Fangirl and The Rockstar
by Nyssa Jayne
It was summertime. My mum had drive me and three of my bestest friends
to an amphitheatre in our capital city, which was often bypassed by a lot of
touring acts. We had a crush on the boy of the summer, who happened to be
a popstar. We were one of the first in line and my mum kept an eye on us
while drinking coffee and bonding with the other parents who accompanied their
teenage daughters to the concert. During the show was when I officially
fell in love. The air was thick with sweet music and friendship, as
everyone in the audience helped one another be heard, be it by holding up witty
banners, offering shoulder rides, or just screaming in unison declarations of
love. I had the time of my life.
I treated this love like a fling, and figured I would be in love with someone
else next summer, but two years later, the popstar-becoming-a-rockstar went on
tour again, and my best friend and I were following not far behind, despite not
touring our capital city. We were just out of high school and we were
determined to run away to pursue the boy we'd fallen in love with and reminisce
about the time of our life. We planned a simple roadtrip across the state
border so our parents would let us go, but it turned into a romantic adventure.
The car we drove broke down upon arrival and we had nowhere to stay, so we slept
in the broken-down car and practically froze to death, before we were forced to
sell the car to a wrecking yard the next morning to pay for bus tickets back
home that most definitely took the "scenic" route. And we didn't regret a
minute of it, because the popstar-becoming-a-rockstar we'd fallen in love with
was even more beautiful and poetic than we remembered, making the trip a symbol
of the lengths we would go for him.
He was in love with us too, as far as we were concerned. After all, he
wrote us all those love songs.
I checked my suitcase to see if I'd packed everything. A change of
clothes, toiletries, and some paperwork I had to sift through stared up at me,
placed neatly and exactly, unassuming and bored. My boyfriend took on a
similar stance, watching my every move, except hiding underneath his bored
demeanour was a sneer and an accusation of being utterly pathetic.
"Where are you going?" he asked again.
"Interstate."
"Why?"
"To see a concert."
"Who with?"
"I'm going by myself."
"Aren't you too old for this?"
"I gotta go," I lamented, grabbing my suitcases and leaving the house. My
boyfriend didn't see me out, so I drove off by myself.
The trip was organised and simple. I had my ticket, my suitcase, a map,
a hotel booking, and my car had been recently serviced. The only thing I'd
forgotten was a CD to play in the car, so I was left with just the monotonous
highway.
It was a long journey. I was approaching the city limits and quite tired.
I was ready to just forgo the concert and just sleep.
I drove past the venue on my way to the hotel. It was probably once upon a
time a very trendy nightclub, reviewed in a hip, underground streetpress, but
now it was a little more mainstream and a little less flashy. I would've
missed it any other day. Today, a line of girls, who looked just as tired
and lonely as I felt, waiting out the front, giving away the location.
Twenty minutes later, after checking into my room and changing my clothes, I
joined them. I listened to the conversations happening around me.
"Are you everlonelychick85?"
"Yeah. missclosetfan, right?"
"Ohmigod!"
"I've got your ticket."
"I've made a bed for you to sleep in. We can stay up all night talking
about how beautiful he is."
"Sounds great. It's been years since I've been able to just be all giddy
about him. Thanks so much for the room."
"It's nothing. Thank you so much for the ticket!"
"I didn't want to go alone."
Then, a buzz went through the line. His girlfriend is running the merchandise stand. The girls in the line with me and I didn't quite comprehend the information. In our minds and imaginations, the rockstar was in love with us, the girlfriend didn't factor in. So when we approached the merchandise stand, we smiled at the girl who sold us each a CD, maybe a T-shirt or a program. We didn't exactly remember her after that moment. Who could remember anything after that concert.
Every single fan in the audience was putty in his hand while he was on that
stage. If he wanted us to dance, we danced, if he asked up to clap, we
clapped, all the while screaming and singing out declarations of true love.
My ticket let me sit up the front, and at one moment, I reached my hand out and
he touched it. I swooned and let my eyelids flutter, just like three, five
years ago, because he chose me.
I was in love.
After the show, as I headed back out to my car, I saw a group of girls
swarming around a bus. I stood on tiptoe to look into the window they were
peeking into.
There he was, the rockstar, with the girlfriend from the merchandise stand.
He held her lovingly in his arms, like he held me and the other girls in our
dreams. As he kissed her, he pulled a shade down over the window of the
bus, blocking us out.
There was no crying or screaming, just a sigh. Friends who had just met
linked arms with each other and went home, or something similar.
I looked at the CD in my hand as I unlocked my car, remembering this time to put
it into the car stereo. As I started my car, his voice, shining, came
through the speakers. Albeit only a short trip, it wasn't as lonely as the
ones that proceeded it.
True, our lives may be separate, me and the rockstar's, but there's nothing stopping me from loving music that cures loneliness.