Unashamed by Emma Janson

Author:Emma Janson [Janson, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Zharmae
Published: 2013-11-05T18:30:00+00:00

By the time Doug visited Arizona, I already confessed the sex with Natalia. I cannot remember if I omitted Gordon’s participation because it was petrifying or because it was unimportant due to the lack of physical contact.

Either way I was preoccupied with how Natalia was ignoring me and how she was having some sort of mental breakdown. She took the opportunity to see a mental health professional the very weekend my husband flew in from Germany. This meant extra rehearsals to cover her solo numbers during the time I was supposed to share with him. One night, after a late rehearsal, while having a smoke break, I secretly watched her sneak off with some guy.

“That skank just left with some dude. She looks all dressed up to go out, too. Of all the fucking times she could see a professional, she picks the one weekend you are here; and here she is going on a date. ‘Breakdown,’ my ass. Look, you can still see her walking to his car!”

From his relaxed position on the bed, he said, “Emma, get away from the window and just forget it. You should be happy because I am here.”

“I know. I am. She’s just ruining it, though. Pisses me off.”

“It’s not that serious, Emma.” Doug ended my bitch session with a reality check and a smile.

After weeks of rejection from my only confidant on tour, loneliness forced me to befriend one person who disgusted me. His name was Aaron and he was an asshole. No one on the tour understood his sarcastic humor enough to get close. He was happy being a jerk. Just when you thought he was an okay guy, he would say some degrading shit, instantly making him Asshole Aaron again.

However, it was sunburn that caused him to show a small level of vulnerability. Apparently, he fell asleep face down near a pool and fried his back. In constant pain he begged for someone to smooth aloe over the seared skin. No one offered sympathy but me. After volunteering, the routine ran twice a day for quite some time, even after it peeled dead skin away exposing new pink flesh. It lasted nearly twenty minutes each time because it had to be executed very carefully. In all honesty, he should have seen a doctor, it was so bad. Aaron began to speak to me on another level during our aloe appointments and was actually a nice guy. Then, as soon as his shirt was on again, he turned into instant fucktard. There was deep, sincere hatred for each other, yet, before long, we sat together to share life stories. I reluctantly admit we had our moments of laughter, but I assure you, in my head, his untimely death was planned in so many ways.

It was a strange relationship. We argued in the wings, during rehearsals, and vocal practice. We never agreed on anything unless it was aloe time, sleepy time, or joke time. We yelled at each other during the setup of production lights and tear-downs.

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