I feel normal again. It's crazy that I can get used to a life like this or consider any part of it "normal," but that's just how people operate, and I think that as long as I stay grateful, I don't have to be the exception. Writing songs with Scott feels normal. Touring together feels normal. Spending our lives with each other isn't so astonishing anymore; it's just the way things are meant to be. And now it's normal keeping an eye on his mental health. Tour is a lot of stress, but he's doing well. You wouldn't guess anymore, except perhaps by listening to some of his sadder songs, just how dark and oppressive a prison his mind used to be.
Tour is officially over when I get home and collapse in my bed. Just a few more hours now. We've practically made it. The glowy perfect phase of our relationship couldn't last forever, but even now that it's eased away, we haven't been bickering any more than when we toured as friends.
"M'bored," Scott proclaims.
"Wanna write a song?"
He pulls a face. We've written approximately two billion songs this tour, and a change of pace would be nice. How else are we supposed to spend our time, though? How did we used to? We drank, a lot. I've cut back significantly for Scott's sake. He insists I don't have to, but it's clear that just being around alcohol is taxing on him, and I don't want to make his life any harder than it has to be.
I guess I'm growing out of it too. I always kind of assumed I would, but that just doesn't happen for everyone. It could have been me. I could have been in Scott's position. Part of me wishes I had been instead of him, but I honestly don't know how I could have endured it. Just being apart, with Alex's love and support, and with no substance dependency or mental illness, already felt unbearable. You call someone strong when they endure difficulties because there's really not much else you can say. It's just a platitude often enough, but it's absolutely true. "Strong" really doesn't even begin to cover it. Scott is powerful, rugged, weathered, enduring, steadfast, mighty. He's been beaten down. Suffering weakened him, brought him to his knees, pushed him far beyond where his limits used to be, and came close to overcoming him, but healing made him stronger. Even while he was sinking, though, while he was weak and weary, arms trembling from holding his despair just high enough not to crush him, long before he started healing, even then, when he was losing, he was pushing, growing stronger.
I'm so grateful he's alive.
He's fiddling with a paper clip and trying rather unsuccessfully to think of a better activity. We used to hang out with the band, but Scott's band is just... meh. Ultra-professional, practice eight hours a day, zero personality. Scott gets along alright with the drummer, who's been around longer than the bassist and guitarist, but none of them were with him this time last year. People join Scott for the career boost, then take off as soon as someone will sign them solo.
What are our other options? We used to get coffee together, but we're stuck on a bus, and pressing a button just isn't the same experience as walking to Starbucks. And over coffee, we'd plan. "We used to spend time like this preparing Superfruit."
"It's eerie just thinking about it. You know that feeling when you go back someplace after being away for a long time, and everything looks smaller?"
"What if everything looks bigger?" What if we watch it and it's better? What if our lives then were better than they are now? What does that mean for us? "It stings, looking back."
"Not anymore. They'd envy us."
"They have the band. They're young, and they've been through a lot less. They're not worried about anything."
"We have each other."
It's not so different. More kissing, cuddling, and affectionate gestures, but we really are going slowly, neither of us pushing for more, and that's somehow okay because with him, I'm savoring every moment. I guess it is different from before, though, in some intangible way. I feel a deep satisfaction when I'm near him where there used to be a restless need to be clever, be beautiful, be outstanding, impress everyone. Impress him.
I know all about Heart-Eyes Hoying, as the fans dubbed him long ago. I start the first episode, and I already know to expect to see him staring at me adoringly when I'm not watching. I used to tell myself he was just good at paying attention. But what I'm not ready to see, what the fans didn't really warn me about, was Heart-Eyes Grassi. I'm more subtle than Scott is, but as an actor, I know my own face, and even though I looked different, it was written all over me. Now that I can call it what it is, it's plain as day that I was enamored from episode one, and I fell deeper and deeper in love every single week.
We don't make it very far into our marathon before we're both sobbing. I'm weeping for what we lost those three years we separated ourselves. I'm weeping for everything Scott suffered, and for everything we had that's gone now.
I'm weeping for how perfect Scott and I have always been together, and for the sheer beauty of everything we've gained. I cry tears of joy as I look back and see this is meant to be, that nothing could separate us permanently and nothing will. I didn't understand that when we were friends, and I didn't understand when I was with Alex, but Scott and I were inevitable. We were torn apart, almost crushed, almost lost, but it made us stronger. Scott's right. The boys on the screen, they might not understand, but if they could, they would envy us, because we're almost there.
