With the same kind of girls opening their legs to guys they'll never know, about who they'll never care. So shallow, so useless. So freaking gorgeous though.
That's why you want a band for, after all.
One day, Tom called Eric far into the night.
- Tom?
- Hey Eric...
- Maan, how are you?
- I'm good, I'm good... How are you?
- I'm great...
- Awesome … Listen dude, I'm just calling to check on you. I felt like I should.
- Hmm... Ok, why so?
- Why so? A little bird told me I should...
- Hmm, Marie?
- Come on, Eric... I have like ten people working for us around you...
- Ok... got it.
- It got to my attention you've been abusing on some things dude again... And you know how I feel about it...
Eric got silent
- Yeah, I do...
- Is it true?
- ... Come on, Tom. What do you want me to tell you? Yeah, I've been partying a lot lately...
- Well, I've been partying a lot lately and that doesn't mean people are worried about me...
- ….
- I thought you said you have things under control...
- I do...
- Alright... So why are you the only one who thinks that?
- ….
- Eric, listen dude... it's me who's talking ok? I'm your friend. I need you to take care of yourself, also, because I need you to take care of Marie, ok? What's going on man? While I was on tour you were good... Why are you letting it get bad again?
- ...
- … Eric? …. Alright... Tell me it's ok. That you'll keep an eye on her and that you'll take care of yourself...
- … Yeah, I'll keep an eye on her
- Promise?
- Yeah I do...
- Good... What about Isabella?
Eric almost laughed
- Yeah? What about her? I don't think I need to take ca... - Tom cut him
- You know what I mean...
- Hmm... Alright
- Are you sure you want her around? After everything you told me, you're sure you want her around?
- … Yeah, I guess. I need her around, man.
- Why, dude?
- Because... - “She's the only one who can keep up with me?” Didn't look like a good answer – I do... I need someone who knows who I am, Tom...
- Eric... that's not who you are, man
- … Maybe it is. Maybe it is all we are ever gonna be man...
They stayed in silence for a long time.
-Come on man... - Eric didn't say anything, so Tom kept talking - … Take care, ok? Just...just take care. Of yourself and Marie...For me, please...
- Alright man...
- … And how's Marie these days?
- What, your little birds didn't tell you about her?
Tom laughed
- Well, I'm not asking anyone to stalk you guys... I know she looks good enough. She tells me she's ok. I just... feel like she's not telling me everything this time, like you, for all that matters...
- Hmm...Fair enough... she's good, man. I think she is having fun touring and playing, you know... She's a good musician, I think she's happy to be dedicating herself to that...
- Yeah, she is... Just try to be nicer to her, hun? I think she really loves you man...
Eric felt embarrassed... and very ashamed.
- Alright man... Thanks for calling – That's all he was able to say about that
- You're welcome.... We'll see each other soon. You'll be in Montreal soon enough.
- Yeah, I know! We can party together then. That'll be fun.
- Exactly my thoughts... Laters, Eric. Don't make me call you again.
- Good night man...
Because of that call, Eric really tried to change a bit: change about the drugs, change about how he was treating Marie, and for a while it seemed like things would indeed get better. But months went by. Months were everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives, always smiling, always having fun.
Deep down, truth was completely different.
Most of Taylor's musicians seemed to be genuinely fine. Jack and Liam were also often having genuine fun, but they started to look a bit like Mike, soon before he ended up quitting the band and went to live in France with Isadora, a bit too... unsatisfied. That was also happening probably because they kept in contact with him: It was probably a torture to know that there's an actual life, a sane life, a life where you could have some happiness, away from all of that. That Mike was genuinely happy with the life he was building.
Isabella seemed to have finally found the thing she was born to do. With the same sarcasm and irony all the time, drinking more than what people would believe it was humanly possible, always having someone as company. Happy with the money she was making.
Because she wasn't there since the beginning, she would certainly endure as long as she could without complaining.
Jan ended up becoming really close to Eric as their talks became more frequent. Jan was actually becoming one of the few people he would have around that was actually making him feel a bit sane. Eric eventually asked Tom to see if he could give Jan a bit of a raise (which was something Eric thought he would never do for anyone, but Tom said he would see what he could do).
Eric was now having insomnia again, and it was somehow getting worse. Probably because now he had Isabella near him, and also because of Marie. They were reminders of the past. Reminders of things that could've been and weren't. Eric did try to use less drugs as he had told Tom, but that was not going good either: He would need a lot of sleeping pills and pills against anxiety, and he would constantly smoke pot because that would help him a bit with his insomnia. But Eric was not really a big fan of smoking pot: He found that people would usually get too stupid when they were high. He loved taking pills, all kinds of them, and alcohol. He liked smoking cigarettes, cigars, shisha. He would trip on acid several times too. Mainly he was a big fan of alcohol. Funny thing is, he would use so much difference shit together, because he never liked the effect of any particular one of them alone. How people look stupid when they're too drunk, or too high, or tripping too hard. He would use different stuff that would make him look quite normal, a bit tipsy maybe, when in reality he was fucking out of his mind.
He started to get panic attacks when any sort of turbulence would happen when they were flying: He had never feared planes, and now sometimes he would see himself cringing from his insides in pure panic (having to keep a straight face was not helping him at all)
A bit paradoxical: He was feeling like he was immortal most of the time, and the rest of the time he started to get scared shitless, afraid of dying, paranoid even. He felt like death was right around the corner.
Who was also really collapsing from within was Marie. Very quickly, maybe even hopelessly.
She had finally lost her natural healthy s
kin-color and got this white-pale skin color. She would usually have deep dark circles under her eyes, and would often be alone. It's not like she was best friends with anyone in that band, and it was not like Eric went back to being nice to her as when they first met: he was now treating her better, he was just not making that much effort to keep her close anymore. Everything seemed to be an effort to show her how much he didn't need her around. How she should regret for making him leave once. But she couldn't leave.
She had left behind huge, well decorated, splendorous, comfortable places. A bubble, somewhat, to join those cold, dark and small rooms, most of them stinking cigarettes and some much more weird and disgusting things. Decadent places and people who would never be much more than what they were in that beginning of life, where they still had so much life, that they all thought they could waste it like that. People who could only have fun when they were able to forget who they were.
Marie would remember her aunt playing the piano, so majestically and would often ask herself now if it was for that that she had spent so many years dedicating herself to music. Were they there for the music too? Was she closer to reach her dreams? Was it time to give up on Eric like it happened with Filipe?
She would start to feel cold quite often. Always wearing black, or clothes that would bring up her skin and her hair color. Usually with scarfs. She sometimes would wonder how long she was there with those people: Time there had another feeling. She sometimes would feel like an eternity had passed since she had left Paris (most of the times), and she was feeling like Eric: that all of that was just a mad dream that should be enjoyed. It didn't matter where they were or with whom, thing is, going on those stages, even if it was to play someone else’s music, would make a bit of sense. Things would matter a bit. She would also forget everything. She would forget herself, her family, her pains, her shames, the obsession she once held towards Filipe... and she would forget Eric, even though she would often find herself thinking about how much she just wanted a second chance with him. She wanted to look at Eric, with her shaking knees and beg him that things could go back to what they were. Beg that they could just left all of that behind and go back to Paris, London or until the end of the world to live again the love and kindness they had at the beginning. Now everything was cold, just some quick looks, few words and occasional sex, without much love, that would make her feel like she was dying inside a bit more. She was feeling the pain in Eric's eyes, as she knew no one else was able to. She could feel how bad they needed each other even though he wouldn't admit it to himself. She just wanted to go to him, hold his hand, take him away from all of that, hug him and talk to him until their guts and their hearts would finally be okay. Just tell him that she wanted him by her side. Just tell him that he didn't have to be like that. He could be Eric, just Eric, her Eric once more.
She would go and ask herself again why she was still there. For him? Yeah, a big part of her was there for him, but a big part of her was there because she liked it, because she needed it, because she didn't feel like going home. Somehow, she was doing exactly what Eric was so good at doing: dressed up a mask of indifference, ignoring the problems (because they would eventually vanish in some city in the past, with the future looking brighter) she would be a bit bohemian and then she would go, to the next stop, the next show, next trip or next party.
After all, there is nothing more... releasing than to get off a stage, completely soaked in your own sweat, with your soul weighting a third of what it was before. Freedom. Recognition. Success. Admiration. Fun. Purpose.
Obviously problems always come back stronger every single time they get ignored: they are rarely killed by this approach.
One day, she woke up from her lonely and sad dream to realize what was happening around her and ended up knowing that Eric and Isabella had left, with two other people, to hang out like crazy bastards in the city they were ( she had no idea where exactly they were at that moment).
She could barely stand the image of them, crazy and lost in that big city. She just wanted him by her side, in bed.
But that night, Eric would not be hers.
Eric and Isabella (and a couple of other people) would get back to the hotel later on that night. They could barely remember where they had been the hours before. After arriving, they went to try to find people to talk to, so they started to wander around in this separated part of the hotel that had been arranged for them as a “common area”. When they got there, there was a couple of Taylor's musicians and some people with them, but it was basically dead. You could see bottles laying around, most of them empty, some almost full. Glasses and more glasses, some broken pieces on the floor. There was a random girl completely passed out on a couch. It was a freaking mess: Clothes, balloons, condoms, food, and drinks. Everything was just on the floor like that. Glasses, cigarettes, underwear and sweaters. A couple of phones laying around. One table had gotten literally (partially) burned, you could see a shisha destroyed on the floor, and even some cocaine laying on the carpet. The smell of that place was unexplainable.
Eric and Isabella tried to talk with the people that were still there, but they were completely out of it. Those drunkies would have to repeat themselves twice the same thing and in the middle of the sentence they would just forget what they were doing. Someone actually puked in front of them, no joking.
Eric hated people like that. Not strong enough to hold their own alcohol. He decided to leave and go to bed with a girl that he had apparently brought with him (he was so fucked up that he couldn't be sure about it). As they were going back to the elevator, they passed in front of a huge window from where you could see the whole city. There was a person sitting on the floor, hanging against the window.
It was Marie.
She didn't have hear shoes on, and she had completely shrunken against the glass. She had her hair really messy, with dark circles under her eyes because of makeup and teary eyes and her whole face was just showing how much she had cried. She had her eyes fixed on the view, but was a bit out of it. Eric couldn't notice much more about her, because he froze when he saw her like that. With the shock, he got completely lucid and awake. Isabella was looking at both of them, waiting for a reaction from Eric, but nothing.
Slowly, Isabella sat beside Marie, while Eric was looking at that scene. For the first time in a long time, he felt guilty, tired and stupid. For the first time, he felt like hugging that small, fragile, gorgeous and hurt creature and take away all her pain he knew she was feeling. But he couldn't. For the first time, there was no one else to blame but himself. That was all on him: In the second he put his eyes on her, he knew that that was his fault. He had not taken care of her. He went too far.
- Hey, Marie. - Isabella tried to get Marie's attention.
Marie slowly turned her head to Isabella. She then saw Eric.
- Hi Bella... Hey Eric
He sat beside them, but Isabella was still the one who was talking.
- How much did you drink, sweetie?
She shrugged her shoulders. It didn't matter now, did it?
- Do you wanna go to your room?
- No. Could you stay here with me for a bit, Eric?
Eric nodded, then he looked to Isabella, as she was getting up. They looked at each other and Eric made sure Isabella knew she had to get lost with the people they've brought. Then, Isabella left the room where they were, and Eric could finally feel the silence.
After a relatively long time, Marie just asked (without looking away from the view)
- Why are we here, Eric? - He didn't answer. She just lowered her voice, as if she was talking to herself: Why am I here?
But the silence stayed there, like a brick wall between them.
- Why are we here? Why can't we just go back to Paris or to London and … - She didn't have to say it. She couldn't say it, she would cry if she did.
- Because... - He took a deep breath – That's in the past, Marie.
- And you'll never give us another chance, I suppose...
Eric didn't know how to answer that.
- Is it because of Isabella? Taylor? … Alice? Please, just tell me... I need to know why Eric...
He didn't know what to say. Was it? Was it because of them? How did she knew about Alice again? Eric couldn't remember.
- I... I don't know what to do, Eric... I just don't. I don't know why I'm still here – She went quiet for a second - And I know when you're happy, and you are just not happy right now Eric. We're... both, miserable, running away from things. But I just feel that if we could stay together again, everything would be ok, you know...
But it wouldn't. He screwed up.
-...But it wouldn't, Marie. Not like that.
She held Eric's left arm, as if to get some sort of comfort from Eric's body, the same she wasn't getting through his words. But they were two worlds apart now, with two completely different visions of what was happening.
They both stayed in silence watching that city for several minutes. Truth is, Eric had no idea where they were either. Marie was looking at him with pain in her eyes, begging him for a bit of comfort, but Eric wasn't able to give her anything. At that moment he was facing his own demons, and the belief that he had screwed up for real that time. It would be better not to keep going on with that.
There are people who are not meant for that. Marie wasn't. But instead of thinking of her as weak, or losing respect for her, as his inner voice (or let's say Samuel's or Isabella's voice would've done) he suddenly felt ashamed for not being strong as she was. But now, he had to be minimally strong for her and do the right thing.
To the Paris of our dreams Page 16