with me”, he interrupt me coldly and it feels like someone is tearing my heart from my chest. “It’s just a fling to you, isn’t it? To try and forget that fucked up junkie that happens to be your ex.” His words are dripping in venom and they trigger something inside me. He can direct his anger at me all he wants, I deserve it after all. But he has to leave Andy out of his.

“Don’t talk about him like that”, I say, trying to contain my own anger.

“You know, I’d never do such a thing to you, make you so miserable. But he… He just dragged you along and through the dirt for his own pleasure”, he says and his eyes are filled with rage. Towards me? For being so weak? That’s probably it. But he can’t use Andy as a way to let out his resentment towards me.

“Don’t say that”, I say and I realize I’m almost threatening him. But he’s getting on my nerves in the wrong way. Vedder, you better watch those next words.

“But he did, he was horrible to you for putting you through such a thing. And you know what, maybe you like it that way, maybe you want people to treat you like you’re worth nothing.” That’s it.

“ENOUGH”, I shout and for the first time in what feels like forever we’re looking at each other. It feels like we’re seeing each other in a different light. Like we’re seeing our true selves for the first time. He doesn’t like what he’s seeing, and I’m not too pleased either. I know my Eddie is somewhere underneath that mask of rage. My Eddie, kind Eddie, sweet Eddie, caring Eddie. He’s there somewhere, but I can’t see him.

“Get out”, I whisper, the coldness in my voice harsher than it has ever been.

“My pleasure”, are the last words he says before he closes the door behind him and walks out of my life.

I sit on the bed and I want to cry, mourn the loves I’ve lost. But I can’t. I just feel numb and it feels awful. But I know I did the right thing. He’s free and one day he’ll thank me.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 12 (Part 2): The Spider Incident and the Sangria Incident (Empty Canvas)

The gas station ended up being further than I remembered, but eventually we made it. We stocked up on food, making sure we had everything to make ‘smores and bought some other essential camping food items as well, before making our way back to the camp site. It was about a thirty minute walk back through the woods and Lola was cursing the existence of every single twig and pebble, along with the existence of heels and one very dramatic Greek drag queen. I was counting my lucky stars for the drag queen’s existence because that’s the reason why she’s in some very tight leather pants at the moment and I can’t take my eyes off of her. Not that she isn’t gorgeous without these pants, she’d be stunning in sweat pants… But they… How do I put this? She looks like walking sex basically and I’ve been wanting to rip those pants off of her ever since I first saw her Sandy outfit. And the fact that I know that I can’t is driving me even more insane. Eddie, focus!

I helped her over the obstacles and we basically talked about nothing. We’d been talking mainly nonsense ever since she dropped ‘the bomb’, that’s at least how I like to refer to it. She’d been dating Andy. Of course she had, it all made sense. That’s why she’s so close with the guys, especially Gossard, Ament and Cornell. That’s why she stiffened up when talking about drugs. It’s the reason she was sobbing in his room and it explained her relief when she discovered that that room now belonged to Chris instead of me. It also explains the way the others treat her. Mostly they act normal around her, but in certain situations that can be triggering they treat her like she’s made out of porcelain. It all makes so much sense, and yet I couldn’t see it.

I also still have a lot of questions about it in general. I guess the main question is wether or not she was dating Andy when he died… It was never specified, though it seems plausible. In which case she’s still dealing with that heart ache… I want to be with her, but I also realize that maybe in order for her to be able to process everything she might need some more time. I’m just very confused and curious about the whole thing, but I don’t want to push her to talk about it. But I part of me can’t help but having to know.

Judging by our surroundings at the moment I can tell we’re about two minutes away from the camp site. Our last two minutes alone.

“Lola…” I say her name hesitantly. It stops her in her tracks and she turns around to face me, her eyes looking at me questioningly as she readjusts a bag of marshmallows that’s about to fall out of the grocery bag she’s carrying.

“Yes?” she questions me, and I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. This is the point where I have to decide what I say. Do I brush it off as nothing? Or do I ask her what’s on my mind? I have to know. I think I have a right to know, seeing as we’re sort of a thing… I can practically see the worry in her eyes, begging me not to go on with my thoughts. But I can’t help myself any longer.

“What happened between you and Andy?” I ask her the same question I asked her a couple of days ago. I got my response then, now I’m asking for a clarification.

“We dated”, she sighs. She looks at me, pleading to just let it go, but I can’t. I know I’m being fucking selfish and it makes me feel awful to push on about this… But I have to know. It’s beyond curiosity at this point in time.

“We dated for about a year. I moved to Seattle in January of 1989, by April we were dating…” she says and I can’t help but finish off her thought.

“Until he died in March of this year?” I say it more like a question even though I know what I’m saying is the truth. She just nods and starts turning around again.

“Lola”, I say her name again, trying to stop her from continuing her way to the camp site. It works.

“What Eddie?” she sighs a little hopelessly.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” I ask her hesitantly. I know I’m prying. I know I shouldn’t ask her but I can’t help myself.

“What do you want me to say?” she eventually says defeated. “What do you want to know? How fucked up I am because of it? Do I still love him? Are you a rebound? That shit?” she questions me and her voice is somewhere between pain and anger, tears in the corners of her eyes. It feels like someone shot me through in the chest. I want to take it all back, I want to take it all back so I’d never have to see her in this pain. It’s gut wrenching to see her like this. I’m left speechless.

“Lola… I…” I start to mumble, but she interrupts me.

“Honestly… I don’t even know how I feel about the whole thing yet. Some days I’m completely fine, other days I want to pick up a needle as well and join him”, she says in the smallest voice.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked”, I eventually manage to say, though I know my words are in vain. She looks up at me and gives me a small smile.

“No… You have a right to know”, she says, swallowing down her tears, sounding more confident. All I can do is nod. Normally I’d pull her in and hold her tight, but that’s not an option right now, because I’m carrying a fuck ton of grocery bags.

“I’ll talk about it more when we get back home from this trip”, she says surely, before adding, “Let’s just go back to the others now.”

I want to tell her that she never has to talk about it again. I feel the need to keep apologizing to her, but she’s already turned around and started making her way back to the camp. I decide to let it go and follow behind her.

Eventually we can see the camp site in the distance. It seems that somehow they’ve managed to get a fire going. We’re about ten yards away when we hear a high-pitched scream followed by the same voice shouting out: “CHRISTOPHER, SAVE ME!”

Lola and I rush back to the camp site not wanting to miss out on the drama. We get there in seconds and what we see is quite priceless. Cornell is holding Johnny -who’s wearing a long satin robe- bridal style, the drag queen clinging onto him for dear life.

“Someone has to save me from you, one of these days I’m gonna throw out my back because of you”, Cornell says, but from the looks of it, Johnny can’t hear him. He’s just shaking like a chihuahua.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Corrine says as she comes into the picture. The donuts are now gone from her hair, she’s eating the remainder of one.

“The most foul creature”, Johnny eventually manages to get out and I have a feeling that I know where this is going and I can’t contain my smile because of it. I look over at Lola’s and she’s got the same smile plastered across her face.

“What creature?” Ament decided to join the conversation. He has now removed the head of his Chewbacca costume and seems to be eating the other one of Corrine’s hair donuts.

“Horrible”, Johnny mutters and I can see the growing irritation on Cornell’s face as Johnny starts to weigh more in his arms.

“Johnny, please enlighten me. Either by letting me put you down or speaking in coherent sentences. Your pick!” Cornell says. Johnny lets out a whiny moan.

“Are you calling me fat?” he lets out appalled. In that moment Cornell’s eyes find mine and he looks at me with a look that says something along the lines of: what the hell did I do to deserve this?

“No I’m not calling you fat”, Cornell says reassuringly, “I’m calling myself weak.”

“Well then you’ll not be able to solve the situation”, Johnny whines on, sounding desperate. The level of drama he’s giving us right now, usually is only found in the third act of an opera.

“What’s the situation?” I ask, wanting to know what caused the drama. Johnny’s head turns to me in a second as soon as he hears my voice and he frees himself from Cornell’s arms. Chris is looking at me like I’m his savior at the moment.

“Eddie, darling, bless the lord you’re here. You’ll know how to solve this”, Johnny says, hugging me tight, probably crushing some of the chips we bought.

“Will I?” I ask and Lola starts to remove the bags from my hands, giving me an amused smile as Johnny is crushing the air out of me.

“Yes you will. You lived in San Diego. That’s practically Mexico. You know how to deal with tropical animals” Johnny says dead serious as he breaks apart from the hug and puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Tropical animals?” Corrine questions, practically taking the words out of my mouth.

“Exactly!” Johnny exclaims and he starts guiding me towards his and Chris’s tent, which is surprisingly standing, but is somewhat crooked.

“What tropical animal are we talking about to be exact?” I ask him as he practically pushes me into the tent.

“A tarantula”, he says sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him. Or anyone for that matter. Cornell bursts out in a hysterical laughing fit.

“All this drama, because of an itsy-bitsy spider?” he eventually manages to say whilst gasping for breath in between laughter. I look around the tent and nearly immediately find the cause of Johnny’s screams. Sure it’s a spider but it’s not itsy-bitsy.

“Guys, Johnny’s not really exaggerating on this one. To quote Woody Allen: it’s the size of a fucking Buick”, I say and crawl out of the tent and start looking for a cup of some sorts.

“Aha, it’s enormous, gigantic, huge…” Johnny starts saying.

“Are you talking about my dick?” McCready says, jumping into the conversation. He’s holding a red solo cup, filled with presumably an alcoholic beverage. I grab it from his hands.

“You wish”, Johnny says as he looks over at me, McCready’s cup in hands. I throw out the remainder of liquid -I think it’s wine, it looks like wine.

“Hey, that’s a waste of perfectly good sangria. If you had given me a second I would have finished that’, Johnny lets out

“You’ve had enough sangria for the rest of your life”, Ament comments, presumably referring to the sangria-incident that I still don’t know anything about. I need to remember to ask about it later. Maybe a campfire, ‘smores and a bit of booze will make someone finally spill the secret. But right now I need to get down to business. I crawl back into the tent and place the cup over the bodybuilder spider and scoop him up, putting my hand over the cup so he won’t escape.

“Did you get it?” I hear Johnny ask from outside.

“Yeah, I got it”, I say and crawl back out again.

“Throw it in the fire”, Johnny instructs me and I figure I might as well do his bidding, because otherwise he won’t calm down for a while.

“Don’t throw it into the fire”, Corrine starts protesting. I lift my hand up from the cup and look at the creature. It looks different outside of the tent, though. Much less scary… Not alive…

“It’s the spawn of Satan so we’re sending it back to where it once came from. Hell!” Johnny says with an intense fire of hatred coming through his eyes.

“That won’t be necessary”, I say and pick up the thing out of the cup.

“Dear lord are you insane! PUT IT AWAY”, Johnny starts out talking and finishes screaming.

“Johnny. It’s not a spider”, I say, trying to calm him down.

“It’s not?” he questions me.

“It’s a curl from your Frank-N-Further wig”, I say and hold up a piece of synthetic hair.

At this point everyone bursts out in laughter and I can practically see Johnny sink through the ground in shame.

“In his defense, it looked a lot like a spider”, I say, trying to calm down the rest a bit. They eventually do. For some reason I have a feeling this shall be remembered as the spider incident.

***

The night went by fast. I guess that’s what happens when you’re having a good time. We sat around the campfire and ate all of the provisions we got from the gas station. Jeff got the majority of his ‘smores stuck in his fur and kept going on about how he needed to buy carpet cleaner to clean it. Stone had been smart enough to bring a guitar so we did some sing alongs to Dylan, the Beatles and the Stones. Johnny kept insisting on playing the Beach Boys so I’d feel more at home. Everyone got their one song to really sing along to. All except Lola, who pushed away our pleading for her to turn out a tune as well, claiming that she had the musical talent of a dead cat. Something which I find hard to believe, but I already pushed her once today and I don’t want to push her further. Eventually I sided with her, telling the guys to give her a break.

More time past by, the alcohol shrank in volume. McCready was responsible for half of the disappearance at least. I decided it was time to address the Sangria-Incident once again. McCready choked on his drink and everyone else burst out in laughter.

“I’ve been hearing about it since I first got to Seattle and honestly I think it’s long overdue that I get to know the story”, I argumented.

“He does make a good point there”, Lola sided with me as she pulled the blanket we were sharing a bit tighter around us. Luckily it didn’t raise any suspicion since everyone had to share blankets. I was grateful for the little intimacy we could get in this situation.

“Guys, why did you have to be so honest about him having to use Lola’s shower, couldn’t we just have told him that the gallery bathroom was broken”, Mike whined as he attaches his lips to a wine bottle.

“No, McShitface, we couldn’t. That would mean our relationship with Vedder would have been based on lies”, Stone said, taking the bottle from McCready, causing some of the dark red liquid to splash from his lips, even further ruining his KISS make up.

“If he found out that we had been lying to him…” Jeff pointed out jokingly.

“I would have left the band before I even joined it. And it would have given me great material that would surely have made it onto my first record”, I added jokingly, playing along with the pretend earnestness of the conversation, which Mike wasn’t catching on to.

“Fine, tell him”, he eventually mumbled as he pulled the blanket he was sharing with Stone away from Gossard and tried to hide himself in it.

“May I do the honors?” Cornell asked, not wanting to let this opportunity slip away.

“Be my guest”, McCready muttered as he hid his face into the blanket.

“So…” Cornell started out grinning from ear to ear. “It all happened on a rare sun soaked day that turned into a long and sweaty night in June of this year”, Cornell began his story, Johnny snickering beside him.

“We’d all gone out to the lake. Actually it’s the exact same gang, except for you Eddie. You were still swallowing sea water”, Chris addressed me but was interrupted by Johnny.

“And walking around shirtless all day, gloriously bronzed with that toned chest and long curly hair, looking like a Greek god…” he mumbled dreamily, kinda making me feel self conscious and wrapping the blanket tighter around me as Lola laughed beside.

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” Johnny asked ashamed, red like a tomato.

“Yes you did, pumpkin pie”, Cornell said and Johnny decided to copy Mike and hid himself in the blanket. “Anyhow”, he continued.

“So we’d spend the whole day and the majority of the night drinking and having a laugh, much like we are right now. So what happened is that McCready here had started chatting up this girl that was sitting with her friends next to us. Things went surprisingly smooth and they decided to go home together. It turns out that our little vat of alcohol here had forgotten the keys to his place, but somehow had the keys to your rehearsal space with him. So to the Potato Gallery they went. Drunk boy and drunk girl, desperately horny-”

Cornell was cut off by Mike who miserably moaned from underneath the blanket: “And he can imagine the rest, can we now just let it go.”

“NO”, everyone but Johnny, Mike and I shouted out in unison.

“No we can’t”, Cornell said before going on. “So they get back to the gallery, both hornier than teens on prom night. They didn’t even make it to the basement, but ended up in the bathroom on the first floor. The one which is now off levels because of them. And unfortunately is below Lola’s place”, Cornell said and gave Lola a sympathetic look as she shivered beside me.

“I never hated my living situation more than in that moment”, she said and then gestured for Cornell to go on, which he did.

“So they start getting down, doing the dirty. Apparently we’re talking downright animalistic fucking. Obviously in doggy style”, Cornell says chuckling. This is the part where the story got fucked up and I came to the conclusion that the delay of telling it was only natural.

“But McCready was McShitfaced, having consumed at least two gallons of sangria by himself. And he started getting a little nauseous”, Chris says grinning widely as he sees me connect the dots in my head.

“No! You’re not serious”, I let out in shock, only causing McCready to wrap himself even tighter in the blanket.

“Oh yes I am”, Cornell said, enjoying at all way too much. “So he starts projectile vomiting out the contents of his stomach. Painting the white bathroom walls and the girls cream colored dress red. I’ve been in the place after it happened. The walls look like Pollock paintings. That’s why the gallery banned the band from using the bathroom, it’s a surprise they didn’t throw you out all together.”

“Fucking hell, McCready”, is the only thing I managed to say at that point in time.

“Exactly, fucking hell, that’s what it felt like. And still feels like whenever you bring up this damn story”, he said, finally reappearing from the blanket.

After that we changed the subject and continued on the night until three in the morning. Halloween had long gone and all of us were getting tired, so each pair retreated into their tent.

Lola’s wrapped up in my arms, both of us close together, for more than only body heat.

“You know, this Steven Tyler look is really working for you”, she says as she plays with one of the necklaces. I let out a chuckle.

“Didn’t know know you had a thing for low cut shirts”, I say, still chuckling, playing with a strand of her curly hair.

“Johnny doesn’t have a monopoly on that”, she says and I can feel her grinning even though I can’t see her.

“The Sandy look is also working for you”, I mutter as I squeeze he thigh, to which she responds by giving me a shove followed by a laugh.

“Well Johnny does have a monopoly on that”, she says as she lifts herself up a bit, leaning her elbow on my chest and looking at me. I can’t see anything but her outline in this darkness and I bet she can’t see much more either, but her need to look people in the eye makes me smile.

“Such a shame”, I sigh out and she lets out a little laugh before nestling back into my chest. And that’s how we lie for about another half an hour, talking nonsense, laughing at the stupidest things. Until eventually our voices grow slower and more silent, both of us getting more drowsy with sleep until we eventually doze off into a slumber.

That’s until I hear a rustling and cracking outside of the tent. Followed by the jiggling of the tent zipper. Someone is trying to get in.

“We’ve got a visitor”, I say to Lola, gently shaking her so she wakes up.

“If it’s a bear I’m not gonna be pleased”, she mutters sleepily, trying to drown out the sound by nestling her head between my shoulder and neck.

“Honey I’m not a bear, I’m a twink”, Johnny says, wide awake and sounding very appalled as he crawls into the tent.

“If you’re trying to copy that scene where Tim Curry sneaks into Susan Saradons bed, then please go and annoy Stone”, Lola says slightly whiny because of waking up.

“No, not at all. I’m trying to escape David Lee Goth and his horrendous snoring”, Johnny says and he zips up the tent behind him. Both Lola and I let out an understanding “Oh”. We’re both quite familiar with Cornell’s snoring. The first night I slept at the apartment it woke me up. I thought our boiler was about to explode. Turns out it’s just Cornell.

“So is it okay if I stay with you guys, because I’m not getting any sleep with Christopher by my side”, Johnny says.

“Sure”, I say and Lola and I scoot over to make more place for him.

“Why did you pick our tent?” Lola asks eventually. We’ve distanced ourselves a bit from each other, only now realizing that Johnny walking in on us mid cuddle. We can blame it on the cold.

“Because Corrine and Jeff are fucking and Stone and Mike’s tent is drenched in an alcoholic stench”, Johnny explains and we both take that answer as sufficient, but he however continues.

“And because I wanted to figure out how your two love birds were doing. Apparently surprisingly calm, because I know you have a kinky side to you Eddie…”

Before he even can go on about it, I turn my back to him and wrap Lola up in my arms and pull the blanket around us tighter. We’re not gonna deal with this right now, I decide. Lola lets out a happy sigh of relief and that’s all the confirmation I need for my decision.

“Good night, Johnny” I mumble and practically feel the sleep creeping over me once more.

“Oh you two are no fun. you better give me and explanation in the morning”, are the last words that Johnny says, before turning to the other side, falling asleep as well.

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 12 (Part 1): A Drag Queen's Christmas (Empty Canvas)

“I swear to God Johnny, you’re gonna be the death of us all”, Cornell groans out as we finally get to the camping site. He’s carrying Johnny, who is dressed up as Dr. Frank-n-Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, on his back. This all because Johnny claimed that he can’t walk through the forrest in heels. I know he can. First of all I’m wearing heels as well -mainly because Johnny made me- and I haven’t twisted my ankle yet. Secondly I’ve seen Johnny run a mile in heels when he thought he saw George Michael, so I know he’s bullshitting. The thing is that he sometimes just loves to be treated like the Queen of Sheba and Cornell is gullible enough to believe him.

“Hey, listen up David Lee Goth”, Johnny starts out, digging his heels in Cornell’s side just for fun. Cornell is dressed up as David Lee Roth from Van Halen, with spandex pants and his bare chest on display. I don’t get how he isn’t freezing. He however refused to wear a blonde wig, deciding to keep his normal long black hair -though he did tease it and hairsprayed the shit out of it. That coined the nickname David Lee Goth.

“You guys decided to go out camping on Halloween, which is like Christmas for drag queens, so no way that I’m missing out on the fun”, Johnny exclaims, finally getting off Cornell’s back. He does make a point there, Halloween is is favorite holiday and there’s no way he’s missing out on it. So that’s why when the camping trip plans came up, he started calling around like a madman, convincing everyone that we should go camping in Halloween costumes. I’ll tell you one thing, never underestimate the convincing powers of Johnny Stavros Kiriakis, because here we are. In the middle of the woods, all dressed up for no other reason than Johnny’s natural tendency for drama.

“First of all, you didn’t have to come” Cornell retorts teasingly as he is now stretching out his body after carrying Johnny on his back for the last fifteen minutes. I swear to God that spandex is creeping into places it shouldn’t be right now.

“Secondly, don’t fucking blame me, it was the Godfather’s idea to go camping”, Cornell continues. Just on cue Stone arrives at the camp site, dressed up in a perfect tux, with cotton balls stuck in his cheek, going for the full Brando effect.

“What can I say, I made an offer no one could refuse”, Stone says, doing his best Vito Corleone expression before dropping his bags to the ground, which miraculously contain four tents. Why the hell would one have four tents anyway. The answer to that is that Stone’s parents are the most hardcore flower power hippies you’ve ever seen. After all, they named their kid Stone Carpenter.

“We could’ve refused the ridiculous idea of camping in costume”, Jeff decides to throw in his two cents as he arrives on the campsite as well with Corrine and Mike. We’re all here now.

I look over at Eddie who’s dressed up as Steven Tyler, looking he’s he just stepped out of a time machine from the year 1973. The amount of scarves, necklaces and rings he’s wearing is ridiculous, but somehow it really works. Maybe because he’s also gone for a very, very low cut shirt and it’s kind of distracting me. That’s why I kind of have avoided looking at him too much, as not to summon suspicion. Jeff and Stone have no clue what’s going on between us. Mike only suspects that we had sex, and so far nothing more. According to Cornell he’s still questioning it all. Cornell, is the only one that actually knows that we’re dating, as I haven’t had the chance to tell Johnny and Corrine yet. They just think we’re friends right now and that we’re seeing what will happen. Anyhow we both agreed to keep it low key tonight, finding that a camping trip in Halloween costumes is not the best way to tell people you’re dating. Also because there’s still that one elephant in the room that we just can’t bring ourselves to talk about. That being Andy.

Eddie gives me and amused look, over dramatically rolling his eyes as of to say: for fuck’s sake what did we get ourselves into? We need new friends. I can’t help but laugh a little.

“Oh zip it, Big Foot!” Johnny lets out exasperated. According to his own words in the Pizza Van of Doom; he’s feeling the Tim Curry fantasy and he’s been more dramatic than I’ve seen him in a long time. I don’t even know what’s gonna happen once he starts drinking.

“How many times to I have to tell you… I’m Chewbacca, not Big Foot”, Jeff says, genuinely frustrated, through his mask. His logic behind the whole Chewbacca outfit is actually quite smart. He plans to use to as a sleeping bag as well.

“Yeah, why do you think I’m dressed up as princess Leia?” Corrine says sarcastically, leaning against her boyfriend. These two really are a match made in heaven. Both equally caring and sarcastic.

“Is that what you’re dressed up as? I just thought you were a nun with a love for donuts”, Johnny says causing Cornell to start cackling, the rest of us start snickering a bit as well. Since Corrine couldn’t find a Leia wig on such short notice, she decided to stuck to donuts from Raison d’Etre to the side of her head.

“You can’t be fucking serious, right? You’ve never seen Star Wars”, Jeff says sounding quite distraught, but it might as well be because his voice sounds distorted when coming through the mask. I don’t know where the fuck he got that costume, but I’m quite impressed by it to be honest.

“Why the fuck would I watch Star Wars”, Johnny says as he fixes the suspenders on his costume again. Jeff is at a loss of words and the rest doesn’t really know what to say. I mean it’s kinda of blasphemy for one to have not seen Star Wars.

“Harrison Ford in his prime?” I say, trying to bring it down to Johnny’s level. His face changes and there now is a dreamy smile on his face. I know exactly what he’s thinking of. Indiana Jones. One night we had this drunken discussion about Indiana Jones porn and Johnny got completely lost in his BDSM fantasies once again. He wanted to know if there’s a porn out there where Indiana spanks the person and eventually ties them up with his whip. We don’t know, but Johnny in that moment took it upon himself to get such a thing made -as producer, not as an actor. He even had a title worked out. Indiana Bones and the Temple of Boom Boom. If it ever does get made, Johnny needs to put a patent on that name, he might get a lot of money out of it one day.

“See that seems like the only valid reason to watch it”, Johnny says once he snaps out of his fantasy.

“By the way, Eddie, I’m still bummed you didn’t go as a surfer”, he adds, turning towards Eddie who is helping Stone unpack the tents at this point.

“If I remember correctly you said something along the lines of: ‘Don’t yo even dare come as a lame ass version of yourself’. Since I am a surfer, that would qualify as a lame ass version of myself, so that’s why I didn’t”, Eddie explains and I can see Johnny curse himself for his use of words.

“Also because I’d be freezing my balls off in just swim shorts at the moment”, Eddie adds and wraps one of the many scarves a bit tighter.

“I’m also freezing my balls off”, Johnny says and I don’t even know what he’s trying to get at at his point in time. Honestly I’m just enjoying the conversation too much at the moment to even fucking care.

“You didn’t tuck them in for warmth”, Stone says, lisping because of the cotton buds in his mouths and I don’t know if it’s the lisping or the commentary itself, but Cornell is in a fit of hysterics again. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that his spandex is cutting off his blood circulation.

“Haha, Stone, aren’t we the comedic genius”, Johnny says, his words dripping in sarcasm, with his arms crossed over his chest, before turning to Eddie once again.

“But still, it would’ve been a great costume”, Johnny finishes his train of thought, somewhat admitting defeat and accepting the fact that he will not see Eddie in a pair of swim shorts any time soon.

“Very impractical though, because dragging along a surfboard in the woods doesn’t seem like the best idea”, Eddie states as he picks up one of the tents from Stone’s bag. Jeff goes in and takes one as well and so does Cornell, who lets out an audible groan when he bends over, muttering something under his breath about his back.

“Dragging along a crossdresser also isn’t the best idea”, he explains and Eddie gives him a sympathetic look before he makes his way over to me.

“AGAIN. How many times do I have to tell you?” Johnny shouts out sounding quite aggravated. “I’m a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania”, he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Again for Johnny standards it is.

“Weren’t you Sandy from Greece?” Mike speaks for the first time. He’s dressed up as Gene Simmons from KISS (because honestly who else would he dress up as). Though the hauling of the bags has caused his make up to start sweating off. Gene Simmons in the sauna, quite the look to be honest.

“Not today, but she is. And this time not the country, but the movie”, Johnny exclaims pointing at me. Yup, I’m dressed up as Sandy from Grease, the movie and not the country. It’s the only thing I could come up with in such short notice and it finally gave me the excuse to wear those tight leather pants I once bought when feeling way too optimistic in the thrift store once again. I told Johnny and he didn’t let it go. So there was no way of changing his mind. And that’s how I ended up in the woods dressed as a Greaser.

“And I’m regretting letting you talk me into this”, I tell him. Johnny just gives me a scolding look that tells me: not this bullshit again.

“I’m not regretting it at all”, Eddie whispers into my ear, kind of making me blush. For fuck’s sake, it’s gonna be so hard to hide from the rest. I give him a soft jab in his ribs, muttering: “Idiot”, underneath my breath. The only thing I get as a reply is a devilish grin.

“Okay, so let’s put up these tents and start a fire. Everyone pick a tent buddy!”, Stone announces out of the blue. I look around and see that the pairs have already formed without us even paying attention. Corrine and Jeff, Mike and Stone, Chris and Johnny, which leaves me and Eddie. Honestly, I’m not complaining at all about the fact that I have to spend the night with him in a tent, but it’s not really gonna help our plan to try and stay low key. Both Johnny and Cornell give me and Eddie knowing looks. Oh, they’re gonna have so much fun gossiping tonight. Knowing Johnny he probably brought face masks and they’ll have something of a teenage girl sleep over in that tent.

“Why do you get to give the commands?” Mike wonders out loud. He really is quiet today.

“Because I’m the Godfather”, Stone lisps and I can see spit flying onto McCready’s face, smudging his make up even further.

“Honestly, right now you sound more like a camp counselor”, Jeff retorts quickly. Eddie and I are once again silently laughing at our friends as we start to put the tent together.

“Says the guy who dressed up as himself, a hairy beast”, Stone lisps in his defense.

“Hey, I’m the only one that gets to call him that”, Corrine lets out, turning her head so aggressively that one of the donuts nearly flies off.

“Do us all a pleasure and please don’t fuck tonight”, Chris says as he starts unpacking the tent, whilst Johnny is looking on with the instructions in his hand, delegating Chris in his actions.

“And why not?” Jeff questions sounding somewhat offended as he puts both of his fists on his hips. He looks like a very angry teddy bear right now.

“For starters, it would border bestiality, secondly, Leia ends up with Han”, Cornell says those two things as if they are the most logical answers at the moment. I don’t know, but the argument: I don’t want to hear Ament orgasm, sounds like a much more plausible one to me right now.

“To be honest, the sexual tension between Chewbacca and Leia has always been evident”, Eddie says, jumping in to defend our pastry girl and angry teddy bear.

“And let’s not get started on the sexual tension between C3PO en R2D2”, I add without even having to think. To be honest, C3PO is gay, there’s no fucking way around it.

“Would you stop the fucking Star Wars talk already”, Johnny says frustrated. If he gets any more frustrated that corset might op open by itself.

“Smoking hot droid sex”, Eddie adds, wiggling his eyebrows, which makes me laugh again. We’re getting along quite well with the tent as well. We seem about half way done when no one else seems to have even been able to start.

“Why do you think Luke wanted to go to Toshi station to pick up power converters”, I say, giving a similar eyebrow wiggle to his, causing him to laugh right now.

“To watch hot droid sex. Now we finally know why he was such a whiny little bitch”, Eddie says and we both come to the same conclusion at the same time

“He was horny”, we both shout out our conclusion in unison, before bursting into laughter.

“When did the two of you get so in sync?” Stone lisps as he struggles with a piece of the tent. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were fucking each other.” When he says that I nearly choke on my own spit.

“Well that’s what happens when you constantly have to storm someone’s door down to use their bathroom. A connection ensues”, Eddie saves the day with his quick thinking. We look at each other and there’s a thousand words being said without one of them being spoken.

“So can we expect the same thing with you and Cornell now”, Stone asks and we both let out a breath we didn’t know we were holding. He bought it, thank God, he bought it.

“Oh you can expect so much more”, Chris steps in, feeling the tension that was now there for me and Eddie. Bless his soul, sometimes he can really be quite the lifesaver.

“Yeah, me and Chris, this isn’t platonic”, Eddie says, dead pan serious, giving Cornell a romantic stare, which Cornell reciprocates with equal passion. I can practically hear the sensual Spanish guitar music in the background. Steven Tyler and David Lee Roth, who would’ve ever thought?

“Oh no, it’s true fucking love”, Cornell exclaims, snapping out of the passionate stare.

“Thank God I don’t live next to you guys, the noise would be unbearable”, Jeff says. I still don’t get why he hasn’t taken off his fucking mask. “Speaking of noise and such, McCready you’re awfully quiet”, our Chewbacca eventually says, turning towards Gene Simmons.

“No I’m not”, he quickly retorts. Too quickly. It sounds panicky. Something is wrong.

“Yeah you are”, Jeff persists. We’re all turning our gazes towards Mike, because we can all feel it that something is going on.

“Oh God something’s wrong, I feel it”, Stone lisps again saying what we’re all thinking in that moment.

“Brick take those cotton buds out of your cheeks, I’m having enough trouble understanding you as with this mask on”, Jeff lets out quite aggravated. I can see a look of relief on McCready’s face, probably because he realized that he isn’t getting spit on any more.

“Fine”, Stone says with his last lisp as he spits out his disgustingly soaking cotton buds. I can hear Johnny gag somewhere to my side.

“But again, something is off. Come one Simmons, spit it out”, the Godfather continues on, giving Mike a death stare.

“We have slight a practical issue” McCready eventually mutters. Oh God no. What the hell did he do?

“Come again?” Stone questions him. He’s not gonna let him get away with this easily.

“A slight practical issue”, Mike repeats again, almost sinking into the ground.

“Clarify please”, Cornell steps into the discussion with his spandex clad ass. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to erase that image from my mind.

“Well. Uhm….” Mike mutters, wringing his hands. Oh for fuck’s sake would he just get down to the fucking point.

“MCSHITFACE”, Stone shouts out in frustration, making Johnny jump at the sound of his voice and let out a shocked whiny scream.

“I just came to the conclusion that I may have forgotten food”, Mike mutters, looking down.

“We’re gonna starve, we’re gonna die”, Johnny shouts out in pure panic. Corrine and I look at each other over the rest. Why are our friends such drama queens is the consensus that we come to in our looks.

“Johnny, cut the drama we’re not gonna die”, Cornell says, turning to him and putting a hand on his shoulder trying to calm down our drama queen.

“Then just tell me, what the hell have we been carrying around”, Stone says to McCready, his tone somewhere between frustration and curiosity.

“Alcohol”, Mike says, slightly ashamed. I can’t help but laugh.

“Obviously”, Stone mutters. “And how do you plan to solve this situation?” he continues looking at McCready who is now trying to use the few brain cells he has that haven’t yet been damaged by his alcohol usage.

“Get some food”, he says, like he just saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Jeff face palms himself through the Chewbacca mask.

“And the prize for genius of the century goes to the man in the Gene Simmons costume, Mike McCready everyone”, Stone says sarcastically before dryly applauding Mike.

“We did pass a gas station on our way here. I’d say it’s like 2 miles away. We could always go there”, Eddie says, saying the first sensible thing in this conversation in a long time.

“Well how about you and Lola go? Since you’re the only ones that have actually managed to put a tent up”, Jeff says. Indeed, somehow we managed to get this thing up quite quickly, whilst the rest still is still struggling with theirs.

“How even?” Johnny wonders out loud, “Putting one of these together is more difficult than solving the riddles of the sphinx”, he states, looking at the directions and frowning. He barely ever frowns, because he’s afraid that it will give him wrinkles. So when he does, we know it’s something serious.

“It wouldn’t be that hard if you were holding the instructions in the right direction”, Cornell says, ranking the instructions from Johnny’s hand and handing them back the right way around.

“Well that makes sense now that I think of it”, Johnny says and Cornell lets out an aggravated sigh when he realizes he has to start all over again.

“I swear to god, all that hairspray must’ve damaged your brain”, Jeff mumbles.

“Who Cornell or Johnny”, Corrine asks, genuinely confused.

“Zip it, Bigfoot!” Johnny shouts out, continuing to give Cornell instructions. Chris however seems to be battling the tent, like it’s a python. Jeff and Corrine are continuing their attempt at getting the tent up, but it seems that Jeff is half blind because of the Chewbacca mask and they aren’t making much progress either. Stone is now commandeering around Mike, who lets the Godfather do just that, probably out of guilt.

“Everyone is getting pissed because we’re hungry”, I state my conclusion aloud, “So we’re gonna get food. Come one Steven Tyler”, I say, gesturing at Eddie to come with me.

“Are you telling me to walk this way”, he asks me with a big grin spread across his face and I can’t help but let out a giggle.

“Again, what is up with you two?” Stone lets out confused, looking at Eddie and I. Brick, why do you have to be so good at sensing stuff. Just mind your own business.

“I’ll explain it to you”, Johnny says excitedly and I can feel the blood drain from my face. Please, Johnny, don’t.

“They’re just feeling absolutely fabulous” Johnny begins and I let out a sigh of relief as Eddie and I start to make our way towards the gas station. Meanwhile Johnny is still continuing on his soliloquy.

“I mean they look fucking great and then you feel wonderful. No wonder you’re pissed off. You chose the least attractive version of Marlon Brando ever. Why didn’t you go for a Streetcar named Desire? I would have been your Blanche…” Johnny probably continues on for a while after that, but we can’t hear him any more through the woods.

“It’s gonna be difficult hiding this from Stone and Jeff. And Johnny, Corrine and Mike are gonna notice something’s up as well”, Eddie says as he gives me a hand to help me over a wood log. I’m never wearing heels to the woods again, no matter what Johnny says.

“On the other hand we only really have to hide it from Stone and Jeff, with the others we can kind of go in denial. So it could’ve been worse”, I say and I can’t help but wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him now that we’re finally alone.

“It could’ve been much worse”, Eddie mumbles against my lips. I can feel them curling into a smile.

“Exactly”, I say and plant a short peck on his lips, before getting down to business.

“Now where is this gas station?”

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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Chapter 11: Cornell and the Case of the Missing Keys (Empty Canvas)

“Please don’t go”, I pout, even though I know it’s not gonna work. She standing at her kitchenette, quickly drinking some coffee, before she has to leave in about ten minutes. I don’t want her to go.

“I can’t and you know it’, she says, putting the mug in the sink and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, I know. But you can’t blame me for giving it a shot”, I say, putting a hand on the small of her back. Right now I want nothing more than for her boss to call her, saying that there has been a mix up with shifts and that she doesn’t have to work today. If that happened, I’d just pull her into bed with me again, take of that uniform -because even though it looks good on her, it looks better on the floor- so that we could spend the rest of the day making love and talking nonsense. I’d call Cornell and say I’d move in a day later. I’d do anything to be with her every minute of every day.

“No I can’t”, she says as a smile spreads across her lips. She turns to me and places a chaste peck on my lips, but I need more. I quickly pull her closer, not wanting her to go. So I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her on top of me.

“Eddie”, she scolds my name through laughter. She tries to free herself from my grip for about two seconds until giving in and kissing me. Her hands tangle in my hair. I love it when she does that, she sometimes will tug at it and it nearly drives me insane. If she does that now, there’s no way she’ll ever get to work. We lay there kissing for what seems like only a few seconds, but in reality where probably fifteen minutes. Morning kisses. The kind of sweet, soft, slow lazy kisses that just feel so damn good.

“Eddie”, she eventually says and I know what’s coming. I pull her a little tighter. “I really have to leave now”, she whispers in my ear, before placing a kiss on my cheek.

“I know”, I mutter back as I loosen my grip on her waist. She slowly detangles herself from my arms and gets out of bed. Somehow the temperature in the room seems to have dropped now that she’s no longer in my arms. She leans over to me and kisses me one more time.

“Good luck with moving”, she says after the kiss, her lips less than an inch away from mine.

“You’ll stop by after work, right?” I ask her and kiss her again.

“I promised, didn’t I? I’ll be there”, she mumbles against my lips, before giving me one more quick peck and then making her way to the door.

“See you tonight, Lola”, I say as when she’s nearly pulled the door shut behind her.

“See you tonight, Eddie”, she says with a sweet smile before pulling the door shut. The moment she does that, I let myself fall back on the bed and let out a sigh. It’s a good sigh though. The sigh of someone who just had one of the best nights of their life.

When I got back from San Diego yesterday night, I drove straight to Cornell’s place and parked the Pizza Van of Doom out there. To then run the normally 30 minute long walk in half of the time, because I just had to get back here. I cursed my smokers lungs, but I made it to the gallery, only to realize that Lola wasn’t home. So I stood there, waiting for her to come home. Every second a new thought popped into my head. I should’ve called first. Maybe she’s so fast asleep she doesn’t her her bell ringing. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me because I woke her up. Maybe she’s out having drinks with Johnny (and Corrine so she explained to me later, when we were both short of breath, as she lay naked on my bare chest). Maybe something happened. Maybe she got hit by a car. Maybe she’s in the hospital right now. I was just getting to my doom thinking case when she walked around the corner of the alley way, completely soaked by the Seattle rain. But she was the best thing I’d seen since I left Seattle. Better than the ocean and my surfboard, way better.

And in the second that she stood there frozen, contemplating what was going on, my heart dropped. Maybe she’d had enough of me. Maybe we had gone too fast. Maybe she just saw us a a one night thing and just wanted us to be friends. Then luckily she ran into my arms and kissed all my doubts away. This was right, this was good.

Deciding to move to Seattle might have been the best choice I’ve made in my life, I think as I stare at the cracked paint on Lola’s ceiling. Even if all else fails -which doesn’t seem likely at all, but anyhow-, I’d still have met her.

***

Eventually I got out of my post-I-had-sex-all-night-bliss and pushed myself to actually do something productive. Because I kinda had something important to do. I was moving in with Cornell today. It was past noon at this point, which means that there’s a 75% chance that Cornell is awake and wondering when the fuck I’m gonna be there.

So I got out of bed, took a quick shower, get ready and made my way over to Cornell’s apartment, which was now also my apartment. The moment I get there I’m able to slip in with what I assume to be one of my new neighbors and make my way to the door, duffel bag in hand. I figured I might be able to ask Cornell some help with carrying my stuff up the stairs, because I also came to the wonderful conclusion that this apartment building does have an elevator, but it’s broken. And apparently it had been broken since the time that dinosaurs roamed the earth.

I knock on the door and wait for Cornell to open. The noises I hear from behind the door are very confusing. It’s a combination of curse words and things being thrown around. Eventually I hear Chris make his way towards the door. Then it’s quiet for a second. I assume it’s because Chris is looking through the spy hole.

“Eddie, is that you?” I hear his voice from the other side of the door, somewhat distraught.

“No, it’s the ghost of Jim Morrison” I decide to opt for sarcasm. “Of course it’s me!”

“Hey, pal, how are you?” Chris says way to excitedly. Something is off, I can feel it. Why hasn’t he opened the door yet?

“Great, what about you?” I ask, not making small talk, but actually wanting to know because there’s something that’s not right.

“Absolutely wonderful!” Chris exclaims in the same tone a grandma would say those words when she was talking about her eight-year-old granddaughters ballet recital. I can practically see him standing on the other side of the door with his hair in a bun, a floral dress and a cup of tea.

“Wonderful…” I repeat his words after him. What the hell is going on? “Chris…”

“Yeah…” he says hesitantly. He knows I know there’s something wrong. Good, that means that we’re gonna get to the bottom of this quite soon.

“Why haven’t you opened the door yet?” I ask him like it’s a normal thing to ask.

“Ah, yeah… That…” I can practically see him shrinking when I ask that.

“Cornell, what happened?” I ask a bit more sternly, trying to get to the fucking point. Because he’s not gonna get there by himself.

“Well funny story actually…” I hear him mutter from the other side of the door, trying to seem casual. But I’m not having it.

“Cornell…” I say somewhat threateningly and knock on the door again. I hear him sigh. We’re gonna get there, I guess.

“Long version or short” he asks and he sounds quite miserable.

“Short please”, I say not wanting to waste any more time. I’ve got a Pizza van of Doom to unpack and a record collection to re-alphabetize and that takes ages.

“Okay. Short”, I hear Cornell say in a way that I can practically hear what he’s thinking. Short, yeah, I know how to do short. “Well the short version is that I got home drunk last night and locked the door from the inside. Normally I’d leave the keys in the keyhole, so I know where they are…. But they’re not there and I can’t find them…” he says rushing out all the words, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. Oh for fuck’s sake Cornell, really. I start rubbing my temples. If this is the first of all the bullshit I’m gonna have to endure with Cornell as a roommate I need to either pick up yoga, so I can keep my inner zen. Or I’m gonna have to smoke a fuck ton of weed. The second option seems more likely though.

“So basically, there’s no way of me getting in, or you getting out?” I ask him, trying to get all the facts in order.

“No…” he says and I can practically see him cheer up when he adds: “At least not until I find the keys.” Great Cornell, positive thinking.

“And how long have you been looking for?” I ask him. Maybe he’s only been looking for 10 minutes and he just hasn’t covered every spot yet.

“Three hours”, Cornell says and the mind set of positive thinking leaves us both right in that instant.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Cornell” I let out and bang my head against the door just once to let out my frustration.

“See, this is why I need a roommate. I need someone to tell me to take care of my keys”, he says and I can hear him slide down against the door on his side. I decide to do the same thing. We might be here a while, I might as well get comfortable. I take my packet of cigarettes out of my sleeveless leather jacket and light one up, not giving a single fuck about the possibility of people complaining.

“Let’s try and solve this”, I say and I blow out the first drag.

“I like where this is going”, Cornell says, finding his optimism again.

“Chris”, I start out hesitantly. I hope he kinda goes along with my tactic here and doesn’t scold me for being silly. I take another drag of the cigarette, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Yes…” he says hesitantly, probably somewhat expecting me to cuss him out.

“If you were a key where would you be?” I say to him. I know it’s silly but it’s a fucking effective method. I started using it about three years ago back in San Diego. Thomas (my telenovela buddy) and I were high as a kite and we wanted to go surfing. Major problem though, I couldn’t find my surfboard -again we were very, very high. So Thomas turned to me and asked me: “Eddie, dude, if you were a surfboard, where would you be?” My answer was: “Dude,” -yeah, when I’m high I turn into the most stereotypical surfer you’ve ever seen, I’ve been known to use the words: ‘cowabunga, dude’ under the influence - “if I were my surfboard, I’d be out on my fucking porch, dude!”

Low and behold there it was, because I always put my surfboard on my porch. The thing is that I started using the same method when I wasn’t high and lost something and it still worked fine then. So why not give it a shot with Cornell?

“Place yourself in the mindset of your keys… Where would you be?” I ask him, hoping he’ll go along with it. I hear a silence, I hope he’s not silently regretting the decision of letting me move in with him.

“I’d be in the fucking lock”, he says and I don’t know if he’s frustrated with himself, the keys or the lock.

“And if you weren’t in a lock?” I continue questioning him, in the hopes of finding the key. I take another drag of the cigarette.

“On the table next to the door”, he says and I can’t read his tone. I take another drag.

“You obviously already checked the table, didn’t you?” I say as I blow out the smoke. I go in for another drag, but see the cigarette is nothing but a filter right now. I sigh and put it out under my shoe.

“Of course I checked the fucking table. And guess what, no fucking keys”, Cornell says, losing his temper again.

“So if you’re not in the lock or on the table next to the door. Where would you be then?” I say, stubbornly continuing my train of thought, even though I have a feeling it’s not gonna work in this situation. Maybe if Cornell smoked some weed… We’d probably find the keys in seconds.

“Well, Vedder, I don’t fucking know. If I knew we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation in the first place?” Cornel shouts through the door, officially loosing whatever he had left of his temper.

“Have you called the land lord yet, maybe he has a set of spare keys?” I say after taking a deep breath. We need one of us to keep calm.

“Spare keys?” Cornell says those words like he’s never heard of them in his life before.

“Yes, spare keys”, I say hopefully, because I’m hearing Cornell shift to an upright position again.

“Fucking idiot”, he lets out, sounding aggravated. And there goes my hope.

“Excuse me, you’re the one that caused this situation” I retort quickly, I’m not gonna have him drag me along for the blame.

“No I was talking about myself!” he lets out, sounding somewhat sane again. At least he’s not blaming me, which is great.

“Clarify please”, I ask him as I get off the floor again, feeling that we have had a break through in the case of the missing keys.

“I have fucking spare keys!” he shouts out excitedly, banging his fists on the door in celebration, “Your set of keys.”

“Great Chris, now where are they?” I ask him, getting to the point, because from where I’m standing it looks like he’s gonna do the Sirtaki out of glee.

“The water tank of the toilet!” he shouts out in his eureka moment.

“What the hell?” I let out. Why in the name of The Fucking Who would the keys be in the fucking toilet. That’s the first thing I’m gonna change around here. Spare keys go in the normal spot, taped under the table.

“I’ll be right back”, Cornell shouts and he’s actually laughing with joy. There’s a lot of ruckus coming out of the apartment, as if Cornell is moving objects out of the way. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but if all goes right, I’ll know soon enough. Eventually the door flies open. Cornell’s standing in the doorway his arms wide, his smile even wider.

“Hello, new roommate, welcome to our humble home!” he says as he gives me a hug. “By the way, great news”, he adds as he lets me go.

“Really? Do tell”, I ask, hesitant still because I’ve got no fucking clue what to expect now.

“I found my keys”, he says with a big grin and holds up two pair of keys, both soaking wet. “I put them with yours so I wouldn’t forget where I put yours and then I forgot where I put mine. It’s the circle of life, buddy!” he says, still grinning widely. He hands me the pair of wet keys without keychains. Guess these are mine now.

“And why did you put them in the fucking toilet?” I ask, not being able to hold back my curiosity. What the hell is his explanation for this?

“You’d rather have I put drugs and guns there” he retorts, quick as a bat.

“No”, I say without even having to think. Drugs would be fine, but fuck guns, really!

“Then don’t ask me such questions”, Cornell answers and I realize he doesn’t wanna talk about it. He’s fidgeting like crazy, wringing his hands, thumping his leg like Thumper from Bambi.

“Why are you so hyped up?” I ask him as I take a seat on the couch.

“Because I’ve been cigaretteless ever since I came home and my body is craving nicotine” he explains and I immediately understand. He probably made the horrible discovery of the lost keys as he wanted to go out on a quick morning cigarette run.

“Want one?” I ask him as I pull out my packet of American Spirits. He nearly pounces at me to take it out of my hands. I have never seen someone light a cigarette that fast. He takes a deep inhale and slowly blows it out as he falls back on the couch, his head now in my lap.

“Vedder, have I declared my unwavering love for you yet?” he mutters in complete ecstasy as he looks up at me. I can’t help but laugh.

“Not yet, and please keep it that way”, I say and give him a pat or two on his cheek.

“Noted”, he says and the looks at the duffel bag at my feet as he takes another drag, nearly orgasmically moaning, “Is that all of your stuff?” he asks.

“Nope, the rest is still in the van”, I say and look back down at him. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”

“After this”, Cornell lets me know. “Let me enjoy this and I’ll help all you want” he says and takes another ecstatic drag from his cigarette. I figure I’ll let him enjoy his nicotine before making him haul my boxes all the way up to the sixth floor.

***

We spent about two hours alone hauling all the boxes up from the Pizza Van of Doom up to the sixth floor. Each time we reached the apartment we were so out of breath from hauling those damn things sixth flights of stairs up, that we decided to have a smoke break in between each load. Probably not the best way to catch your breath, but Cornell has some damage to make up for.

I also discovered why there was all this ruckus when Cornell was running through the apartment earlier. It turned out that Cornell had changed rooms. I was taking his room as he had moved all of his stuff to what used to be Andy’s room.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda weird. But I figured that it would be kinda weird if you stayed in his room and one night I come home and I see light up there and I think it’s Andy, when it’s you. I don’t know it felt like the right thing to do”, he explained. I actually completely understand his logic. Cornell had already moved in the majority of his stuff. He just had some things to put on the walls and his boxes of books that he kept stumbling over as he ran through the apartment.

Eventually we got all the boxes out op the Pizza Van of Doom and Chris headed out quickly to get some groceries. “Like the perfect little house wife I am”, he said with a grin before adding, “But no for real, we’ve got no coffee anymore and that’s when action needs to be taken”, he said and with those words he marched out of the apartment, to walk back in one minute later, because he forgot his wallet. He returned half an hour later as I was in the midst of rearranging my record collection. And that’s how we spent the entire afternoon, unpacking. Cornell unpacked his books quite quickly and offered to help me, but I declined, seeing as I wanted my stuff in places I would find it, and not the toilet.

So Cornell sat on the bed and we talked for hours as I moved all my stuff into my room. Living with Cornell will probably be chaotic, but also a lot of fun. He seems like a cool guy and we get along great so far and I see that lasting for a really long time.

We mainly talked about music. He was working on this new project that he had called Temple of the Dog. It was something he wanted to do with some of the surviving members of Mother Love Bone in memory of Andy.

“Come to think of it, there’s a few songs that actually need an extra voice. Would you be interested”, he asked me at a certain point as I was standing on a chair, hanging up a triangular Chicago Cubs flag.

“I’d love to, but are you sure you’d want me on there?” I asked him after nearly falling off the chair in surprise.

“We’ll see if you can handle it”, Cornell said with a grin, before changing the subject.

It’s now around eight thirty and someone is knocking at our door. I can’t help but smile when I realize who it is.

“I’ll get it”, I shout running from my room and I pass Cornell who’s leisurely lying on the couch reading a book. He looks over the edge of the thing with raised eyebrows.

I open the door and there she is. She’s changed out of her work outfit and is now wearing jeans a t-shirt, her Docs and a leather jacket. Lola’s arms wrap around my neck and I pull her in tightly not wanting to let her go again. We refrain from kissing each other. We made a deal somewhere during the night that we would take things slow and see how it works out before we tell anyone else.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, kiss each other. I know you’ve done worse”, Cornell says once Lola and I have let each other go and are now making our way towards the couch. We look at each other in confusion. How the hell does he know?

“You’re probably wondering how I know?” Cornell says, enjoying this all way too much.

“Yeah, kinda” Lola mumbles. She standing in front of me and leans back against my chest. I instinctively wraps my arms around her waist. For a second I fear she’s gonna push them away, but she doesn’t and I can’t help but smile.

“Well a little alcoholic birdie by the name of McCready told me the oddest thing the other day”, Cornell starts, me and Lola looking at him in confusion and suspension.

“So the day Vedder here left for California he noticed something as he dropped off that piece of junk he calls a car”, Cornell continues, but Lola and I interrupt him.

“The Pizza Van of Doom”, we say in unison and we laugh at the look of utter confusion that Cornell gives us in that moment.

“That’s what we call McCready’s car, the Pizza Van of Doom”, Lola explains and I just nod. Cornell gives us both a weird look.

“Okay… So when he dropped off the Pizza van of Hell…”

“DOOM”, Lola and I interrupt him again in sync and he lets out an aggravated groan as he reaches for a cigarette from the packet beside him on the couch.

“Whatever… Anyhow McCready noticed something”, he continues as he lights the cigarette and blows out his first drag.

“So what he notices that Lola has a bruised spot in her neck, that strikingly resembles a hickey. He didn’t think much of it first, until he noticed that there was another one a bit lower. More towards the cleavage area, right breast to be exact”, he says and takes another drag.

“He kinda brushed it off again, until he saw Eddie put his duffel bag in the back of the van. And when you bent over your shirt crept up and he could see that your back was all scratched up. Knowing McCready he’s not the brightest bulb of them all so he just thought the both of you had sex, separately. And it wasn’t until he saw a very close and sweet goodbye hug that he figured you must’ve fucked each other”, Cornell ends his story.

Lola and I are both looking at him with a look that’s a mix of surprise, disbelief, embarrassment even… Mostly confusion.

“So it’s true then?” Cornell asks with a big smile on his face. Our silence gave it all away.

“Yeah”, I say as Lola nods.

“Great. Couldn’t be happier for you guys. Just one rule, when you fuck, put a sock over the door, so I know when not to disturb”, Cornell adds nonchalantly before returning to his book. Then something hits me.

“Chris…” I ask, and pull Lola a bit closer, preparing for the impact of what’s to come.

“Yeah”, he says not looking up from the book.

“How many people know?” I ask and I can see the color drain from Lola’s face. She just had the same realization I had. When Cornell knows something, the whole of Seattle knows it.

“Don’t worry, just McCready and I, for once I decided not to tell everyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. I figured you may want some privacy”, he says, still not looking up from the book. Lola and I both let out a sigh we didn’t know we were holding.

“Now go and have fun by yourselves, I want to continue on in the world of Bukowski if you don’t mind”, Chris says and Lola and I kind of unfreeze and I start guiding her towards my room.

“Don’t you already live in Bukowski’s world? I mean alcohol and cigarettes with that”, Lola retorts with a smile.

“Touché, my dear, touché”, he chuckles from the couch as we enter my room and I close the door behind us.

“Wasn’t this Chris’s room?” she asks, looking around now seeing my stuff all over the place.

“It was, but he decided to take Andy’s room, seeing that it would be kinda weird for me to be in there”, I say as I take a seat on the bed.

“Thank God”, Lola mutters under her breath, so silent I barely understood but I did.

“What?” I ask her and she sits down next to me.

“Nothing…” she says and shares her head, “I’ll tell you later.” I want to ask her to please tell me now but I forget everything as soon as she kisses me.

I pull her on top of me, trying to get her body as close to mine as possible, not wanting an inch between us. Her hands tangle in my hair once more, much like they did this morning. Only now she starts tugging at it as well and it makes me want to rip her clothes off. I start with her jacket, which she hasn’t had the chance to remove yet.

We continue on like that for a bit. Until she’s in her bra, jeans still on. My flannel and shirt have taken place on the floor as well. I start to move my hands towards her bra to unclasp it, when the phone rings in the other room. The sounds takes us both out of our frenzy and back to reality.

The question that spooked around my head earlier comes back to mind. It all starts to link up in my head. How she became instantly depressed when we talked about junkies… How she cried in Andy’s room… Chris and Corrine muttering to each other that I didn’t know… The relief in her voice when she found out I wasn’t in his room…

“Lola, what happened between you and Andy?” I ask her and she stiffens in my arms. She sighs and open her mouth, ready to say something.

“Andy and I used to date”, she says and before I can say anything the door flies open and in storms Cornell announcing:

“Guys, great news! Jesus, what did I just tell about the sock?”, he says and runs around as he sees us in our half naked positions, “Anyhow, we’re going camping on Halloween!”

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

Text

Chapter 10: Ladies Night (Empty Canvas)

The day that Eddie left for San Diego I decided to close myself off to the outside world for a bit. I got into the routine of just going to work, going home and sleeping and I was absolutely fine with doing just that. My mind is a mess and I’m crippled by guilt. Though I can’t place the exact cause of that guilt. Is it towards Andy, towards Eddie, towards myself? I haven’t figured it out yet. So I wanted some time alone to kind of figure out what to do and come to terms with my life post-happiness. But I forgot something, well someone. Johnny Stavros Kiriakis and that fucking stubbornness of his. He called me every single day, demanding to have a ladies night with him and Corrine. I eventually gave in, just so after that I could return to my peace of mind.

Today is Tuesday and ladies night has arrived. When I got off work at eight, I rushed home so I could change, because I’d never hear the end of it, if I showed up in my work uniform.

“Darling, I demand of you to be your absolute most fabulous self”, those were the words Johnny used and I decided to just go along with it.

I got home and changed into a black leather skirt which I paired with a wine colored blouse, some tights and some black suede over the knee boots. Knowing Johnny my Doc Martens would be a big no no. I finished off the look with eyeliner, mascara and some lipstick that matched the color of my blouse.

After that I quickly put on my jacket, grabbed my bag and headed out of the door. It was only a fifteen minute walk to No Way Jose (and that’s the actual name of the fucking bar, I’m not kidding you), it’s this latin bar and it’s one of the few places that doesn’t card, which is great because I still have a month and a half of illegal drinking to go before I turn 21.

When I eventually get there it’s 9:30, half an hour late. I wouldn’t have been so late if I had been wearing my Docs instead of these heels. I enter the place and start looking around, eventually finding Johnny and Corrine in a booth with four margaritas in front of them.

“Are you guys pregnant or what? You’re drinking for two!” I tell them as I scoot in next to Corrine.

“No darling, what kind of mothers would we be”, Johnny says, sounding appalled, but then going on, “No it’s actually happy hour. Wait let me get you something!” And with those words he stands up and goes off in search of a waiter. I give Corrine a confused look.

“Oh, that? He’s crushing on this bartender named Antonio”, she explains as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Actually according to Johnny standards it is. Corrine and I make some small talk until Johnny returns with two margaritas in hand.

“There you go, sweetie, drink up, because we have a lot to talk about!” he says excitedly as he takes his place in front of me again. I oblige his orders (I’ve been following his orders a lot lately) and start drinking.

“So how is everybody’s love life going?”, he asks out of the blue with a cheeky grin. I hope he will keep his promise about being a lady and not kissing and telling.

“You know the usual. Jeff”, Corrine is the first to answer, quite dryly as she stirs her straw around her margarita.

“Details honey, details”, Johnny says, gesturing his hands wildly, his margarita sloshing around in his glass. Surprisingly he doesn’t spill a drop.

“He’s still great in bed, recently experimented with some role play. You’d be surprised how handy his hats can be when it comes to that. Very effective when trying to role play Anna Karenina, because you know I love my literature”, Coco says quite dryly to get it over with, Johnny listening intently.

“And for the rest nothing much. He’s got a huge zit on his ass, very aggressive”, she adds and my drink turns sour in my mouth.

“Corrine, honey I love your openness but even for me that’s too many details”, Johnny says, taking a big gulp of the margarita. Johnny lives by one philosophy; straws are useless.

“I don’t judge, but I’ll never be able to look at Jeff’s ass in the same way”, I say holding up my hands in defense when Corrine looks at me for support.

“Good thing, because I don’t need you looking at my boyfriends ass”, she says laughing and takes a sip of her drink through her straw.

“He does have a wonderful tushie”, Johnny adds. “Anyhow, as for me just the same old stuff I’m afraid. No one wants to love a drag queen. Honestly I kind of get it. You like men and then a guy dresses up as a woman, it can all get very confusing” he says and gestures to some of the glitter that almost permanently stuck around his eyes. But he likes it there, makes his eyes sparkle more. “But you’re not in drag when you fuck em, so what’s the problem?” Corrine states matter-of-factly, taking another sip. I follow her in that last act and drink as well. I’m gonna need more alcohol if I want to get on their level, guessing that in the half hour I was late, they got a head start of two margaritas each.

“I don’t know, men, horrible creatures. But oh, so divine”, Johnny adds, slightly dreamy and then returning to earth to talk to Coco and I once more. “Anyhow I had this thing going on with this guy last week. We fucked every single night, it was great and poof… It’s like he vanished into thin air”, he adds and makes the gestures along with it. The thin air part makes me want to smoke, so I start looking through my bag for my cigarettes and my lighter.

“So that’s why you’re chasing the bartender?” I say finding the things I was looking for. I light my cigarette, blow out the first drag and then go in for a sip of margarita. Wonderful combination.

“Indeed honey, so drink up so I can get us another round soon. I need myself a lean, mean love machine like that. Speaking of lean, mean love machines, how was Eddie?” Johnny says with a cheeky grins as he sees me choke on my drink. Fucking hell.

“WHAT?” Corrine shouts out in utter confusion, looking back and forth between me and Johnny like she’s following a game of tennis.

“Johnny, what did you say on the phone again: I’m a lady, I don’t kiss and tell”, I say in a desperate attempt to get him to shut up, but it’s probably not gonna work.

“Indeed, I don’t kiss and tell. I put people on the spot, because I want you to tell it”, he says with a wide grin.

“Great”, I mumble as I take a big gulp of my drink and another drag of my cigarette.

“Someone please clarify, because what the fuck is going on here? I’m very confused”, says sounding very frustrated. I would be too if I was in her situation.

“Okay, so what happened a few days ago, the day after Mookie’s first show at the Off Ramp…” Johnny decides to take matters in his own hands and starts explaining.

“Johnny, again, what’s up with this kissing and telling tonight?”, I say, once again, trying to get him to shut up. But I realize it’s a lost cause, so I attach my lips to the margarita glass again, finishing the rest of the first one in one gulp, picking up the second already.

“I’m not a lady tonight!” he exclaims and then turns to Corrine, who practically begging for an explanation. “Anyhow so I call her up to check on her, since you called me earlier that day to tell me about our little minx’s mental breakdown after kissing Mister Not-So-Tall, Dark and Handsome”, he starts.

“Uh huh, so far I’m on board”, Coco says and takes a sip of her drink. I light another cigarette.

“So she picks up the phone and she’s in this horrible hurry, trying to get me off the phone as soon as possible”, he says looking at me and then continuing with a cheeky grin, “Which made me suspect that something was up, turns out there was something up!” he says and wiggles his eyebrows making innuendos of an erection with his fingers.

“For fuck’s sake”, I mutter as I start on the second margarita, rolling my eyes.

“Indeed for fuck’s sake!” Johnny continues and I swear to God, he’s almost giggling with glee. “So I start noticing throughout this phone call that our little chainsmoker here is sounding desperately short on breath. Sometimes she even moans and groans”, he says wiggling those eyebrows once again.

“Oh my fucking God, Lola!” Corrine starts out shouting, but quickly lowers her voice to a whisper-shout as she notices my stare of doom.

“So I try to ask her about it and she tries to brush it off as fucking foot cramp” Johnny says, bursting out in laughter, continuing once he calmed down. “But eventually I heard the chuckle of a certain Californian sex god and put one and one together”, he says and thereby finishes telling my sex life to Corrine, and the people in the booth next to us, who seem to be listening along.

“You were fucking with Eddie when you picked up the phone!” Coco whisper-shouts again.

“We weren’t fucking. He was punishing me for picking up the damn thing in the first place”, I explain and I don’t even know why I feel the need I have to. I light another cigarette.

“That’s even better, he’s got a kinky side”, Johnny says and for a brief moment I can see a glimpse of his BDSM fantasies coming through his eyes.

“Really, Eddie, shy, sweet, sensitive Eddie?” Corrine asks, no longer whisper-shouting, but just very intrigued at this moment. I just nod, not really feeling like explaining much more. Also because what happened between Eddie and I was only supposed to be between us. Just the great memories of a wonderful day, not conversational material for a bar that plays mariachi music.

“So what does that mean? You pushed away your crazy thoughts of I’m never gonna love again, no one could ever love me again? And you’re with Eddie? Honestly, I’m so happy for this quick change of heart, you’re perfect together” Corrine says so fast, I barely have time to process it all.

“I agree!” Johnny shouts out and he has to refrain himself from clapping with glee. By now I have processed all their comments. They’re playing match maker again. They’ve been doing this ever since about two months after Andy died.

“I didn’t change my ‘mind’” I say bitterly, making air quotes with my fingers.

“What do you mean?” Johnny shouts out appalled at the same time that Corrine lets out a surprised “Come again please?”

“I didn’t change my mind”, I repeat slowly and take another sip.

“You’re gonna have to explain more”, Corrine quickly says and takes my packet of cigarettes hostage, whilst Johnny snatches my drink from my hands and finishes it. I sigh in aggravation. This decision has been hard enough to make on my own and I really don’t feel like explaining it to them. But I have no choice.

“I allowed myself one day” I start, “Which eventually lasted longer than a day, it was more like 36 hours or so, but you get the idea- of happiness. And that’s it. That’s all it ever can be, between Eddie and I, for both of our sakes” I say somberly. Please let it stop now, because I’m gonna be crying in five minutes if not. Corrine looks at me with pity in her eyes. Johnny on the other hand…

“She’s got to be kidding right?” he lets out, very appalled.

“No I’m not. Johnny, get me another round”, I say, trying to repress my sadness with the promise of more margaritas. Bringing all of this up just makes me want to drink until I black out, so I can forget all of it. Because I don’t want this… But it’s what has to be done.

“Not until we clear this fucking mess up” Johnny shouts out, actually angry. He takes a deep breath to calm down before going on. “So you’re telling us that you allowed to be yourself with Eddie for one day and that’s it? How did he react?”

“He doesn’t know” I say in a small voice. That’s the part that’s been haunting me the most. The thought of seeing Eddie again and sending him away. I still don’t know if I will be able to do that.

“That’s gonna break his fucking heart…” Coco says sadly, saddling me up with even more guilt.

“Not as bad as being attached to an emotional wreck” I say, defending myself. They need to understand this. I can’t be with him. I want to be, but it would be selfish and wrong.

“Oh Lola, honey, snap the fuck out of it”, Johnny begins what I assume is gonna be a passionate soliloquy. “You’re fucking perfect for each other. So what that you’ve got baggage. He’s got a shit ton of baggage too, I mean have you listened to the guy’s songs? Those aren’t the words of someone who has had an easy-breezy life!”

“And from what I know from Jeff, he’s absolutely head over heels in love with you. Just as you are with him, and don’t retract those words, because you told them to me in person”, Corrine follows Johnny’s comment up and gives me a stern stare.

“And I heard them from a third person account, or is it second person. Oh fuck grammar!” Johnny chimes in, getting frustrated, with himself and probably with the situation.

“He doesn’t stop talking about you during rehearsal”, Corrine continues and even though I don’t want to, her comments make me smile. “Whenever one of the guys mentions your name, it’s like all the clouds above his head disappear, and that’s a literal quote from Jeff. And you know he doesn’t lie to me, because I’d have his balls if he did”, she says, the last part making me chuckle.

“I just saw you guys together once and when he looked at you he was completely smitten, it was the sweetest thing”, Johnny says, getting over his frustration, sounding kind of dreamy.

“You like the same music, you’ve both got baggage…” Corrine continues.

“You’d look beautiful together and from what I’ve heard, you’re very sexually compatible”, Johnny says finishing off Corrine’s train of thought.

“So in conclusion, you have to date him”, Corrine says, making it sound like a done deal. They’ve somewhat pulled me over to their side. Eddie and I… We could be good together. Maybe I could push aside my fears of breaking again, knowing that he probably has those too… But…

“Guys… I know. I feel it too. The connection we have it’s crazy. It’s like we’ve known each other for ages and whenever I’m near him it feels like I can finally breathe for the first time in my life…” When I say this it makes both of them smile like crazy. “But… What about Andy…” I say.

I guess that’s the thing that it all boils down to. If I go for Eddie, I have to let Andy go. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.

“Okay, I’m gonna be harsh here, very harsh”, Johnny begins and I mentally prepare myself. “Honey, he’s dead. He’s gone. I know you still love him and you probably will always love him. But I knew Andy as well and there’s one thing I know for certain and that is that he would’ve wanted you to find someone that makes you happy.”

“Exactly. You can’t hold on to the past forever”, Corrine chimes in, putting a hand on my shoulder, softly rubbing it. He would want me to be happy, but so soon… Andy never cared about timing, but I do.

“And the thing is that you don’t have to rush into a relationship with Eddie. Date a little, get to know each other more. Give it some time to breathe”, Johnny says as if reading my thoughts.

“Johnny, when did you become so wise?” Corrine says, chuckling slightly.

“Three margaritas will do that to a person” Johnny adds without missing a beat, making both me and Corrine laugh. He reaches over the table and takes my hand in his.

“Honey, you deserve happiness and you can actually have it. And it just so turns out that it walked through your door in the form of a Californian Sex God” he and I chuckle through a sniffle. When did I even start crying?

“Just try to give it a chance at least”, he says, looking at me hopefully.

“I’ll think about it”, I whisper, squeezing his hand.

“That’s all we can ask of you at the moment”, Corrine adds and with that this part of the conversation seems to be concluded.

“Can we ask one more thing?” Johnny says however with a cheeky grin. Corrine gives him a questioning look and I do the same. Where the hell is he going with this?

“How was he?” Johnny says doing his trademark eyebrow wiggle, making us all understand what he’s getting at.

“Seriously?” I ask. I mean we just spent the last part of the conversation talking about me moving on from my dead ex boyfriend and opening up to someone new, and he want to know about the sex? I should’ve expected this. It’s Johnny after all.

“Yup”, he says, cheeky grin still wide. I look at Corrine for support, but she’s looking at me with eyes wide with intrigue, ready for me to spill the beans.

“Fine”, I sigh and they both lean in closer. “Okay, I’ll say one thing and don’t even think about asking details.”

“Deal”, Johnny says, quick as a bat, Corrine nodding like a bobble head during an earth quake. I decide to go with one of the thoughts that I remember crossing my mind once I hung up on Johnny.

“If God didn’t want us to be sinners, he shouldn’t have put men like him on the planet”, I say and stand up to head to the bar to order us another round of drinks.

***

We stayed at the bar until they closed down at 3. We spent the entire time talking about the most random things. Johnny couldn’t resist bringing up Eddie again from time to time and I let him, figuring his fascination will blow over sooner or later.

The high point of the evening was probably when Johnny competed in a voguing competition with a girl who was having her bachelor party there. Antonio the bartender was the judge and he decided that Johnny was the winner. Needless to say that they clung to each other like gum underneath a shoe for the rest of the night. Johnny ended up leaving with him.

Corrine got into her car and asked me if I needed a ride home. I kindly declined, seeing as she drank most of all. I switched to virgin margaritas around midnight and was completely fine. Besides I like to walk. It clears out my head.

The fifteen minute walk back to the gallery seemed so much longer in the cold weather of the middle of the night. As a bonus, it had started raining as well. Great, exactly what I needed.

My thoughts drifted towards Eddie, still in San Diego. How I would’ve loved to have gone with him. Spending the entire time on the beach, trying to teach me how to surf, throwing me in the water when I least expected it. Hot make out session in and out of the water, maybe even more. How I would’ve loved to have done all of that.

One decision that I made for sure is that I wouldn’t try to cut him out of my life, like I first intended to. That was a stupid thought, why the hell did I ever think that was a good plan. First of all, Jesus, what a bitch a I would’ve been, secondly, I don’t think I could’ve even done that. I can’t stay away from him.

There’s also another decision that I made. No more further worrying about how things will turn out with Eddie; The moment I’ll see him again, I’ll go with my gut feeling, that will either lead me into his arms again or not.

It’s strange to admit, but I’ve missed him so much over the past four days. It’s crazy, because ten days ago he wasn’t even in my life and now a week without him felt like agony.

When I finally turn into the alley way behind the gallery, I’m completely soaked with rain and it’s pouring down even heavier than before. I hear lightning crackle overhead, followed only seconds later by the sound of thunder.

I see a figure standing by the backdoor of the gallery. As I get closer the silhouette becomes more distinct. Long brown curly hair, plaid shirt, sleeveless leather jacket, surprisingly enough in a pair of jeans that reach his ankles and Doc Martens.

“Eddie?” I ask, completely confused. He’s supposed to be in San Diego, he won’t be back for another couple of days. And this is not a drunken fantasy, because I’m sober as can be at the moment. But the figure lifts his heads at the sound of my voice and baby blue eyes stare right at me.

“Lola!” he says my name and a smile spreads across his face. In that moment I decide to follow my gut feeling. I run up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, attaching my lips to his. He immediately pulls me closer by my waist with one arm. He uses his other hand to cradle the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my wet hair. He kisses me deeply and passionately, making up for the days we spent apart all in that moment.

This is right. I need him, I want him. I choose to leave the past behind. I choose him.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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mookie--jam · 2 years

Text

Chapter 9: When in San Diego (Empty Canvas)

Day 1:

I spent the entire day driving. 20 fucking hours in the fucking Pizza Van of Doom. Do you want to know what’s the shittiest thing about the Pizza Van of Doom. The cassette player is broken. There’s one cassette stuck in there, no fucking way to get it out (trust me, I’ve tried). And that one cassette I’m able to listen to is I’m gonna be (500 miles) by The Proclaimers. A song that is fun at first, but after the 500th time (pun intended) of listening to that damn thing I can’t stand their fucking Scottish accent anymore. I listened to it for about the first 3 hours on and off again, until I took my first pit stop in Portland. It was around noon and I needed some food and to load up on some gas.

When I went into the gas station I almost addressed the cash register with the words: “Aye, lassie! How’s it gaun? Do ya ken how much I owe ya?” And that was the moment I decided that I was through with The Proclaimers. It was geein me the boak. For clarification, no I do not have Scottish ancestry (at least that I know of), but I once befriended a couple of Scottish guys in San Diego who were there to surf. They taught me some slang, but I’m absolutely horrible at it. And The Proclaimers brought it up again. Usually it only comes up when I’m piss drunk. And in those moments I get why so many Scottish people are so aggressive. No one can fucking understand you and it drives you nuts.

Though thinking about those Scottish guys always makes me laugh. One night they decided to come and see me and Bad Radio perform and one of them actually showed up in a kilt. At which point our drummer asked him about it and referred to it as a skirt. The guy looked him straight in the eyes and said: “Kilt, that’s what happened to the last man who called it a skirt!”

Our drummer was deadly afraid of the guy for the rest of the night. But the Scottish guy, the one in the kilt, I think his name was Jamie, he did clarify something for me. When we eventually got around to the topic of wether or not he was wearing underwear he explained it to us all: “So if yer wearing a kilt, ya dinna wear underwear because otherwise yer wearing it’s a focking skirt, and that’s just girly!” We later on got the full proof of the theory when we decided to go bowling and he bent over and we got a full view of his Highlands.

But after Portland I decided that I’ve had enough of ye old Scotland and decided to switch on the radio. Turns out his radio as also stuck on one fucking radio channel. Jesus Christ FM, and no that’s not a joke. It’s a fucking Catholic radio station where they only play gothic church music and read parts of the Bible out loud. I turned that shit of quite quickly, but not before the radio host told me to have a blessed day.

Fuck off, it was not a blessed day. I was stuck all day driving in the fucking Pizza Van of Doom (which surprisingly enough didn’t break down, guess that new motor was a wise decision). Without music, driving the I-5, which is just one long road and nothing more than that.

Naturally my mind got wondering and thinking. Song lyrics and ideas popped into my head, but I couldn’t write them down since I was driving. But whenever I took a pit stop, I quickly jotted down the main thoughts that had been building up in my head over the past few hours.

I made a stop in a town called Weed and the only thing I wanted to do in that point is light one up, but driving high didn’t really seem like a great plan.

I made another stop in Sacramento and drove all night to Los Angeles where I made my last stop. The Blues Brother quote kept coming to mind as I drive the last stretch towards San Diego: We’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses.

I got to San Diego at 6:30 in the morning and drove straight to my place at the beach. It’s not as much a house, more a cabana, but it’s what I’ve called home for the past five years, since I moved back to San Diego from Chicago. I parked the Pizza Van of Doom next to my Toyota pick up, dropped my duffel bag off in the house and then went straight to the beach to watch the sunrise.

Lying flat on my back in the sand, feeling the sun starting to shine on my skin. I all wanted to soak it up. I needed it all. But a strange realization came over me. Everything felt different. I don’t know how to describe it, but I came to the realization that this place, with the sun and the sand and the ocean… It didn’t feel like home anymore. I realized that in just one week my concept of home had changed. Home was no longer this; home now… It’s the dusty basement of the gallery and the hours of rehearsal. It’s the Seattle rain. It’s Stone’s dry remarks. It’s McCready’s drunken antics (even though I still don’t know the story of the Sangria incident). It’s Ament’s goofy behavior. And Krusen somewhat sullen behavior. Most of all, home had become the embrace of the girl in studio apartment above. Her smile and laugh, her lips and the embrace of her arms. Her kindness and sweetness, even her somewhat stubborn attitude and the darkness hidden within her. They’d become home.

And with the thought of her lying next to me on the sand, freckles appearing on her nose, because of the sun, I drifted away into sleep.

Lola. L-O-L-A. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Oh how she had become all of that and so much more.

Day 2:

I woke up a few hours later, because of the shouting of some little kids on the beach. I however still felt exhausted because of consistent lack of sleep for three nights (though I will never complain about the lack of sleep on those first two nights), so I went back to my place and crawled into my bed. The mattress didn’t feel right anymore and it took me nearly an hour of tossing and turning until I fell asleep again.

I woke up around four in the afternoon, feeling somewhat rested and decided that I needed to make work of wrapping things up here. I had already called my landlord from Seattle to tell him I’d be ending my lease. It was actually quite a good timing that the guys decided to hire me, because my lease would’ve ended in a month anyway and if I had renewed I’d have been stuck with the place for another year. And let’s just say that it’s not in my budget to have a vacation home in San Diego whilst living in Seattle. So I had to drop off my keys on my last here and clear out my stuff. The place was already furnished when I first moved in, so I needed to pack up my own belongings. Those consisted mostly out of clothes, some shoes, a few things I had put up on the walls, my records, some sound equipment and my guitar. I put myself to work and already packed everything but the bare necessities into the back of the Pizza Van of Doom. That took me all of two hours. Which amazed me. Two hours to pack up a six year life… On the other hand the place was already more empty than it had been before, since Beth moved out three months ago and took all her stuff with her. And some of my records. And no it was not an accidental mix up, because I label my records.

Next on the check list: sell my car. Since I came in the Pizza Van of Doom there was no way of driving it back. God I was gonna miss this car. So many fucking memories in one stupid vehicle. The trip I took just across the border in it to go surfing in Mexico. The long road trips me and Beth took to Chicago. The nights we spent fooling around in the open back, when we parked the car in some remote place and slept under the stars. If only I could’ve done that with Lola… Her wrapped up in my arms so I could whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

I drove my car down to the car dealership and managed to get a decent deal out of it. The money should be able to last me for a bit in Seattle, whilst I look for a job. Though I did feel a little pang of pain as I handed over the keys to Black Betty. Yes, I named my car and yes, I named her (she’s female for sure, wonderful overall, but sometimes has horrible mood swings, especially in the heat) after a Ram Jam song.

Black Betty was the second last lady that tied me to San Diego at that point. There was one left. My boss, Jacqueline. Oh Jackie, I’m gonna miss Mrs. Kennedy (as I jokingly call her sometimes).

I decided to go and hand in my notice in person. She deserved a personal goodbye. Since I had no car anymore, I had to walk to my way there. The irony in all of this, I worked at a gas station.

On my way there I passed a flower shop and I couldn’t help myself. Again, she needed a proper farewell. So I bought her a bouquet of daisies, the flowers that are in Lola’s vase at the moment. I considered getting peonies, remembering they were her favorites, but I figured that if I ever were to buy one peonies, that it should be Lola.

And so I made my way to the gas station, daisies in hand. And there was Jackie, Mrs. Kennedy, or as my friend Lucas once put it: the reason Freddie Mercury wrote Fat Bottomed Girls. Lucas liked to make fun of her posture, the only thing I ever replied was: she’s a big lady with a big heart. She kinda became a mother figure for me, seeing that my relationship with my mom hasn’t really been the best ever since the ‘daddy issues’ (I refer to it like that, because making fun of the situation helps me deal with it in daily life. How I deal with it in my music however is completely different).

Jackie always checked on me, making sure I had eaten, showered and put on sun screen before I went surfing. Sometimes she’d bring me left overs, to make sure I had eaten, because she always kept complaining I was too skinny.

I walked into the store part of the gas station, the ringing of the bell signaling my entrance. I hid the bouquet behind my back, since I was going for the surprise effect.

“Eddie?” I heard Jackie say from behind the counter. She put on the glasses that hang around a cord around her neck to see better.

“Hi Jackie”, I said giving her a smile. She ran around the counter and came to give me a hug. She nearly squished all the air out of me and I felt like a floatie that was leaking.

“What are those?” she asked me, as she saw the flower peaking out from behind my back.

“Those are for you”, I answered and handed them to her.

“Eddie… You sweet child, you shouldn’t have. You now I’m old enough to be your mother, shouldn’t you be giving these to a lady that’s more around your age”, she teased me as she got back behind the register. She then turned around and there was a bit of sadness in her eyes.

“These are a goodbye gift, aren’t they?” she asked me.

“‘I’m afraid so…” I said.

“So it worked out well in Seattle, with this band?” she asked me, pushing away her sadness, replacing it with genuine happiness.

“Yes, it did. They’ve officially accepted me in the band and the prospects are good. Their old band was already signed to a label and there’s already interest in signing us. It just clicked. Song writing has never been so easy. in a week we wrote like 20 songs, and we’re working on 30 more. It’s kind of insane. We even played a show already”, I had to tell her everything.

“You played a show already? You and your eternal stage fright? How did you do that?” her voice was somewhere between worry and amusement.

“Well I contemplated making a run for it and even jumping off a roof…. But… I kinda had someone calm me down beforehand…” I said, remembering first kissing Lola behind the curtains of the Off Ramp.

“Someone… A special someone. Oh look at you honey, you’re blushing! So there is someone!” Jackie said smiling bright and pinching my cheek with her false nails. That’s the one thing I’m not gonna miss about Jackie, those false nails have traumatized me. “Come on, tell me more, because lord know when I’m gonna see you again.”

“Her name is Lola”, I said and before I could even finish that sentence Jackie interrupted me.

“She was a show girl, with yellow feathers in her hair and and a dress cut down to there”, she singsonged and I just gave her a deadpan stare. I should’ve known, she’s got a huge thing for Barry Manilow and his puffy sleeves.

“Sorry, honey, do continue”, she quickly added after that, laughing, ‘Tell me all about this Lola, what does she look like, what does she like, how is she?”

And so I described Lola to her, in all the detail that I could. trying to remember every little bit about her. I talked about how I first saw her on the fire escape and our daily run ins because I needed to use her bathroom. How we kissed behind the curtains and spent the 36 hours or so before my departure together. Jackie is not dumb, she knew what I meant when I mentioned that, gave me all the winks and nudges and the obligatory bemothering: “You were safe right? You did you protection right? Because you never know these days, with that AIDS thing going around, and obviously we don’t want the poor girl to get pregnant. Though a little you would be the most adorable thing, and she seems so cute as well. I bet you would make the most gorgeous babies.”

I got her to calm down, because she was completely lost in her world of babies (which I understand, she always wanted kids and never had them).

After that we talked a little bit more and eventually time had come to say goodbye to the last lady that tied me down in San Diego. If I thought Black Betty was hard, it was nothing compared to Jackie.

“Now go and fullfil your dreams, my boy”, she said as she hugged me tight once again with tears in her eyes, “Don’t forget to eat or shower, or change your underwear. Uhm, what am I even whining about, you’re all grown up. Would you promise me two things?”

“Of course”, I said, feeling a little lump in the back of my throat. Vedder, you emotional mess!

“First: call me from time to time. Just to let me know how things are going”, she said, still holding me tight.

“Done deal”, I immediately answered, “And the second one?”

“Whenever you’re in San Diego again and that lovely girl still happens to be by your side, come around and introduce me to her. I’d love to meet her”, she said, finally letting me go.

“I will, I promise”, I said as I slowly made my way through the door.

And with those words I said goodbye to the last woman tying me down in San Diego. It was about 8 at night at that time and I was exhausted. So I got some take out Chinese food and walked the hour walk back to my place. Once I got there the Chinese food was semi-cold, but it still tasted great. After that I immediately headed to bed, counting my lucky stars San Diego was going through it’s last heat wave, because I had already packed my sheets.

Day 3:

The next morning I woke up at seven. Dealing with all the practical stuff yesterday meant that I now had four days left to do what I’ll miss most. Surfing.

I put on my swim shorts, grabbed my board and headed out of my place. I had one little stop to make before I headed to the beach. I made a stop at the liquor store and got three bottles of wine. Not all for me obviously. It’s Monday and Monday is the day my friends and I all used to have off, so that’s why we always headed to this hidden beach, right outside of town. I tossed my board in the back of the Pizza Van of Doom along with the bottles of wine, next to all my stuff that I had already packed in the back and drove off.

Once I got to the place -I will not disclose the location, because it is our secret after all- I parked the car in the dunes, praying that it wouldn’t get stuck there. I got my board and the bottles of wine and made my way out on beach. And there they were, all five of them. Lucas, Jack, Logan, Alex and Thomas. They were all in the water, their stuff strewn across the beach. Jack, eagle-eyed as usual was the first to spot me.

“Is that a mirage I see, or is that Vedder on the beach?” I heard him shout to Alex who was next to him in the water.

“You must’ve swallowed too much sea water, idiot, he’s in Seattle. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut when you fall off a wave”, Alex retorted next to him in the water.

“I didn’t swallow fucking sea water, and you fall more than I do”, Jack shouted back.

“I fucking don’t”, Alex, always quickly angered said and he was now peddling closer towards Jack, intent on pushing him off the board.

“Oi, Chip and Dale!” Logan shouted at the two of them now wrestling. “Jack’s right, that is Vedder!”

“Eduardo?” Thomas shouted at me.

“Si, mi amor”, I shouted back, making him laugh. We have this weird thing where we talk to each like we’re characters from Hispanic telenovelas. That all started when we were once ‘baked like a cake’ (as he likes to put it) and were watching TV at his place. We lost the remote and were too stoned to even stand up so we ended up watching these back to back telenovelas for three hours. We had come to the wonderful conclusion that we both in that moment had become fluid in Spanish and ever since it kinda stuck around.

“Vedder?!” Lucas was the last one to notice me, as he always has his head in the clouds.

“Jackie sends her love”, I shouted at him. He always had a weird obsession with her.

The guys were now all coming out of the water to give me hugs. By the time they’d all gotten their turn I was already soaked with ocean water.

“How is Mercury’s muse?” Lucas asked me.

“Great, though a little sad”, I said, seeing it as perfect way to break the news to the guys.

“Why is she sad?” he asked genuinely worried, the rest of guys just observing us.

“Because I quit my job”, I answered.

“Why the hell did you quit your job?” Logan asked. Obviously, he was always the most serious of them. I blame it on fucking law school.

“Because I’m moving to Seattle”, I said like it’s nothing, figuring a light approach might be the best option here.

“WHAT?” they basically all shouted out in unison.

“I got into the band and I’m moving to Seattle. Now let’s not make a big fuss out of it, it’s not like I’m dying. I brought wine and I want to surf and that’s all I plan to do for the next couple of days”, I quickly answered and they all kind of backed off.

At which point we decided to do just that. We surfed all day, taking drinking breaks in between, talking about all the crazy shit we did. Like how we dressed up as the Village People for Halloween. And I regretted that decision as soon as they bestowed the Native American on me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut about having a great grandmother who was married to an Indian chief. My house was covered in feathers for days.

Or the time we ended up in Mexican jail because we smuggled some weed across the border. Or how they used to get me piss drunk after shows with Bad Radio, just to hear me talk in my awful Scottish accent. All the skinny dipping and stealing each other clothes, the funniest things that happened when we got high. The list went on and on and on.

They were acting like they were never gonna see me again, they’ll never admit but they’re all a bunch of drama queens, every single one of them.

At around ten in the evening we decided to call it quits and head back home, deciding that all of them would call in sick for the next day of work so we could all do it again the next day. And with that promise we parted ways and I drove back to my place.

When I pulled up to my drive way I saw something on my porch. No, not something. Someone. Beth. What the hell was she doing there at half past ten in the evening? I got out of the Pizza Van of Doom, slowly walking up to her.

“Beth, what the hell are you doing here?” I asked her, grabbing my keys out of my shorts, ready to head inside.

“Good to see you as well, Eddie”, she retorted, standing up, making way for me to go to the door, which I did. She was holding a plastic bag.

“Beth, just tell me”, I said. I really didn’t want to deal with it at that moment. I was tired, I had a long day and I didn’t want to spend the end of it with my ex-girlfriend who abruptly dumped me for another guy.

“I heard you were back in town”, she said. How the hell does she know? I wondered. She still has the power to read my mind and quickly added: “I passed by the gas station today and saw Jackie, she told me.”

“Aha”, I mumbled, jamming my keys into the lock.

“She also told me you’re officially moving to Seattle”, she added as I opened the door, ready to step inside. She looked at the door longingly.

“Do you want to come inside?” I asked out of politeness, also knowing that she won’t just give up. She can be very stubborn. She just nodded at that point and went in before me, I pulled the door shut behind us.

“So Seattle huh?” she asked, sitting down on the couch, in the spot that she always used to sit, in the exact same way.

“Yup”, I said dryly and went into the kitchen to retrieve some cookies from the cabinet. I put one in my mouth and looked at her, waiting for her to finally get to the point.

“She told me the new band is apparently going very well”, she added and I just nodded. I just wanted her to get through with it, so I could go to bed.

“That’s great”, she quickly replied, “She also told me something else…” Oh god no, Jackie, really?

“Apparently you found someone”, she said not even trying to hide her jealousy. What the hell does she have to be jealous about, she dumped me. And then I put one and one together.

“So I take it things didn’t work out with the new guy?” I asked her, sitting down on the coffee table.

“Nope, dumped for the first bimbo that came along”, she said.

“Bummer”, I said and put another cookie in my mouth. What the hell does she want? I wondered.

“I just came by to drop off these”, she said eventually, handing me the plastic bag. I looked inside and saw my missing records. I knew that she had them.

“I kinda took them out of spite, because of how you reacted”, she said wringing her hands together.

“Well how was I supposed to react, my girlfriend of nearly eight years dumps me for a random guy, sorry if I wasn’t the friendliest” I said sharply.

“I know, I’m sorry”, she said, looking up at me. What the hell? Now she apologizes, really?

“Beth… Just tell me what you want to get at. Because I know you, I know you damn well and don’t feel like playing your game right now, so just spit it out.” I know I was being crude, but she had already taken every bit of patience I had.

“Don’t you think that you moving to Seattle for this band is a crazy decision? And this girl, you know her for what one week and you’re in love?” she said, her words matching my crudeness.

“First of all, she has nothing to do with me moving…” and before I could even finish my sentence she interrupted me.

“But she sure is a nice bonus, isn’t she?” Beth retorted. I decided to ignore that and just go on as planned.

“Me moving to Seattle is a choice I made, on my own, because it is what feels right at the moment and what I have to do. And yes, maybe it’s a little impulsive and maybe it doesn’t work out and I’ll be back here in six months. But that is my fucking business and not yours.”

“God, you’re even a bigger idiot than I remember you being”, she let out as she stood up, making her way to the door.

“Goodbye Beth”, I said not even looking at her.

“Goodbye Vedder”, she said and slammed the door behind her.

What has started out as a great day, turned sour right at the end. I decided to go to bed after that, but I kept tossing and turning until, after two hours I fell asleep.

Day 4:

So when I woke up this morning, my vibe was still quite ruined. Nothing feels right at the moment. It is as if a poisonous fog had landed over San Diego overnight, turning all the positive imagery into negative imagery. It feels suffocating and honestly I just want to get away. I can get away. I will get away. I can get away right now.

I get to the kitchen and make a few phone calls. First to Logan, telling him I’m leaving today. He is the responsible one, he’ll tell the rest. I get his answering machine and decide to leave a message.

The second call I make is to Cornell, my new roommate. Again I’m send towards the answering machine -probably because Cornell is still asleep, after all, it isn’t noon yet. I tell him that I’ll be back in Seattle tonight, but that I’ll crash one last night at the basement.

The third call I make is to Stone. He does pick up. I tell him that I’ll be back late tonight and I’ll be free for rehearsal tomorrow. I can practically see him nodding on the other side if the phone. We briefly discuss rehearsal schedules for a bit before he hangs up.

I contemplate about calling Lola, eventually deciding against it. Surprising her seems like a fun plan right now. Something that’ll give me something to think about in the car.

McCready was right when he told me that Seattle was my home now, because all of the sudden San Diego seems oddly unfamiliar, I think as I start up the Pizza Van of Doom and begin my 20 hour car drive back home.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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