Love Hides (in the Strangest Places)

Jim was slowly getting worse and worse with his temper; a few times he even lashed out at me. It’s not an overstatement when I say I was getting scared. The band was going to Dallas for a concert and obviously I tagged along. It was the night of the concert and I decided that I would stand in the crowd, so that I could get the full effect of the show. Girls were everywhere screaming for Jim, and drugged-up guys were tripping out to the music.

Even though no one knew the song yet, the band opened with L.A. Woman, and I smiled widely as Jim got up and winked at me. The whole concert went perfectly and I found myself getting lost in the music and Jim’s smooth, deep, rhythmic voice.

I began walking towards the backstage and to my surprise security wasn’t letting any of the girls in. I made my way to the front of the crowd and saw Jim waiting for me in the hallway. All the girls screamed when they saw him. Security recognized me and the man let me through with a “Hello, Ms. Rosser.” As soon as security let me through the girls started screaming and pushing. I ran up to Jim and jumped in to his arms. The girls screamed louder.

“How was I, babe?” he smiled.

“You were amazing!” I said, rubbing his now full beard.

Jim kissed me forcefully and yet again the crowd of girls screamed.

The next day we were in New Orleans. Once again, I stood in the crowd. But this night was nothing like the last night. It was an hour into the performance and so far it was okay. Until Jim stopped singing completely, he grabbed the microphone and swung it into the stage over and over again until the place where he hit was completely destroyed. I stood and looked on in horror until finally I pulled out of it and rushed to the room provided for the band. Jim was there, sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

(Warning: Next part is over dramatized.)

“Jim, what the hell was that? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I can’t fucking do this anymore!” he cried.

Jim lifted his head and I saw tears streaming down his face. I ran to him and threw my arms around him.

“Oh my God, James, tell me what’s wrong.” I said, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

The guys ran in after they had calmed down the audience, and stood there, looking at Jim sadly.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. Those fucking people don’t care about the music, about the words, all the girls care about is that I look good, and all the guys want is a good party and a chance of fucking whatever girl will let them.”

“James, why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked.

“I thought you wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t a rock star anymore.”

“James, I could never stop loving you and you know it! It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re a rock star or a poet or an Average Joe. I love you.”

Jim smiled and kissed me lightly, then looked up at the guys.

“Fuck, I’m sorry guys, I just flipped. I can’t do this anymore. You can find a new lead if you want.”

Ray smiled, “We’re not the Doors without you Jim. You were the start of the Doors.”

“Well, boys, we had a good run.” Robby said, lightening the mood.

“Fuck, you guys are gonna be legendary.” I laughed.

“Naw, we weren’t that good.” John says, smiling nervously.

“I beg to differ.” I smirked.

The record, L.A. Woman, came out in April and was sold quickly. No one, not even Pam, learnt that the record’s name and the title song were about me.

Of course we all stayed friends, how could we not? Jim and I still loved each other deeply but something was different, Jim was always nervous and he was treating me better than usual, as if he were hiding something.

One night, back at home, Jim made the sweetest love to me, as if I was a fragile sculpture that would break with any sudden movements. I sensed he was tense and as he lay with his back towards me and I stared at the back of his head, I asked a question that I regretted for a very long time afterwards.

“What’s wrong, James?”

“Will you stop fucking calling me James! My name is Jim!” he said annoyingly.

I looked at him frighteningly, “Jim, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He said in a mocking tone.

“What the fuck, Jim?”

“What do you want from me?” Jim yelled, getting out of bed and standing, looking at me menacingly.

“I don’t want anything from you.” I said quietly, “I want to know what’s been bothering you for the past week and a half!”

“I’m leaving.” Jim said, throwing on his clothes and heading for the door.

“Why?” I yelled, chasing after him, wrapped up in my sheets.

“I’m leaving with Pam, we’re going to Paris.” He said, standing in the doorway, his back towards me.

“You’re leaving me?” I asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” I asked, almost in tears.

“I don’t know.” Jim whispered softly, and he disappeared out the door, in to the dead of the night.

I fell against the wall and slid down until I was crouched in the corner and then I burst in to tears, sobbing into the sheets wrapped around me.