crashing pt.1
It was 3am and Marlene could not stop thinking about the bottle of rum beneath her bed; its amber liquid, the smooth shape of the glass bottle. How it would feel like to pick it up, to unscrew the lid. The way the liquid would feel like running down her throat, sweet on the tongue.
It was 3am and Marlene was thinking about how utterly stupid it was to have a bottle of rum underneath her bed. How her utterly obsessive mind should not be allowed to play itself out like this. She was not completely stupid, though - she picked her poison well. It was better than completely quitting, than removing the possibility. She knew that that would send her on a downward spiral. So, for now, she let her mind entangle itself around the bottle, like a spider encroaching around its prey.
It was 3am and soon it was 4am. The hours that stretched on became lighter, until Marlene opened her eyes to see a light blue sky - her saviour. She had slept in fitful stops and starts - or maybe she hadn’t really slept at all. Marlene was never really sure anymore. Her body seemed to have gotten used to it, pooling all her remaining adrenaline to keep her standing.
“Good sleep?” Mary asked as Marlene padded into the kitchen.
“Yeah.” Marlene replied with a smile.
She tried to ignore the way her hands shook as she held her coffee cup - that had been happening more and more lately. It was just simply better that Mary didn’t know. It felt less real then, more temporary. Marlene just had to make it until the end of the month, then she could stop her mind. She just had to keep going.
“You coming to the show later?” she asked the other girl as she began frying some eggs.
“Of course.” she grabbed the bread from the toaster with a wink, “I’ve never missed one before.”
“Don’t the sets get boring by this point?”
“Watching the great Marlene Mckinnon perform?” the other girl replied, scandalised, “Never.”
In front of her, Mary slipped one of the eggs out of the pan onto a plate. Marlene had always liked her eggs on the runny side and she got to work with cutting her toast into thin strips. She had learnt the technique in England during their tour and never looked back, dipping the thin pieces of bread in the runny yoke. Mary always preferred her eggs more done.
Marlene tried to hide her smile as she had a sip of her coffee. There was something about being around Mary that simply calmed the other girl down. They were like plants that learned to grow next to each other - or better yet, animals in a sort of symbiosis. They knew what the other wanted wordlessly. They worked around each other. Maybe other people wouldn’t call the Mary Macdonald a calming presence, but then again other people didn’t fit the way they did.
It was times like these that Marlene wondered what it would have been like if they didn’t become famous. They operated with as little staff as possible - chefs and servants bugged them both - but it was still different. It seemed that it was only between these walls that they were allowed to be dumb twenty-year-olds, and not international powerhouses.
Marlene looked at the date on the calendar on the wall, already knowing what she would find.
“I have to go call Laurie.” Marlene lied before she was forced to sit in one place and just think any longer.
“Your eggs are going to get cold.” Mary replied absentmindedly as she opened the fridge door.
Marlene smiled sweetly at the other girl, “Would you be a dear and warm them up for me later?”
Mary reluctantly rolled her eyes in silent acceptance, “Tell Laurie I say hi.”
“Of course.” Marlene nodded as she left the kitchen.
She didn’t really know why she had lied, but it felt better this way; when she called her mom to tell her happy birthday, there was less riding on it. It could be casual - the way a daughter calls a mother - and less like a trial.
Marlene wasn’t a secretive person by nature, but sometimes she went back into a shell, like army troops being called to fall back.
She looked through her phone book on her bedside table and tried not to feel anything at the fact that she didn’t know her mom’s number by heart. Wasn’t that a thing most daughters did?
She heard a click on the other end of the line a few seconds after she had dialled, “Hello?”
“Hey mamá,” Marlene replied tentatively, too much like a child.
“Marlene?”
“Happy Birthday.” she cringed slightly at her own formalness.
There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, “Thank you.”
The silence blanketed them again. Marlene took a deep breath.
“So what is the plan today? Are you doing anything special?”
She didn’t want it to be like this anymore. She didn’t want this to be their relationship.
The other line was still for long enough that Marlene started to question whether her mom was just going to ignore her, before she heard a small, self-conscious laugh. Marlene smiled reflexively.
“I’m not sure. I think your dad might be taking me out for dinner but I’m not sure yet. I hope it’s not some place awful, you know how bad he is at picking restaurants.”
“That’s nice.” she replied eagerly.
“Yes.” her mom added, “I would have liked to have done a family thing, but you know…”
Marlene ribs felt a bit tight, “Well, I've got a show tonight, but maybe we could do something tomorrow? I could call the others-“
“No, no, it’s okay.” her mom was quick to correct, “It was nice that you at least called.”
Marlene’s gut twisted, “Mamá-“
“Marlene, stop.” her mother interrupted quickly, in that ‘no-nonsense’ tone of hers, “I’ll take what I can get. Don’t think that your dad and I sit here like lost sheep waiting for you to call - it’s alright. I accepted a long time ago that you were an independent spirit - like when you were three and you refused to sit at the dinner table because it was too boring a way to eat.”
A laugh ripped its way up Marlene’s chest at her mom’s casual tone, “When I was three? You decided I was an independent spirit when I was three?”
She could almost hear the shrug on the other side of the phone, “You never did anything anyone told you to. Your dad and I gave up trying years ago…”
“Like he ever tried in the first place.” Marlene rolled her eyes.
“Marlene.” her mom replied in that warning tone that immediately made her chest tight, the tone that was so sure that it could get her to do whatever was asked. Marlene had spent most of her life getting away from that tone, “As I said, it’s fine. It was nice of you to call.”
And that was that, right? That was just how it was going to be. Marlene would try, but it would never make up for the fact that she hated being in that house as a child, that she ran away the first chance she got. It would never make up for the fact that the only real information they got from their daughter for years was paparazzi pictures of her doing coke that were plastered on magazines or performances that made its way onto their evening TV. And maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe she should live in eternal punishment. Marlene had accepted a long time ago that maybe she was just an angry child, that maybe her parents didn’t do much wrong but ignore her a bit, that they simply didn’t get her and maybe that wasn’t a real reason to cut them off. But, god, she was a fucking child. That had to excuse something, right? She didn’t know anything.
“Of course.”
Silence.
A deep breath on the other side of the call.
“You’re not even sorry, are you?”
But Marlene came out of the womb apologising; to her mom for not being the perfect little doll she could dress up and show off, to her dad for not letting him off the hook when he didn’t know how to bond with her because she wasn’t a boy. She apologised and apologised. For not sitting still. For talking back.
She apologised until she had run out of apologies, until she realised ‘I’m sorry’ was something to be scared of. That it meant weakness, stupidity. That it meant a negation of self. And maybe that had fucked up Marlene even more, but at least it made her feel strong.
“For what?”
For a few seconds at least, she was sure it made her feel strong.
Her mom didn’t respond. She just sighed into the receiver.
“Goodbye, Marlene.”
“Bye, mom.”
Marlene was never so sure they were related when she was at her ugliest.
Here they were: both of them, feeling rejected enough to try and sever their bond, to pretend it never existed. To turn it into some cold and dead thing. Into something more manageable.
And, Marlene thinks, maybe it would have been more manageable if she came from one of those American families. The ones with the sons called Kyle who punch walls and call their parents dumb. The ones with the daughters like Jessica who tell their husbands with dreary tones that they have to visit the parents again. Maybe it would have been easier if Marlene came from one of those families, where parents were just the people who birthed and raised you.
Maybe it was ignorant to think that Marlene had it different, but it sure felt different. Family weren’t just relatives, they were the world around you until you left home. They were Sundays at tia Lola’s house, all the kids locking themselves in a bedroom whilst one would be dared to try and sneak candy from the kitchen and bring it back in bulk. It was graduation ceremonies for various primos in which the entire extended family would show up to scream and cheer as they walked across the stage. It was birthdays, saint days, weddings, holidays. It was everything Marlene had known until she was ten. Everything.
It was not just a family, it was a part of who she was. Or a part of who she used to be a long time ago, she guessed. She had been splintering off for a long time, long before she even formed a band and left home.
It was just a completely different feeling to realise that she was never really going back, that the door had been shut behind her.
“Marlene? You coming down soon?” Mary’s voice drifted up to the bedroom.
It was then that she realised that she was still holding tightly onto the phone even though the call had ended.
“Coming.” Marlene called back as she jammed the phone down onto the plastic. Her last act of aggression.
“All good?” Mary smiled as she walked back into the kitchen.
“All good.” Marlene smiled back.
She drifted through the rest of the day in a static buzz. Everything felt dull and completely overwhelming at the same time. Her skin itched. She was developing a rash on the inside of her wrist from scratching so much. She kept picking at a loose string on her skirt. Lily told her to stop. She didn’t.
“Fuck, my parents are in the audience.”
Marlene blinked and looked up to see James looking at them in warning. They were all standing backstage - the band and Peter, Sirius and Mary - listening to the opener. Marlene hadn’t even realised she had been through hair and makeup.
“Is that a problem?” Remus asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly already knowing the answer. They all did.
“No inappropriate comments.” James looked at each of them in turn, a finger raised in warning to illustrate his point, “I mean it.”
“We would never.” Lily smiled. James scoffed at that.
“I don’t understand why they insist on going to every LA show.”
Marlene started visualising the bottle of rum beneath her bed. After the show, she could go home. She could go home and just open it.
“I mean we’re not even opening our tour or anything. It’s literally just a trial run.”
Marlene wasn’t unwanted. She wasn’t unloved by any means. There was a whole fucking stadium of people filled to the brim of people wanted to see her.
She was just birthed by the wrong fucking people.
“And have you guys seen the set list?”
That snapped Marlene’s head back up.
“Yeah. fucked.” Remus agreed stoically.
“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, concerned.
“It’s dumbledore.” James explained, “He wants to debut Dani California as the opener.”
Sirius grimaced.
“Exactly.” Remus replied, “He’s got critics here and everything. Apparently he’s telling everyone that we’re releasing a new song tonight.”
The dark cloud settled over them for a few seconds until Mary spoke up.
“How long until the opener finishes?”
“Not long now, and then twenty minutes to clear their stuff away and set up ours.”
“Should we do one thing we’re excited for and one thing we’re nervous about?” Peter asked expectantly.
It was their ritual. They had done it every show since The Whiskey.
It was their ritual but Marlene wasn’t ready for that. There was no room for her right now. She wasn’t thinking about it. She had decided. She couldn’t right now.
And where the fuck was Dorcas? She hadn’t seen her all day.
“I’ll catch you guys later.” Marlene began absentmindedly as she started scanning the area for the other girl.
“Wait, what?” she heard Peter say.
She felt a hand on her arm. Lily looked up at her with thinly veiled concern.
Marlene shook her head, “No.”
“Marls-“
“No.” she repeated a lot more forcefully, shaking her arm free.
She turned around and started walking away.
“Marlene, wait.”
But Marlene had already spotted Dorcas talking to Evan, who left with a smile as soon as he saw her heading towards them. She was not turning back.
“I fucking told you…” Marlene heard Mary’s voice behind her. She ignored it.
Dorcas turned around when she saw who Evan was looking to. The corners of her mouth curved upwards as she saw Marlene approaching.
“All ready?”
Her eyes was dusted with light blue eyeliner, hypnotising in the dimly lit backstage area. Dorcas was always beautiful but, Marlene swore, it seemed to hit her every time like she’d never seen it before.
“Me?” Marlene replied with a cocksure smile, “Always.”
Dorcas indicated with her head to where a deafening sound was cheering the opening band as they left the stage.
“It’s a big crowd.”
Marlene shrugged, “I’ve played bigger.”
Dorcas rolled her eyes and tried to fight a smile and god, Marlene loved when she did that. It was like a black hole, sucking her in.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit too full of yourself?” Dorcas replied, eyes warm.
“Yeah. You.”
“Well, I’m very wise.” the other girl replied with
mock serenity.
“Maybe you could use that wisdom and learn how it’s done.” Marlene drew in a bit closer, leaning on a speaker behind them, “How to charm a stadium full of fans, I mean.”
“Hmmm, and maybe after you could-“
Her voice was interrupted from behind by someone clearing their throat. Dorcas looked up and her gaze hardened. It made Marlene realise how soft it had been before.
“Could I have a word with Miss Mckinnon, please?” Dumbledore’s toneless inflection sounded behind her.
Dorcas looked back at the other girl for a wordless signal. Marlene just smiled humourlessly and turned to face Dumbledore.
“Thanks.” the old man directed at Dorcas as she walked away, before turning back to Marlene, “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, but I haven’t really found the right moment. It’s an - ah, delicate matter.”
Marlene just stared bluntly back. She wasn’t going to play into the old man’s airs and graces.
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” she scoffed.
The other man didn’t respond to the comment, but his light blue eyes twinkled as if they were sharing a joke. She hated how he always did that.
“When I say this, know that I say this for your own good,” he began, saying each word slowly, “I have noticed lately that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Meadowes.”
Marlene blinked harshly. She wasn’t expecting that to be his line of discussion.
“And whilst I generally think that your friendship with Salazaar is very beneficial in terms of public image, I don’t quite have the same view about the more - intimate - nature of your relationship with Miss Meadowes.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just worry in thinking about what would happen if this were to be leaked to the press.” the older man continued, “It isn’t an impossibility, given how open you two were just a few seconds ago.”
At this point, Marlene should have just walked away. She knew what happened when you talked to Dumbledore, how he got into your head to make you the perfect little product.
“What do you mean?”
She stayed anyway.
Dumbledore’s eyes shone a bit, mutely pleased that she had taken the bait, “Well, in the light of the new album - with a song like Dani California - it could get messy. You could be called all kinds of things…”
Marlene held herself reflexively, eyes curious, “Like what?”
“A betrayer.” the words cut into Marlene like a knife, “They may feel angry, they may feel that you have moved on too quickly. Even worse, they could accuse you of dragging out someone’s death for money. I mean, what image does it send to be releasing a song about the heartbreak of the death of one girl whilst appearing in paparazzi pictures, happy and loved up with another?”
Marlene just nodded, dazed, the words reverberating around her skull.
”It just could appear insensitive.”
“Insensitive?” she repeated, dumbly.
Dumbledore smiled, “I just want what’s best.”
He delivered the news as if it was hurting him to say them as much as it was to receive them.
“Well, thanks for the heads up.” Marlene bit back before turning around on the spot and walking away.
Inside, it felt like something had burst. Like a dam, and now everything was trickling through, overflowing. Or more like something electric had exploded, sparks flying everywhere. Yes, that was it - it felt like her whole skin was buzzing.
It felt like there was static in her mind, like the words weren’t even able to form.
How dare he. How dare he fucking put that in her mind. Because Marlene, however she chose to process Emmeline’s death, had paid for it. She’d fucking paid her debt.
She was still fucking paying.
She stormed over to James, Lily, and Remus on the edge of the stage.
“Everything okay?” Lily eyed her warily as the group looked up.
Marlene tried to steady herself. Whatever thing she was going through, she was going to have it later, after the show. She had to distract herself, turn her mind onto something else.
It landed on Dumbledore.
“Do you guys remember Celebrity Skin?” she asked the group. It was one of their songs off their second album. They all nodded, curious, “How about we play it as our opener?”
She looked to see each of them, in turn, form matching grins.
“Dani California’s not ready, anyway.” Remus agreed.