Page 65 of Hey Girl

I look in disbelief from her to the screen and dare to take in some of the comments.

Did you see what that fake, gold-digging bitch was wearing at the House of Blues last week?

She thinks she’s so damn cute with that blog but she’s really just a bimbo.

Look at her mascara running in this pic! I bet Jack cheated AGAIN and she went on a bender!

“Okay Maze, I do have to ask what’s going on in that picture,” Melanie deadpans at the screen.

“I was hungover from an afterparty the night before and didn’t get to wash my face before we got on the bus.” Mayzie pouts but with a shrug. “It’s okay, that didn’t hurt so much as a comment a few pages down where someone says I’m a lousy dancer.”

“Ouch,” Melanie draws the word out as she whips her head to regard Mayzie.

“Yeah,” she frowns but quickly straightens. “But my point is, some days people are going to hate you, and other days they’re going to love you. But you above anyone should know that the haters are just trolls. Chris told me very affectionately about one of your favorite pastimes,” she explains when I look at hercuriously. “I say that if you can defend others and put trolls in their place, then you can do it for yourself.”

“We’re not saying you have to,” Melanie is quick to turn to me.

“No,” Mayzie agrees. “We just want to give you some perspective. To let you know you’re not alone. This doesn’t just happen to you, and those assholes out there don’t matter.”

“All that matters is what you do when you get back up,” Melanie tacks on. “This, unfortunately, comes along with loving someone that’s famous. You just have to decide if you want to deal with it.”

“And even if you don’t choose it, you have people now,” Mayzie closes her laptop and leans in closer. “You have us now, no matter what your future with Chris is. Understand?”

I swallow hard, taking a moment to absorb all they’ve just said as I look between the two of them. I finally nod, and give Melanie’s hand another squeeze while reaching out for Mayzie’s too.

She grips on as her eyes soften. “I know you’re probably not ready, but if it’s not too much trouble… please don’t wait too much longer to talk to Chris.”

Melanie nods, “We love that crazy fucker, and he loves you. He loves you so much.”

I heardhim pull up a few hours ago and I feel horrible for not letting him in yet. I want to talk to him, but I don’t want to actually talk. So I’ve been doing all the things to get a grip on my speech.

I’ve been doing everything to find my peace after Mayzie and Melanie left while also turning over everything they said. They are two women who are married to rockstars and live that life and everything it comes with -including the hate. I can’t help but think that they’re better women than I am, and I also can’t help but throw my personal hindrances in the equation. They don’t have the level of anxiety I do. They are miles more confident than I am, and for that reason, it’s always going to be easier for them.

I understand that things can blow over and be okay in the end. But it’s only until that happens again. How many times can I be struck down so hard that it takes me days to crawl out of the personal hell it puts me in? And I want so badly to say Chris is worth it.

I love him. He’s the best man I’ve ever known. I want so badly to say he’s worth all the pain and fuck everything else. I want to just jump in and deal with whatever fallout later. But something is stopping me. As much as I want to be that reckless, I just can’t.

Not yet.

There’s just so much chaos in my head, so many things on my plate, and not enough hours in the day to deal with them. For years, I’ve kept everything in my life under control by keeping things simple; quiet. Being able to deal with each small thing as it comes has given me the ability to stay on top of my issues.

Since Chris has come along, things have been crazy. Oh so delightfully crazy. I’ve never had so much fun or felt so many things in my life, and I would miss that so much if I gave it up.

After spending some time doing some self-care and catching up on the housework I’ve let slide, I practice my usual speech exercises while going through my skin care routine. By the time I get a handle on my words and have flushed out more of the toxicity with some deep breathing, I think I know what I need to do.

I’m just releasing my hair from its top knot and placing my glasses back on my face when I hear a commotion out front. It’s the quick whoop of a police siren followed by some muted, but heavy voices.

Oh no… not when I’ve just gotten myself calm.

Never in my life have I dealt with so many people outside my door.

Trying to hang onto my wits, I wrap my arms around myself and scurry to the door, determined to hold myself together and not let whatever is happening to blow my stock pile.

When I take a cautious peek out the side of my front window, a painful gasp rips up my throat at the sight outside.

I remind myself to stay calm and pull in a deep breath to replace the one that was lost as I hurry to my front door and whirl it open before returning my arms to their comforting position around my body.

“No! Wait, wait!” I call out to the police officers, and I only have a blink of a second to register that I did it without faltering.