local experience.
The irony of that made Rand grind his teeth. He whined that it was supposed to be men who were scared of commitment. Supposed to be rock stars who played hard to get. It made him love Harry all the more. She wasn’t dependent on him and she didn’t need him. She chose him. It was their one source of tension.
Rielle would’ve given up the contents of her bank balance and every royalty yet unearned to have that problem with Jake.
She knew Rand found Harry’s holdout thoroughly frustrating but cruelly inspirational.
He was writing prolifically. New songs, songs that didn’t fit Ice Queen; songs for some other band to record. He was thinking about producing for other artists. Jonas, now clear-headed and trying to mediate their way through the ‘break’ they were having without it morphing into a ‘break up’, said Rand should start his own record label.
Stu said Rand had gone soft, suburban, lost his edge. Stu got angry when Ceedee left and stayed that way. No one knew what he was doing, but every so often he’d show up at the house, sometimes wasted, sometimes sober, to abuse Rand. No one talked about replacing Ceedee and everyone waited.
Rielle watched Rand build a new part to his life and felt envious. She watched him with Harry and felt empty. She looked at herself and saw her life for what it had become, hollow and without meaning. She was a tabloid sensation, a chart topping star. She had the world at her feet. She could do anything she wanted. She was young and rich and healthy, and terrified about how to live. She looked at herself and saw nothing but a cardboard cut-out and knew if she didn’t change, she might as well lie down and die. Might as well have done it a long time ago.
Without the rigours of touring to hide behind, she shut herself off; she spent time alone. She thought about the things that defined her life—that wet night and that dangerous road and that stupid argument, and what she’d done to bury the guilt. She knew forgiving herself was out of the question, but learning to let it go and move past it, like Rand had done, to stop being defined by it, was the lesson she needed to master if she had any chance of living a real life.
For the first time in a long time, she let herself think about Maggie and Ben freely—remembering without being crushed by the pain of loss. She had long conversations with Rand, and they both laughed as much as they cried, and this was new—this ability to face the past rather than to duck it, haul darkness over it and cloak it in fear.
Rand worried about her, kept her close, made her eat and gently fathered her like he’d done for most of their lives. He put her back to work with Jonas to finalise a new album of songs, leftovers from years gone by and some new stuff recorded pre-tour. The three of them knew it might be their last Ice Queen album.
And then amidst the fumbling and stuttering to rebuild herself, Rielle started hearing music again—her own music. It started with a curl around the back of her brain. Tickling, teasing, not quite heard, not quite present—more irritating than productive—then it would disappear. But it would come back when she was least ready for it. Waking her from the depths of sleep, interrupting the mechanical nature of exercise, when she was stirring a sauce, chopping vegetables, watching a zombie apocalypse on TV, there it would be—vaguely twisting, forming, forcing its way out.
She started writing again and could lose whole days without thinking once about anything but the words and sounds in her head. She stopped using makeup, forgot about the contacts, and packed the prosthetic tooth piece in its box. She gave up on wearing her hairpieces, letting her own hair grow out longer. She quit dressing up and stopped being a rock star on a daily basis.
At first she had trouble looking in the mirror. She’d avoid it as usual, but after a while she realised she needed to face that too. This person in the mirror was who she was. Different to who she’d been, but the same as well.
She dug down; she learned. She faced her fears.
She changed.
And it was both a trial and a relief. She told herself she was happy.
Rand said her pants were on fire.
It wasn’t long before she