So Close (a James Hetfield story)

Chapter 30

"Hey, you ok?"

It took me a moment to realize the question was directed at me. Jerking my head up from where I'd been staring down at the pavement, I realized the question was coming from one of the crew who'd been passing by with an armful of cabling.

"Yeah. No yeah, I'm good." I wasn't about to unload to a complete stranger.

He raised a speculative eyebrow at my brushoff and nodded at the purse in my lap. "Are you sure? Unless your bag there pissed you off or owes you money, you seem upset."

I looked down and realized I'd been winding the strap of my purse tight around my hand until all the color had drained from my fingers. Loosening my hold, I watched as blood flowed back out to my appendages before I turned back to the crew member and flashed him an embarrassed smile.

"I might be a little on edge," I conceded reluctantly, and I could see him hesitate for a moment; I assumed he was uncertain whether he should talk to me or get back to work. "It's nothing you have to concern yourself with though, I'll figure it out."

I gave him an out, but he ignored it. "Yeah well see, I'm not ok with letting people suffer alone. I've seen where that can lead." He paused for a moment, his eyes suddenly faraway. "So, no matter the person, no matter the circumstances, I butt in when I see someone who needs help...and you look like you're in need."

"I don't even know you." My guard was immediately up. "What makes you think I'd even let you help me?"

He stepped closer, and I could read the sincerity on his face and in his eyes. They were a clear bright blue that seemed incapable of ever hiding deceit. I don't know why, but I knew I could trust him.

"I'm not gonna force you to—" He stopped suddenly, and I realized he must have seen the flash of panic and pain in my eyes from his choice of words. His own eyes darkened with remorse. "Shit...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse."

"You didn't." I let out a breath. "It's this place, this country...it brings up old memories that I can't seem to move past."

He nodded in understanding. "I know how that goes. You think you're fine, you think you've healed, and then something brings it all back, a place, a song." His voice dropped to a low murmur then as if he was talking to himself. "Some memories you can never escape, they're with you all the time, as involuntary as breathing."

I felt my resistance begin to crumble at the obvious signs of his own suffering.

"So when you see someone hurting," I spoke quietly, "you wanna help because it relieves your own pain."

His eyes widened in surprise and he let out a small laugh. "I thought I was supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around."

I shrugged at that. "Maybe you have the right idea. Easing someone else's burden makes your own feel somehow less heavy."

"Does that mean you're doing better?"

I actually was surprisingly.

"I think so, yeah." I smiled faintly. "Guess I'm glad now I didn't just tell you to fuck off."

He snorted at that and gave me a nod before heading back to his task. I watched him go, thankful for a stranger's kindness at a time when I really needed it. Unconsciously, I reached for the necklace at my throat, realizing too late that I no longer wore it. I hadn't in four years, but that didn't stop me from reaching for it when I needed to feel calm. 

I laughed humorlessly at myself. "New journey, same old road blocks."

As much as James had broken me, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about him when I was feeling afraid or sad like now. I knew it was believable only in the realm of fantasy, but a part of me, no matter how much I told myself I was being an idiot, part of me could feel him reaching out to me in my times of need. Like he felt my pain across the distance and he was telling me I'd be ok. Maybe it wasn't so farfetched; there had been a time when we'd been best friends and we'd practically been able to read each other's minds. I wanted to believe that that time in our lives had meant something to him. However things had ended, no matter how terribly he'd treated me, I knew our friendship as kids had been genuine, maybe even in high school too. But the death of his mom and his dad leaving, it had fucked him up to the point where the ideas of love and commitment were meaningless to him. I couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for the boy who'd chosen the darkness over the light.