Always Us by Lizzie Morton
Five
Abby
The first time I saw Jake, we were in high school and the group was out together. I was so shy at the time, I barely used to speak to anyone, which is luckily something I grew out of. I remember the moment clearer than anything else in my life. It was one of those life altering ones, where something inside you shifts and you know deep down, this is it, life will never be the same.
We were hanging out, relishing the end of summer, when time seems never ending and the days are lazy as the heat hits its peak. We’d been chatting on and off since Zoe introduced us online. We’d even chatted on video calls, but nothing compared to the moment I finally met him in person. I was lying on some grass, soaking in the late sun when Sophie whispered in my ear, letting me know he’d finally arrived. When I looked up, it felt like all the breath was sucked from me as I stared straight into deep brown eyes. Little did I know at the time, those brown eyes would be the undoing of me, over and over.
And then there’s now. I knew seeing Jake again would be hard, but I didn’t expect the full whammy to the gut and tears springing to my eyes at the mere thought of having to face him. In the two years we’ve been apart, I thought I’d moved on, just a little, but the way I’m reacting makes me feel like I’ve not moved on at all.
I’ve spent the morning gearing myself up for the band’s arrival, with Sooz telling me off on numerous occasions for being antsy. She sent me on trips away from the hotel room to source coffee, snacks and other random items, at hourly intervals which started around 7am. Anything to get me out of her hair.
I don’t blame her, I’m a mess. A useless mess at a time when she needs me to get my act together. Eventually it’s time to get ready to make our way to the festival, thank God. It provides an hour of my mind being occupied, rushing around using up the excess nervous energy that’s been building while I get myself together.
I thought I’d see him before the band went on stage. It would have helped to soften the blow, preparing me so I could work with a clear head, knowing the worst bit was out the way. But no, things never seem to work out with me and Jake the way we need them to. Things are always messy. Sooz demands I make my way to the frontstage area with my gear so I can get set up. Once I’m there, a whole new set of nerves begin to take over that have nothing to do with Jake.
I’ve never done anything like this before, or at least anything of this size. The place is huge, with thousands of fans standing behind me waiting for Jake’s band to come on. The noise level makes it hard to concentrate and the music hasn’t even begun. Don’t even get me started on the lighting. The changing light as dusk begins to set in, combined with the stage lighting constantly altering, makes me realize in all of this, Jake should have been the least of my worries. I wring my hands nervously, as my mind runs on a continuous loop. I ask myself can I really do this?
The crowd begins to roar its approval as a stage crew member comes on checking the mic, meaning their performance is imminent. I should be worrying about myself and lack of experience working in this area, but still, I find myself buzzing in anticipation for the guys. I know they’ve been doing bigger gigs over the past couple of years, Sophie and Zoe have vaguely kept me up to date without mentioning Jake. But now, they’re branching out and pushing harder than they ever have before.
When I looked over the tour notes Sooz sent me on the flight, I was shocked and excited at what was to come. Some of the places where the guys will be performing are the biggest and most prestigious rock festivals in the world. They’re not always going to be performing in some little tent off to the side, some sets will be on the main stage, like today. It’s going to be epic for their careers and I don’t doubt they’re going to blow everyone out of the water because that’s what they do. They engage and draw you in with their words and melodies before you even realize, making you want to hear more.
In the few moments before the guys step on stage, there’s a buildup in the atmosphere. The crowd knows the next act is coming and the energy is electric. I can feel it around me, skirting over the exposed skin on my arms causing goosebumps, and I begin bouncing back and forth on my feet gearing myself up ready.
In the last minute, music rings out into the night. I can see movement at the side of the stage and attempt to swallow down the slight feeling of nausea. This is it. The crowd begins counting down the seconds until the band steps out, and when they do, the music amplifies to a whole other level making me feel like the oxygen is pummeled out of my body.
On autopilot I raise my camera and begin snapping instinctively, being careful to zoom in on the band without anything like mics and speakers getting in the way, praying that somehow, I manage to capture some decent images even though I feel completely out of my depth. My vision feels blurry and I’m struggling to keep my focus, but as the outline of Sam captures my eye, I remember this isn’t just about me and Jake, it’s about the other guys as well. There’s so much more on the line than just my history with Jake, and it’s that thought which helps to bring me back down to earth and regain my composure.
When I’ve managed to capture a few decent photos, I give the guys some time to settle into their groove and get comfortable on stage before I take any more. I still haven’t acknowledged Jake’s presence. I don’t even know if he’s aware I’m working on the tour.
But then I look up from my camera for a moment, and without meaning to, my eyes trail up the frame I’ve grown to love and hate all at the same time. Unguarded for just a second, I look into those deep brown eyes that stare straight back, narrowed, and it feels like the world stops.
***
Jake
“Jake. Jake man wake up. We’re almost here.”
I’m beginning to stir, when I open my eyes and look around, Sam is sitting next to me, shaking me vigorously.
“How long was I out?”
“A few hours. No worries though, it’s not like we had anything else to do. We’re landing soon so you need to get yourself together.”
I sit for a moment, blinking, trying to shake off the dream Sam pulled me out of. When Abby first left, all I did was think back over that summer, replaying everything in my head, wondering if there was any way I could have changed things. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her voice and the memories out of my head. She haunted me.
I turned my focus to one thing and one thing only, music. It took time, but eventually, I managed to phase the voices out. Recently though, those voices have been harder to quieten, sometimes they’ve been impossible. That’s why I made the decision I did. She might not like it, but she’ll have to deal. I didn’t like the decisions she made that summer, but I didn’t get a say in the matter, she just upped and walked away.
That dream though … it’s dredging up old memories, painful ones I could do without thinking about. Remembering is making things harder, causing me to lose focus rather than adding fuel to my fire. It’s not what I need right before our first show.
Nothing seems to be going to plan and we could have done without the flight delay, but here we are. We’ve got a reputation to keep up, so we will show up and get the job done. That’s if Abby doesn’t get in the way and make things any worse. I thought everything would be fine. We were meant to have a day before our set at the festival, it would have given us a chance to see each other and get that awkward first meeting out of the way. But fate has its own way of dealing with things, and if our first time performing in Europe wasn’t nerve wracking enough, the first time I see her in two years, I’ll be standing on stage in front of thousands of people. Shit.
There’s no time to overthink things.
As soon as the plane touches down in Germany, we sprint our way through arrivals and straight to our tour bus. Yes, we have our own fucking tour bus. What should have been a rite of passage, something we should have been able to enjoy, was tainted thanks to the mess up with the flights. It’s not worth the risk, standing in front of the bus and taking a few shitty photos when the turnaround time to get to one of Germany’s biggest rock festivals is so tight.
As soon as we’re on the bus and en route to the festival, in theory, we should have been able to chill out and get our heads in the zone, something we normally would have done backstage, but there will be no time when we get there. Sam is acting like a hyperactive toddler, buzzing up and down the bus, and there’s no way of calming him down, meaning there’s little chance of us getting any peace. He needs to get his shit together before we step on stage or we’re going to bomb.
“Living the dream baby!” he shouts, passing us each a cold beer. Normally I’d say no. Drinking before gigs isn’t something I do often, but damn, I need something to chill me out. My knees are bouncing so high I’m at risk of launching myself off the bus. I never get nervous like this, I’m usually the one to hold it all together. Here I am worrying about Sam when it’s me who’s the flight risk.
It's not the music making me nervous, it’s seeing her again. It’s only now in the last hour that I’m considering what everyone was saying could be true. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Great timing Jake. Who would have actually planned to see their ex right before one of the biggest gigs of their career? Only an idiot, that’s who.
Thirty minutes left. The bus swerves into the VIP parking zone and I’m struggling to keep up with what’s going on, time feels like it’s suddenly sped up. It’s a relief we’ve made it here, cutting it fine would be an understatement. We’ve never arrived at a venue so close to starting a set, never not had a sound check or seen the stage where we’re performing. I chug back the rest of the beer Sam gave me, hoping it provides some Dutch courage and kicks my nerves in the ass. Within minutes I can feel it working its magic, taking off the edge and relaxing me enough that I find the strength to stand and make my way off the bus with the rest of the group.
Twenty minutes left. There’s no time to mess around. We’re whisked away quickly by some members of the stage crew who speak urgently into their headsets as they drag us to wardrobe. Clothes are thrust at us and some woman barks for us to get changed as quick as possible. So much for pleasantries.
Ten minutes left. We walk into the area where our gear is being held, people mill around who I’ve never met, touching up makeup and straightening us out. They get in our personal space not giving a shit. It seems pointless them going to so much effort as we’re going to be sweating buckets within minutes. Someone shoves my guitar in my hands and I quickly pull the strap over my head, getting it into place, enjoying the feel of the only thing that is familiar in this crazy scenario. I attempt to tune it as best I can but with all the noise surrounding us it’s not easy. It’s surprising what you can manage under pressure. Everything disappears and we all zone out, we have a job to do.
Five minutes left. I can feel my heart thudding a steady rhythm, finally settling. The closer we get, the calmer I become. This is it what we’ve worked for over the years, it all comes down to this.
Four minutes left. Gathered with our heads bowed low, we stand silently. We don’t need to say anything, we all know what the others are feeling cause we’re feeling it ourselves. Looking up, with a nod, we confirm to each other: it’s time, we’re ready.
Three minutes left. One of the stage crew leads us to the wings. It’s the first time we’ve caught even a glimpse of the stage and it’s huge, like nothing we’ve ever performed on before. I shake my head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, there isn’t room for doubt, not now.
Two minutes left. We hear thousands of fans, standing in front of the stage, screaming as the countdown timer on the screen begins. I do my best to block them out. Me and the guys look between each other giving reassuring nods. Nothing matters but the music, playing the best set of our lives.
One-minute left. The lights on stage dim and my heart feels like it stops. I swallow before letting out the first strum of music on my guitar, teasing waiting ears.
Thirty seconds left. Stepping out onto the stage with the rest of the group, I strum the first chords to our opening song on repeat. The crowd roars their approval, the surge of noise almost knocking me off my feet.
“Good evening, Nuremberg!” screams Sam, while I continue strumming in the background, waiting for him to signal that we can properly begin. When he finally does, we let rip, hearing the music echo out around for all to hear.
Since the moment we stepped out, I’ve avoided looking down into the frontstage area, knowing who I would find.
Finally, I look. It was inevitable. All I see are big blue eyes.
