Strength

I nervously waited for Nate to pick up his phone. After the third ring came and went, I heard something. It sounded like dead air, almost like he had disconnected the call or sent me straight to voicemail, but then he spoke.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, repeating the same question he had texted me.

The fake concern in his voice made my heart ache for the friend I thought I'd known, and the man I thought I'd love forever.

"You know why, Nate," I replied in a monotone voice.

"Nick, we've been down this road before. Can you please just be straight with me!" he pleaded.

"Be straight with you? You're the one who destroyed our entire relationship with one phone call."

"Unbelievable, you really think I'd do that to you? To us?" he asked.

If I was still that naïve girl, way back when, in the treehouse, I might've actually believed he was sincere.

"Was that one of the phone calls you had to make last weekend? You were spilling everything to the paparazzi?" I asked, trying to hold back my emotions.

"You're not making any sense," he said.

"I think we're beyond the lies, Nate. Please, I saw you being interviewed. You're obviously loving every minute of this," I said, unable to keep my emotions in check as I cried into the phone.

"They cut and pasted. They manipulated everything I said. That's what tabloids do."

"Phone records don't lie. Your name was on the call."

"It's just not true. I never called anyone, EVER," he said adamantly.

"I'm sorry I hurt you with the song, but this..."

My words trailed off. I was unable to continue speaking as my whole body trembled.

"It wasn't me. I LOVE YOU!" he said loud and direct. "You have to trust me, Nick," he said as his voice sounded softer, almost vulnerable.

I tried collecting myself as silence occurred on both ends of the phone. His words sunk into my brain as my tears continued, and I was still unable to speak.

"Nick, are you still there?" he questioned.

"I don't want to ever see you again," I said, finally finding the courage to voice the words I knew I had to say.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and ended the call without waiting to hear his response or excuses.

Even though the sun shined bright, I misjudged the October air as I tried warming myself up with my jean jacket. I held the front closely together with one of my hands, trying to cover my flimsy t-shirt underneath as I carefully stepped on the wet grass in the cemetery. As I walked towards my mother's granite headstone, I held freshly picked sunflowers from my father's garden in my other hand.

I stopped, front and center, staring down at her name etched so finely into the stone. At times, I was unable to fully come to terms with her death. My visits had been sporadic, because of that fact alone. Other times, like this particular day, I needed my mother.

I slowly knelt down and placed the bouquet of sunshine in front of her stone. As I stood up again, I took my hand and brushed off some grass clippings that had accumulated on the engraved dates of her birth and death.

I stared at my mother's name as I took a deep breath.

"Hi mom," I said softly, "I know it's been a little while."

I paused as guilt formed in my stomach. I hadn't visited since before the album was released.

"You probably know, my life is sort of a disaster right now," I said honest and to the point, "I'm sure you know about Nate and I."

I paused again, feeling emotionally numb at just the thought of Nate's name.

"I don't get it. I don't get any of it."

I shook my head, unable to stop second-guessing myself.

"What do I do now?" I asked, slightly desperate as I sought out guidance from the one person who always could put things into perspective.

I glanced up at the clear blue sky hoping my mother would somehow answer my question but it never came.

Over the next couple days, I felt emotionally drained and restless. I decided to move back to the barn and reunite with the one thing that never let me down, my guitar. I strummed the chords, hoping my pain would transfer from my body to a melody, but I had no such luck. I took a break, walking aimlessly around the barn, not knowing what to do as I felt my whole life was at a complete standstill.

I found myself in the kitchen eating anything that was salty or sugary, trying to comfort myself through snacks and desserts. After overindulging and feeling slightly sick, I started cleaning the kitchen. I emptied out all the cabinets and reorganized the pantry, then obsessively wiped every surface down. I tackled the junk drawer, emptying the entire contents onto the counter. As I sorted through random items like, scissors, sticky notes, screws of all sizes, and loose sticks of gum, something caught my attention.

I retrieved a slightly crumpled business card out of the pile. As I flattened the card out, the first word I saw was, "oncologist," and I knew exactly what I was holding. When my mother's cancer was diagnosed and the prognosis was not good, she didn't wallow in self-pity. She could've felt sorry for herself, but instead, she took charge of her life, seeking out any treatments that would give her a chance.

"I'll never act like a victim," she said to me during an especially tough night after one of her treatments, "I'll never give cancer that much power."

Her words repeated over and over in my head. If an amazing mother and woman could have that kind of strength in a life-threatening situation, I certainly could muster up my own strength and deal with my much smaller problems, mainly my career and personal life.

I held onto the card as I closed my eyes and whispered, "Thank you, mom."

With renewed sense of purpose, I called Walt and asked for an immediate meeting later that afternoon.

As I walked into his office, Lily had already taken a seat in one of the two chairs across from his desk.

I said a quick, "Hello," to both of them as I sat in the vacant chair next to Lily.

Walt sat behind his mahogany desk, looking like the principal dealing with his problem student.

"First, before we talk about anything else. I know I've messed up. I completely take responsibility for everything. I was totally naïve to think the paparazzi were only following Reed," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. "You see, this isn't me. None of this is," I said, pointing around the room at the business side of the music industry.

Lily continued to stay quiet per our phone conversation before the meeting when I politely asked her to let me do all the talking. She tended to take the lead in a meeting, either trying to protect or defend me but not this time.

I stared into Walt's eyes, "You know the only thing I'm semi-good or comfortable with is telling a story, usually through my lyrics. The only person who can tell my story is me. I want to do it my way," I revealed.

"You know you only have one shot at this," Walt said, slightly pessimistic.

"I know. If you want to drop me, I completely understand. I broke your rules and it's been a disaster ever since," I said candidly.

"Well, not a complete disaster. I mean, look at how well the album is doing," Lily chimed in.

I glanced over at her, reminding her with my eyes that I needed to do this myself.

"Just saying," Lily said, holding up her hands as she quickly stopped talking.

We both returned our attention to my seasoned agent who leaned back in his leather chair with his hands together. He looked like he was in deep thought contemplating every aspect of the difficult decision before him. The silence was deafening as we waited to hear what the older and much wiser one in the room was about to reveal.

He took a loud breath, like he was about to say something profound. Instinctively, Lily and I sat up in our chairs, anticipating his words.

"You're right, this has been a complete disaster. Not for me, but for you. I've been in this business for a long time, I will survive. Clients come and go, that's how this business works," he said matter-of-factly, almost like he was softening the blow for what was coming next.

I lowered my head, waiting to hear the inevitable, he was dumping me.

"Do you know why I called you after I saw your video?" he asked, surprising me out of the blue.

He sat up in his chair and placed his arms on his desk. His full attention was solely directed my way as roles were reversed, and he was the one waiting for my answer.

"I was the girl next door?" I said with hesitation, not sure what explanation he was looking for.

Walt shook his head.

"Reed and you are very similar. You both look the part of a country music star without even trying and you both call your guitar your best friend," he said, making me realize why Walt was the best in the business. He seemed way more intuitive than I ever gave him credit for.

"If you weren't so popular as solo artists, you'd crush the competition as a duo. You care about the music. It doesn't matter if you're playing your guitar in your living room, or if you're playing live in front of the world at the country music awards. It's all the same to you. Your fans knew that from the beginning."

"I don't know what to say," I said, slightly shocked at how real he was being.

"You don't have to say anything to me, Nicky. You need to remind people why they fell in love with you in the first place. You said it yourself, you're your own best advocate."

After giving me his blessing, our meeting concluded. Lily quickly exited to take a phone call as I stood up and headed for the door.

"You know, Nicky..." Walt said out of the blue.

I turned to look back at him.

"Even if you do everything right, and you have the best intentions, there's still a possibility that it goes wrong. That's the harsh reality of fame," he said cautiously.

"I know," I said, nodding my head.

I knew all too well what he meant. Fame did come with a price...in a form of a one-time payment from a tabloid to a man who chose money over love.

As I closed the door to Walt's office and stood in the hallway, reality began to set in. I had just put a huge weight solely on my shoulders, and I started to panic.

"How are you holding up with the Nate situation?" Lily asked, halting the cold sweat that had just started to break out all over my body.

I glanced down the hall and saw Lily hovering ten feet away from the door.

"Trying not to think about it," I said, shrugging off her question.

I tried putting on a good face for her, but she could see right through me.

"Come here," she said, wrapping her arms around me as she gave me a huge hug.

I held on tightly to her, happily accepting her compassion as a friend. I realized portraying a strong, young woman was definitely harder than I thought it would be.  I was definitely a work in progress, because at any second, I felt like I could've ugly cried and reverted back to being an emotional wreck.