is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
― Lorca
I’m a success in the music industry and in love with a singer called Bernadette who sings in a local bar.
I should be happy but I’m not.
Truth is, the girl doesn’t love me back and it’s because of stupid things I did when I was younger that now have come back to haunt me.
I don’t blame the girl— my reputation as a womanizer was always talked about in the press and now Bernadette doesn’t belive that I’ve mended my ways.
The one positive thing I’ve achieved is convincing her to go with me to the Music Awards, but even then, she merely agreed to meet me there.
So, here I am in the foyer at The Juno’s wondering if the girl will show.
“You’re going to wear out that carpet pacing back and forth, “ Gerry, my agent, laughs.
“What if she doesn’t show, Ger?”
“I’d be more worried if she does—you know these things sometimes get out of hand.”
I was thinking about that too—the party scene, the drinking, the loose conversations—was this the right venue to bring Bernadette—to a place where I have almost no control?
“She’s here,” Gerry chirps.
She’s dressed in a black Terani styled evening gown. It accentuates her slim figure and spills over her hips, tapering down to a subtle flutter at her feet.
I take her hand as she approaches, and lean close and whisper, “You look stunning.”
Her smile lights the room and I feel blinded by her sun. Then, I remember Gerry standing behind me.
“Bernadette, I’d like you to meet Gerry Fishman, my agent.”
Gerry is all smiles. “I’ve heard so much about you, Ms. Owens, but words alone can’t convey your beauty. You look very elegant tonight.”
And so it goes all evening—Bernadette surrounded by admiring men and basking in the attention.
The music and wine flow freely and I’m mentally congratulating myself on my decision, until Allie Starr, my ex, spots me from across the room.
Allie has been drinking with several producers and is obviously past the point of being tipsy—actually, her laughter tips me off to her presence, but unfortunately, I don’t have much warning before she crosses the room to confront me.
Over the span of two years, the two of us have had an off-again, on-again relationship, but it has definitely been off for the past six months. Still, that doesn’t deter Allie. She’s boisterous and unruly when drunk, and tonight is no exception.
“Well, hello, stranger—have you been avoiding me?”
She’s wavering from side to side, her eyes glassy.
I see Gerry instinctively take Bernadette’s elbow, intending to lead her away—but Allie spots the gesture too.
“Oh don’t bother trying to be gallant, Gerry—she’s going to find out soon enough what Paul Chambers is all about.”
He hisses under his breath, “For God’s sake, Allie—don’t make a scene.”
“Why? You afraid I’m gonna spoil the party and upset Paul’s new fling?”
She offers Bernadette a mock toast with her glass, and chuckles harshly, “You’re not going to last, Honey—he’ll dispose of you like he did me—once he gets what he wants.”
Before I can respond, Bernadette turns on her heel and storms from the room. Gerry stares helplessly after her.
With a gleam of victory in her eyes, Allie puts on a little girl voice, “Sorry to ruin your night, Paul—maybe you’ll just have to go home with me.”
Gerry motions to a waiter who discreetly escorts her out.
“Sorry, Paul—tried to guide Bernadette out of harm’s way, but Allie was hell-bent on getting her revenge.”
“It’s not your fault, Ger,” I sigh, “you did the best you could. I guess my past just keeps coming back to haunt me.”
He looks crestfallen, but there’s nothing to be done. There’s nothing anyone can do.
I leave the room and drive back to my apartment, resigned to accepting defeat. The life I built and the relationships I made have finally crushed me, and any hope of reforming is just a vain dream.
I uncork a bottle of Shiraz, pour a glass and take it out to the terrace—the familiar stars are all there—and so too is the loneliness and emptiness.
I realize again with painful clarity who I am and how I got here and it’s the classic case of taking drugs and getting high to bury feelings and fill up a hollowness.
I click on the CD player, but Bernadette’s song starts playing. I can’t handle that now. I change the track, but it’s her again.
Finally, I select a random mix and lean against the railing, staring out at the jumble of lights. The song that’s playing sums up my life.
Never knew what I’ve been looking for,
Or why they left me, always needed more,
Never asked where love was coming from,
I’ve been hoping, Darling, you’re the one…
The lyrics tear at me—exasperated, I fling the wine glass at the wall and slump down in defeat onto the patio stones.
I moan in pain. I can’t do this anymore—I’m done.
“Done with being alone, or done with me?”
I turn to see Bernadette standing in the shadows.
“Bernadette! How did you…”
“Gerry gave me the key. He told me what you’ve been going through. I’m sorry, Paul—I really had no idea.”
“Oh great—just what I need—a pity party, as if I don’t have enough of this already.”
“I didn’t come here out of pity, Paul.”
“No—then why did you come.”
“I came to tell you something.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
She grabs my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “You are the one.”
My shield of self pity collapses and when I am able to take a deep breath I realize Life has given me a reprieve…
And I will not take it lightly or ever do anything to disappoint this girl or fail again.