Cross My Heart

Ronnie

March, 2006

A breeze rippled through the courtroom, brushing delicately through my tenderly intoxicated mind until I found myself becoming stone cold sober once again. I hadn’t had a drop to drink all day and my hands were beginning to shake, a cold sweat breaking out over my forehead and my body twitching nervously. He could see it, his piercing gaze penetrating the underside of my skin as I stared forward, trying to ignore the gentle voices and my baby’s soft voice, his face poking through the blanket that he was bundled up into.

I glanced over my shoulder, checking on my older brother as he cradled his nephew in his arms, sending a filthy look in Alex’s direction. Alex had filed for divorce just a few months ago and now, we were back stuck in the same court room, with him demanding custody of our son, Brent. He had demanded that his son be put into the hands of someone who wasn’t a drunk, someone who could bother to take care of a child so young and so precious. When I had read the papers, I had promised myself that I would keep Brent with me and that Alex would have no interference in the way that I raised my family.

“Ms Haner, Mr Goldberg? If you’d like to step forward to the bench.” The judge murmured and with one final glance at Brian, who smiled softly and offered me a comforting nod, I followed Alex towards the judge’s bench. If this swung in Alex’s favour, I would rarely see the wonder that was my little baby boy, and even then, only on Alex’s designated terms. My stomach churned slightly at the thought of having him ripped away from me and I stumbled slightly in my shoes as I walked, trying to keep myself still. As I stopped beside Alex, he scowled, distorting his once handsome features.

“I bet you’re drunk off your ass right now- you can’t even walk straight.” He muttered and as much as I wanted to reply, I clenched my fists as tightly as I could, keeping my gaze straight onto the elderly man in front of me.

“I’ll have you know I haven’t touched anything all day.” I breathed in reply, barely moving my lips together as I tapped my feet impatiently, awaiting the verdict that would either tear my world apart, or begin to bandage it back together, stitch by stitch. His face contorted once again into one of complete disbelief, but for once I didn’t blame him.

“I hereby grant custody of Brent Colbie Goldberg to his father, Alexander Christopher Goldberg. His mother Veronica Juliette Haner may visit accordingly, according to Mr Goldberg’s terms. Case dismissed.”

Almost immediately, my knees buckled, my heart beating out a broken rhythm in my chest as Alex smiled triumphantly, turning on his heel and stalking towards my older brother, his arms outstretched. Brian didn’t try to fight him, not even a little bit, and as Brent was snatched out of his arms, the baby began to wail loudly, my heart clenching even further that it already was, constricting tightly. Suddenly, I kicked away the ridiculous shoes on my feet and ran towards the back of the courtroom, bursting through the gateway that separated the floor from the seating, screaming after Alex.

“That’s my baby! That’s my baby!” I shrieked, watching as Alex stalked away with our child in his arms, clutching the custody papers within his sweaty grasp. I tried to move once again, but a weight blocked my path and almost immediately, Brian wrapped his arms around me and held me still, waiting for me to surrender to him. For a moment, I pounded my fists against his chest, wailing in sync with my child as he was moved away from me.

“Why didn’t you try and fucking stop him? Why didn’t you save him, Brian?” I cried into his chest, only giving up when I heard his soothing words float into my ear, his long fingers tangling their way into my hair as he tried to calm me down the best that he could. Brian and I had grown up together; the pair of us leaned on each other for moral support like bricks, moulded side by side together to create the foundations of a home.

“You know why I didn’t fight, Ronnie,” Brian whispered between hushes, my head resting against the curve of his long, sweet smelling neck, “You know damn well I would have if I thought he was wrong.”

At my brother’s harsh words, I felt my tears begin to dry up, the full extent of my years of hanging on the edge of the rails, just ready to fall off, had brought to both my family and friends. Brian’s friends liked their liquor and the partying side of fame, but once I’d dived in too deep, there was no saving me. I was heading for disaster. My eyes turned from the stained fabric of Brian’s dark shirt towards the large glossy window at the edge of the courtroom, staring out towards the parking lot. Alex was buckling Brent into his seat, smiling softly down at the baby that he could now call his very own child.

“Take me away, Brian,” I whispered, feeling the cool silver of the bullet necklace around my throat, the very memory that today would be the last day I allowed myself to stare a drink down.

“Take you where, Ronnie?” he murmured. Just from looking into his eyes, I could tell that he was half expecting me to drag him to a bar somewhere, if only so I could swallow my depression once again.

“Take me to the clinic, Bri. I need to get clean.”

And it was in the middle of a court room, my brother holding me as though I was a little girl once again, that I decided I needed to get sober. If only for my baby boy.



2009.

“Come on, you have to wear it! The whole crew has one, Ronnie, so as the boss; you’ve got to wear one too.”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the t-shirt that was being held out to me and sent a warning look around the dressing room to everyone but two men, chuckling as I did so.
“All of you but Brian and Johnny close your eyes or I’m putting you in the corner for a time out.” I scolded, knowing that I sounded like a frustrated mother as I spoke. For a moment, I glanced around the room and smirked at its occupants.

They teased me mercilessly, but I knew that they all loved and supported me, despite their jaunts. After my year long stint in a rehab clinic and finally admitting to myself that I had an alcohol problem, Brian had spent a month with me slowly getting used to being back in normal society, where the threat of slipping out of my sobriety had been even bigger than getting stabbed in the middle of a dark, suspicious alley. And in order for me to gain some of my perspective back, he had placed me on the road with him as Avenged Sevenfold’s tour manager; if only so they could all keep an eye on me, as well as keeping me in a job for once.

Whenever we were off the road, I would have Brent with me, getting to watch my beautiful son grow up as the years went by. He had turned four years old in the last break we’d had and even then, I was only allowed to see him briefly. Alex was still anal about keeping me away from him while I was still recovering.

It was during the first year of touring with my brother’s band did I realise that I found a lot more solace in Johnny than I did in anyone else. Between weeks of confusing moments between us and tension that pushed us almost to other sides of the world, he had finally admitted that he had feelings for me. From there on out, the pair of us had been joined by the hips and the lips and though I handed about 90% of the credit for my recovery to my older brother, the remaining 10% I gave to Johnny.

“Why doesn’t Brian have to do it?” Zacky whined, folding his arms over his chest. Beside him, Brian elbowed him in the stomach, chuckling when Zacky folded like a piece of paper in the wind, clutching his belly.

“Because I’m her older brother asshole, I’ve seen all of that before. Plus it’s not weird- if you stare at her like that, I’ll rip off your balls and feed them to you.” Brian replied, taking a sip of the water bottle in his hand. I knew that he still drank whenever he wanted to, but he’d made it a personal rule not to drink around me, as had all of my friends and his bandmates. Obediently, the three remaining band members that were in no way related to or sleeping with me, closed their eyes and I quickly whipped off my shirt and threw on the other one.

They’d decided that everyone on the crew was going to wear a tank top with their name inscribed in white on the back with their job title, and now mine had the word’s ‘RONNIE’ and ‘TOUR MANAGER’ there, a deathbat staining the front.

“I swear you should have just put head bitch on there or something like that.” I murmured as I flopped back down onto the empty space beside Johnny and curled up against him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he tangled his fingers in my hair, finding something to do with himself.
“If we did that you’d think we hate us. Now tell us, honey, what’s the schedule for us tonight?” Johnny chuckled in reply, grabbing the piece of paper from the table in front of us, the same one that was laden with the items that the band had placed on their rider for every single venue. I had never understood why they needed boxes of cereal to perform properly, but I had learned to just let things happen on the road rather than questioning it.

“Well, Matt and Zacky are the only ones free from soundcheck to show time. Brian’s in an interview with some radio station, Jimmy’s got a follow up interview with that drum magazine and Baby, you’re doing an international call with a radio station in London, OK? I don’t care what the rest of you do, but you go on at 8.30, so you’ve all got to be here by eight, or I will personally find you and kick you, understand?” I ordered, pointing at each of them in turn. They all knew the drill around here and with my daily warnings, I had whipped the lot of them right into shape in the two years that I’d been managing their tours.

“Yes Ma’am.” Matt chirped from the corner of the room, narrowly avoiding the pillow that I threw across the room towards him. Stepping up from the couch, I clicked my boots against the floor and leaned over to press a tender kiss to Johnny’s lips before I grabbed my crew pass and slung it around my neck, stepping out of the dressing room. It had been two long and hard working years, but I felt rather proud of what I had accomplished over those years.

My alcohol problem had faded with the help of those who loved me and my son was still the most wonderful aspect of my life, no matter what his asshole of a father thought.

“Now where the hell are those Berry brothers at?”