Brooklyn Baby - The Beginning of Lana Del Rey

Part 16 - The Blackest Day

Chuck drove me back to the trailer park. I said goodbye and watched her pull away as Aaron's van pulled in a couple of trailer houses down from me. The whole gang was in the backseat. I ran inside before they saw me. I needed time to think.

The door to Drew's trailer slammed shut and I sought it safe to walk back outside. I needed to get out of the place as soon as I could, I felt suffocated and couldn't form sensible thoughts.

I got in my car and put it in reverse. Backing out, if I didn't look in the rearview mirror, I would have hit someone. It was Arthur standing still. I abruptly braked. I hesitated, then rolled down the window. It squeaked as the aged dust made the glass move slowly. He approached the driver's side.

We sat in silence for a minute, it had been a long time since we talked.

"What's wrong Lizzy? What went wrong?" he spoke softly.

"You've hidden something from me," I said sternly, giving him a chance to admit it before I accuse him of withholding the truth.

"I just..." he trailed off. "I have some things going on." The expression on his face told me that he knew that I knew. Why couldn't we just communicate?

"How can I help you?" A solemn minute passed. "I can't help you."

"Give me a chance to quit," he pleaded as I started to release the brakes. "Now that you know I will have more motivation."

"I can't fix you, Arthur! You haven't treated me correctly! And I admit, I haven't been there for you when you needed me either, but I didn't know. You never told me. That's what went wrong."

He stood there speechless and I finally was able to leave the lot. I didn't know where I was going; somehow I ended up at my uncle's house. At the moment, it felt the most like home.

I gingerly opened the door, trying not to wake them; it was almost 1 a.m. I heard a rustling in the kitchen and wandered in. My uncle was there eating a bowl of cocoa puffs.

"Lizzy!" he jumped back in surprise. "Just going to break in every now and then, are you?"

I laughed and went to hug him, quickly wiping my tear-smeared makeup under my eyes. Sniffing, I pulled away. "Why are you eating cereal at 1 a.m.?" I smiled.

"Why aren't you?" he replied. I fixed myself a bowl and sat at the counter with him.

"What's wrong Liz?" he asked, fishing in his brown milk for more puffs.

"I was hurt," I said looking down at my bowl, holding in the tears that fought against the back of my eyes. "By one of the guys from the band." A moment of silence passed. It was slightly awkward, I hadn't been one to be mushy in front of my uncle. I always put up a tough front. But I was too exhausted to control myself tonight. I sniffed again.

"Do you want to go get ice cream?" he asked, not mentioning my problems. That was so him, offering pick-me-ups instead of facing issues directly. It might not have been the best strategy, but it was working. 

He drove me in his convertible to the nearby McDonald's and ordered 2 ice cream cones. One chocolate, one vanilla. We sat in the parking lot listening to the local throwback radio while licking our dessert. We laughed and talked about the other things in the world, making me completely forget all about Arthur.

All of a sudden the familiar opening riff to Come as you are came on. I looked at my uncle with a wide grin. It was the first song he had taught me on guitar. I didn't have any fancy amps or pedals back then, so I had played it on acoustic, raw, and unfiltered. It sounded lonely and angrier than the original, but we liked it that way and continued to play songs like that on acoustic. I liked the juxtaposition of the whole concept.

It was a short drive since he lived in the middle of Long Island, so we sang it all the way back home.

Even though I was in pain, more words than ever were flowing into my head, like a crashing waterfall. It seemed that the more I felt, the more material I had.

The headlights from passing cars

They illuminate my face, and

Leave me in the dark

The voice of Nirvana says

Come as you are

And I will

The night time is almost ours

That night, I sat at my window sill in just an old band tee shirt and smoked a cigarette. I thought of Arthur. A single tear slid down my cheek, followed by several more. How was I supposed to let this go on? I will at least try to make him quit, but how long will I invest myself in other people's problems? I don't want to be Chuck and just pay for his rehab and just leave him. He deserved better.

I just didn't understand why he felt the need to have an escape from the life we had. I know that he had only started using halfway through our relationship because at the beginning we spent every minute together. I had memorized every inch of his body, and there were never any marks. I hadn't seen it in a while though.

It was almost 4 a.m. by the time I felt tired. I laid out in my bed and stared at the ceiling. All of my tears were cried and I was left numb, an empty shell of a being. But I couldn't close my eyes. I would just see his face, the look he made as I pulled out of the trailer park. The look of abandonment, of helplessness. Maybe he did need someone to guide him. Maybe I was the only one who cared enough. All of my emotions blurred together into nothingness. I had a thought. It wasn't a good one, that I knew. I got out of bed, walked down to the pantry, reached behind the flour and sugar canisters, wrapping my hand around the bottle I had been searching for.

Come on, get drunk, you know you wanna.

I am, you can, won't tell no one bout it

I opened it, gulping down the neck's amount, like how I used to. I tiptoed back upstairs and drank until the sun rose and blinded me.

I looked down at my surroundings and kicked the empty bottle of whiskey away. My songbook was sprawled in front of me. I picked it up confused and read through a previous couple of writings.

Black eyes, short dress, let's break it down

You shoot, I pose, Polaroid frown

I am my only God, now

I am my only God

Icon, young star, heroin fiend

Just sit, and I'll sing, I'll be your queen

I hadn't even remembered writing it.