Scratched

Forty Five

FORTY FIVE

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Imagine a car going and going and going, and then it suddenly stops. The impact of that—the damage it might have. You have to gradually slow down not just pull out in the middle of it all. But this is exactly what I did. One second I was everywhere, traveling from city to city and concert to concert; and then I was here—doing absolutely nothing. How do you go from moving so fast to not moving at all? I felt suspended, almost as if I was just waiting for something; but what was I waiting for? I had no real direction. I'd lost that.

So instead of persuing my passion like I had always intended I found myself not pursuing much at all. I had been home for several days now, and altogether hadn't done much of anything. If I wasn't sleeping the day away I was frozen on the couch, straing mindlessly at the scenes flashing across it. I had never watched much television while I was actually living here, and now I found that all I did was watch television. It was rather sad on my part. I go from touring the world to channel surfing.

But it didn't matter. Even if I wanted to get back out there I just couldn't. I was petrified. The very thought of stepping back up in front of a crowd of people was impossible for me. I loved playing—that would never change, but facing my fans after everything seemed much more daunting than anything I had ever been up against. It wasn't as if it would ever wash away either. This impression—what happened—it would always be in the background, overshadowing everything I did. I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I had never done well with public humiliation. It was one of the things I had hated about high school, some form of humiliation lurked around every corner whether intentional or not.

"Yo, Piper!" my brother called.

I looked up from where I was sprawled across the couch. Rhett stepped through the front door, pulling it shut behind him. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a white shirt. I wondered sometimes if I had ever seen him in real clothes. He always seemed to be in sweatpants of some kind of pajamas. He knocked his hand against my foot, signaling for me to make room. I dropped my feet onto the floor, pushing up into a sitting position. Rhett wasted no time throwing himself down onto the couch. He snatched the remote from me. I gasped, shocked that he would even go that far.

I shoved him. "What the hell, Rhett?" I said angrily. Since I had never been much of a television person Rhett and I had never had to deal with the whole fighting over the remote scenario. I usually occupied myself elsewhere while Rhett lounging about on the couch watching reality shows. "Couldn't you see that I was watching something?" He continued to flip through the channels, appearing to pursue something. He eventually landed on a talk show. I couldn't help but notice how very out of his character it seemed. I had thought he'd be looking for Jersey Shore or Housewives of Atlanta.

"Yeah, I did but I don't think anyone cares if they miss Pawn Stars," he said. I sighed, falling back against the couch dramatically. Yes, because this is so much better. At least you sometimes learn something while watching Pawn Stars. I moved my eyes to the television, noticing for the first time that it wasn't just a talk show it was a music talk show. That made it much more interesting for me. It became even more interesting when I noticed who the guest were that day. Noting my attention Rhett started to speak. "I thought you might want to watch it."