Retrovertigo

“That’s a joke, right?” I laughed darkly, giving my head a series of shakes as I attempted to calm my jittering nerves with another long pull of nicotine. “Some seriously unfunny, bullshit kind of fucking joke?”
Gabe’s lips straightened, “I would think not…”
“What the fuck do they want?” I hissed, pulling my hand back from Brian’s to run it through my messy hair.
“A meeting,” Gabe reiterated flatly.
I rolled my eyes, “I got that, Gabe. A meeting about what?”
“They didn’t specify…” he answered quietly.
“And you didn’t ask?” I choked. “Jesus Christ, dude.”
Gabe sighed, “Blair, maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones. It’s been nine years since you left…And you’ve done well for yourself. Why not let the past lay?”
I furrowed my brows, “That’s what I’m doing. I’ve let it go.”
“Then take the meeting,” Gabe suggested. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
My words fell flat as my mind raced with the past. The sting of John’s accusations, the suffocation of my creativity…It all hurt still the same. It had taken me ages to move past the hostilities left festering by Haven’s wake. It had taken me years to muster up confidence on my own—a confidence I never had when I’d fronted that band.
The way they’d treated me…the sour relationships and toxic environment…None of these things were too far out of my reach. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume that a simple glance at Chris or John might set me back into my old frame of mind. They were the very essence of my insecurities and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face them.
Beyond that, though…what the fuck was the point? After nine years of silence, nine anniversaries of Tyler’s leave from the world…nine birthdays…the birth of my child…a wedding…milestones upon milestones. And nothing. No word.
And now?
It wreaked of sketchy intention as far as I was concerned and I wasn’t about to subject myself—or Tyler’s memory—to their façade.
“Just think about it,” Gabe breathed. “I’m going to go tell—”
“No one,” I interjected warningly. “You won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Gabe pursed his lips, “They want Justin too…”
“Of course they fucking do,” I groaned.
“He has a right to know,” Gabriel maintained. “So, if you’re done throwing your Blair Tantrum, I’m going to go and do my job.”
I stifled a laugh, waving him off.
Snuffing the end of my cigarette, I could feel Brian’s eyes burning holes into my skin. I could almost read the man’s mind. Daring to sneak a glimpse at him, he smiled as my eyes met his.
“He called it a Blair Tantrum,” I joked lightly.
Brian laughed, “It’s pretty apt.”
I groaned, running my fingers through my hair once more, “Am I stupid? I didn’t see this coming.”
“You’re not stupid,” Brian shrugged. “But it makes sense.”
“Does it?” I pressed incredulously.
He shrugged again, “It’s been ten years…That’s a pretty big milestone.”
“Ten years,” I sighed, my eyes tracing the clouds hanging overhead. “Where the fuck has the time gone?”
“I do not know,” Brian concurred.
I bit at my lip, “I don’t think I can do it, Bri. Whatever Haven wants…I don’t think I can do it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. “You’re not that girl anymore. You’re not stuck under their thumb.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off, succumbing to my own panicked thoughts.
He hesitated, “But…”
With an arced brow, I met my husband’s nervous gaze, “But?”
“Well…” he paused. “It’s been ten years…and I assume if they’re reaching out to you and Justin, that they’re planning something to commemorate it. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”
“No,” I answered without thinking.
He half-smiled, “Blair.”
“I don’t need Haven to acknowledge it’s been a decade without my best friend,” I informed my husband. “I can do that on my own. The Blair camp can do that.”
He nodded, “You can…But Haven is—”
“Don’t call them that,” I cut in irately. “They’re not even Haven. They’re Haven…ish. They have two original members. By that fucking logic, Justin and I are just as much Haven as that band is. We could be Blair Haven Haner.”
Brian laughed softly, “Blair.”
“It’s true,” I argued.
“It’s half true,” he nodded. “But…Haven is Tyler. That’s his legacy. That’s what he left behind.”
My brows pushed themselves up my face, “And what am I, huh? Chopped liver?”
“Of course not.”
“I’ve done more to preserve—and protect—Tyler’s memory than any of those fucking idiots,” I growled, my defenses on high. “Why the fuck should I step in now and pretend like everything is fine?”
My husband considered this briefly, “I just think it might be worth finding out what they want. You know, before you make a concrete decision.”
“You know it isn’t that simple,” I sighed.
“Nothing with you is ever simple,” he smirked. “But I worry that you’ll wonder about what could have been. It’ll eat at you later and you know it.”
Gabriel was a crafty son of a bitch; always using Brian as a weapon against me. Brian was, by far, the more reasonable of the two of us. He would work his doe eyes until I melted under their heat and acquiesced to whatever was being requested of me.
But, this time, my hatred ran deeper than my love for Brian. No amount of convincing could prove fruitful—if I was going to buy into any dormant curiosities, I’d need to work up to it on my own. No amount of brow beating from Brian was going to change my mind.
“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Brian spoke. “And if you took the meeting, it would be under your own terms. If you really wanted to throw your weight around, you could take the meeting and then decline.”
I snickered, “Are you manipulating me, Brian Haner? Turning this into vengeance and shit.”
“No,” he laughed. “Well, maybe a little. I just…I don’t want you to live your life with regrets. I think you’ll regret this if you don’t at least sort of entertain it.”
I shook my head, glancing down to the wooden boards of the table, “I don’t want to disappoint you, Bri…But I really don’t think I can do it. I don’t want to. Not a single fiber of my being wants to ever be in a room with those fuckers ever again.”
He smiled faintly, reaching over to slide his hand over mine, “Then fuck ‘em.”
Haven was a chapter of my life that I’d had to labor endlessly to separate myself from. I’d been careful about my musical stylings and my lyrical choices. I’d been careful about my wardrobe and the hues in my hair. Anything that was reminiscent of Haven, I was sure to drown out in time.
The need to sever myself from the Blair Peterson associated with Haven had cost me things I’d loved. I’d abandoned my raven locks for a deep brown. Over time, I’d run blonde streaks through the ends. Reflecting on myself now, you’d swear I wasn’t the same person at all.
I missed those black strands.
But the severed relationship had meant a skyrocketed career. I’d worked into more fame and fortune than I ever could have dreamt. I’d sold my soul and gained the world—and lost a few stars in the process. Was it worth turning my back on the fruits of my labors for some whirlwind pseudo curiosity?
What good could possibly come from trotting down memory lane?
This particular avenue didn’t host good memories either. Every time I considered Haven, flurries of nauseating nostalgia would twist in my guts. The tour had been the worst experience of my life. Writing the album had been like a dagger dragged down my wrists. Every single aspect of that entire chapter was groggy and awful.
I wanted no part in a re-read.
“What the fuck?” Justin’s voice boomed as he came barreling through the door. “Haven?”
My eyes widened as I nodded my head at him. His expression read with just as much frustration as mine had.
Brian tapped his hand against mine, “I’ll let you two bitch in private.”
I smiled up at him as he turned and disappeared through the door Justin had just thrown himself out from. The drummer collapsed onto the bench across from me, his fingers finding their way to his temples.
“Crazy, right?” I half-laughed.
“What the fuck do they want?” he growled.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“You know what’s fucking infuriating?” Justin asked rhetorically. “I’ve known those pieces of shit for most of my life. We grew up together. I make the decision to follow you and I may as well be the fucking antichrist. They make no contact for nine fucking years and I’m supposed to just jump at the chance to talk to them? Are they out of their fucking minds?”
I nodded, “They have to be.”
“And they thought they’d get you on board?” Justin laughed gravely. “They’re insane and stupid.”
“So it would seem,” I replied simply.
He groaned, pushing his fingertips further into his skin, “What the fuck could they possibly want?”
“To exploit Tyler’s memory, I’m sure,” I growled.
“Like fuck we’d let that happen,” Justin snarled.
I sighed deeply, “Brian says I should take the meeting for research purposes.”
“Fuckin’ Bri,” Justin half-laughed. “Always looking on the bright side of shit.”
“I know, it’s annoying,” I snickered.
Justin smirked, “I am curious. I’m not interested in doing fuck all with them…but I want to know what exactly it is that they want. What do they want with us?”
“A Haven reunion maybe,” I suggested blindly.
He scoffed, “They’re not even Haven! They’re Haven-esque!”
“I know!” I replied excitedly. “That’s what I said!”
“We’re just as populated in Haven members as they are,” he nodded, his eyes wide. “Fuck them!”
I concurred loudly, “Fuck them!”
Our exuberance fell away, the two of us idly picking at our own fingers as we mulled over the seriousness of the situation at hand. There was no one on earth that understood the magnitude of the proposition quite like Justin and I. We’d flown the same coop and were now, apparently, being called home.
“Here’s what I think,” Justin finally spoke again. “Because you’re obviously the loose cannon of this duo.”
I smirked by way of response.
“I’m going to take the meeting,” Justin decided weakly. “Just to find out what they want. Then I’ll report back to you with my findings.”
My lips fell, “Jay, I don’t—”
“Whatever you want to do,” he interjected softly. “I’ve got your back, B. It’s me and you.”
I sighed, sinking into our friendship, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved at all…Not even to entertain your curiosity.”
He nodded, “If you don’t want me to, I won’t go. But I think it’s the best way to appease everyone. We can always turn it down.”
“That’s what Brian said,” I groaned, hating when others would accidentally back him up.
“Your husband’s a smart man,” Justin laughed.
I rolled my eyes, “Or he’s too persuasive for my own good.”
“No need for persuasion, Blair,” Justin assured me with a smile. “Let me go. I promise I won’t be nice. We can figure it out from there…together.”
Even though my mind was screaming at me to put a stop to it, I couldn’t reasonably dictate Justin’s decisions. He was a grown ass man with his own interests and curiosities. I wasn’t about to start dictating boundaries—he’d never dream of treating me such a way.
At some point, I had to learn to relinquish control.
I swallowed my nerves and let go.
“Fine.”

Notes

Fuckin' Haven.

xx