When in Rome(20)

“Rae! Oh thank GOD!” I have to hold the phone a little away from my ear so she doesn’t permanently damage my hearing. For a moment, her obvious relief fills me with bursts of warm fuzzy light. She noticed I was gone and was worried about me! For a brief moment, it feels like I’m talking to the old Susan who first reached out and cared so much about me in the early years of my career. But then she continues and all that light fades. “Where are you?! It’s really shitty of you to be late like this. And where has your phone been? I’ve been calling you all morning! You better be vomiting with a stomach bug is all I’m saying.”

She wasn’t worried about me. She’s worried about Rae Rose missing an interview.

“I’m not sick. I just…don’t have service.”

Susan laughs, but it’s clear she doesn’t find anything funny. “What are you talking about? You get great service in your house. Do you need me to order you a new phone? I’ll pick one up this morning because we can’t have this happening when—”

“Susan,” I say, cutting her off. “I’m not at home.”

A pause. “Okaaay,” she says slowly, finally clueing in on the change in my voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m…” I press my lips together and look over my shoulder toward the hallway that leads to Noah’s and my rooms. Do I tell Susan where I am? Do I trust that she won’t come bang down the door immediately or send a whole team of security personnel to trail me? For once, I feel a taste of freedom and I’m terrified to lose it. “I’m taking a vacation before the tour.”

“You’re…taking…a…vacation.” She says it all painfully slow, like a parent giving their child a chance to rectify the thing the child previously said.

I shut my eyes and steel myself. “Yes.”

This time she lets out one frightening laugh. “You’re kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. I’m taking some time away for myself because…” Noah’s question from this morning pops into my head. You need permission to eat? Suddenly, I don’t feel like explaining. I feel like being a piggy bank. “Because I need it.”

Susan is not happy. The silence is so tense I feel myself beginning to waver. If she pushes this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold out. “You have obligations. Lots and lots of them, Rae. What do you want me to do? Just call and cancel them? It’s promo for your tour! This is all to help you achieve your dreams and people have put aside precious time to accommodate you.”

Ugh, I hate the way she makes me sound. Suddenly, I feel like a spoiled brat who needs a time-out to learn her lesson. Like all I ever do is think about myself. I’m starting to think if that were true, though, I wouldn’t feel like the numb pile of garbage that I have lately. And the thing is, I never put up a fight. I never miss interviews, and I try to always be gracious with other people’s time. This is the one instance where I’ve backed out of something. That has to count, right?

Noah turns the corner and when he sees me on the phone, does a half turn, pivoting into the living room and dropping himself onto the couch in a surprisingly boyish way. It’s unnerving having him there, listening even though he’s pretending not to.

I turn away from Noah and twist the rubber phone cord around my finger. “I’m really sorry, Susan. I’m just really tired and need some space to breathe and feel like myself again.”

Early on, Susan and I were very close and talked about everything. I remember not long after my career took off, she took my mom and me on a radio tour. Susan booked us in the nicest hotels, and then after each interview, we went to all the best touristy sightseeing places and fun restaurants for dinner. Or we’d just order room service and watch movies in our plush hotel robes—laughing like friends. It was the best, I had my mom and a friend in my manager. Life was still exciting and new, and fame hadn’t burned me yet.

During those days and nights, we talked extensively about my dreams and what I wanted out of this career. Susan was so invested and loving. Patient and understanding. I’m not sure when she stopped being those things, but it’s clear to me now that the Susan I used to know is long gone.

I miss her, as well as the bright-eyed girl who played music and sang because if she didn’t, the world felt wrong. Who woke up early in the morning because a song lyric was buzzing in her head that she had to write down. The girl whose fingers and back ached wonderfully at the end of the day from getting lost at the piano for too long.

But part of me wonders if Susan even noticed she’s gone.

“We’re all tired, Rae, but you don’t see us just quitting and putting people out like you did this morning. Now, look. I’ll give you through the weekend and then you have to come back. Also I need to know where you are so I can send Will to stay with you.” Will—my bodyguard. He will follow me everywhere. And while I normally appreciate and need him with me, I think of Mabel and the soft pat of her hand this morning, and I don’t feel like Will’s presence here is necessary.

I realize I’ve turned back to Noah when he looks over his shoulder and our eyes meet. “I don’t need Will. I’m safe and staying under the radar.”

“No. Unacceptable. I’ve got a pen, now tell me your address. Also, you’re still going to need to do some over-the-phone press interviews while you’re there. It’s important we keep momentum up before the tour. You’ll have time to rest on the tour bus in between venues.” Geez, has Susan always been this much of a steamroller? I feel flattened to the ground.