Eyes Wide Shut

Chapter 1

Tears were running down my face, but I have no idea why. The arena that was once roaring with cheers fell silent, much like the dressing room that is only occupied by me. I sat on the floor, with my back against the wall, my legs scrunched up to my chest and my wet face buried in between them. Empty bottles of champagne were scattered around the room, along with numerous sets of flowers people had sent. It was all over, but somehow, I knew the tour ending was not what these tears were about.

            “Frankie…” I heard a voice echoing from down the hallway.

            The dressing room door opened, my stomach suddenly dropped as I immediately lifted my head to the site. Rochelle popped her head in and I took a sigh of relief. The smile on her face quickly faded and she must have recognized the tears welling up in my eyes. She quickly rushed to where I was sitting, squatting in front of me.

            “Babe, what’s wrong?” She asked as she gently placed her thumbs under my eyes and wiped away the tears.

            I couldn’t bring my eyes to meet hers. I couldn’t answer her because I didn’t even know what was wrong. My memory was a bit fuzzy from the night before; one too many rum and cokes. But there was this weight in my chest – a guilty conscious. But I didn’t want to feel guilty about it whatever it was.

            “We’ll be on another tour before you know it, Frank.”

            “Its not that,” I let out under my breath as I slightly shook my head. I still couldn’t bring my head to her level. My tears had slowed down so that they were just stuck in the pocket of my eye. There was a pause; it looked like Rochelle was trying to say something, but she couldn’t get it out.

            “Did you have a moment?” Rochelle finally sputtered.

            I lifted my head up to meet her eyes, full of concern. Ever since I told the girls about my check in to the hospital for depression, it’s like every time I cry, they assume it’s because of my “problem.” I felt a wave of frustration come over me, but I immediately shook it off. Rochelle meant well; she was only looking out for me, as she always had.

            “No…”

            “Is it Wayne?”

            I let the question sink in. I lied and nodded my head. Wayne was not the reason. I just needed to end this conversation before she actually got it out of me. All she had to say was one name and I would have completely lost it.

            “Aw, babe,” she said as she reached pulled me in for a hug. “You know he wanted to be here for the last night.” She released me, but still held my gaze. The tears had completely subsided. “He loves you, you know that,” she assured me as she rubbed her hands against my shoulders.

            “Yeah, I know,” and I did. I knew Wayne loved me with every cell in his body and he would have been here if he did not have a football commitment. Wayne was not the reason, nor was he ever a reason for my tears. He was perfect and I wanted nothing more than to celebrate the end of our biggest tour yet with him and the girls by my side.

            The door suddenly barged open and Aaron stumbled in.

            “Come on you two! Get your asses on the bus!” Aaron blurted out and then headed back out the door. He was clearly on another level than Rochelle and me. Aaron had always been the source of comedy, even dating back to S Club Juniors days. 

            We both let out a slight laugh. Rochelle stood up, stuck her hands out and pulled me up. She wrapped her arm around my neck and we walked towards the door. Rochelle and I had a bond that was significantly different than any of my relationships with the other girls. We understood each other. It was as simple as that. 

            “Wait, I gotta grab my stuff,” I stopped her, sliding out from her grasp. “I’ll catch up with you.”

            “You sure? I can wait,” Rochelle responded.

            “No, no. Go. I’ll be right there.”

            Rochelle walked out the door and I adventured around the dressing room to gather all of my things. I was still in my white tank and violet shorts, but I figured I could change later. I scurried through my stuff to find my phone. 33 messages. Most of them were congratulatory messages about the tour, from friends, family members and about 5 from Peter, our manager, rambling on about how proud he was of us.

    And then that one name popped up. Mollie. Suddenly, I remembered everything.