Take Care

The plane ride was long, to put it lightly. For a person who has traveled so much, I really hated being in airplanes.

I found myself in Heathrow in a half zombie state, clutching a cup of coffee and fending off a swarm of reporters. Thank God I had my team with me. They’ve been great about this whole thing. People don’t seem to realize that there are some things that people don’t want to talk about the the general public, and that there are some things that people aren’t even ready to talk about.

Honestly, my mom tried to get me to spill my heart out to her and I couldn’t do it. I went to a therapist and was met with the same problem. I don’t know how to explain how I feel about this without feeling like an idiot.

I remember watching Rihanna’s interviews after the whole Chris Brown fiasco and thinking, “wow she is so brave” and not being able to imagine how she felt.

Well, now I know. The embarrassment of falling in love with a person who did such a horrible thing, how terrible it is to have your dirty laundry aired out to the whole entire world, to be considered as a victim. I even knew what it was like to want to return to the person who did that. I knew, deep down, that Evan wasn’t a completely awful human being. I knew he still cared for me. I was foolish enough to think, at first, that he would never do it again.

Little did I know, the second and last time I would let him hit me, he would put me in the hospital.

The first time it happened, he was angry at me for making an off-hand comment on the red carpet. I was being interviewed by some perky television personality. The interviewer was asking me about my album and how it felt to finally become so successful in the music business.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Evan cut me off and answered it for me. I was vaguely aware of his hand clutching my back possessively. It’s like he was saying ‘no, your job is to be mine. Mine mine mine.’

The interviewer looked kind of surprised that he interrupted me, so I made a joke of the situation by saying something along the lines of, “oh he’s just proud of me, so he likes to speak out of turn.” I found it funny and she found it funny, but Evan didn’t. He just kind of put on a forced smile, but I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. I wasn’t nervous at the time, but I could tell he wasn’t going to let it go for a while.

The rest of the event went by without much incident, but when we got home, that’s when he unleashed his rage.

“How dare you embarrass me like that?” He roared at me, his face red and fists balled at his sides.

“Embarrass you? I was saving you from making an ass out of yourself! that question was directed towards me, yet you answered it. I had to make some sort of joke to ease the tension!”

“You just can’t stand that I’m more successful than you, can you?” He asked me, voice still raised.

“You know I’m your biggest fan, Evan. But sometimes it feels like you’re angry that I’m becoming something. It’s like you’re afraid I’ll surpass you.”

That’s when he hit me. Before I could register what was happening, his hand was on my cheek and my head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. It stung like hell.

“Oh my God, Astrid. I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I just--” He collapsed onto the floor in a fit of tears. I just stood there and held my raw cheek in my hand, unable to think clearly. I watched him for a few moments before I walked away and packed a bag.

“I’m going away for a few days.”

Evan didn’t make a move to stop me.

A few days later, after an emotional phone call, I returned to him because I was stupid and in love. He told me that he hated himself for what he did and that he loved me more than anything and he made a promise that he would never lay a hand on me again. I believed him.

Two months later, we got into a similar argument. It was over the music video for my second single. He thought it was too “racy” and that it gave off the wrong idea. He told me that 19 year olds shouldn’t be dressing like sluts and that I was making a mockery out of myself. I argued with him until I was blue in the face. I couldn’t believe the hurtful things he was saying to me. I said just about the dumbest thing I could have said to him.

“Why are you acting jealous? Is it because other people can see my body or is it because your album didn’t make it to the top ten?”

I knew it was a petty and awful thing to say to him and I regretted it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. The next thing I knew, I was trying to run away as he pulled on my arm and threw me to the floor, kicking my ribs with as much strength as he could muster. The neighbors must have heard my blood-curdling scream, because the police were there within minutes.

Cue me coughing up blood all over Evan’s floor. Cute the ambulance. Cue my manager’s frantic call to my mother. Cue my trip to hell and back.

I had to force myself to think about other things. Whenever I let my mind wander back to it, I would start to shake all over. I had to push the bad thoughts away and chase the nausea off. I could not allow myself to live in fear or let my past dominate my future. I was a whole new Astrid Jonsson and the no one would look at me and think I was weak.

“Astrid?” I jumped slightly, being brought back to earth by Effie.

“Hm?” I answered.

“We’re at your hotel, dear.” I nodded and exited the car. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for me to zone out nowadays.

“You’ll be meeting with One Direction and their team at 9 am sharp tomorrow, so be sure to get plenty of sleep.”

That wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. In fact, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

The next morning, it felt like I hadn’t slept at all, when in fact I was in some sort of Rip Van Winkle state of sleep for the entire night, seeing as I was in the same exact position I fell asleep in.

I took my time to get ready, not wanting to look like a complete bonehead for when I met the world’s favorite boyband. As soon as I was content with my appearance, I grabbed my bag, phone and sunglasses and was out the door. Effie was waiting outside my door, not surprisingly at all.

“Rick is enjoying the breakfast buffet downstairs, but he should be meeting us in the lobby any minute now.”

“No breakfast for me?” I gave her a side look, making sure I stuck my bottom lip out as far as it could go. She merely rolled her eyes at me.

“Don’t worry, I have my assistant grabbing you coffee and a croissant as we speak.”

“I could have gotten it myself. Your poor assistant doesn’t have to do such mundane things for me.” I felt bad. I didn’t want to be one of those celebrities who couldn’t even fetch food for themselves.

“He’s more than happy to run errands for you, you know. Plus, he’s being paid to run errands.” I shrugged at her response, not wanting to argue about it before I had caffeine in my bloodstream.

Effie’s assistant was waiting for us in the lobby, caramel macchiatto and croissant in hand.

“I love you,” I greeted, grabbing the items from his hands. He blushed and coughed a small, ‘you’re welcome’ before scurrying off.

“You need to stop scaring my assistant away,” she reprimanded, trying to fight off an amused smile.

“S’not my fault I’m such a charmer,” I told her, mouth full of croissant. She wrinkled her nose at me.

“Don’t speak with food in your mouth.”

“Sorry,” I said while chewing.

“Good morning, ladies!” I heard a booming voice behind us.

“Rick! Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,” I greeted, putting on my best Irish accent.

“Don’t be doing that in front of the boys, you’ll embarrass yourself,” Effie warned me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll refrain from showing them my personality for at least a week or two,” I smiled at her innocently.

“Great,” she answered sarcastically. I loved Effie. She was only 30 years old, yet she seemed like a second mother to me at times. Rick was great, too. He had this uncanny ability to make me feel safe at times when I thought the crowds of people would suffocate me. He also had a mischievous streak, and didn’t mind partnering up with me to play pranks on Effie. This was an activity that he enjoyed much more than she did. It always left us in stitches.

“Shall we head out, then?” Rick asked, looking at both of us.

“Yes, we shall,” He held his arm out at his side, in a mock-gentlemanly manner and I took it, skipping slightly to the car waiting for us out front. Effie merely laughed at my antics and followed. I think she was just grateful that I could still smile, even if it was at her expense.

I got in the back with Effie, since Rick was a big dude and would be much more comfortable sitting up front in a Mercedes-Benz.

“I hope we don’t get stuck in traffic,” Effie was already checking her watch nervously. “I don’t want to be late and make a bad impression.”

“What, do you think five boys are going to bite your head off?” I asked her.

“No, but maybe their manager will. He’s quite known for biting peoples heads off. I think you might have heard of him? Simon Cowell. He was a judge on--”

“I know who he is!” I snapped jokingly. “You need to relax, Effie. It’ll be okay. You’re not auditioning for the X-Factor.”

She narrowed her eyes at me but took a deep breath, attempting to cool her nerves.

“Want me to sing you a song?” I asked her.

“No.”

“You’re insecure-”

“Stop it!”

“Don’t know what for-”

She groaned and placed her hands on her face. I didn’t stop, though, until the song was completely over. She gave a relieved sigh when I stopped singing, but her relief was cut short by my particularly loud and pitchy rendition of “Baby,” by Justin Bieber.

Effie nearly ran out of the vehicle as soon as we came to a stop.

“Finally! We’re here,” she smiled big at me. “Are you ready to meet the world’s biggest heart throbs?”

I swallowed nervously.

“I- I think I’ll stay here. I’m cool.”

“Astrid, you get out of that car this instant,” she was using her motherly voice on me.

“Um, no thanks,” my voice was small. I wasn’t ready for them all to look at me with their sympathetic faces, lingering glances looking for remaining scars. I didn’t want to face the awkward clearing of throats and the scratches to the back of their heads, coupled with the embarrassing, ‘I’m sorry’s’

I guess I didn’t have much of a choice n the matter, though, because Rick was hoisting me out of the car and placing me next to Effie. I hated it when they ganged up on me like that. Note to self: put yourself in Effie’s shoes sometimes.

“Alright, let’s go!” She said brightly, leading me by the shoulders.