Brick by Boring Brick

When you’re famous, everyone knows your name. Well, that’s not exactly the way it worked out for me. People knew my name, sure. They would shout to me, giggle when they said it. But it wasn’t my name that they called. It was my stage name. The name I never wanted, but was talked into using. I was never Twiggy Ramirez. I was always Jeordie White.
I let my hand gently stroke the fabric of the lime green dress lying on my bed. How many nights had I worn that dress? I had even worn it to a music video shoot. Everyone had seen me wear it in the Dope Hat video. Now, it was old and ratty, falling apart. Much like I was. It was littered with stains. Sweat, blood, liquor, dirt, probably some drugs, too.
Lifting up the dress, I stared at it hard. It was time to throw it away. I wasn’t Twiggy any more. I didn’t need it. I was Jeordie now. Not that I had really ever stopped being Jeordie.
The past year of my life had been such a mess. It was only now that I was getting back on track. Still, I felt miserable. I needed a drink. But, that was out of the question. I hadn’t spent most of my savings on rehab to slide back down that slippery slope.
No one had really understood why I’d left the band. I let them think that Brian and I were fighting, which we were. But it was about my lifestyle that we’d been arguing about, not the band. I’d reached a point where all that had mattered to me was when I’d get the next bottle of whiskey or someone would offer me the next drug that would get me high. It had consumed me.
I couldn’t forget that night, when I’d packed my bags and left. It had started after a show the night before. I’d gotten so wasted that I couldn’t even move. Brian had found me, like always, and had taken care of me, like always. He was my big brother- he protected me, watched out for me.
I was so high that I didn’t know what was going on. I felt him put me down on the hotel bed, and that was it. I was aware that he was talking, but I didn’t process anything he was saying. The next thing I knew, Kenny, Stephen, and John were all there, all yelling at me that I had to stop this destructive cycle.
Though I had no idea, really, if it was true or not, Brian put me in a chair the next morning and gave me the first and only lecture he would ever give me. He told me that I had nearly overdosed the night before, and that he couldn’t and wouldn’t continue covering things up for me. I needed professional help. I was going to kill myself if I didn’t shape up.
Angry and bitter, I said some things, and he said some things back. Long story short, I packed my things, and I left. Took the first plane back to LA, and cleared all of my things out of the house we’d been sharing. I changed my phone number, and told myself that I didn’t need him or anyone else.
Two weeks later, when I’d reached the lowest point I felt I could possibly reach, I checked myself into rehab, where I’d spent four months getting clean and sober. It had been a huge step for me, but one that was necessary. Brian was right- I would’ve died, if I’d stayed in the band.
Out of rehab, I took time to visit my family. I missed them, and I needed to be around people who loved me unconditionally. Brian called a few times while I was home, but I never came to the phone, and I never returned his calls. It wasn’t entirely my idea, it had been part of my rehab, that I’d agreed to stay away from triggers that caused me to want to drink or get high.
Now, it had been almost a year to the day, and I was cleaning out the closet filled with everything I’d put into storage when I’d moved out of Brian’s house. I knew that it all had to go. It was a part of my life, but it seemed like someone else’s life, now. I was no longer that person. I was someone else now. I was stronger, wiser, braver. All of the things Brian had wanted me to be when I’d started my downhill spiral.
I took the dress into the bathroom, and held it up in front of me while I looked into the mirror. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine that I had ever worn it. When had I decided that I should wear dresses instead of pants? Even though it felt like that whole period of my life was more of a hallucination than a memory, I remembered that I had once loved the free feeling of wearing a dress.
Silently, I stripped down to my underwear, and pulled the lime colored garment over my head. It still fit, though it sagged in a few places, and was tautly stretched to the breaking point in the seams in others. I was looking at my reflection when I heard the doorbell ring. Not thinking, I went to answer it, still in the dress.
“Well, look at you!”
My eyes widened. I must’ve been hallucinating.
“Are you gonna invite me in, or what?”
I simply stared. He hadn’t changed one bit. He looked exactly as I remembered he had the night I’d left.
“I thought you were sober now. What’s the matter?”
I silently backed up, letting Brian come in. He shut the door behind him.
“Still wearing that nasty dress, I see.”
I took a few steps back, crashing into the back of my ratty striped sofa.
“Have you been waiting for me?”
I shook my head no.
“Don’t you talk any more?”
I opened my mouth, but I truly didn’t know what to say. I was so shocked to see him. How had he even found me?
“Twiggy? Jeordie?” He raised a hand, and for a moment, I thought he was going to slap me. Instead, he gently touched my cheek.
“Marilyn. Brian.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was a sad one. “How are you?”
“Okay.”
“So…can I sit down?”
I nodded, and we both sat on the sofa.
“Well, this is quite the place you’ve got here.”
“I spent most of my savings on rehab. I went to the best one in the country.”
“So I heard. How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“So, you’re sober now?”
“Yes.”
There was a long, heavy silence.
“Well, good for you.”
“Brian, why are you here?”
He raised one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Just wanted to see if you were still alive, I guess.”
“And?”
“You look plenty alive to me.”
“I miss you,” I confessed. “The band, I mean.”
“We’re doing just fine, but I assume you already know that.”
I nodded, looking down at my hands, twisting nervously in my lap.
“I didn’t come here to ask you to come back, if that’s what you think.”
“I didn’t.”
“Good. I don’t want you back.”
I shut my eyes. Part of me wanted to cry. The man sitting beside me had once been my best friend. I couldn’t imagine a world in which he would’ve said those words to me a year ago. We had grown so far apart that we would probably never repair the damage I’d done to our friendship.
Brian gently put a finger under my chin and lifted it up so that he could look into my eyes. “I’m not trying to be cruel. You know that, don’t you? I don’t want you back because I want you to be happy and healthy. I came here because I wanted to see you, to talk to you. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too,” I quietly confessed.
“I’d really like to stay friends. Do you think that you could be my friend without it getting in the way of your sobriety?”
“I…don’t know.”
“The others don’t know I’m here. You know, it took me a while to find you.”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
He stared at me for a moment, like he was about to get mad, but then, his expression softened. “I shouldn’t have come. I have no right to disrupt your life again. You made it clear to me, when you took your things and left, that you wanted your own life that didn’t include me.”
“No. I…I’m glad you came. I really am.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend.”
He reached over, and carefully put his arm around my shoulders. “How about you go change, and I’ll take you out to lunch? We can get whatever you want. We can catch up, like long lost friends.”
I smiled. “That sounds good, but I do have one request.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to wear the dress.”
Brian laughed, and ruffled my shortish, straight hair. “There’s the friend I know and love.”
While I searched for socks and boots, I looked in at the couch, where Brian sat, wondering how this was going to go. I was happy that he was going to be a part of my life again, and I was glad that he wasn’t pressuring me to be in the band again. As hard as the past year had been on me, I knew that it had been hard on him, as well.
Fully dressed in my ensemble, I twirled around for Brian, and he gave me the snide smirk I had expected. Maybe I wasn’t famous anymore, but I still felt like I was. Being Twiggy hadn’t been such a bad thing, really. Sometimes, it was good to be able to be someone else. But, then, it was always nice to be able to come home, put on some jeans, and just be plain old Jeordie.