Fractured [SHAWN MENDES]

~44~

Shawn was in disguise since he was at the airport and didn't want to be spotted. He sat at the end of a far row of gate seating and kept his hat-clad head down as he played a mindless game on his phone. He swiped a candy to the left and beat the level right as a text popped up.

I miss you already ❤️

He touched the little heart, and his anxiety about being in public subsided a little.

Not as much as I miss you ❤️

After days of trying to convince Taryn to come to New York with him, he'd finally given up. She hadn't said it explicitly, but he worried that she had some residual bad feelings about the place she'd run away to as a teenager. Maybe she'd talked about this with her therapist, though they rarely discussed what went on in their sessions.

He really wanted to have her there for support, but more than that, he thought they could both use a little break. She no longer had school, which was amazing, but she still worked at least five nights a week at the bar. He fantasized about taking her away to some remote beach for a month so that she could truly relax for probably the first time in her life. She deserved to be spoiled, and he wanted to be the one to pamper her.

Sighing, he turned and looked out the dirty smudged window at the planes on the tarmac. There was a time, not that long ago, when he lived a large chunk of his life on airplanes. He'd known a lot of musicians who complained about the drudgery of traveling while on tour. Not him. He'd been thankful for having the opportunity to see the world and to make people from every corner of earth happy with his music. If that meant sleeping on planes and being photographed at airports, then so be it. Sometimes he longed for the days when the biggest downer in his life was hearing that there wouldn't be warm chocolate chip cookies on his flight.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

He looked up and saw Taryn standing in front of him with a bright smile on her face.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" he asked, though he knew the answer since she was holding an overnight bag.

She sat down next to him. "I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself this morning and maybe a little guilty about not being here for you. I asked my mom if she'd take my shift on Tuesday, and she said she would. Then I left it up to fate. I went online to see if there were any seats open on your flight, and it turns out there was one. It was meant to be."

"So we can extend the trip through Wednesday morning?"

"Yes. I think two nights away might be good for me."

He couldn't agree more. They went up to the airline counter and switched his return flight arrangements to hers. It was at that point he realized they wouldn't be sitting together.

"Let me upgrade you," Shawn whispered as the ticket agent waited. There'd been only one open seat in coach, but there were several in first class.

Taryn couldn't afford the more expensive ticket when she'd booked her flight a few hours ago, and she really didn't want him shelling out the difference. "It's a quick flight. You can play that game you love and before you know it, we'll be in New York. There's no need for us to sit next to each other."

He leaned closer to her. "There's also no reason for us not to. This is nothing to me and it'll mean everything to hold your hand on the trip, no matter how short it is."

She chewed her lip as she considered his offer. It wasn't until the woman behind the counter cleared her throat that she made her decision. "Okay, but I'm buying you a nice dinner in New York."

"Whatever you say, baby. I'm just really glad you're here," he told her while he waited for their new boarding passes to be printed.

******

"What are your thoughts on cancel culture?" Gretchen asked. They were sitting in the living area of his hotel suite in Brooklyn. Taryn had left them alone and was out investigating some of the nearby shops.

"I, um, I guess it's got both positives and negatives. There are some people who I can get behind canceling. You know? Like if someone messes around with kids or drugs another human and rapes them or even incites a riot, they don't deserve to retain their celebrity status or continue to work in their field."

She nodded. "I'm guessing you're referring to some specific individuals who you don't want to name, which is interesting. If you're okay with someone being cancelled, why not feel comfortable calling them out?"

"I'm Canadian," he said sheepishly. "We're naturally polite. Of course I'm thinking of real people, but I feel weird naming them. I will say this...there are certain things I won't watch because of the actor or director and certain brands I'd never buy because of who owns the company."

Laughing loudly, she commented, "Too Canadian to say an actual name but bold enough to give info to provide clues. I interrupted you before you got to complete your thought. Were you going to talk about the negatives?"

"I was, yeah. The negative thing about cancel culture is that it's often done suddenly without much investigation. I'm not talking about myself here. Let me be clear about that. Everyone knew what I'd done immediately after it happened, so it was fair for people to decide I was over. I'm talking about less problematic stuff, like maybe a musician sings something ironically in a song lyric and everyone concludes they are a terrible person. Maybe they are; maybe they aren't. I don't think anyone should be canceled over one small part of their art."

"Mm. I get what you're saying. You're against the snap decisions to cancel."

"Exactly."

Gretchen clicked her ballpoint pen a few times. "Back to your situation...do you really think it was fair that you were canceled? You made a huge mistake, but you took the consequences that went with that."

"I don't know. It's hard to have perspective when I'm talking about myself. Do I wish my career wasn't over? Yes. Do I understand why people turned away from me and why my label dropped me? Of course. I think what's frustrating is that there's no middle ground for an entertainer like me. My options were to be this unrealistic version of some demigod-like popstar or to be nothing. I wasn't allowed to be human and fuck up."

She got up and walked to the huge windows that looked out on an incredible view of The Brooklyn Bridge. "Shawn, do you follow your sales stats?"

"No. The label always managed that data and presented it to me. I guess I could find it out, but what's the point?"

"The point," she said as she turned and faced him, "is that according to the numbers, you haven't been cancelled. I asked Island for stats, and after being given the runaround, I was finally put in touch with someone who'd been on your team. He sent me all the raw data and also compiled some charts and graphs."

Gretchen went over to her briefcase and pulled out a file which she handed to him. "You had a surge in sales right after you were arrested, which is apparently very common with scandals. Then there was a decline for about ten months. After that, you slowly climbed back up to where you were selling close to where you were before everything happened."

"I don't believe that," he muttered as he flipped through the papers.

"It's all right there and numbers don't lie! I'm going to assume you don't check your bank statements carefully enough to notice that you're getting a steady income."

He frowned over the fact that she had such a good read on him. His accounts went up each month, but he assumed it was interest. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that you aren't actually cancelled by society! I searched your name on social media and almost ever post or tweet that came up was from fans who miss you! There was a lot of buzz about you being over at the time, and of course your label dropped you, but at this point, you're making a decision to stay out of the public eye and not have a career. You are still a profitable musician who could have a comeback if he wanted to. Cancel culture got into your head, and that's where the concept becomes really problematic. Ultimately you cancelled yourself."