To the Paris of our dreams

by Tomas Goncalves

  - I'm sorry Marie. I really am. I screwed up. - Marie was listening now – I don't have anything, nowhere to go back to, and nowhere to go from here. I just have this, this is who I am... everything that's killing you now. That's who I am... But you... - He took a deep breath – You're not like this, Marie. You can leave, you can get away from me, from all of this. Go back to your life, that's so close from being perfect... You're not like me or Isabella, or Taylor... You don't have to do that to yourself. You were happy when I met you... - Marie started to shake her head – Yes you were. You had problems, you were confused, and you needed a bit of help and guidance... You are just young Marie... Just go back home, where you have good people to help you and who will be there for you. In a year you won't remember me and everything will be ok.

  - No, Eric. No... I don't want to...

  - I'm sorry Marie... I think it's time for you to go home.

  - No, please... Stay with me, come with me then, Eric. We just need to get through this together and everything will be ok... I'm sorry I've lost it, please forgive me. It was silly of me to get to this... Please... Eric... Pleease...

  She started crying again, and Eric didn't understand some of the things she said while she was crying. He didn't understand when that girl had started to love him that bad.

  - Things will get better for you, Marie. You have a bit of money of your own now, you'll be able to have your own life and that will make things easier between you and your family. You just need to find friends that truly love you... And a guy that deserves you – He stayed in silence for a minute – …. Now we have to go upstairs, Marie. You need to get some sleep.

  She stood up with a bit of difficulty, and as they did, they were attracted to the view. The city was amazingly beautiful. He finally left her in her room, where she gently fell asleep shortly after. He then went to the terrace.

  He sat on a couch and he felt like he spent hours there by himself. Every minute that went by just made this inner voice get stronger, not leaving him alone, almost screaming: I need to get out of here. I need to stop this. I need to find a place to go... I need to be alone

  But he had no idea where. He never had.

  He never fell so disgusted of himself. Of Samuel, and Isabella and all of his past. He felt disgusted of being so out of his mind that night while Marie had needed him. But that wasn't making him feel any better, the contrary: he felt like he was drowning in anger, and by doing that, Samuel's voice was getting stronger inside of him. “That's who you are, Eric. Not more, not less. Not pretending to be something you're not. No one will ever understand you outside this life. No one ever will, and you will be weak, you'll feel weak and impotent, and you'll be defenseless against your past if you deny who you really are. You’re going to be useless and mediocre like the rest of them”

  What could he do? He had no one to ask for help. He couldn't humiliate himself to his family, not after what happened...they would bring everything up again, treating him like a sick child, feeling pity for him, trying to control him. Not Alice, and not even Tom, who would think Eric was weak for not having controlled his own vicious, not to mention after everything Eric had done to Marie (which Tom would probably hear about as soon as the day rose ) But then the last person on earth he'd like to talk to appeared by his side.

  - Hey Eric

  It was Isabella.

  - Ahh... - He took a deep breath - What do you want, Isabella? Not the best time right now...

  She sat on the couch by his side, getting completely (too) comfortable.

  - So hey, Eric, clarify something for me, will ya? Wasn't you that didn't care about her?

  Eric turned his head away, ignoring the comment.

  - Hey... Relax, big boy.

  - I am totally relaxed... Are you done with your poison or you still have some mean jokes about that? It's not funny what just happened...

  -Wow... - She stayed in silence for a second – She's gonna be ok, man...

  -What do you want, Isabella?

  - I thought you might needed some company

  Eric gave an evil smile, throwing his head back.

  -Yeah, right... So that's it? You’re worried about me?

  She went silent for a moment, while analyzing Eric.

  -Yeah, I am... I really, really am Eric.

  Eric started to feel so much anger. She was worried about him. She thought he was weak, that he needed help. But before he could explode with all the hate he had inside of him, she simply started saying, very calmly, against everything he could've expected from her.

  - Eric... I don't just get it what you're doing. I don't understand... I mean, I do understand what you're doing. I just don't understand how you allowed things to get to this point...

  Eric looked into her eyes. He got shocked for once again feeling Isabella emotionally present for him. It had been more than seven years the since last time that happened. He was still not used to it.

  - It's about Samuel, isn't it? Samuel and everyone else … Eric, he's dead. You can't let him still get to you, you don't deserve that. Marie doesn't deserve that... And you're letting that bastard control the life of you two... Why are you here in this fucking cold if not for letting him do that to you? Why are you not with her downstairs...just being with her, trying to make things better? Why don't you just tell her how you feel and what happened? … Just try to make things better by just being there... Just saying what's on your mind. That's who you are, Eric. You're Eric, not Samuel...That's what the guy I fell in love with would do...

  Eric stayed in silence, thinking about what she had asked him.

  - Why don't you just go and take care of her?

  - Because... because... - He didn't want to say it – I don't deserve her... - He felt an inexplicable pain and relief in his chest and his stomach as he said that, almost making him break down in tears - Not anymore. She deserves better. I... I love her too much to want me in her life... I guess that's why I did what I did. Why I fucked up things so bad... I can't allow myself to be happy with her because of that... Because of all of that, because of Alice, because of...this. Trust me, she'll be better off without me. Without all of this.

  After a moment that she had no reaction at all, Isabella slowly nodded, finally saying:

  - You know, it's sad how this things happens – She pointed at both of them – Or happened, or ...anyway...it's happening. I couldn't stay with you because I thought you'd be better off without me, after I got so hurt by Samuel and... After I hurt you that bad. You're doing the same thing to her... You got hurt by me, hurt her, and now you're both you and her getting hurt because you think that now you don't deserve her anymore... That's sad Eric. The truth is: You deserve something as long as you're willing to fight for it. As long as you're willing to pay the price that needs to be paid. We shouldn't keep hurting ourselves because we think we're not worthy... Nobody's perfect.

  - … That's the thing, Bella. I can't fight for her... So I know that because of that, I've already lost her...

  - What a shame then… Don't think it will be easier this way, Eric. It might be better for her to stay away from you, but the contrary is definitely not truth... - She paused – I know that because I had some shitty years after you left. Because of what happened, yes... But also because I knew that, in those moments, I needed you the most, and I didn't have you with me. The worse part was that I knew it was entirely my fault. It's hard for me to admit that Eric. So that's why I can't accept the fact things turned out like this to you. I thought you'd be happier... I thought you'd allow yours
elf to be happy with her... All the sacrifice I made to stay away from you when I still loved you, was for you to be happy. It hurts me to see you in this position...

  Isabella slowly looked away. That was all too much, Eric was so terribly sad he was afraid of crying.

  They stayed in silence for a while.

  - ...I don't know what to do, Bella. - He said, with teary eyes

  - … It's ok. I guess most of us don't know, either... - She said, with a sad voice. - We can only do what we can do and hope for better days, right? - She sighed - ... I'm so fucking lost too, bro. It's been a while I lost control of myself...

  Eric nodded. Suddenly it became pretty clear.

  - Can you help me, Bella?

  -With what?

  -... I need to get away from here

  She just looked at him for a second.

  - I need a life, Bella... I don't wanna... die like this.

  After a while she just said:

  - What about the band? Aren't you gonna get ripped off your leaver for doing this?

  -You think I care about money?

  - Fair enough … But I meant more about the whole responsibility to the band...Never mind. So I guess you'll have to talk to Richard now. We leave as soon as possible. You heard me? As soon as possible.

  - Ok... ok. I can do that.

  -.. Eric? ...Are you in control of everything you're taking? I mean...Will you...- She didn't say the word -...?

  - … Fuck yeah...

  - All right. So I know exactly where we are going...

 

  Withdrawal from drugs is something unexplainably hard, in any kind of occasion or context. It's absurd how we can get to the point of needing something just to be able to face our day... to face our lives. Your skin get tremendously sensitive, and the only thought on the back of your head is how easy it would be to just get rid of the pain...just once more, once more.

  When they arrived in the house they would stay, Eric was in silent and cold panic. He knew who lived there, because Isabella had warned him. A guy in a wheelchair called Lucas. Probably one of the last people on earth Eric would like to see, because he was a living reminder of what had happened back home. Eric had just turned twenty three and he had no idea how he would face his own demons. He wasn't even sure if he would face withdrawal. He didn't know. But the fact that he was there, that fucking isolated, that cold, with those people, made Eric feel like he was going to die.

  Eric had abused alcohol, different kinds of drugs, cigarettes, sex, loud music, bad food, terrible routine, and survived the constant lack of sleep. Now he didn't have any of those things to help him get that scream, that anger out of his system. He didn't know how bad that would be. Getting to face the silence. Getting to face yourself in the mirror.

  Isabella knew she was basically in the same position.

  They were alone, lost, tormented, and Isabella thought it would be a good idea to ask for help to Lucas, the last person in the world Eric thought would be willing to help them. But as it seemed, he was. Lucas had isolated himself in a small house, near a cold lake, in that lost Nordic view. There he was, fighting his own demons from his past, showing that the addictions of the blood, of character and of life need a daily fight.

  To give in will always be easier than to fight our battles, that's for sure.

  Lucas had changed. He seemed well. Strong. He would easily move around with his wheelchair as if it was some sort of toy, always touching its wheels, hitting his finger on it to make different sounds. He seemed happy to help, even though Eric was still feeling very uncomfortable with all of that. He knew at some point there was a conversation they'd have to have. A conversation he had been avoiding for more than six years now.

  Lucas had put three huge mattresses in the living room, so they could help each other in case of withdrawal, insomnia or – no one wanted to say because it would sound silly – nightmares.

  Eric asked Isabella's help on a moment of despair because he needed a place to put his thoughts in order. He would ask himself several times if he had done the right thing. He didn't think he had a drug problem, after all since the days that followed his “break” from the tour until finally getting to Lucas's place (something like a period of almost three days) he was ok. But once again, when he saw that house, he fell like the floor was going to swallow him alive. A pain in his head started to blur his thoughts: He wouldn't be able to get anything that would ease his pain in that shithole of a village, where people would probably not want anything to do with two foreigners with features at least unfriendly. Eric actually thought he could walk until the nearest city where they had come from, but it was more than sixty kilometers and the weather would never allow it. Lucas then put his hand on Eric's back “inviting him in”, for sure understanding what he was feeling.

  - It's ok man. I know...

  The first couple of nights went by without any problems. But it did seemed like every day was extremely long and time wasn't passing: There was not much to do, and neither one of them was feeling like talking. Even with his sleeping pills, the third night passed by really slowly for Eric. Isabella kept turning and tossing and spent some time awake with Eric, and they tried talking to each other or just thinking about their lives. Silence reigned several times and that was the worst part. They both felt like if they just could fulfill the silence, things would be easier.

  Silence makes our demons’ voices clearer, stronger. They were both terrified of being alone with their thoughts.

  Eric had only talked to Richard, making sure Marie had gone home. No one knew where they were, not even Richard. Eric didn't want anyone to see him in that state.

  Lucas didn't insist on talking to Eric after noticing he didn't want to talk to him that much. The days after seemed to get even longer, somehow. Lucas did try to show them a bit of the village, and told them a bit about his past few years: He had spent two years and something in probation after Eric left Brazil. After that, his parents – And the money Samuel, his brother, somewhat had left behind- helped him to get away from there too. After a year living in the capital of that country, he found that small village where he had found some peace, just trying to live a simple life, for three years.

  - It was hard for me too, you know. The only difference is that I was alone, right after losing my brother. I wish I could say I found Jesus...but you know how it goes...

  Eric talked about his past years in less than fifty words and that was it.

  Lucas got worried about their nutrition and hydration, because they were both starting to get even paler than when they had got there. In the eighth night they spent there, it got worse for Eric, and then two nights later, to Isabella. Pain and chills. Eric and Isabella gave up on sleeping in different beds. They started to sleep holding each other, with their bodies hurting, sometimes shaking. It was really cold outside, and even a bit on the inside sometimes, which was a torture. Eric hadn't been sleeping much, and he was feeling like he was starting to hallucinate.

  Lucas was there, awake, when Isabella hardly stood up and went to the bathroom to vomit for the first time, out of pure pain and discomfort. It didn't take many days and it was Eric's turn. Then it was a weird sequence of vomiting, trying to sleep, trying to get some fresh air, trying to eat or drink a bit, trying to relax their head, get warm, dealing with their chills... And a lot of water.

  Eric got to a point where he was sure he was hallucinating, being transported – while wide awake – to moments on his past, only to get a
bruptly awaken, scared, in pain- to look at Isabella or Lucas near him, to realize that his past had finally grabbed him by his ankle.

  Eric couldn't understand why Lucas was helping them. Was he feeling good on seeing them in that situation? That would be way closer to the Lucas Eric remembered instead of thinking of him as a good Samaritan, helping two people in pain, just like that, out of the goodness of his heart.

  But he was there, with his headphones, or reading, trying to help them with water, medicines, cold cloths or warm clothes to help with the discomfort.

  A little side note, it probably wasn't that smart to try to get rid of addiction like that, without much against the pain, without specialized help... Only the pure and simple pain.

  But survival would be victory. That would be the only way they would keep their heads high.

  The days kept passing, but they didn't look like they were getting any better. They were actually feeling it getting worse. Eric's nightmares were getting darker each day and the pain was getting worse...The chills were getting worse. Both of them were feeling weaker. After sixteen days there, things got really bad. How come it was that cold? Fuck that was cold. He could hear his mother, his sister, Alice, Marie, Lucy. All the women in his life. And then the opposite, from his father, his brother, Tom, Mike, Jack and Liam, Richard, Samuel. Even Marie's father. His own voice, screaming, in anger and pain. Noise, noise, so much noise. Sound of cars, planes, people screaming, people fucking, people drinking, people getting slowly destroyed. The noise from New York in the middle of the night. And then the worse of all: That complete silence in that place, in the middle of nowhere, with all those trees around the house. There was a little lake too, and it was somehow only making them even more depressed.

  Eric was getting overwhelmed by the feeling the silence was bringing. Eric thought that, in that place, he could listen anything from twenty kilometers away. That was killing him. Fuck that place. Fuck that cold, fuck that creepy mist.

  After nineteen days, Eric woke up. I mean woke up, because he took a while to notice that he had been sleeping. He had just passed out, but apparently he slept for a relatively long time. He thought the pain in his head was going to blind him, but eventually, with all his strength, he was able to stand up on his own, and hugging the covers, he went to the back door, opened it and went near the lake. There, he took several deep breaths, more times than he had patience to count and every time it seemed like his lungs, and his whole body, were going to explode in a mix of pain and relief.