a few minutes after I had gotten situated on the plane, the alcohol I had consumed back in the room took full effect. One second I was bawling my eyes out, the next I had passed out. The lady who apparently sat next to me during the plane ride shook me awake. "Sweety, weve landed." She spoke softly. "Huh? Oh, thank you." I smiled back at her. I grabbed my duffle bag and my shopping bags and lurched off of the plane. The woman who woke me seemed to be keeping a worried eye on me as I sleepily drifted through the airport toward the exit. I lost her at baggage claim.
I found my way outside and dug through my purse for that one cigarette I had kept hidden away in case of emergency. I lit it and took my first puff in five years. It didn't help. Now I was choking. I stamped it out and walked to my car. The drive home was long. I turned my phone back in. It had been off for 4 hours now. 8 missed calls and more than twenty text messages, all of which I ignored. I called my cousin on the way and asked if I could stay with her for a little while. Without asking what was wrong, she said yes.
I got to the house and began packing my things. I was finished crying. Now I was just pissed. I put all the small gifts Ross had given me on the bed. Grabbed my things and put my keys on the kitchen table. Walked out the front door and locked it behind me.
I spent the next three days on my cousins couch,Trying to gather the courage to face him long enough to end everything. The anger had turned to irritation, which turned to me questioning what I had seen. Maybe he was just being super nice to a fan. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. This turned into sympathy for him. And that turned back into sadness. I had to do something. These mood swings were getting out of control. I decided then and there that I had to quit. He would be in the studio alone tomorrow. Seemed like the perfect time.
I woke up crying that day. I was lost. But I knew what I had to do. I dug my phone out of the drawer I had buried it in and turned it on. After a few seconds it began to beep. And beep. And beep. I read through some of the messages. It seems he had gone through the same set of conflicting feelings. The messages ranged from apologetic to angry, to sadness and back to angry. But not one attempted to explain what I had seen. The closest he came to that was simply "it wasn't what it looked like."
I got dressed and drove myself to the studio at around eleven. Sat in the car for a while gathering the willpower to do what I knew had to be done. Finally, I walked through the front doors and hung a right to where I knew he would be. I could see him through the window on the door. I quietly turned the knob and let myself in. "Ross, I... I quit. I said. Then I turned and walked out. His back was turned to me. It was a cowardish move on my part. But I couldn't stand looking into his eyes ever EVER again.
