Beautifully Broken

Me and My Brain

Ashley

"I'm here with Claim of the Broken. For those of you who have been living under a rock, they are a New Jersey rock band that is blowing up the scene right now. People can't seem to get enough of you guys."

Ryan chuckles, fiddling with his microphone cord, "It's so weird man. One second you're a nobody sitting in a basement and the next you can't even go to the 7/11 without people stopping you for a picture."

"How are you all adjusting to the new found fame?"

"You never really adjust to something like this. It's like having on pants without pockets and wondering what you're supposed to do with your hands. You're kinda just hoping you don't accidently shove them in someone else's pockets," Matt explains, rocking back and forth on the couch. He's never been comfortable with interviews. He thinks they're forced and awkward. It's worse now that he's stopped drinking.

The interviewer, a young guy with shaggy brown hair, chuckles, "Is putting your hands in other's pockets something you do often."

Andrew, our drummer, reaches forward, tucking a few fingers into the interviewer's jean pocket, "Only if you're into it man."

"There you have it, Claim of the Broken willing to put their hands in your pockets. That's a once in a lifetime experience. I feel privileged to have gotten to share that moment with you. Now you guys are one of a few bands on this tour. How has tour been so far?"

Taking the microphone from Ryan I bounce it against my nose, trying to think of a way to save an interview that is quickly going off the rails. We're all way to immature to take any of this stuff seriously. I don't know how some bands do these things back to back. "Smelly. Loud. But jokes aside it's been a blast. We're getting to see tons of old friends and the crowds have been amazing. I've never felt more welcomed and a part of something bigger than me than I have at these shows. The kids bring out such good energy."

"Old friends like Frank Iero?"

The microphone slides out of my hand, my brother catching it seconds before it hits the ground. I was an idiot for thinking they wouldn't ask questions like this. Frank and I cancelled a tour, stopped talking without any kind of public statement. It's nature for people to have questions. I guess I just wasn't expecting it to be this direct. Even when he's not in the room I can't seem to get away from Frank. He haunts my past like a poltergeist, jumping out to cause mischief and grief at what should be my safest moments.

"Old friends like Bert McCracken or Patrick Stump." I pray that gets the point across. We're on camera. I can't act like these questions throw me off or make me uncomfortable. The rumor mill works at the speed of light. The last thing I need is new accusations thrown around.

"I thought Frank was a friend."

Matt takes over, clearing his throat, "Sorry, we thought this interview was supposed to be about the band and what we've been doing musically."

"It is," the interviewer insists, his eyes still trained on me. There's accusation in them. He knows that this is a touchy topic and he's willing to pry until he gets the answers he wants. "How has your relationship with Frank Iero shaped the music you've written since the collab?"

Keep it together Ashley. You can't come across as a diva. I have to keep a level head here. Just redirect. Act like the question wasn't asked. Talk about something else, anything else. The cap to my water bottle spins off funny, the bottle dropping into my lap, spilling water all over my crotch. Shit. Why couldn't he keep asking about us putting our hands on other people? Words are coming out of my mouth but I can't hear them, cold water seeping into my skin, making me feel sticky. "I did a few songs with him years ago. That hasn't influenced anything I've done. Believe me theres -"