True Love Deluxe

by Jennifer Lopez

  I tried to act strong, like everything was fine, but inside I was struggling. It felt strange to plan a party during this time, so I didn’t. I decided to go to Miami, the place I like to go whenever I’m feeling down. I’m a sun baby, I was born in July, and Miami is so sunny and warm and it makes me feel safe and happy, like being wrapped in a warm towel fresh out of the dryer. I had shot one of my first movies there—Blood and Wine, with Jack Nicholson—and I remember back then loving the city so much and thinking, One day I’m going to live here, in a house by the water. Ever since then, Miami has held a special place in my heart.

  I flew down with Max and Emme, thinking I’d hang out with Ana and maybe go out on a boat ride for my birthday. Something low-key, befitting my mood at the time. I knew I was doing the right thing—this was a positive step for me, a belated acknowledgment that I deserved better. But it was still such a sad, confusing time in my life. Divorce is never easy, even if it’s the right thing to do, and I felt really off-kilter.

  So, I got down to Miami, and we rented a boat to take out for the day. But when we got to the marina . . . a whole group of my friends and family were there to surprise me! My mom, my sister Lynda, my cousins Tiana and Darcy, Tania, Benny, Mary and Lorenzo, my friend Shawn B., et cetera, et cetera—it was all the people I’m closest to, and they had come here to show me support when I most needed it. I felt overwhelmed—so touched and happy, and I was excited to celebrate with all these people who cared about me.

  And oh, did we celebrate. We spent the whole day on that boat—nothing but water and sunshine, good food and good drinks, and of course, great music and dancing. We blasted the music so loud that they could probably hear it all the way to Cuba, and we danced on the deck until the sun started to set. I danced with everybody, including Max and Emme—there’s a great video somebody shot with their phone of me twirling Emme around in the air, both of us smiling and laughing.

  I had thought this day was going to be a sad one, but instead it felt like a true new beginning. Being in Miami, with all my friends, dancing around on the beautiful, sparkling ocean helped me to truly believe that things were going to be okay. No matter what else happened, I had my friends, my family, my kids . . . I hadn’t figured everything out yet and still had a long road ahead, but I was going to be alright.

  We were all out on the deck, watching the sun beginning to set, when somebody brought out the birthday cake. Everyone sang, and after I blew out the candles, Benny raised his glass. Time for a Benny toast! He talked about how this day marked a turning point for me and that he and all the rest of my friends would be here to help me along the way.

  It was a beautiful toast—as they always are—and when I went to hug Benny, I fell into his arms, burying my head in his shoulder. Benny just held me, whispering in my ear that I was going to be okay. All I could do was nod my head.

  And then, in one beautiful moment, everyone came together and put their arms around Benny and me, and we all stood in the middle of the deck in a giant hug. It was like I could feel the roots and branches of my support system right there, protecting me and making me feel safe. All these people were here for me right now, and they had always been here for me. And I knew they always would be—that nothing too terrible could ever happen to me as long as I had them in my life.

  Turn the music up to hear that sound, let’s get loud, let’s get loud

  Ain’t nobody gotta tell ya, what you gotta do

  —“LET’S GET LOUD”

  The next day, just before Max and Emme and I were heading to the airport to return to LA, Ana came over to say good-bye. She had brought me something.

  Ana likes to buy me books—loving self-help books to help me remember to take care of myself. (In fact, she was the one who gave me my first Louise Hay book.) She handed me one and said, “I bought you this book on meditation. You have a lot of emotions going on in your life right now, and this will help you learn how to move through them.” And then she handed me something else: two little ceramic angels.

  “This one is Max, and this one is Emme,” she said. “When you’re working, put them where you can see them, and remember you have two little angels in your life.” I took them from her and nodded.

  She had one other thing to tell me. “Pray for Marc,” she said, “and teach the kids to pray for Marc. We need to pray for everybody, and you all need to heal.”

  Ana and I were sitting cross-legged on the bed, and I took her hands in mine, our eyes both filled with emotion, and I thought, This is the beauty of friendship. Your friends mourn your losses with you, because they experience them too. The truth is, no matter how lonely you might feel, you’re never going through anything alone. Just as Benny would say in his toast that following Christmas, you can choose your family. Everyone who’s a part of that family goes through your trials and difficulties with you.

  Your friends mourn your losses with you, because they experience them too. The truth is, no matter how lonely you might feel, you’re never going through anything alone.

  And if you’re lucky, as I am, those friends will always be ready and willing to throw you a dance party to remind you of that.

  REALIGNING MY DREAMS

  One of the hardest things about getting divorced is learning to let go of the dream. Because being in a marriage is all about planning the future, about hoping to spend your life with someone and trying to make that work. My dream had been to have this family forever, to grow old together and watch as our kids grew up and had children of their own. It was a beautiful dream, and it was so hard to let go of it when the time came. You end up thinking, What do I do now?

  Funnily enough, Nancy Meyers gave me an answer. She’s the writer and director of the movie Something’s Gotta Give, starring Diane Keaton. The main character, Erica Barry, is a single woman in her fifties, with a beautiful home in the Hamptons and a grown daughter. Mom and daughter have a wonderful, close relationship, and even though she’s single, Erica Barry seems to have a fantastic life.

  I must have watched that movie ten times after the split. I’d be sitting there in my own nice house, dreaming about buying a nice house like Erica Barry’s in the Hamptons and creating my own Something’s Gotta Give dream life. Max and Emme would grow up to be amazing adults, and they’d come visit me, and I would end up being the kind of woman who’s absolutely fine with sleeping in the middle of the bed all by myself. Thank God for Nancy Meyers, because that vision helped me get through some really tough nights.

  Nancy Meyers helped me envision my dream life, but another woman helped me get through those tough weeks in real life: my mom.

  My mother dropped everything and came to stay with me after everything happened. She was always there when I needed her, and the one thing I could count on was that she would always find a way to make me laugh. She’s not as good at serious conversation, or the more intimate parts of a relationship, and that sometimes drives me crazy, but she will make you laugh until you pee your pants. In that way, she and Marc are a lot alike.

  Mom was still staying with us at the house, helping out with Max and Emme, when I had to fly to the Ukraine to do a show shortly after the divorce. With all the upheaval going on, and the long flights and quick turnaround, I decided it was better to leave the kids at home. I was going to be gone for only a couple of days, and I knew that doing such a long, fast trip would turn their systems upside down.

  I asked my mom if she could help take care of the kids while I was gone. And right away, she said, “I don’t want you to go by yourself. I’ll come with you! Let Tiana take care of the babies.” I frowned, and she said, “Come on . . . I’ve never been to the Ukraine! I want to go! I’m coming with you.”

  I remembered how nice it was to have her with me in Paris, when she expressed her maternal love by ambushing the paparazzi with a water gun, so I said, “Okay, Ma. Let’s go together.” And two days later, we were on a long flight to the Ukraine—my mom, me, Benny, and Benny’s assistant.

  Benny and I
were sitting together in the back of the plane, talking about everything that had gone on in the last few weeks. I was still trying to sort things out from the divorce—from finances, to our home, to the kids, to all the projects that we had been working on together. Everything was so complicated, I was glad to have the long flight and a relaxed moment with Benny to talk it all through.

  We were deep in our conversation when my mom suddenly limped down the aisle to our seats and said, “Jen, I feel funny.”

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. She looked pale and kind of sweaty.

  “I don’t feel good,” she said. “I think I’m gonna pass out.” And then she did—plop! She fell right over in the aisle of the plane.

  “Oh my God!” I shrieked. “Ma! Ma!” I turned to the front of the plane and said, “What happened? Did she take something?”

  The assistant said, “She took a sleeping pill . . .” And of course, my mom was also still taking pain medications for her knees, having had a knee replacement not that long ago. The combination had knocked her out.

  The flight crew brought an oxygen mask and tried to strap it on her face as she lay there, disoriented. I said, “Ma! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be taking care of me!” She didn’t respond, and her eyelids started fluttering. I leaned down closer to her face and said, “I swear to God, if you die right now, I will kill you. Do you hear me?”

  And I started nervously laughing, convincing myself that everything would be fine because what else was I going to do? It was either laugh or completely fall apart.

  The flight crew was discussing whether we’d need to make an emergency landing, but once my mother heard me threaten to kill her, she did exactly what I’d hoped: She started laughing.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she said, still half in a stupor, chuckling weakly under her oxygen mask. We looked at each other and I shook my head. She ended up being okay, although she did have to get hooked up to an IV at a hospital after we landed. I had to tease her about being such a tremendous “help” to me on the trip. But the truth is, she was. Even when she was passing out and getting hooked up to IVs, I was so happy to have my mom with me, supporting me and keeping me laughing.

  PARTING FROM THE SECURITY BLANKET

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  When I returned to the second season of American Idol, I was really happy to be back to my work family after such a difficult summer.

  It was September when we started filming the auditions, and I can’t remember which was our first city, but I do remember seeing Randy and Steven and Ryan and Nigel for the first time that day. We always had little sit-down planning sessions before doing the actual auditions—there was usually a big table, and food and coffee, and everyone would settle in and talk about that day’s shooting.

  I walked in and took a seat, and all the guys sat down. Everyone knew about the divorce by this time, of course, and right away they all started asking me, “How are you?” and “Are you doing okay?” I told them I was, and then somebody asked, “What happened? None of us expected this!”

  It was true. Marc and I were great at masking the problems we’d had over the years and putting our best foot forward. I thought for a second, and then I said, “You know, it was a long time coming. We tried really hard to make it work.” I didn’t want to get into a whole lot of detail, but I tried to explain a little bit about what had happened.

  And Steven in particular seemed to understand. I knew he had so much regret over his own divorce from his wife of many years, because whenever he’d speak about it, he’d get teary-eyed right away. He took my hand and squeezed it, and we didn’t even have to say anything. Just looking into each other’s eyes conveyed everything.

  Then, as I looked around the table, each one of them was looking at me with such sweet concern.

  “Marc was just my guy, you know?” I said, my voice cracking a little. “I thought he was my guy.”

  Nobody said a word, until Nigel finally said, in his lovely British accent, “Okay, darling. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.” He knew it was getting too deep, and we had to get in front of the cameras soon.

  “Let’s pull ourselves together,” he said, clapping his hands. “We’re ready to go, here.” He left the table and went to the set, and we all followed him out.

  I walked out onto the set like everything was fine, and we started doing the auditions—a normal day, as usual. I’m listening, laughing, being pensive, being emotional, just doing my thing, living the moment. Then I looked over to the side, where Nigel was sitting. Our eyes met, and he mouthed, “I love you.” I mouthed back, “I love you too.” He understood, and he appreciated the fact that I was there, doing my job, despite what I was going through.

  That’s always how it was on American Idol, because these were my guys too, the people who supported and appreciated and respected me. Doing that show felt like wrapping myself in a security blanket . . .

  Which is, in some strange way, why it became so important for me to walk away from the show. In fact, doing that ended up feeling every bit as important as walking away from my marriage.

  RISING TO THE CHALLENGE

  I had just started the Dance Again tour when Benny told me I had to make a decision about doing a third season of American Idol.

  Over the past year, I had undertaken two of the scariest things I’d ever done. The first was finally deciding to move on. The second was deciding to do the world tour. I had been so afraid of it all—afraid I would fail, afraid people would criticize me . . . I’d gone back and forth so many times with Benny when he was starting to make all the arrangements, because I couldn’t convince myself it was worth all the risk.

  And then I realized something. I realized that if I didn’t believe in myself, nobody else would either. What was I so afraid of? What was the worst that could happen? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than simply being too scared to do anything at all. If I didn’t do this tour, I’d probably regret it for the rest of my life. So I finally decided to make the leap, to choose to believe in myself.

  We had been on the tour for only about a week when Benny said, “We have to talk about Idol.” My second season had gone as well as my first one, and the producers wanted me to come back. It was so tempting, for all the same reasons I’d done it to begin with.

  And yet . . . all the events of the past year had changed me in ways I was only beginning to understand. When you make hard decisions, when you follow your heart to places that terrify you, it’s no longer possible to simply choose the easy path. My life was in transition, and it was a transition that I had chosen. I had to follow it through to the end.

  So, when Benny asked me, “What do you want to do? What would make you happy?” I realized there was only one answer I could give. I loved being on Idol, but it was time to move on. It didn’t make sense for me to spend a third year in a row sitting on a panel, judging other singers, especially if the main reason I was doing it was for the security of it.

  The irony is, being on American Idol for two seasons was the very thing that gave me the strength to realize I needed to get back to doing the other things that I do. It was the spark that led me to value myself more, to respect myself as a person and as an artist. And now I had to use that newfound self-respect to put down the security blanket. I knew it was the right thing to do, but it was still so very hard.

  We were on the tour, somewhere in Canada, when I called Ryan Seacrest to give him the news.

  “Hey,” I said, “I’m so grateful to all of you for everything, but I’ve decided I’m not coming back next year.”

  I was really emotional, and so was Ryan. He told me he wished I would stay, and I told him a part of me really wanted to, but right then I just couldn’t.

  “I feel like we’re breaking up,” he said.

  “I do too,” I told him. “This show has meant so much to me. Thank you, and
I’m sorry.” I barely managed to hang up the phone before I was overcome by emotion.

  Benny put his arm around me and asked gently, “Are you okay?”

  I said, “Yeah. It’s just so hard to do.” In some way, walking away from Idol felt tied to walking away from Marc—it felt like the final act in a play, the inevitable, emotional conclusion.

  Benny understood.

  “Being on the show gave you the strength to walk away from other things,” he said. “It’s like you’re walking away from a whole period of your life.”

  Just a year earlier, it would have been really easy for me to decide to stay in both situations—my marriage and the show. There were plenty of reasons to stick with both, and the idea of leaving either one of them filled me with fear. Now I had confronted that fear head-on. I hadn’t

  When you make hard decisions, when you follow your heart to places that terrify you, it’s no longer possible to simply choose the easy path.

  allowed it to dominate my life and my decisions. As painful as it was at that moment, I knew that my life would ultimately be better for it, both personally and as an artist. And you know what they say, set something free, and if it comes back to you . . .

  And the amazing thing was, it happened as I was beginning the Dance Again tour—the tour whose whole message was to live again, and love again, and dance again, to take chances and put yourself out there.

  In choosing to leave Idol, I was putting that into action, really living it. Once the initial shock wore off, it felt like a weight had lifted off me. Like I’d been underwater, running out of breath, and finally dropped enough weight to float to the top . . . only to find that glorious moment when all of a sudden your head pokes through the water’s surface, and there’s air, and sunshine, and you can breathe again.