“If you, Jake Wethers, had to pick one song as your title song to describe yourself, what would it be?”
“Hurt.”
“Why?”
“Some people said Reznor was writing a lyrical suicide note, others said he was writing about finding a reason to live. But I think it’s both … it just depends on which side you’re looking at it from.”
“And which side are you looking at it from?”
“Now … a reason to live.”
“Reznor’s version or Johnny Cash’s?”
“Johnny Cash … I have a few things in common with him.”
“Like?”
“The drugs … the women … hanging out for the girl of my dreams … you’re my June, Tru.”
I hear his deep inhalation of breath echo around the stadium before he says, “So tonight, I’m singing this for her, my June.”
That will mean nothing to anyone else, but everything to me.
Jake looks across at me, his fingers hovering the keys. He looks lost, afraid and desperate.
I can’t move. I’m pinioned to the spot.
He closes his eyes, concealing his pain, then presses his fingers down on the keys and begins to play ‘Hurt’.
Leaning his mouth close to the mic, he starts to sing, and I feel a stabbing pain in my chest so hard that I can barely breathe.
Jake’s voice is deep and powerful, and is echoing raw around the stadium.
And I know in this moment what he’s doing.
He’s not playing Cash’s version, he’s playing Rezner’s. He’s telling me he’s back there. He’s telling me he’s lost his reason to live.
Me.
I see it in his eyes when he opens them again, looking straight at me, singing so hauntingly beautiful.
And I can’t help the tears that start to run down my face.
My heart is breaking as we stare at one another. Jake is singing his body dry to me, and for this moment it’s only him and me in this crowded stadium, in the whole world, the entire universe.
I can’t believe he’s baring himself to the world like this.
Exposing us.
This isn’t Jake. He’s private. And I don’t want this. This is exactly what I don’t want.
Then it’s all too much, and I’m moving before I realise. Turning, I push past Stuart and Simone, and run off stage.
I have no idea where I’m going, I just have to get away.
Away from his pain, from my pain. Just far away from this complete agony that he’s inflicting upon me.
I hear my name being called from behind, but I can’t stop.
I’m running past people, god knows how in these heels, tears blurring my vision.
The next thing I know Jake is grabbing hold of me from behind, pulling me around to face him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he pants, breathless. There are tears in his eyes. Mine are dripping off my chin, down onto my lovely dress.
There are people everywhere, watching us.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” I pull myself free from his hold and step back down a corridor out of everyone’s view.
Jake follows me.
I wipe my face dry with my hands. “You shouldn’t have sung that song.”
“What am I supposed to do? You won’t talk to me. You won’t listen. You’ve just cut me off dry.” His face crumples. “I knew the only way I could get you to finally hear me was through music. And that song, what we talked about that night…” He steps close to me, cupping my cheek with his hand.
I almost break at the feel of his skin on mine after been so long without him, so bereft without him.
“You’re my life, Tru. My everything. And you always will be. I need you to know that, and I need you to believe me when I tell you I didn’t have sex with that girl.”
I swallow past my salty tears. “I know Jake. Stuart just got a call saying the girl is withdrawing her story. She’s admitted it was all a lie.”
“She has?” His words come out in a breath. I see a myriad of emotions pass over his face – shock, but mainly relief. Complete and utter relief. “So you know it’s the truth.”
I gulp down hard against the words I know I have to say.
“Jake, I believed that you’ve been telling the truth for a while now. I didn’t at first … seeing you there with her, it was so horrific...” I wince at the memory. “But I do now. I believed you long before she decided to tell the truth. Hearing her admit it is of course a relief, but it doesn’t change anything. We still can’t be together.”
I watch as a dozen emotions scroll across his face.
“Why not?” he asks hurt.
“Because I’m not cut out for this life with you. I’m not strong enough to handle the stuff that comes with it – with you. Deep down I already knew, but this past week with what happened, and the constant press attention it brought, details of our private life becoming reading material for people has just proven to me what I already knew. I thought I could live with it – live my life so publicly if it meant having you, but … I can’t.”