Zenith Falling (2 page)

Joelle and Rob rented a house in a dumpy neighborhood, on the outskirts of Seattle, Washington. Their rental was big enough for them and Rob’s band. Wherever they went, the band was never far behind. They all shared the rent and contributed to the bills. Each member had a room, and the rest of the house was communal property. It was a little farther out of town then they preferred, and a far cry from anything they would choose if they had a choice, but it was a stepping stone to their future, which they were banking everything on.

Joelle pulled into a parking spot on the street next to her husband’s derelict
small truck. He was home.
Big shock
. Rob usually was during the day. He didn’t officially have a job that rewarded him with a weekly paycheck. The only thing Rob did was work on his music.

Joelle knew better than to hope she’d come home to a quiet house. Usually, there were the band
’s endless supply of groupies and friends. Tonight, she wished desperately for all of them to vanish. She was tired, and emotionally strung-out like she couldn’t remember ever being. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore: who she was, who Rob was, or who they were together.

Ignoring the stomachache that plagued her anytime she had to face her husband, Joelle entered the house and bit her lip to hold in her nearly inaudible groan. Yes, of course there were people there. She
was the only wife, and the only girl, who stayed with the band for more than a few months. Sometimes she felt like she married Mitch, Kenny, and Spike along with her husband, who was the lead singer and lead guitarist.

They made up the struggling band,
Zenith
, which Joelle first heard her freshman year at college. They were playing in a local club. She was prim and proper back then. Her long hair was its natural brown color, her makeup soft, attractive, and she had a girl-next-door kind of prettiness. Somehow, Rob spotted her in the crowd. There was always a crowd at the club, and especially that night, for
Zenith
was new and just starting to earn a strong local following. Why Rob chose her from all the girls who fawned over him, Joelle, to this day, couldn’t say. She was star struck and almost stammered when Rob first spoke to her.

Why wouldn’t she be? She was eighteen, still a virgin, and her only real experiences with men were as her classmates. Then suddenly, Rob strode into her life. He was like no one she had ever known. He made quiet, mousey, little Joelle O’Niel into a person who was worth knowing, worth being around
, and worth wanting. He was so cool, and popular, the “king” of any crowd he was in. And he liked
her
.

He also looked unlike any man she’d ever met before. His hair was dyed a harsh black, spiked up off his scalp, and tattoos covered both of his arms. He had earrings, eyebrow rings, and a nose ring. His smile
could leave a girl thinking of nothing but him. He was older and experienced, a singer, and talented enough to become a famous rock star. How could she, plain, ol’ Joelle, have stood a chance? He was slim, and very well built, standing about five-foot-seven, but all muscle and olive-toned, swarthy skin. His voice caressed each and every girl he ever sang to. Rob was as charismatic as Joelle was naive, and it didn’t take long before she became completely awed by him.

He told her much later that when he spotted her that fateful night in the crowd, she was it for him; he wanted no one else, but her. For him, it was love at first sight. Each time Rob told her that, her heart still flipped over with excitement. The rush. The tingle. The love. God, she loved Rob.

And Rob chose her.

It wasn’t until later that she realized he wasn’t just out for a one-night-stand. He was serious about wanting her, and about loving her from that night onward.

Rob Williams literally swept her away, and changed her life, making that momentous night the new start of her life. She returned to college, but not for long. In only a few months, she was spending all her time with Rob and the band, rather than attending her classes. It was sooner, rather than later, that she flunked out. Then her hair suddenly seemed too prim and proper, and she got her first tattoo, her first piercings, and her first color streaks through her hair. Within only a year, Rob asked her to marry him, and she accepted. They went to Vegas, got married, and spent the last of their money on their honeymoon. It was a blurry week of sex, drinking, drugs and Rob gambling. He unfortunately lost more than he won, but all the while, they happily lived and breathed each other. Joelle felt she’d never be able to return to any semblance of a normal life, or what she previously considered normal.

And she couldn’t. Rob only worked when he intended to buy something specific, or when the bills mounted up too high. Then he would suddenly become a bartender, a waiter, or a taxi driver, for a week, a month, once for even three months, until they paid off the bills and were, once more, current, at which time, he quit. They
sometimes lived almost hand to mouth.

But Rob always promised Joelle that it would only be that way
until the band made it big. And Joelle believed, right down to her core, it was only a matter of time, before Rob got the recognition his talent truly deserved. And now, four years later, she still said it was just a matter of time, exposure, and having the right person hear them. Rob was a fantastic singer, performer, and bandleader. Their music encompassed hard rock to alternative, with a few surprisingly tender ballads interspersed. All they needed was a big break.

The first year,
Zenith
struggled very hard, routinely playing gigs and practicing in all their spare time. They developed a real following in Seattle, but it went to their heads. All of them, even Joelle, quit their day jobs so they could leave town and start touring. They traveled down to L.A., and wound up with nothing to show for it, but rejection. By the time they came back to Seattle, completely broke and broken, the fans they previously had were gone. It had been too long. Now, they had to start over, and none of them were the hard-working, eager musicians they previously were, even though it was only two years ago.

They discovered the joys of drugs and alcohol in their quest for not just stardom, but also recognition. They wanted to be known for their truly extraordinary talent. So when any kind of disappointment occurred, they used it as an excuse to party.

Then everything changed. Now, they only seemed to party more than work, and rarely wrote new songs, or practiced, or even played music anymore.

Rob and she never lived alone, but always with the band. From the start, Kenny and Mitch resented her, and often complained about her. Rob, on the other hand, liked living with the band. The only one who was nice to Joelle was Spike
. Spike was so named for the Mohawk-style in which he wore his hair. He was strangely always nice to her, sometimes more considerate of her feelings than even Rob.

So she worked, cooked, cleaned, and ran errands for the band, while they practiced during the day, occasionally played clubs or parties in the evenings, but partied each and every night. At first, it was like living a dream
in one fantastic, no, outlandish party. One day followed another of music, late nights out, drinking, drugs, parties, and more friends and acquaintances than Joelle could ever imagine having in all her lifetime. Their life together was more active in the nighttime, than the daytime, and she had to admit it was fun. A starstruck kind of fun for her.

Eventually, however, things went too far. Too many parties, too many drugs, too much drinking and too many strange women hanging around.

And now she had just attended her first Al-Anon meeting.

What was wrong with her?
They partied. So what? They were a rock band. She was married to the lead singer; what did she expect? Home, hearth and dinner at five o’clock each night? No. That wasn’t their lifestyle or their destiny. They would soon be stars. And she now lived for that goal too.

Isn’t that
what she wanted? What she and Rob dreamed about? So what felt so wrong to her lately? Why couldn’t their dream be enough to make up for some of the not-so-nice factors of their lifestyle? Why did Joelle suddenly want so much more, and consider her lifestyle so much less?

Laughter echoed from the living room, and Joelle frowned at the offensive house smells as they reached her nostrils
. She walked down the hall to the living room, and found Kenny, who played drums, lounging on the sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table, and he glanced up at her with a scowl. Spike was leaning against the kitchen counter with one of his numerous groupies in his arms. Spike’s hair was gelled up into such sharp points, it was a wonder he didn’t cut himself. Spike, played the piano, and was quite brilliant at any classical piano arrangement. His undeniable talent was so at odds with his hair, his dark makeup, and pale, nearly gaunt look. He would easily scare a girl if he came up to her after dark. Spike caught Joelle’s eye from across the crowded room, and he lifted a hand in greeting. He rarely smiled, but tilted one side of his mouth at her.

Mitch came walking in from the bathroom, still buttoning his fly. The man was built like a linebacker, with huge arm muscles and an ego to match. Joelle hated him, and especially having to live in the same house with him.

When she spotted Rob, her heart lifted, and then dropped again as he stretched up from his crouched position and shut the refrigerator. He held the neck of a beer bottle loosely between his thumb and two fingers. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but failed to hide the unfocused quality of his pupils, or his booze-flushed face. Her stomach tightened painfully.

Rob came over, grabbed her waist in a hug, and nuzzled her neck. She wanted to enjoy him touching her, but instead, she now tensed as soon as he made contact,
and cringed at his overpowering smell. He smelled of beer and pot, and she wished tonight, of all nights, that he didn’t. She wished he could remember and care about the simple fact that it was both her birthday and their four-year wedding anniversary. Rob didn’t have the slightest clue what today was, although she reminded him two days ago. Now, he was too drunk to notice her, or them, or anything else. Her heart twisted in her chest, as his strong, stale breath blew over her face.

“Where ya been?” Rob asked, glancing at the stove clock.

“I had errands to run. Nothing special,” Joelle said vaguely. She skirted Rob, glancing at the kitchen and restraining a sigh. The sink was full of dirty, disgusting dishes. Trash and empty beer bottles were scattered everywhere, and full ashtrays covered the counters. It didn’t seem like so much fun sometimes, living each day in the setting of a rock band. Lately, it seemed more gross than glamorous, and a lot more dirty than fun. And why couldn’t one of them, any of them, reach under the sink to throw something away?

What was once
exciting, had become disgusting. She asked Rob recently if they could get their own place, just the two of them, like most couples. But he replied no, they couldn’t afford it. That’s why the band lived together, to cut down on expenses. It was all for the band, and always for the band.

But tonight, Joelle didn’t care about the band, whether they succeeded or not. Destiny be damned! Tonight it was gross, loud, and she was sick and tired of it. Tired of all of them. She wanted... what? What did she want? For four years, she not only accepted it,
she loved it. Now, suddenly it was all the same except she had a problem with it.

Worst of all, there was a terrible lingering stomachache, and a desire to avoid the house, the band, and even Rob sometimes. She kept wanting more. Wanting what? Wanting Rob to be gone all day at work and come home to dinner at night? Not sleeping until one and having to leave in less than an hour or so for a gig? Perhaps, she merely wanted her clothes, her coat, and her hair, not to smell of day-old partying just by walking through her own house.

She was ready to grow up.

Joelle shook her head. This was ridiculous. They were all grown-up, despite the appalling conditions of the house. They were a band, waiting to make it, ready for fame, and to be heard.
But all she wanted most of all was for Rob to be sober just for one evening. For her birthday and their anniversary. She doubted if he even could stay sober that long anymore.

He drank continuously now
, from whatever time he woke up in the afternoon and on; whether or not they had a show. She first noticed the increase a year ago, but found she was helpless to stop it, slow it, or even alter it. Nothing changed his behavior, no matter how much he drank, or how many different drugs he took. They routinely flowed through the house from all directions: coming from the band members, their groupies, friends, and actual drug dealers that even hung out at the house sometimes. No wonder she was losing her battle for Rob’s sobriety.

Finally
, she admitted that what Rob was doing was more than partying, more than a phase, and more than just fun. The intoxication was becoming Rob and the only thing that mattered in his life. Words like “alcoholism” and “alcoholic” began to occupy her mind. And still, she didn’t know what to do, or what to think, much less what to say to Rob about it.

Joelle glanced up and found Spike’s gaze on her, his eyes appearing sympathetic. His mouth tightened,
as he nodded his head. Spike knew. He understood what her problem was. He was Rob’s best, and he didn’t know how to stop Rob anymore than she did.

She
retreated to their room. She and Rob took the master bedroom, which she tried to fix up with a few candles, some framed pictures of them, and a nice comforter. It didn’t stink as much in there. She lay back on the bed, exhausted. Confused. Still unsure of why she went to the meeting tonight. What did it mean? Anything? Everything?

The door opened and Rob came in. He smiled at her
and approached where she lay.
Did he remember?
He lay down next to her until she turned into his embrace.

“We wrote a new song. It’s good, baby. It’s going to be the best yet,” he said, after a
while. She knew “we” meant Rob and Spike. They were the real talent of the band. Mitch and Kenny were the nuts and bolts. Rob and Spike were the inspiration, the creation, and the brilliance.

“Will you play it for me tomorrow?” Usually, she wanted to hear a new song right then and there, but today, she couldn’t muster the interest.

“You okay?” Rob asked.

“Yeah. Sure,” she lied. But was she? No, she wasn’t. She was exhausted from worry, not having enough money, from Rob, and stress, along with all the work that needed to be done. And it was her birthday. It would be nice if her husband noticed that. “I just wish the house wasn’t so disgusting.”

“I know things have been tough for you lately. I’ll talk to the guys, and get them to clean it up bit.”

“I’m tired. I need help. I need
–”

“I’ll make it better. I need you, baby, you know that, right? All of this, none of it matters without you.”

Then why won’t you quit drinking?
She was too tired to have the same fight again. She pressed her lips together to keep the words from spilling out. The worst thing was: she believed Rob. He loved her. He did want her to be happy. And she had been. Until lately. Lately, nothing could bring that old feeling of comfort back.

“Work is crap. Then coming home to them… Sometimes, I j
ust want you.”

“I know. I want you too. Quit that fucking job. It’s not worth feeling so bad over.”

“I can’t just quit! We need the money. You know that.”

Rob would quit. If he were her, he’d have already quit. He quit more jobs th
an she could remember. He quit because he didn’t like it, or because he was inspired to write a song, and he always preferred to stay home to write, instead of working. He quit because someone pissed him off. Or because he was hung over. Or because he simply didn’t feel like getting up that day.

In contrast, Joelle didn’t. College was the only thing she ever quit. She only quit to join Rob, and be with Rob, and they were, for over a year, nearly inseparable. No jobs, no parents, no one, but each other, and sex, and music, and the band. They did whatever they wanted when they wanted to. They were like irresponsible children on a continual vacation.

Then, reality hit them hard and their vacation ended. Bills needed to be paid. They had to grow up. Joelle became a waitress at a café. Then she was forced to add shifts at the grocery store, on nights and weekends. This went on for two years. When she finally quit one job to go to beauty school, they nearly had to apply for food stamps. But now she worked in a hair salon downtown, on a street filled with more tattoo parlors and bars than anything else. But her clientele tended to like lots of color, and Joelle could charge a lot for hair colors. She also worked odd shifts for one of the local motels as a housekeeper. It all helped pay the bills, but there was never enough. They never had any disposable income.

Except for alcohol. And drugs. Those were never absent from the house.
There would have been a whole lot more if Rob could have gotten and held a job.

Joelle’s energy at pointing out the obvious had escaped her recently. Although Rob tried to understand her, and sincerely felt bad for her, he reacted to her discomfort by holding her, and reminding her why they had to live this way. She loved him, desperately, and completely. She believed in him wholeheartedly too. His singing voice was like a rich, deep, toned angel. He could create songs that sounded heavenly too. He was brilliant. He didn’t deserve to wallow in poverty either. He should have been a millionaire for his astonishing caliber of talent. She knew that, and still believed it to her
core; she had since the first night she ever heard him. That was why, for the first few years, she never minded the low-paying jobs, the moving around, and routine upheaval, which accompanied their lifestyle and poverty.

Now, however, it wasn’t enough. Joelle lay there on the bed, after another long, pointless day, of coming home to her house, which was so unlike a home, and hearing Rob
tell her to quit her job, had her curling up in a tight ball. She turned her head away from him so he couldn’t see the tears drifting silently over her face and onto the bed. He just didn’t get it. What she did every day, how hard she had to work, for them, for him, for their dreams, and how taking care of all the mundane details of their life, while he and the band sought their fame and fortune, wasn’t fun, and it was killing her.

To top it all off, most of the time, Rob was too buzzed or drunk to notice her exhaustion, or even that she was home.

“My car sounds like it isn’t going to start one of these days. And then what?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. We always do. Baby
, I’m telling you, it isn’t going to be like this forever. I have a feeling with this new song. I promise you, one of these days–”

One of these days they
would make their fortune. Couldn’t she just hang in there a little longer? She’d heard his speech many times before.

“I’m tired. I can’t shake it.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” he said, wrapping a hand over her stomach, and she jumped at his touch.

“No. I am most definitely not pregnant.”

“It would be amazing. You, me and a baby! What could be better?”

She nearly bit her tongue off to avoid saying her sarcastic retort.
Rob’s brain cells must have been completely fried. What did he think? Sure, if he felt like taking a hit, he could just throw the baby into a crib all day and ignore it while she worked to make money that didn’t cover the bills they had already. Sure, he could just get high and create songs at will, sing at will, and only take the baby out, like some kind of doll, when he felt like it. Sounds wonderful!

She loved Rob, she really did. But sometimes, she was too cognizant of his faults, and his ne’er-do-well lifestyle. What mother in her right mind would bring a kid into that? God help her, if she ever thought becoming a mother with Rob was a good idea.

“It’s not going to happen for us.”

Stretching, he got up. His posture was sloppy. He grabbed the beer he left on the dresser and took
a long drink. They had a ten o’clock gig at a club near the college with a crowd who would be nearly as high and drunk as the band. Joelle intended to skip it. For the first few years, she never missed them playing, not even one performance. Now, she only went when she didn’t have to work the next day; and lately, that was never.

He leaned over, kissing her long and hard. His sexual appetite remained as strong for her as the very first time. Alcohol never seemed to impede it. The problem was her weariness, which ruined it for her.

“It’s a great idea to have a baby. Just think about it.”

Birth control pills made her feel sick so they relied on condoms.
Lately, however, Rob was getting less inclined to put them on. He complained they were married, and he didn’t want to wear them anymore. She feared that the more Rob thought having a baby was a great idea, the more likely, at some point, he’d get his way. After all, Rob convinced her of everything he wanted so far and she’d easily complied with any of his requests.