Misprinted Lies (Alice in Chains/Bruno Mars)

Four Years

I was working in the studio a lot in 2015. The summer was jam-packed with music. Winning that Grammy just pushed me even harder. Bruno visited me a lot. He and Jess were fighting all the time.

It was so awkward. They were blowing up at each other all the time but on her birthday they flipped the switch and pretended everything was fine. Ari got married on her birthday in Long Beach. I wasn't feeling so good. I got out of the hospital the morning of the wedding. I cleaned myself up and picked up a dress really quickly. By late afternoon I wasn't wasn't one hundred percent so I only went to the reception.

I walked into the reception in a teal-colored dress.

"Hey Lily," I heard Phil say. I looked around, trying to find him. He tapped my shoulder and I turned around.

"Oh hey Phil," I said as I hugged him.

"I can't believe you made it. Bruno told me you were in the hospital again."

"Yeah, I was."

"I'm sorry," Phil said.

"It's okay. I'm better now. This place is really cool," I said, looking around. "Where's Ari?"

I went to where Phil pointed and saw him. Ari and I greeted and hugged each other. He and his wife Summer were SO in love. In the middle of talking to him and hearing details about the ceremony, I saw Bruno come up behind him. I nodded my head to acknowledge him. We hugged.

I walked away to avoid Bruno's questions, but he followed me. I ordered a beer at the bar.

"Lily..." his voice scolded.

"What?" I said, taking a sip.

"Lily you know what," his voice whined a little, out of concern. "Why are you here? You should be resting and definitely not drinking. You JUST got out of the hospital."

"It's Ari's wedding. I had to be here. The doctors said I could drink a little tonight. I asked them. Bruno when are you gonna stop worrying so much about me?"

"Never."

My voice got sympathetic. "Bruno that's really sweet but..."

"But what?" he said harshly.

We got into a bit of an argument. Phil sensed it from a few feet away and broke us up a little bit.

"Guys, guys," Phil said. "Calm down. You know, you guys are BOTH so fuckin' stubborn."

"No I'm not," we both said at the exact same time. We looked at each other, glared, and started cracking up.

The fight was over as quickly as it started.

"I'm sorry, Bru."

"I'm sorry, too, Lil. I think we're both just really stressed out."

"You and Jess okay?"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"You want me to talk to her, give her some girl talk?" I asked.

Bruno laughed a little bit. "What do you know about girl talk?"

"You're right," I smirked. "Nevermind."

"Besides do you really wanna talk to her."

I laughed a little. "Well no, I'd be doing it for you, not her. If I have to hear about that fuckin' Model Latina show one more time I think I'll die."

Bruno just grinned widely. I mean come on, that was like eight years ago. What else do you have to show for, Jess?

A couple of days later, I heard the door squeak open at the studio with a familiar cry.

"Bruno?"

I swung my chair around and there he was. He was a mess. I hugged him without finding out what happened even though I had an idea. I squeezed him tight. "What's wrong?"

"She broke up with me," he muttered. It was an effort for him to get those few words out.

"I'm so sorry, Bru," I said, still holding him close. "Did it just happen?"

"Yeah," he sobbed.

He sat down on the couch.

"I'll be right back," I said. He was a little confused.

I came back in with two bowls of ice cream. He smiled, which was relieving.

"Ice cream will cheer you up, right?" I asked, handing him a bowl and sitting down beside him.

"Always does," he smiled.

"60% of the time it works," I smiled, patting him on the back. Anchorman jokes always cheer him up. "Every time."

He started cracking up, falling back on the couch. He couldn't stop. His laugh was contagious. I started losing it again too.

When we composed ourselves, I smiled and patted his back. "You're going to be alright, Bruno."

His pain hurt me.

I had an idea. "Wanna go get sandwiches? It's on me. I'll drive."

He got up immediately. "You betcha."

I insisted we sit in my car in case paparazzi came and noticed that Bruno was distraught, and he agreed. It was dark and that was how we wanted it. He was still such a mess so I was silent so he could control when he would start speaking. For the most part, I stared forward. When I was done with my sandwich, I sat there for a moment and turned to see how he was doing.

Bruno's tears reflected the colors of the flickering "OPEN" sign to the convenient store. He couldn't even eat; he wasn't himself. Every time he tried to take a bite, he'd end up choking on it and spitting it up into the napkin.

I gave him more napkins; they were more for the tears than the food. Bruno rested his left arm on the armrest and his head in his hand. I laid my arm over his and interlocked my fingers in his, holding his hand tight. He just stared forward.

"Four years," he muttered. "Four years," he whispered, his voice getting even softer.

He took such a big sigh when he leaned back; his chest made a dramatic motion. I squeezed his hand tighter. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to ask questions. I could already foresee all of his fans doing that on Twitter, wanting to know every last detail about how he and Jess broke up. Bruno was going to tell me what he wanted to tell me about what happened and I was fine with that.

Bruno turned to me.

"Is it okay if I smoke?" he asked.

"Yeah," I sighed. "do what ya gotta do."

I, especially, hated cigarettes more than anyone in the world. I hated that he was smoking but he was such a mess I let it slide. He could have been doing worse.

I reached behind into my backseat.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I brought out the bottle and poured it into a plastic cup. I handed him the cup. "Emergency wine."

He laughed a little and took a sip.

"Bruno," I hesitated. "I don't know if I'm crossing a line telling you this, stop me if I am, but you guys were fighting a lot, right?"

He nodded. "I think the part that sucks the most is that I feel like I wasted four years."

"Hey you didn't waste four years. You recorded music and toured the world with your friends."

"Yeah but a part of my life was never as happy as the rest."

I took out a Metallica tape, put it in, and turned up the volume. I was probably the only person in the world using their cassette player in 2015. We slowly started banging our heads to the music, getting lost in the guitar solos, crazy bass lines, and raging lyrics. My plan was to get him out of his head for a little while. It worked.

He had a slight smile when we reached the last track on the tape.

"Thanks, Lil. This was just what I needed."