Chapter 7: ELENA

"It's here; it's here, it's here." Sydney came rushing into the kitchen, where I sat eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I saw the magazine she waved around in her hand, and the food turned to sawdust in my mouth. I almost asked her to turn around and leave but knew that I couldn't do that to my best friend, not after all that she'd gone through for me.

Wait a minute; she's beaming, smiling from ear to ear. My heart started beating a wild tattoo in my chest and resounded in my ear. "It's good news," I said, it more like a statement than a question, and when she rushed forward to throw her arms around my neck hard enough to choke me, I felt myself relax.

"It's great news, chicklet, you did it. It's a hit, number one on all the streaming charts. Look!" I looked at the magazine cover but couldn't make out the words through the tears in my eyes. It was real; I'd done it, I'd really done it.

After sharing the audio with my manager, who took it to the rest of my team, I've been holding my breath. Even when they expounded on how good it was, I still found it hard to let my guard down. It had been so long since I'd released anything that I found myself wondering from one day to the next if I'd let things wait too long.

But here was the proof that I hadn't that my fans were still there, waiting to support me, just as they said they would. Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and, for the first time in three years, went onto my social media platforms to send out a thank you message to my dedicated fans. I even let Sydney talk me into making a video to post.

I rode that high for all of ten seconds before the reality of what I'd done hit home, but by then, it was too late. My phone kept going off with alerts, hundreds, thousands, but I was too scared to look. "Let me see." Sydney took the phone and read them off, and most of them were of the same exclamation, 'our queen is back,' or some variation of the same theme.

There were a lot of 'this is fire' and 'welcome back, queen' comments, and for the first time since my life imploded, I felt a little bit like my old self again. Of course, in the midst of that joy, I had to think of him. As he'd been there for most of my adult accomplishments, it felt almost surreal that he wasn't there this time.

I fought through it, though, if only for my friend's sake. Sydney had worked so hard for this, and I refused to let her down again. "We should celebrate." I shocked myself as much as her with those words, and now she was the one who seemed to want to hold back.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure; let's go do something." Her scream was almost deafening, and before I knew it, I was being dragged off upstairs to rummage through my closet that hadn't been updated since forever.

"This won't do." She stopped with a pensive look on her face.

"I have an idea; give me one second." She walked away with her phone to her ear, leaving me standing there staring back at the closet full of nothing to wear. In my head, I kept repeating the words, 'are you really doing this?' But each time that sick feeling of dread threatened to take over, I pushed it back hard.

"Come on, go take a shower; I'll be in the guestroom taking one as well."

"Yes, ma'am." We both laughed and went our separate ways after the salute I gave her for being her usual bossy self. It was only as I stood under the warm spray that I realized she was no longer walking on eggshells around me.

The smile on my face was way out of proportion, but this was big. Everyone had been treating me with kid gloves for the longest and for her to go back to the way things were told me more than any shrink could.

I can't say I was surprised by what happened next. Sydney being the star that she is with all the power someone of her stature entails, had somehow got a stylist, a makeup artist, and a hair and nail technician team to show up at my house in less than an hour.

I was given no time to complain or refuse as I was rushed into my bathroom, where it was decided that the lighting was perfect, and the next thing I knew, I was being made up while someone else was doing my nails, and yet another worked on my feet.

My hair was next, and then it was time for the casual floral dress that fell all the way to my ankles, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't believe how good I looked. It had been ages since I'd seen the girl in the mirror looking back at me.

No one would believe the effort that had gone into making me look so casually relaxed and beautiful; even the sparkle in my eye had returned, adding to the glow the makeup had given me. I looked at myself from every angle, pleased with what I saw, and choked back tears when I caught my friend's reflection in the mirror.

"You ready?" She'd gotten dressed in the other room with the help of the same team and looked stunning as usual. We were quite the contrast, she with her blonde shoulder-length wavy hair and me with the wild brunette curls down my back that had been my signature look since forever.

My makeup, though understated, was fun, especially my apple-red lips, but other than that, it was hard to tell that I was wearing any makeup at all, which is what I prefer. That girl next door look was popping, and I felt feminine, sexy, and alive, all things I hadn't felt in a long-long time.

"Yes, I'm ready." She held her hand out to me, which I took, and we barely had time to say goodbye to my aunt and uncle before I was being whisked out the door. When Rachel called after us to ask where we were going, Sydney just answered with a terse, 'out,' and we were gone.

"I forgot to ask, where are we going?"

"Mr. Chow, of course."

"Wait, what?" I almost jumped out of the moving SUV with her driver at the wheel.

"Take your hand away from there; it's gonna be fine."

It's one of the most popular places in the city where everybody goes, and the paparazzi are bound to be lurking around every corner. "Listen to me, that single is kicking ass right now, and it's only going to get better. This is your time to shine, not hide away anymore. The others are going to meet us there, trust me; you won't even know that there are people around. Just keep a smile on your face. You look amazing, by the way."

She held my hand the rest of the way there, and that helped keep me grounded, but I still wasn't sure about this. When we pulled up in front of the famous eatery, I braced myself and took a deep breath as she instructed her driver to open my door while she saw to herself.

True to her word, as soon as my feet hit the pavement, I was surrounded by three of our very best friends in the industry, who all seemed to have been coached beforehand because they crowded around me as we headed inside with cameras going off around me and rapid-fire questions being thrown at my back.

Talk about jumping in with both feet. I drowned out everything but their presence until we were led to our table, where once again, they shielded me from the view of others, but it was hard to miss the whispers from the other patrons.

I don't know what I expected, maybe for people to point and stare, but when I felt brave enough to look around, there was none of that. Some people smiled in my direction when our gazes met, and I smiled back; it was that simple.

The longer I sat there, the more relaxed I became until I was eating and drinking with friends I hadn't seen since my mental breakdown. Sydney had been the only one I'd let get near during that time, or more accurately; she was the only one who refused to take no for an answer while giving the others updates as needed.

It was a lot like old times, and I only thought of him once or twice throughout the whole ordeal. I don't think I breathed, though, until about midway through our meal. I wasn't quite back to my old self, but it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be.

A few people dropped by our table to say hello and mention how nice it was to see me and how great I looked, and thankfully none of them were crass enough to mention my past.

One of the good things about Mr. Chow is the service. The waiter tipped us off to the growing crowd outside and led us out the back, where Sydney's driver was waiting. All in all, it was a good night, but I was relieved when it was over, and I was able to go home and crawl into my bed alone.

For some reason, once I was alone in the dark is when the panic decided to set in, and I had to do my breathing exercises to calm myself down. At least the thing I dreaded most didn't happen, he wasn't there, and neither was she.

I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow as warm tears gathered in my eyes and cruised slowly down my cheeks. Why does it still hurt so bad? When will this loneliness end? When will I be happy again? "FUCK YOU, RYDER SUMNER," I screamed into the pillow and felt just a little bit better for it, so I did it again.

It was the first time I'd said his name out loud, and it jarred me to the core. I'd avoided it so much that it had become some sort of boogeyman in my mind. It was the one thing I'd promised myself never to do again. Well, I'd promised never to say the cute little nickname I used to call him by again.

Somehow, I ended up screaming and crying into the pillow, both things I've spent a lot of time training myself not to do, but now I'm wondering why I'd ever made myself do that because it was so cathartic.

I felt drained but surprisingly good when it was over, and I dropped off into sleep like a lodestone. Ryder's face was the last thing I saw before the darkness took me, and for a split second, I was propelled back in time, back to when his face was the last thing I saw every night before I went to sleep. Back to when my life was beautiful and fun, and the only thing I had to worry about was getting up in time for my early morning studio sessions.

I dreamt of him that night. It had been so long since the last time he showed up that I wasn't fast enough to keep him out. As I looked into his beautiful brown eyes, so much darker than mine, I asked the one question I felt ready to ask. "Why?"