BlueSilkenSky
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
I've finished the entire story now, so these chapters might come a little quicker now. I am not giving away the ending! This chapter was where I had writer's block so forgive me if it doesn't flow very well
I am up with the sun this morning, but it takes me a while to realize it. Disoriented beneath my bedsheets, I curl up on my side and try not to blink my eyes open. Finally the warmth of the covers grows unbearable, and I surface, gasping for air and flicking my curls away. Glancing over at the couch, I find Lina is still asleep. The clock next to my bed reads 4:30. No wonder.
Unable to sit still in bed, I untangle myself from the blankets, dress, and make breakfast for myself. Lina’s the real chef in our tandem, but I can whip up some pretty good eggs when the mood strikes me. The smell doesn’t wake Lina up, and neither does my muffled cursing when I drop an ingredient. After setting my steaming plate on the table, I go to the coffee maker and toss out all the leftover beans. Now that Lina lost her job, she doesn’t have to drink coffee if she despises it so much.
Lina lost her job… I take a bite of eggs and try not to get too upset. Obviously, all the blame really can be hung on me. My pathetic excuses about the seductiveness of the tour mean nothing- I should have returned here and helped out a friend. However, a small part of me whispers that if Lina had been there, she would understand. Her compulsion to stay in the Zoo world would have been less, but it definitely would have been there. Even her level-headedness couldn’t have balanced out the fun.
Really, the blame could all be shoved on Bono, and no one could protest. If he hadn’t been there maybe I wouldn’t have felt such an allure to start with. Even now, as I think of him, a pang goes through me, hitting my stomach. I conjure up a memory of his face, shades off, blue eyes winking at me, and suddenly find it hard to concentrate on my breakfast. The ache of wanting Bono is soon replaced by missing- not a dissimilar emotion. If I were standing it would sweep me off my feet. I miss U2 and the entire Zoo experience so badly. How am I going to make these next few months last?
Stretching out of my seat, I drop down to touch my toes and give Lina a glance again. She’s deep in rapid eye movement, snoring like a chainsaw. I straighten up, scrawl a note on a pad for her, slip on my shoes, and head out.
***
After a few days of this- falling asleep without a tired bone in my body and waking up in the wee small hours of the morning- my madness abates and I adjust to my old sleep schedule- maybe even creating a new one, for now that I don’t work for anyone I can sleep whenever I want. Lina talks to me a little less every day, which befuddles me until I realize that she doesn’t want to hear any more about my tour life. Though incredibly exciting for her that first day, it now just brings irritance. I still try to bring up Bono when she isn’t expecting. At least Lina can somewhat tolerate talk about the band members.
“What would you prefer to hear today- Achtung Baby, Zooropa, or The Unforgettable Fire?” Lina asks, thumbing through our music collection.
“Which one is the odd one out?” I laugh. “Zooropa. It’s my favorite U2 album!”
“Really?” Lina laughs. “That’s what you said about Achtung Baby…”
“Yeah, well it is,” I insist. “I have it on vinyl. Bono gave it to me as a present.”
“Oh, did he?” Lina walks over to the CD player, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s a special gift.”
“It is! First pressing, no less.”
Lina turns her head. “Is your bracelet from Bono also? Or did someone else decide to spoil you?”
I glance down at the silver accessory wrapped around my wrist, as I usually keep it. “Oh- no, I bought this myself soon after I joined the tour. I think it was in Spain.”
“And that charm just happened to come along with it?” Lina question, picking Zooropa out of its case.
I shake my head. “Believe it or not, the charm actually was a present from Bono. He bought it for my birthday.”
Lina says nothing, but glances thoughtfully at my wrist and presses play.
Though Lina takes kindly to my bringing up Bono- and truthfully, there isn’t a moment when that damned man is far from my mind- she doesn’t heed the mentions of Eric, Larry, or, surprisingly, Jack. It takes me a moment to figure out that last one. Does she think there’s more between us than just friendship? Jack had called me on the day I got home, seemingly leaving suspicion in Lina’s mind- why would he be checking up on me as soon as I got settled in? And why does he have my phone number? I find it hard to believe that Lina would think of me as such a slut, but I guess having her best friend disappear for four months- honestly, four months? I thought it was a longer time than that- has changed her perspective on me.
Which is why when I want to call Jack, I do it when Lina’s out of the house or, better yet, asleep. He’s always welcome to receive me, although most of the time he isn’t home when I call. I envision Jack out in a pub swinging with the men and women, and have a good laugh at that. The most important bit about calling Jack is that he’s still majorly connected to the tour, and updates me on everything.
And that leads to my screeching one afternoon, as Lina grocery shops in Rotterdam- “THEY’RE REPLACING ULTRAVIOLET?!”
“Er, yeh, they’re considering it- Marieke! What is the fuss?”
I drop myself onto Lina’s couch and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t freak out on you, but… I just don’t think Ultraviolet can be adequately replaced.”
“Why not?” Jack asks, true curiosity in his voice.
I can’t take the time to explain the final quartet of songs that conclude the concert and showcase MacPhisto’s deep spiral into depression and out of it, so I say, “Ultraviolet is my favorite on Achtung Baby.”
“Marieke, not everything is about you,” Jack points out gently.
He’s right and I know it. Still, a part of me wants to continue arguing forU2 to keep Ultraviolet in the encore.“What are they replacing it with?”
“Something from Zooropa that we haven’t played yet. Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car has been considered, but Lemon is the highest candidate.”
“They’re playing Lemon live?” Numb was enough; as much as I love Lemon I can’t imagine another extremely long song in the live show. Especially during MacPhisto’s set! But then again, it would bring out his beautiful falsetto… perhaps it would sound better live than on the album. I have no problem with Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car during the encores- it’s an evil song that I’ve always imagined MacPhisto singing. But U2 better be careful with their song choices, or they’ll end up with two encores!
“Well, sure, they have to start playing Lemon some time- it’s been released it as a single and the video is slotted to be filmed tomorrow.”
“What?” This is news to me. “Was Lemon released in the Netherlands?”
“Actually, it was supposed to only be released in certain places, but we added it to the rest of the world because Zooropa needs more publicity.”
Hm. I wonder if I’ll hear Lemon at all in my car or elsewhere in town. But back to the important question- “Why do U2 keep releasing their longest songs as singles?”
Jack giggles, and so do I. “They’re shortened for the radio, Marieke, you knew that they would. And Numd was only released on video format.” He pauses- “You should come out and observe the videoshoot. Maybe it’ll help you warm up to the idea of Lemon being in the encore spot.”
“Jack, I can’t,” I sigh. “Lina needs me here.”
“Oh.” I can picture his face falling. “Well, I understand. You’re joining the tour again when it goes down under, aren’t you?”
He’s caught me off guard. “Why would I not be?”
“Some crew members are quitting after Zooropa. Makes it a lot easier to travel, let me tell you.. We’re also getting rid of the Zoo Plane-”
“You’re not quitting, are you, Jack?” I break in.
He laughs. “No! I’ll stick with this tour to the bitter end. Australia’s the place to be, man!” Before I giggle he slips back into professional mode- “I guess I’ll see you next when Zoomerang begins.”
“Zoomerang?” What a ridiculous title- and yet so apt. I drum my fingers along the phone. “Jack, I really want to see the videoshoot.”
“Are you sure Lina can’t survive without you?”
I think. I’m afraid that my up and leaving will hurt her more than I can imagine. But everything in me -not just my soul, my entire being- is drawn towards Zoo TV. I haven’t lived normally without it.
“She’ll live. God. She’ll live.” Already I can see the bright lights of the screens flickering in my face, hear the riff of Zoo Station crank out in the air and feel that surge when Bono rises to the stage… Bono.
At once I can’t care that he probably doesn’t love me- that I literally have no chance with him. I have to get to the Lemon videoshoot- I need to see Bono. And- well, I did have other friends there…
“Where’s the videoshoot taking place? I could catch a plane tonight.” I need to be there.
“It’s right here in Dublin. We’d love it if you could come!”
“I should talk to Lina,” say I, knowing full well that I won’t be talking to Lina. She might try to prevent me from going, and I can’t have that happen. “See you then, Jack. Can you give me the address?”
He tells me where the video will be shot and I write it down, already figuring out the time difference between Rotterdam and Dublin. We say goodbye, I hang up the phone- and at that moment Lina walks in through the door, carrying only one grocery bag and looking put out.
“Could you hold this, please?” is the first sentence from her mouth. I jump up and snatch the bag from her hands.
“Oh Lina, it’s not that heavy,” I breathe, turning and setting it down by the sink. Lina waddles over and begins pulling out food supplies.
“It sucks when you’re carrying it up several flights of stairs with stomach pains,” Lina groans. For the first time today I notice how she’s slightly hunched over, bending in on her belly.
“What, is it your time of the month?” I tease. Lina and I have never been far apart in getting our periods, and mine just finished a few days ago.
Lina frowns- “No, I… not yet…”
Leaving it at that, I suggest she take some Advil and make dinner. We settle down at the table, and I wait until Lina’s halfway through the meal to mention the Zoo world, bringing it up as casually as possible.
“So, you wouldn’t be too troubled if I fly out to Dublin tomorrow?”
Already Lina is putting down her fork. “You aren’t going to there to kidnap Bono, are you?”
Actually that’s a pretty fair guess, but I let the remark slide and tell her that I just happened to hear, by dropped word, that U2 is shooting a video tomorrow and I want to be there to oversee it. Lina sighs.
“Can you please just stay in one place for a bit? You’re the only one I can depend on here in Rotterdam. Marieke, if you want to go to Dublin you can’t be gone long.”
I hear and understand her every word, but I don’t want to obey. I can stay in Dublin for as long as I want- who is Lina to dictate my every move? The more I think about it, the more irritated I get.
“I’m not making any promises,” I state. “But I won’t forget you this time around, Lina. You’ll be first and foremost in my thoughts.” I’m not sure if this is a lie or not.
Lina opens her mouth, sighs, closes it, and looks off to the side. “Marieke.” Her tone of voice is soft. “I know you feel that I’m always nagging you, that you would be better off without my reminders. But that tour really changed you; I can see it in your movements and hear it in your voice. And you got into such deep shit with Larry and all… Marieke, you’re itching to be gone from Holland. Anyone can tell that. And I’m afraid- I’m just so stupidly afraid that if you leave now, you’ll never want to come back.” She looks down at her plate and half-eaten food.
She has a point. My life has been so dull and flat without the nightly U2 shows and the Zoo crew to liven things up. And god, I miss it to the point of pain. I’m not thinking of hurting Lina right now- I’m thinking of how I will be hurt myself if I don’t get back to that mindset.
“Don’t be silly. I can’t stay with the Zoo crew forever, you know!” Lina looks up as I continue. “I’ll always be there for you, Lina. I need you to provide me with a home!” Though without jobs for either of us, I’m not sure how much longer this home will last.
We talk a little more, and Lina realizes she can’t hold me down. By the time we reach a consensus, I’m done with dinner and Lina’s barely taken any bites. I put my plate in the sink, elated to be seeing the band again tomorrow, and leave the dishwashing to Lina so I can go pack my suitcase.
***
I’m the first one to wake up in the morning, having already reverted back to my tour sleep schedule. Taking advantage of my privacy, I hop into the warm shower and wash my hair. The water calms me down, draining away all thoughts but one- I’m going to Dublin!
Outside of the bathroom, I find Lina running water in the sink, her face pale. “Good morning,” she murmurs indistinctly, not looking at my eyes. I suppose she’s dampened from my announced departure this morning.
We make and eat breakfast, and I keep sneaking glances at my suitcase by the corner of my bed. I hope Lina hasn’t noticed I’ve packed more stuff than would normally befit a two-day trip… Lina looks as if she has something on her mind, but whatever it is, she doesn’t voice it. When breakfast is over, I rise and give my best friend a hug.
“Do you want to drive with me to the airport?”
“If you’ll let me,” Lina answers, looking up.
I laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The flight into Ireland leaves in a few minutes after we reach the airport- the KLM Airlines, to be exact, my personal hell. I walk past the phone girls with a smug smile on my face. Take a look at me now! Just before walking through the tunnel for my flight, I embrace Lina again, harder than before.
“Take care, call me if something comes up, and for the love of God, get a job!”
“I could say the same,” Lina murmurs. “Just not the bit about the job. Come home safely!”
Now we’re parted, and I keep Lina’s face imprinted in my mind for as long as I can, watching her grow smaller and smaller behind my back until I’m on the plane and the image dissipates.
Excitement swirls in my stomach as the plane takes off. I lie back in my seat and daydream about the Lemon video. What will the concept be? Will it be anything like the Numb video? Will I get to be a part of it? Well, I guess I’ll find out soon…
Of course there are the other, more important questions. Will anyone have missed me from the tour? What will the band think of my reappearance- and what will Bono say? Oh god, I’m going to see Bono today. Suddenly I wish I had dressed in a more choosy attire. Will Ali be there? Will he ignore me like he did at the after tour party? Or will the welcome be a little more, well, welcoming?
I plug in my little in-flight headphones and flip through radio stations. A funky guitar stops me in my tracks. It’s Mysterious Ways! I close my eyes and jam out.
One day you’ll look back
And you’ll see where you were held
Now by this love
While you could stand there
And not move on this moment
Follow this feeling
Eventually the plane reaches its final destination. I haul my suitcase out of the luggage rack and slide in through the airport terminal, taking my first steps back into Dublin. It tastes so sweet. There are quite a few people waiting on their loved ones from the flight, and one is even holding up a huge sign. My eyes adjust and catch the name printed across it- ANGEL OF HOLLAND.
I laugh and hurry up towards the sign. “Jack, you shouldn’t have!”
“I should have,” Jack says evenly, uncovering his face as I come around to his other side. He looks sunburned- probably from spending the final days of summer out in the fields of Scotland. “Miss Marieke… it is great to see you again.”
We catch up on the taxi ride into Dublin- though really, with all the phone chatting we’ve been doing recently, there’s not much to catch up on. I don’t ask about how any of the band members are doing- I want to talk to them personally- but I do implore Jack on the concept of the Lemon video, and voice a few of my ideas for it . Jack shrugs.
“I don’t want t spoil too much for you, but let’s just say you’re going to take a lot of pleasure out of this video than most people.” I ponder that tidbit all the way through the rest of our ride and our walk into the filming studio.
Just before we get into the supposed room where U2 is filming their video, Jack takes my arm. “Marieke, for your own good, try not to crowd the band’s space too much, especially not Bono’s. It’s not that I have absolutely no faith in your ability to control yourself, but please, don’t be too obvious. Bono’s attitude changes greatly in Dublin, as you may have found out from the end-of-tour party.”
I frown slightly- what is he saying? That I shouldn’t make a drastic move with Bono? Have I been known to do such a thing? “I… I don’t understand, Jack.”
“Ah well,” Jack sighs. “I really can’t explain it. You’ll find out what I mean on your own.” With that he motions for me to open the door. I do so- and, walking in, find myself face-to-face with The Edge. He’s wearing a deep blue suit, a black beret, and sunglasses. It looks so silly I want to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Edge asks, indignant, but his face softens. “Marieke! You’re here!”
“Hey, de Rand,” I say, and sidestep further from the door. “Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s for the video,” Edge explains. “Look.” He fingers the pocket on the side of the uniform, and my eyes light on three lemons, explaining the significance of the uniform. I nod reverently.
“Hey, isn’t this the same outfit you wore to the MTV Awards?”
“The one and very same.” Edge puts a finger to his lips. “But don’t tell anyone that, or they’ll all want one, and I won’t be unique anymore!”
“But we do all have one,” sounds a voice from across the room. I move my eyes. Larry stares back. He’s wearing the same uniform that Edge has on, but is pulling it off in a much more attractive way. I have to force my eyes to stop ogling him- and pretend to ignore the engagement ring standing prominently on his hand.
“Hi, Larry,” I murmur gently.
“Hey, Marieke, good to have you,” he answers back coolly, keeping his distance. I’m a little frustrated with his insistence on staying away from me. It was one night that will never happen again… well, as far as I know it won’t.
“Where is everybody?” I ask. Of course, by everybody mean where is Bono? Some assistants for the video are milling about, and I spot a director and a cameraman in the area. But the other two band members are nowhere to be seen.
“Bono’s changing clothes for the next shot…” I stop listening to Larry right there. He scrutinizes me with his dark blue eyes. I wave him off. Only one man matters right now.
Jack is wandering around the room, making small talk. He orbits back to my side and nudges me. “Are you hungry, Marieke?” he questions in Dutch.
“Not really…” I respond. Jack is undeterred. “Come on, I’ll show you where the snacks are.” He pulls me away. I’m sure he’s doing this so I won’t completely lose my head when Bono walks out. But why would I do that?
We munch on fruit and sip soda and Bill Flanagan, who’s probably been editing his book during his off-tour time- and seeing more of Bono than I have been- approaches us and gives me his promised interview.
“You’re the first fan that U2 has hired on this tour- or on any tour, as a matter of fact. What do you think was so special about you that made U2 change their policy on hiring fans?”
“I’m not actually sure,” I say, shrugging. “Bono told me he liked the way I think. I’d been backstage twice before, and Eric Vandom offered me a job, even though I’d had no prior experience working in the music business.” And even though it wasn’t his place to offer me one… “The band couldn’t think of a good place to fit me in, but after I suggested writing Mr. MacPhisto’s speeches Bono decided I was brilliant, and insisted to keep me on.”
“Do you feel the fact that you’re the only fan the band has ever hired has given you any privileges or limits that normal employees wouldn’t have?”
“Oh, not really. I mean, I get to see Bono and the band a lot more often than some would, but other than that, I feel they treat me pretty fairly, specifically in payments. But how would I know what’s normal- I’ve never gotten that treatment! There have been no limits I’ve truly noticed before. If they want me to stay out of their hair, they’ve never mentioned it to me.”
“You observe the show every night from the wings,” Bill says. “I s the way MacPhisto performs your speeches in any way similar to what you had in your head? Is it satisfying to see your writing being performed onstage, or do you usually go, ‘Oh no, you’re fucking up my speech!’?”
I laugh. “That does happen sometimes, but usually MacPhisto sticks to my script. Sometimes he ad-libs or deviates from my original writing if he can’t remember the punch line, and sometimes he has to make up a conversation from thin air if we actually catch a celebrity on the phone. Only once have I been utterly, completely dissatisfied, and that was when Bono refused to have me write a speech. He went out there with a speech of his own, and it just didn’t meet my standards.”
“So you have trouble when he writes for himself- you prefer your touch to his?”
“No, it wasn’t that,” I say. “Bono just essentially turned the character MacPhisto into himself. He called his home phone number. That was wrong. I see the human Bono as being completely different from the character MacPhisto. MacPhisto is what Bono could become n the future, if he isn’t careful. The lives of those two must be kept apart from each other- MacPhisto must stay in the encores of Zoo TV, and Bono lives everywhere else.”
Jack pops a strawberry into his mouth, delicately biting through its flesh with his teeth. Bill looks as if he’s going to ask me another question, but suddenly a voice rings through the air and all my attention is diverted.
“I’m ready for the next shot!” the croaky British accent intones. Filled with glee, I spin my body around and come face to face with Mr. MacPhisto. Without a shirt.
He’s holding the red fabric in his hands, looking to pull it on over his head. His white face makeup is on, the red lipstick covering his mouth. Not a hair out of place!
MacPhisto blinks at the sight of me and speaks in Bono’s voice. “Marieke! It’s good to see you here.” I nod and say roughly the same, trying to stop my eyes from tracing the planes of his chest- at least, what planes I can see beneath the thick curls of hair. Every part of his skin that’s showing past his face is tan, out of place with the ivory of the face paint.
I realize I’m supposed to say something more, and fumble for words. “I came here to see Lemon being shot. Jack and I were talking about the video on the phone. He invited me.” Never have I been more painfully aware that my voice is nowhere near the standards of a true English speaker. MacPhisto slips his red ruffled shirt over his head, lowering my lusting by a hair.
“Why are you… dressed like this?” I ask, gesturing to the MacPhisto guise. “What’s the video about?”
“Oh, I decided for once I’m not going to be Bono in a video,” he laughs, using that endearing but maddening British accent. “And don’t you like me better this way?”
Yes, yes, I like him a lot better this way. For one thing, MacPhisto is single.
As he walks off, obeying the director’s orders to get back on set, I call to him, “MacPhisto, where are your horns?”
He turns back around and winks at me. Oh, I’ve missed that.
“I lost them, Angel, and don’t tell me I can’t do without!”
He can do without, I realize. MacPhisto is instantly recognizable even without his trademark accessory.
Once my Devil has gone, Bill finishes his interrogation quickly and I lean against Jack to watch the filming. MacPhisto twirls, moves his arms robotically, and lip syncs to the track. At one point, he even clings to Adam, hugging the bassist tightly to his body. I whisper to Jack, “Is this what you meant by I’d get more out of this video than others?”
“Yes,” he murmurs back. I also think I understand now why he warned me to control myself.
The video shooting lasts for quite a while. There are no extras needed, so I begin to despair at my hopes of ever being in a U2 video. You had your chance with Numb, but lost it to Morleigh… Some folks go home, Bill being one of them, and some stick around, like Jack.
The band, of course, isn’t allowed to leave until all filming is over. Unlike in Numb, U2 has to be in every shot of the Lemon video- though Bono/MacPhisto appears more times than the rest. After the MacPhisto scenes are filmed, Bono goes back to the changing room- I try to get him to say hi to me as he walks, but he’s distracted- and reemerges as The Fly. My eyes dance over his leather body.
Jack leans forward and whispers in my ear as I trail The Fly with my eyes. “Remember what I said earlier- about trying not to crowd Bono’s space?”
I rip my gaze away from The Fly. “What?”
Glancing around, Jack casually slips into Dutch. “I can’t seem to explain it correctly. I’ve just noticed that Bono’s entire demeanor changes when he’s at home and not working. It’s different from what you’re used to, on tour.”
I watch The Fly perch on a small ledge, leaping off, and wonder what Jack means. “He doesn’t seem any different.”
“But you have to be careful,” Jack continues. “Because remember that flirtatious, cheeky Bono you met on Zoo TV? From what I’ve observed, he’s not like that here. Surely your birthday party would be an indicator of that.”
This is even more mystifying. I hadn’t perceived any change in Bono’s behavior from the time on tour and the time of my birthday party- if anything, he was even more infectious than usual, singing love songs to me. But then again, that had been at a party. And I had asked for that kiss…
“Does this have anything to do with Ali?” I ask. Thank God we haven’t seen each other since the aftertour party.
“Not exactly…” The scene in front of us collapses and U2 drifts to separate parts of the room- Larry out a door, Adam to a corner, and Edge and The Fly to the camera to review the shots. It’s hard to focus on Jack’s words- “It may have a little to do with his family, but… I just feel that there’s a certain change in his behavior towards you.”
Shut up. “You know something? You really can’t explain it.”
“It should be obvious to see later on,” Jack says, finishing the conversation without his temper slipping away. I stand up and stroll over to the video’s director, Mark Neale, lapsing back into English. “Can I see the film?”
Mark turns the camera over to me and I watch the raw, unedited footage of Mr. MacPhisto dancing, of U2 moving around in meaningless tasks, and of The Fly doing what he does best- striking poses.
“It’s good,” I say skeptically, handing the camera back and wondering how the footage will look edited.
It takes hours to finish filming, and the stars of the shoot are exhausted by now. The last few shots are of MacPhisto alone, so the rest of U2 scatters while the Devil films his last scenes. I’m growing sleepy, nodding off on Jack’s shoulder, only to jerk back into wakefulness with each cry of, “Cut!”
Soon Jack is rousing me again- “The video’s over, Marieke.” I scan the room and see Mark and the cameramen packing up. Darnn. All I wanted today was to talk with Bono, and we’ve barely exchanged a word.
Upon leaving the building, Jack falls into Dutch, asking me, “Where are you sleeping tonight?”
I glance down at the heavy suitcase I’ve packed this morning. “Er…”
Jack’s tone grows affectionate. “You planned on crashing with me, didn’t you?”
“It’s nothing,” I say hurriedly. “I can buy a room for myself. I don’t want to take up your space.”
“What do I care about that?” Jack asks, shrugging. “You’re a friend. I’ll let you stay with me.”
“Can I sleep on the couch or on the bed?” I ask.
“Well… which one would you prefer?”
I laugh. “You know damn well what the answer is. I love you.” Embracing Jack, my eyes scan the area behind his shoulders. People are still trickling out of the building, and my watching the doorway pays off when I spy a man heading towards us, his black clothing blending in with the night’s darkness. I wave and disentangle myself from Jack, who murmurs, “I love you too, woman,” teasingly and turns around with me.
“Hi Bono,” I say.
“Hey, Marieke- how’d you like the video filming?” Amusingly enough, those dark Fly shades still cover his eyes, even in the dark of night. It’s bugging me a little not to know where his gaze is focused. I reach up to Bono’s face. “It was fun. Come now, do you really need these now?” Bono allows me to remove them, and pulls them out of my hand. “Mine,” he growls, mockingly. “No, I don’t need them. Just keeping up appearances.” Now that they’re off his face, I can see his eyes flickering from me onto Jack, and staying there. He has a puzzled expression.
“The footage will be edited by tomorrow,” Jack says. “I can’t wait to see how the video turned out.”
“Me either!” I exclaim. “Bono, you were great performing today.”
“Sounds like someone’s biased,” Bono laughs, plucking a curl from my head and tickling my cheek with it. Now this is the Bono I remember. But he still holds confusion in those blue eyes of his, and it only deepens as his gaze drifts onto Jack once more. What’s going on between them?
“Biased? You mean with MacPhisto?” I say. For some odd reason Jack decides now is a good time to intrude upon the conversation. “Hey, Marieke, sorry to interrupt-“ well, at least he’s courteous- “but we have to get a taxi soon. The hotel’s not close enough for us to walk.”
“Yeah, I meant MacPhisto,” Bono says slowly, not looking at me.
“Goodnight, Bono,” I say regretfully. “It was nice seeing you.” He nods and waves, and I wander off towards the sidewalk, wondering what’s going on in his head right now. Could this be that shift in personality that Jack described to me earlier today, or has Bono just got a lot of stuff on his mind?
“Jack, can I talk to you for a second?” Bono calls. Jack dashes back, telling Marieke to wait for him.
“What’s up, boss?”
Bono doesn’t laugh. “Just- what was that you were saying to Marieke right before she noticed me? It sounded like-“ Bono tries out a rough imitation of the phrase.
“Oh, that?” Jack repeats the phrase with perfect pronunciation. “Ik hou van je. I told her I loved her.” Noticing the unconscious glare in Bono’s eyes, Jack quickly explains, “In a friendly way, not romantically. Are you jealous or something?”
It takes a moment for Bono to laugh. “Ah, no, just wondering what it was you said. Thanks, Jack. Catch you around.” Jack nods and runs off, back to Marieke.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Oh, Bono thought when I said I loved you, I meant I actually loved you, and wanted me to make it clear for him.” I try to keep my expression indifferent, but I guess I’m not doing a good job of it, because Jack says, “Don’t read too much into it, Marieke. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know,” I say, a little huffily, and hail the first cab that comes our way.
Meanwhile, Bono is strolling home, having left his car behind, and ponders deeply the information Jack has just revealed to him. The Dutch phrase has sounded in his ears many a time when he’s hung out with Marieke- it is the only thing she has ever said to him in her native language, as far as he can remember. Come to think of it, the audience in Rotterdam was also yelling it at the opening show of Zooropa, but Bono had shut that out as he sang, focusing on the music.
What would be the point of veiling a phrase in another language so Bono can’t understand it? There’s only one explanation that makes sense- the person who spoke it doesn’t want Bono to understand it, maybe because it’s embarrassing, or a secret. A secret… Bono feels he has struck on something there. When was the first time he ever heard Marieke speak it…
The first clear memory that comes to Bono’s mind is backstage, after the show in Oslo, Norway. He’d embraced her, and after they pulled apart she had murmured something quietly- “I love you,” as Bono now knows it means. Still, when he had heard the phrase for what would appear to be the first time, it hadn’t really felt like the first time…
Bono has been trying to forget Marieke’s birthday party, as it was definitely not one of the best nights of his life- indeed, it had been downright embarrassing, with Eric and Marieke both acting so unprofessional, all culminating in that kiss outside, which was definitely worthy of being buried beneath his brain. That time he had been the one acting unprofessional, going with Marieke’s request to fill his desire- a desire that shouldn’t even be there, as just the night before Bono had been proclaiming his love for Ali as they lay in bed together.
But that night had awakened something in him, something that felt frighteningly familiar- and very right. Everything was connected- the Dutch phrase meaning “I love you,” the kiss-which hadn’t felt like the first time either, terrifying Bono to death if he thinks of it- and public phones, which even now as Bono passes one on the street feels compelling, as if he must go in. Something is up, there’s no doubt about it. Bono just can’t distinguish reality from a dream- maybe he’s just thought he kissed Marieke, which is embarrassing in its own right, but at least is in no way cheating on Ali, as would be the case if he really has kissed her. He is still struggling to work everything out as he walks up the front steps to his house.
Jack’s room is dark when we enter it together, and I unpack my suitcase as he turns on the light and strips the sheets from the bed, hauling them over to the couch. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?” I ask, and he nods. “I’ve slept on couches before. It doesn’t bother me.”
After brushing my teeth and changing clothes- behind a locked door, of course- I lie awake in bed and listen to Jack’s deep, soft breathing. For once I wish that it was him I’d fallen in love with. He may not be attracted to me now, but in another world we could be very happy together. I wonder, if we hadn’t met each other on the tour- if we had casually met in Rotterdam, or anywhere else- would it be he I’m obsessing over now? Would we be as close as Herman and Lina once were? Would she be the envious one at home, disliking Jack simply for the reason that he’s my boyfriend, and she has no one to hold?
But then again, if I’d met Jack without the added bonus of Zoo TV, I never would have found the man who tops him.
The last thing I do before sleep takes a hold on me is consciously refuse to call home.
***
After Bono has left the film studio, the rest of the band stays behind for the space of a few moments, and in those few moments Larry calls them to a meeting. “I want to talk to you guys, and we can’t include Bono in this.” Edge and Adam follow uncertainly, sitting down at the now empty refreshment table.
Once everyone’s been seated, Larry speaks up, letting loose his internal verbosity that he usual keeps silent in his head. He tells his bandmates about his suspicions that Marieke has a crush on Bono, and asks them if they have ever believed this or noticed something that might suggest her feelings towards him.
Edge is the first one to speak. “It’s funny you should say this, Lar. I never noticed it on Marieke’s part, but- well, call me crazy, but I believe I’ve spotted it on Bono’s part.” He falls silent, tapping his fingers softly against his jeans.
Larry doesn’t voice his opinion on this as he tries to process it, but Adam speaks up almost immediately- “You sure? I always thought- I always thought Marieke liked someone else. I thought she and Jack were together…”
“And we all thought Bono was forever faithful to Ali,” Larry murmurs. “What makes you think he’s not, Edge?”
Edge sighs. “It’s nothing he’s said to me. I just pick up vibes when they’re together. It could be just a crush… I’m afraid to ask him about it, though. I tried once and he dismissed the whole thing.”
“Hmmm.” Larry settles back in his seat, unable to get another word out. So Marieke’s infatuation may not be unrequited? He flashes through his memory, trying to find proof that this is true- and suddenly remembers his view of every contact Bono and Marieke have ever had. There’s a possibility that Bono’s flirting went beyond just that. Why hadn’t Larry noticed any of this before? Threads begin to spin in his head. If Bono truly loves her…
“Should we get them together?” Larry blurts.
Both Adam and Edge are surprised. Adam says, “You remember that lunch in Bologna, when I made a joke about him separating from Ali? You know how angry he got then. I don’t think he’d be happy without her.” He calmly lights a cigarette.
What an understatement, Edge thinks. He too remembers that lunch in Bologna- it had been the first time he had suspected that something was not all right with Bono.
Three-fourths of U2 finally leave the studio with the conversation heavy on their minds. Larry rolls this new-old information about Bono over in his head. He knows Bono and Ali’s marriage should never be broken apart. He knows Marieke is not the best choice for Bono. But he can’t get the idea of them together to leave his brain. Bono’s usually the matchmaker in U2, but Larry is sure he can stand in for him. After all, he thinks, Marieke didn’t deserve me, but she does deserve Bono. A little voice whispers in his ear, telling him that’s not the only reason he wants to see them together. Larry shakes it off. He believes this will work.
***
The first sight my eyes treat me to in the morning is Jack sitting on the back of the couch, talking to someone on the phone. He notices me, smiles, and turns his back. I sit up, roll out of bed, and head to the bathroom.
Once I’ve brushed my teeth, washed my face, and changed clothes, Jack has finished his call. I ask him who it was- “Someone from Rotterdam?’
“No, not Herman,” Jack says. “But it was definitely someone who-“ He stops himself short and glances around. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you could keep this on the down-low, but I’ve gotten myself into a relationship with someone in Scotland. It might not last.” He gives a shrug. “For some reason my relationships never do. But for now it’s going strong, and I’m very proud of that.” He grins.
“Man or woman?” I ask.
“You won’t know till you meet ‘er,” Jack says nonchalantly. I raise my eyebrows. “Jack, you just gave it away.”
“Oh, did I… ah, shit,” he sighs. “Oops- sorry, Marieke.”
“Doesn’t offend me,” I say.
Jack hops up. “Damn, why am I keeping you in here?” He laughs. “I don’t think you’ll be able to stand me, Marieke. I’m very quirky when I’m not working. Maybe a room for yourself is a better idea.”
“It’s more private at least,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?” Jack agrees to this and takes over the bathroom. Out of curiosity, I try the door when he’s inside- he’s locked it, and I can hear his voice calling evenly from the interior, “Can’t take any chances, now can we?”
I stare at the wall, thinking on how coincidental it is that I was just wondering what it would be like if Jack and I had dated last night, and now this morning it turns out he already has a girlfriend. When Jack returns to the main room, brown hair dripping, I relay these thoughts to him.
Jack stares. “If you and I had started dating, Marieke, neither of us would be here in Dublin right now.” He’s right, as always.
When we’re ready, we go get breakfast from the lobby downstairs, and walk out into the crisp Dublin air. Autumn is fast approaching us, and the leaves are turning and blowing off the trees- blowing into my hair, even, but I comb them out with my fingers. Next month is October, the month for which U2 has written an entire album about. It’s my least favorite U2 album, but the title track sticks in my head as Jack leads me across the street.
October, and the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care?
October, and kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall, but you go on
And on…
We conclude the walk at the foot of a large cement building, which Jack takes me inside of. Almost immediately I can hear music- a driving bass backbone, some enthusiastic drums, and an unearthly guitar. My heart springs at the wild voice, emoting in a tone of danger. “Daddy’s gonna pay for your crashed car…”
Inside the rehearsal room, the sound pounds into my brain, making it impossible to hear anyone’s voice. I stare at U2 on the makeshift stage. Edge is stomping pedals, making all the effects himself, while Adam’s bass throbs and Bono stands center, eyes half-shut, wavering in place to the music. The song ends, and I burst into applause. Bono opens his eyes and smiles, not seeming surprised that I’m here.
“Hey,” he calls, and turns to the band, asking for their feedback.
“Zooropa rehearsals?” I ask, walking towards the stage.
“No, Zooropa was last month!” Bono spins to face me. “This is Zoomerang.”
The name never fails to make me smile. I pretend that I haven’t heard it before and laugh, and Bono asks me what I thought of Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car.
“I just walked in, it was hard to judge exactly,” I say.
“Let’s run that one again!” Bono yells, and the band, fiddling with their instruments, begins. It’s a great, energetic song- though the sound could use fattening with synthesizers- and Bono is obviously getting into it, rocking and weaving through the motions.
It’s clear that the band is unsure how to end the song. My world is rocked when Bono starts yelling, “What a night! What a city! Zoooooomeraaaaasng! Zooooooooooooomeraaaaang….”
He shakes his head. I shake mine too. That didn’t sound right at all- not like the “ZOOOOORROPA!” cries at the end of Desire that I so love. And yet, I’m excited. This is implying that my man MacPhisto will sing Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car, and nothing can be better than that.
The band huddles in for a talk again. The decision is made for U2 to run Lemon. Now I’m intrigued. Ultraviolet will most likely be replaced by this song. How will it sound live?
Edge’s guitar sounds even less human than in Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car. I can’t even recognize it as a guitar- what effect is he using? Adam’s bassline is haunting- subtle on the album track, but prominent here, in person. Larry’s beats are nicely accenting the song.
And Bono opens his mouth, and the sound that slides out of it makes my heart thump. “Leeemon…”
Transfixed, my hands clasp each other. Bono sounds like an angel, using the best falsetto I’ve ever heard coming from him. His voice was nowhere near as heavenly on the album track. A dull point of wanting begins to beat inside me, a longing for- for Bono? For the song? It’s hard to say.
The ending slows way down, and I see that the band are attempting a fade-out. Unfortunately, it isn’t pulled off quite brilliantly enough. The song falls flat with a clunk.
Bono faces us- “What did you think of that?” It seems as if he’s only talking to me.
“We need to work on a better ending,” Edge says. He takes off his guitar and walks over to the drum kit.
“I liked it,” I call. “But yeah, the ending was bad. Where are you fitting this song in the set?” Maybe if I know what songs are the bread in the Lemon sandwich, it will be easier to decide how to finish it.
“We’re moving it to the encore,” Bono says. “After Daddy’s Gonna Pay, I think…”
So they’re dropping Desire too? There goes my obsessive MacPhisto attachment. However, if Lemon is replacing Ultraviolet, that means that the song that follows it up is With or Without You. And that would mean…
“Adam!” I yell, snapping everyone’s attention onto me. “Give me your bass.” I stray to the stage and Adam unstraps his bass and hands it over. I check to make sure it’s tuned, and pick out the Lemon bassline.
“I have an idea…” I murmur. Everyone, including Bono, is watching me. After a few tentative first attempts, I finally manage to hit a roll with the Lemon line and play it confidently for a few minutes before transforming it deftly into something much bigger and soul-searching…
If everyone had been interested in me before, they are enraptured now. I play With or Without You until I get bored and drop my hands. Bono is the first to applaud me. Everyone else looks mildly impressed, but he’s the only one to clap excitedly, and I glow.
“We could try that,” Adam says, smiling, and descends from the stage to take the bass back. Soon he’s testing out my new segue, polishing up my mistakes. Pride fills me. I can see the band itching to start the song once more.
“Marieke Lang, you have done it again!” Bono cries, turning back to the mic stand. I smile, but something in me folds into an uncomfortable shape. I don’t feel right. Too many eyes are on me, too many people…
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m good at transitions.”
Walking back, I wonder if this is what I was meant to do on tour all along- help the band think of musical links. Certainly Zooropa wouldn’t be the masterpiece it is if I hadn’t tampered with it, and now Lemon would have failed live if not for me.
U2 plays Lemon once more, using my segue into With or Without You. The effect is transfixing. Bono sings a few times, “Midniiight… midniiight…” before Adam’s bass thrums into one of my favorite song. Disappointingly, they cease playing once it’s worked out and nod at each other with satisfaction. But I love With or Without You…
I stick around to watch Dirty Day be rehearsed- if it wasn’t for Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car, I might insist MacPhisto to sing this- but soon wander off to find more crew members who are helping with the sound and effects of the new songs onstage. One thing I’ve learned on tour is that not even the band members can do everything. The underground musicians play a large part in getting every Zoo noise just right.
During a break in rehearsals, I find to my delight that the band is heading backstage, towards me and others. I wave. Bono breaks from the four-man pack to give me a hug. “Hi, Angel!”
“Hi Bono!” I chirp. Someone catches his attention and he turns from me. Desperate to make the conversation last, I clear my throat when they’re done talking. “Are you going to say it?”
“Say what?” Bono asks.
I imitate his Irish accent, putting my words low in my throat. “Marieke, you’re a genius!”
He laughs. “Haven’t we already established that?”
My ego gets another happy boost. The other band members are still in the room, talking to other friends- Edge is with Morleigh, and they look intense. Hm.... Adam is with Stuart, showing him the bass segue, and Larry has disappeared. My attention is momentarily suspended from wondering where he’s gone when two more men enter the room- Jack, and a man I recognize as Mark Neale, the director of the Lemon video. Excitement grows when I realize he’s carrying a tape.
I call to Jack. “Hey!” As soon as he comes over, Bono leaves my side in favor of Mark’s. Grrr… why can’t I have two men with me? Jack greets me- “Hey is for horses, Marieke”- and I ask him if that’s the finished Lemon video Mark has in his hand. Jack nods. “It sure is!”
Of course, we all decide to have a movie day. Everyday sits down in front of the TV and the video tape is fed into the VCR. I wasn’t there yesterday for the beginning of the filming, so this is going to be interesting.
And it is. Words scroll across the bottom of the screen as captions- “Man running, man dancing, man shaking guitar.” The whole scene is washed in a pale black-and-white set against a background of intersecting lines. From the moment a hornless MacPhisto sings “Lemon, see through in the sunlight” to the last shot of the camera slowly moving away from his face, I am hooked on the screen, watching Bono’s alter egos dance. The moments where Edge sings “Midnight is where the day begins” are washed in light, with faint hints of smoke trailing up as the band members rotate in a circle. The camera zooms in on MacPhisto’s expression as he clings to Adam- a scrunched up face full of longing.
The video ends, and we all applaud. I feel the need to stand up and turn my hands in Mark’s direction. Others take this cue and follow my lead, while I call “Bravo” to the band.
Adam and Edge appear flattered, but at one glance it’s easy to tell that Bono is less than pleased. In fact, he’s downright shocked, or confused- I can’t read his expression.
“I don’t like that footage,” he announces, brows knitting together. “It’s… it’s too weird.”
Weird? But the entire Zoo TV Tour is weird. Hell, Numb was weirder than that video! What’s Bono talking about?
Apparently Mark wants to know as well, because he asks Bono to elaborate. Still looking confused, he answers, “I barely looked like myself! That wasn’t what I expected..”
“Well, it’s not as if we can edit the footage,” Mark states uncomfortably.
“Can you please do something?” Bono cries. “It’s freaking me out. The video was scary. We want to bring in U2 fans, not turn them away.”
I try to tell Bono that of course he didn’t look like himself, he was MacPhisto, but he’s not listening to me. Mark is clearly worried. “Do you want to re-film it?” NO! They can’t destroy this work of art…
We are startled from this debate when yet another man enters, bringing a sense of relief- it’s Larry, back from wherever the hell he was. “Hello, guys,” he greets us, and a light grows in me- maybe he’ll approve the video to go ahead.
Three members of U2, plus Mark, urge Larry to watch and see what he thinks. I am treated to Lemon once more, and at the end of the clip Larry looks at Bono. “What’s wrong with it? This is the best performance I’ve ever seen you do.”
“Really?” Bono asks, hope flaring across his face.
“Really! That video was great!”
“Yeah,” I cut in. “It’s the best U2 video I’ve ever seen.”
Bono’s features settle back into content. “Well, we can’t let that go to waste.” I want to cheer.
“Lemon- coming straight to your TV!” I exclaim, and Bono smiles at me.
Our group breaks apart, and I travel over to Larry, feeling the need to congratulate him. “Larray!” I sing.
He isn’t nearly as jovial. “Marieke. Em, may I talk to you?”
Mistrust flows through me. “About what?”
Seeing my face harden, Larry backtracks. “I mean, I just want to ask a question.”
Hopefully it isn’t anything about our time in London. “Sure, go ahead.”
Larry glances around as if to check if anyone is watching. This is a bad sign. My muscles tighten.
But all he asks is, “What do you feel for Bono?”
What? His blue eyes pierce me, and I know he’s not going to drop this subject until I’ve answered. But- but- how could he have known? Did Jack-
“Have you been listening to rumors?” I ask.
Larry’s seriousness will not leave. “What kind of rumors are you talking about?”
Great God, I’ve just slipped up. “So, you haven’t heard anything?” I state skeptically.
He leans back. “No, I haven’t heard any gossip about you. I’ve just begun to assume that your feelings for Bono extend beyond the usual friendship. Is that true?”
“Larry-“ It’s not alarming that he’s figured it out. The secret’s been kept for far too long without anyone finding out or squealing about it. I wish there was a wall I can slump against. “The extent of our relationship does indeed go beyond friendship, but only on my part. Bono remains a devoted husband, and I’m just a woman with a schoolgirl crush.”
I think he’s going to tell me off, but instead Larry says, “Like the one I had on you.”
“Er…” How am I to relate his feelings to mine? We barely know the inside of each other’s heads. “Mine didn’t lead to a night together, though.”
Larry’s face fills with pain. “I didn’t think so.” I can tell what he’s remembering right now.
“Come on now, Larry, would Bono really cheat on Ali for me?”
Instead of answering, Larry says, “There are too many people around.” No one notices as we slink off to talk in complete privacy.
There Larry’s floodgates open up- who knew he was such a talker? Not me, that’s for sure. “Marieke, I’m worried about you and Bono. You may think it’s just an unrequited crush, but I have other ideas. Bono has you on the mind a lot more than he should. Working on those speeches together led to something deeper. I can’t tell if he’s aware of these feelings or not, but it’s clear to see- the man is infatuated with you. No one’s brought up the subject directly to him, but I’ve talked with Adam and Edge and they think the same. He loves you, Marieke. He just doesn’t know how to proceed.”
At this moment my heart is given wings and it flies right out of my chest, while at the same time my stomach plummets to the soles of my feet. Oh God. The concept is too hard to imagine. Bono loves me. He… loves… me. I can’t react right now- there’s still a few questions to ask.
“Have you known this for long?”
Larry shrugs- “I’ve always known it unconsciously, somewhere.mI can’t say when I first noticed his affection- It just sort of grew with every show. Edge was the first one to bring it to my attention. I didn’t realize you reciprocated those feelings until the tour ended, actually. Especially because of your hanging around with Jack and Eric, and then what we did together-“
“That wasn’t even about me,” I cut in. “It could have been anyone else, in anyone’s hotel room.”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Larry says quietly.
I sit down. Larry doesn’t move. For once my eyes start tracing his features, trailing across every aspect of his body…. Dammit, why does he have to be taken?
“I heard you’re engaged,” I say.
“Yes.” Larry crosses his arms. I spy the small band wrapped around his finger- nothing flashy, in fact hardly noticeable.
“Was I any part of your decision to propose?”
“Yes,” Larry repeats. He looks down. “You know my heart always belonged to Ann. I never believed in marriage until I cheated on her with you. It was an awakening. I’m hoping being officially taken will make me think before I act on impulses with other women.”
“I don’t feel so great, being that other woman,” I say. His brilliant blue eyes, a deeper sapphire color than Bono’s, stare up at me, waiting for me to continue.
“Larry, how am I supposed to forget it?”
He moves forward, sitting down next to me. “I don’t know,” he answers sincerely. I wrap my arms around myself.
“So, now you’re going to tell me to keep away from you and Bono,” I say. “I’ll never love again.”
Larry folds one leg over the other- “With me, yes. With Bono, no.” I gaze at him, surprised. He explains, “I’m on your side with this, Marieke. I don’t care if it breaks up Bono’s marriage, but you have to be with him.”
“Really?” I wonder what brought this on. Maybe Larry thinks I have feelings for him and wants to point me in Bono’s direction so I won’t try any more moves with him. Maybe he feels sorry for me and wants me to get what I want. Whatever the reason is, it’s nice knowing someone’s rooting for me- even if it is a man who once loved me.
Larry nods. “I know he needs you, somehow. You’re always the first one in his dressing room after a show. He doesn’t even let others come in until you’ve entered. I may be stuck behind the drums all the time, but it’s obvious to tell that when he dances with those women onstage, he really wants to go to the wings and bring you out. And I wonder, how has no one outside U2 noticed?”
How have I not noticed? MacPhisto may have danced with me thrice, Bono may have kissed me twice, and we may have shared intimate moments when writing speeches, but never once did I suspect what I feel was shared.
Upon leaving the room, it doesn’t take long before I’m back on the floor, staring up at the stage with my eyes glued to Bono. Larry soon slips behind the drums, is greeted by his bandmates, and the rehearsals begin again. I watch intently. Can that man in the dark shades, pouring his heart out under the spotlight, really love me? It feels like too much to hope for, but it must be true, unless Larry is leading me on.
A man makes a picture
A moving picture
A man melts the sand so he can see himself up close
MacPhisto- I mean, Bono, turns on his heel gently, keeping a hold of the hand microphone. Without thinking, I blurt, “This would look great on film!”
The music is deafening, making Jack, who is next to me, the only one to hear my remark- “You want to make the Lemon video again?”
“It was fun,” I say. “I can’t wait to see U2 perform it in Australia.”
Bill is also near us, and somehow catches the conversation. He turns around. “Didn’t you hear about the Triplecast?”
“What?”
“Oh!” Jack exclaims. “I forgot to tell you, Marieke! They’re filming one of the shows down under.”
They are? “Why is it called the Triplecast?”
“I was about to explain,” says Bill. “U2 wants to broadcast it on three different channels, from three different angles- the whole crew is talking about it.”
Except someone forgot to tell me, obviously, because this is the first I’ve heard of it. But Zoo TV on film… “The whole world will see it?”
“As many people as the broadcast reaches,” Jack says.
“So… I can be on TV?” I say, laughing. Jack laughs too. “Depends on where the cameras go!”
But that’s not what I mean. This time, I’m not going to stay backstage. I remember Bono’s warning in Oslo, the last time he danced with me- “Marieke? Don’t do that again.” Ha! Oslo was months away, and Bono has probably forgotten about that. When the broadcast occurs, I’ll be standing out there in the audience, by the B stage- and if Bono loves me like Larry says, he won’t be able to resist.
What Marieke does not know is that behind those dark Fly eyes, a pair of blue ones stare out at her, even as the mouth beneath them sings Lemon- even as the music stops.
I am up with the sun this morning, but it takes me a while to realize it. Disoriented beneath my bedsheets, I curl up on my side and try not to blink my eyes open. Finally the warmth of the covers grows unbearable, and I surface, gasping for air and flicking my curls away. Glancing over at the couch, I find Lina is still asleep. The clock next to my bed reads 4:30. No wonder.
Unable to sit still in bed, I untangle myself from the blankets, dress, and make breakfast for myself. Lina’s the real chef in our tandem, but I can whip up some pretty good eggs when the mood strikes me. The smell doesn’t wake Lina up, and neither does my muffled cursing when I drop an ingredient. After setting my steaming plate on the table, I go to the coffee maker and toss out all the leftover beans. Now that Lina lost her job, she doesn’t have to drink coffee if she despises it so much.
Lina lost her job… I take a bite of eggs and try not to get too upset. Obviously, all the blame really can be hung on me. My pathetic excuses about the seductiveness of the tour mean nothing- I should have returned here and helped out a friend. However, a small part of me whispers that if Lina had been there, she would understand. Her compulsion to stay in the Zoo world would have been less, but it definitely would have been there. Even her level-headedness couldn’t have balanced out the fun.
Really, the blame could all be shoved on Bono, and no one could protest. If he hadn’t been there maybe I wouldn’t have felt such an allure to start with. Even now, as I think of him, a pang goes through me, hitting my stomach. I conjure up a memory of his face, shades off, blue eyes winking at me, and suddenly find it hard to concentrate on my breakfast. The ache of wanting Bono is soon replaced by missing- not a dissimilar emotion. If I were standing it would sweep me off my feet. I miss U2 and the entire Zoo experience so badly. How am I going to make these next few months last?
Stretching out of my seat, I drop down to touch my toes and give Lina a glance again. She’s deep in rapid eye movement, snoring like a chainsaw. I straighten up, scrawl a note on a pad for her, slip on my shoes, and head out.
***
After a few days of this- falling asleep without a tired bone in my body and waking up in the wee small hours of the morning- my madness abates and I adjust to my old sleep schedule- maybe even creating a new one, for now that I don’t work for anyone I can sleep whenever I want. Lina talks to me a little less every day, which befuddles me until I realize that she doesn’t want to hear any more about my tour life. Though incredibly exciting for her that first day, it now just brings irritance. I still try to bring up Bono when she isn’t expecting. At least Lina can somewhat tolerate talk about the band members.
“What would you prefer to hear today- Achtung Baby, Zooropa, or The Unforgettable Fire?” Lina asks, thumbing through our music collection.
“Which one is the odd one out?” I laugh. “Zooropa. It’s my favorite U2 album!”
“Really?” Lina laughs. “That’s what you said about Achtung Baby…”
“Yeah, well it is,” I insist. “I have it on vinyl. Bono gave it to me as a present.”
“Oh, did he?” Lina walks over to the CD player, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s a special gift.”
“It is! First pressing, no less.”
Lina turns her head. “Is your bracelet from Bono also? Or did someone else decide to spoil you?”
I glance down at the silver accessory wrapped around my wrist, as I usually keep it. “Oh- no, I bought this myself soon after I joined the tour. I think it was in Spain.”
“And that charm just happened to come along with it?” Lina question, picking Zooropa out of its case.
I shake my head. “Believe it or not, the charm actually was a present from Bono. He bought it for my birthday.”
Lina says nothing, but glances thoughtfully at my wrist and presses play.
Though Lina takes kindly to my bringing up Bono- and truthfully, there isn’t a moment when that damned man is far from my mind- she doesn’t heed the mentions of Eric, Larry, or, surprisingly, Jack. It takes me a moment to figure out that last one. Does she think there’s more between us than just friendship? Jack had called me on the day I got home, seemingly leaving suspicion in Lina’s mind- why would he be checking up on me as soon as I got settled in? And why does he have my phone number? I find it hard to believe that Lina would think of me as such a slut, but I guess having her best friend disappear for four months- honestly, four months? I thought it was a longer time than that- has changed her perspective on me.
Which is why when I want to call Jack, I do it when Lina’s out of the house or, better yet, asleep. He’s always welcome to receive me, although most of the time he isn’t home when I call. I envision Jack out in a pub swinging with the men and women, and have a good laugh at that. The most important bit about calling Jack is that he’s still majorly connected to the tour, and updates me on everything.
And that leads to my screeching one afternoon, as Lina grocery shops in Rotterdam- “THEY’RE REPLACING ULTRAVIOLET?!”
“Er, yeh, they’re considering it- Marieke! What is the fuss?”
I drop myself onto Lina’s couch and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t freak out on you, but… I just don’t think Ultraviolet can be adequately replaced.”
“Why not?” Jack asks, true curiosity in his voice.
I can’t take the time to explain the final quartet of songs that conclude the concert and showcase MacPhisto’s deep spiral into depression and out of it, so I say, “Ultraviolet is my favorite on Achtung Baby.”
“Marieke, not everything is about you,” Jack points out gently.
He’s right and I know it. Still, a part of me wants to continue arguing forU2 to keep Ultraviolet in the encore.“What are they replacing it with?”
“Something from Zooropa that we haven’t played yet. Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car has been considered, but Lemon is the highest candidate.”
“They’re playing Lemon live?” Numb was enough; as much as I love Lemon I can’t imagine another extremely long song in the live show. Especially during MacPhisto’s set! But then again, it would bring out his beautiful falsetto… perhaps it would sound better live than on the album. I have no problem with Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car during the encores- it’s an evil song that I’ve always imagined MacPhisto singing. But U2 better be careful with their song choices, or they’ll end up with two encores!
“Well, sure, they have to start playing Lemon some time- it’s been released it as a single and the video is slotted to be filmed tomorrow.”
“What?” This is news to me. “Was Lemon released in the Netherlands?”
“Actually, it was supposed to only be released in certain places, but we added it to the rest of the world because Zooropa needs more publicity.”
Hm. I wonder if I’ll hear Lemon at all in my car or elsewhere in town. But back to the important question- “Why do U2 keep releasing their longest songs as singles?”
Jack giggles, and so do I. “They’re shortened for the radio, Marieke, you knew that they would. And Numd was only released on video format.” He pauses- “You should come out and observe the videoshoot. Maybe it’ll help you warm up to the idea of Lemon being in the encore spot.”
“Jack, I can’t,” I sigh. “Lina needs me here.”
“Oh.” I can picture his face falling. “Well, I understand. You’re joining the tour again when it goes down under, aren’t you?”
He’s caught me off guard. “Why would I not be?”
“Some crew members are quitting after Zooropa. Makes it a lot easier to travel, let me tell you.. We’re also getting rid of the Zoo Plane-”
“You’re not quitting, are you, Jack?” I break in.
He laughs. “No! I’ll stick with this tour to the bitter end. Australia’s the place to be, man!” Before I giggle he slips back into professional mode- “I guess I’ll see you next when Zoomerang begins.”
“Zoomerang?” What a ridiculous title- and yet so apt. I drum my fingers along the phone. “Jack, I really want to see the videoshoot.”
“Are you sure Lina can’t survive without you?”
I think. I’m afraid that my up and leaving will hurt her more than I can imagine. But everything in me -not just my soul, my entire being- is drawn towards Zoo TV. I haven’t lived normally without it.
“She’ll live. God. She’ll live.” Already I can see the bright lights of the screens flickering in my face, hear the riff of Zoo Station crank out in the air and feel that surge when Bono rises to the stage… Bono.
At once I can’t care that he probably doesn’t love me- that I literally have no chance with him. I have to get to the Lemon videoshoot- I need to see Bono. And- well, I did have other friends there…
“Where’s the videoshoot taking place? I could catch a plane tonight.” I need to be there.
“It’s right here in Dublin. We’d love it if you could come!”
“I should talk to Lina,” say I, knowing full well that I won’t be talking to Lina. She might try to prevent me from going, and I can’t have that happen. “See you then, Jack. Can you give me the address?”
He tells me where the video will be shot and I write it down, already figuring out the time difference between Rotterdam and Dublin. We say goodbye, I hang up the phone- and at that moment Lina walks in through the door, carrying only one grocery bag and looking put out.
“Could you hold this, please?” is the first sentence from her mouth. I jump up and snatch the bag from her hands.
“Oh Lina, it’s not that heavy,” I breathe, turning and setting it down by the sink. Lina waddles over and begins pulling out food supplies.
“It sucks when you’re carrying it up several flights of stairs with stomach pains,” Lina groans. For the first time today I notice how she’s slightly hunched over, bending in on her belly.
“What, is it your time of the month?” I tease. Lina and I have never been far apart in getting our periods, and mine just finished a few days ago.
Lina frowns- “No, I… not yet…”
Leaving it at that, I suggest she take some Advil and make dinner. We settle down at the table, and I wait until Lina’s halfway through the meal to mention the Zoo world, bringing it up as casually as possible.
“So, you wouldn’t be too troubled if I fly out to Dublin tomorrow?”
Already Lina is putting down her fork. “You aren’t going to there to kidnap Bono, are you?”
Actually that’s a pretty fair guess, but I let the remark slide and tell her that I just happened to hear, by dropped word, that U2 is shooting a video tomorrow and I want to be there to oversee it. Lina sighs.
“Can you please just stay in one place for a bit? You’re the only one I can depend on here in Rotterdam. Marieke, if you want to go to Dublin you can’t be gone long.”
I hear and understand her every word, but I don’t want to obey. I can stay in Dublin for as long as I want- who is Lina to dictate my every move? The more I think about it, the more irritated I get.
“I’m not making any promises,” I state. “But I won’t forget you this time around, Lina. You’ll be first and foremost in my thoughts.” I’m not sure if this is a lie or not.
Lina opens her mouth, sighs, closes it, and looks off to the side. “Marieke.” Her tone of voice is soft. “I know you feel that I’m always nagging you, that you would be better off without my reminders. But that tour really changed you; I can see it in your movements and hear it in your voice. And you got into such deep shit with Larry and all… Marieke, you’re itching to be gone from Holland. Anyone can tell that. And I’m afraid- I’m just so stupidly afraid that if you leave now, you’ll never want to come back.” She looks down at her plate and half-eaten food.
She has a point. My life has been so dull and flat without the nightly U2 shows and the Zoo crew to liven things up. And god, I miss it to the point of pain. I’m not thinking of hurting Lina right now- I’m thinking of how I will be hurt myself if I don’t get back to that mindset.
“Don’t be silly. I can’t stay with the Zoo crew forever, you know!” Lina looks up as I continue. “I’ll always be there for you, Lina. I need you to provide me with a home!” Though without jobs for either of us, I’m not sure how much longer this home will last.
We talk a little more, and Lina realizes she can’t hold me down. By the time we reach a consensus, I’m done with dinner and Lina’s barely taken any bites. I put my plate in the sink, elated to be seeing the band again tomorrow, and leave the dishwashing to Lina so I can go pack my suitcase.
***
I’m the first one to wake up in the morning, having already reverted back to my tour sleep schedule. Taking advantage of my privacy, I hop into the warm shower and wash my hair. The water calms me down, draining away all thoughts but one- I’m going to Dublin!
Outside of the bathroom, I find Lina running water in the sink, her face pale. “Good morning,” she murmurs indistinctly, not looking at my eyes. I suppose she’s dampened from my announced departure this morning.
We make and eat breakfast, and I keep sneaking glances at my suitcase by the corner of my bed. I hope Lina hasn’t noticed I’ve packed more stuff than would normally befit a two-day trip… Lina looks as if she has something on her mind, but whatever it is, she doesn’t voice it. When breakfast is over, I rise and give my best friend a hug.
“Do you want to drive with me to the airport?”
“If you’ll let me,” Lina answers, looking up.
I laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The flight into Ireland leaves in a few minutes after we reach the airport- the KLM Airlines, to be exact, my personal hell. I walk past the phone girls with a smug smile on my face. Take a look at me now! Just before walking through the tunnel for my flight, I embrace Lina again, harder than before.
“Take care, call me if something comes up, and for the love of God, get a job!”
“I could say the same,” Lina murmurs. “Just not the bit about the job. Come home safely!”
Now we’re parted, and I keep Lina’s face imprinted in my mind for as long as I can, watching her grow smaller and smaller behind my back until I’m on the plane and the image dissipates.
Excitement swirls in my stomach as the plane takes off. I lie back in my seat and daydream about the Lemon video. What will the concept be? Will it be anything like the Numb video? Will I get to be a part of it? Well, I guess I’ll find out soon…
Of course there are the other, more important questions. Will anyone have missed me from the tour? What will the band think of my reappearance- and what will Bono say? Oh god, I’m going to see Bono today. Suddenly I wish I had dressed in a more choosy attire. Will Ali be there? Will he ignore me like he did at the after tour party? Or will the welcome be a little more, well, welcoming?
I plug in my little in-flight headphones and flip through radio stations. A funky guitar stops me in my tracks. It’s Mysterious Ways! I close my eyes and jam out.
One day you’ll look back
And you’ll see where you were held
Now by this love
While you could stand there
And not move on this moment
Follow this feeling
Eventually the plane reaches its final destination. I haul my suitcase out of the luggage rack and slide in through the airport terminal, taking my first steps back into Dublin. It tastes so sweet. There are quite a few people waiting on their loved ones from the flight, and one is even holding up a huge sign. My eyes adjust and catch the name printed across it- ANGEL OF HOLLAND.
I laugh and hurry up towards the sign. “Jack, you shouldn’t have!”
“I should have,” Jack says evenly, uncovering his face as I come around to his other side. He looks sunburned- probably from spending the final days of summer out in the fields of Scotland. “Miss Marieke… it is great to see you again.”
We catch up on the taxi ride into Dublin- though really, with all the phone chatting we’ve been doing recently, there’s not much to catch up on. I don’t ask about how any of the band members are doing- I want to talk to them personally- but I do implore Jack on the concept of the Lemon video, and voice a few of my ideas for it . Jack shrugs.
“I don’t want t spoil too much for you, but let’s just say you’re going to take a lot of pleasure out of this video than most people.” I ponder that tidbit all the way through the rest of our ride and our walk into the filming studio.
Just before we get into the supposed room where U2 is filming their video, Jack takes my arm. “Marieke, for your own good, try not to crowd the band’s space too much, especially not Bono’s. It’s not that I have absolutely no faith in your ability to control yourself, but please, don’t be too obvious. Bono’s attitude changes greatly in Dublin, as you may have found out from the end-of-tour party.”
I frown slightly- what is he saying? That I shouldn’t make a drastic move with Bono? Have I been known to do such a thing? “I… I don’t understand, Jack.”
“Ah well,” Jack sighs. “I really can’t explain it. You’ll find out what I mean on your own.” With that he motions for me to open the door. I do so- and, walking in, find myself face-to-face with The Edge. He’s wearing a deep blue suit, a black beret, and sunglasses. It looks so silly I want to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Edge asks, indignant, but his face softens. “Marieke! You’re here!”
“Hey, de Rand,” I say, and sidestep further from the door. “Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s for the video,” Edge explains. “Look.” He fingers the pocket on the side of the uniform, and my eyes light on three lemons, explaining the significance of the uniform. I nod reverently.
“Hey, isn’t this the same outfit you wore to the MTV Awards?”
“The one and very same.” Edge puts a finger to his lips. “But don’t tell anyone that, or they’ll all want one, and I won’t be unique anymore!”
“But we do all have one,” sounds a voice from across the room. I move my eyes. Larry stares back. He’s wearing the same uniform that Edge has on, but is pulling it off in a much more attractive way. I have to force my eyes to stop ogling him- and pretend to ignore the engagement ring standing prominently on his hand.
“Hi, Larry,” I murmur gently.
“Hey, Marieke, good to have you,” he answers back coolly, keeping his distance. I’m a little frustrated with his insistence on staying away from me. It was one night that will never happen again… well, as far as I know it won’t.
“Where is everybody?” I ask. Of course, by everybody mean where is Bono? Some assistants for the video are milling about, and I spot a director and a cameraman in the area. But the other two band members are nowhere to be seen.
“Bono’s changing clothes for the next shot…” I stop listening to Larry right there. He scrutinizes me with his dark blue eyes. I wave him off. Only one man matters right now.
Jack is wandering around the room, making small talk. He orbits back to my side and nudges me. “Are you hungry, Marieke?” he questions in Dutch.
“Not really…” I respond. Jack is undeterred. “Come on, I’ll show you where the snacks are.” He pulls me away. I’m sure he’s doing this so I won’t completely lose my head when Bono walks out. But why would I do that?
We munch on fruit and sip soda and Bill Flanagan, who’s probably been editing his book during his off-tour time- and seeing more of Bono than I have been- approaches us and gives me his promised interview.
“You’re the first fan that U2 has hired on this tour- or on any tour, as a matter of fact. What do you think was so special about you that made U2 change their policy on hiring fans?”
“I’m not actually sure,” I say, shrugging. “Bono told me he liked the way I think. I’d been backstage twice before, and Eric Vandom offered me a job, even though I’d had no prior experience working in the music business.” And even though it wasn’t his place to offer me one… “The band couldn’t think of a good place to fit me in, but after I suggested writing Mr. MacPhisto’s speeches Bono decided I was brilliant, and insisted to keep me on.”
“Do you feel the fact that you’re the only fan the band has ever hired has given you any privileges or limits that normal employees wouldn’t have?”
“Oh, not really. I mean, I get to see Bono and the band a lot more often than some would, but other than that, I feel they treat me pretty fairly, specifically in payments. But how would I know what’s normal- I’ve never gotten that treatment! There have been no limits I’ve truly noticed before. If they want me to stay out of their hair, they’ve never mentioned it to me.”
“You observe the show every night from the wings,” Bill says. “I s the way MacPhisto performs your speeches in any way similar to what you had in your head? Is it satisfying to see your writing being performed onstage, or do you usually go, ‘Oh no, you’re fucking up my speech!’?”
I laugh. “That does happen sometimes, but usually MacPhisto sticks to my script. Sometimes he ad-libs or deviates from my original writing if he can’t remember the punch line, and sometimes he has to make up a conversation from thin air if we actually catch a celebrity on the phone. Only once have I been utterly, completely dissatisfied, and that was when Bono refused to have me write a speech. He went out there with a speech of his own, and it just didn’t meet my standards.”
“So you have trouble when he writes for himself- you prefer your touch to his?”
“No, it wasn’t that,” I say. “Bono just essentially turned the character MacPhisto into himself. He called his home phone number. That was wrong. I see the human Bono as being completely different from the character MacPhisto. MacPhisto is what Bono could become n the future, if he isn’t careful. The lives of those two must be kept apart from each other- MacPhisto must stay in the encores of Zoo TV, and Bono lives everywhere else.”
Jack pops a strawberry into his mouth, delicately biting through its flesh with his teeth. Bill looks as if he’s going to ask me another question, but suddenly a voice rings through the air and all my attention is diverted.
“I’m ready for the next shot!” the croaky British accent intones. Filled with glee, I spin my body around and come face to face with Mr. MacPhisto. Without a shirt.
He’s holding the red fabric in his hands, looking to pull it on over his head. His white face makeup is on, the red lipstick covering his mouth. Not a hair out of place!
MacPhisto blinks at the sight of me and speaks in Bono’s voice. “Marieke! It’s good to see you here.” I nod and say roughly the same, trying to stop my eyes from tracing the planes of his chest- at least, what planes I can see beneath the thick curls of hair. Every part of his skin that’s showing past his face is tan, out of place with the ivory of the face paint.
I realize I’m supposed to say something more, and fumble for words. “I came here to see Lemon being shot. Jack and I were talking about the video on the phone. He invited me.” Never have I been more painfully aware that my voice is nowhere near the standards of a true English speaker. MacPhisto slips his red ruffled shirt over his head, lowering my lusting by a hair.
“Why are you… dressed like this?” I ask, gesturing to the MacPhisto guise. “What’s the video about?”
“Oh, I decided for once I’m not going to be Bono in a video,” he laughs, using that endearing but maddening British accent. “And don’t you like me better this way?”
Yes, yes, I like him a lot better this way. For one thing, MacPhisto is single.
As he walks off, obeying the director’s orders to get back on set, I call to him, “MacPhisto, where are your horns?”
He turns back around and winks at me. Oh, I’ve missed that.
“I lost them, Angel, and don’t tell me I can’t do without!”
He can do without, I realize. MacPhisto is instantly recognizable even without his trademark accessory.
Once my Devil has gone, Bill finishes his interrogation quickly and I lean against Jack to watch the filming. MacPhisto twirls, moves his arms robotically, and lip syncs to the track. At one point, he even clings to Adam, hugging the bassist tightly to his body. I whisper to Jack, “Is this what you meant by I’d get more out of this video than others?”
“Yes,” he murmurs back. I also think I understand now why he warned me to control myself.
The video shooting lasts for quite a while. There are no extras needed, so I begin to despair at my hopes of ever being in a U2 video. You had your chance with Numb, but lost it to Morleigh… Some folks go home, Bill being one of them, and some stick around, like Jack.
The band, of course, isn’t allowed to leave until all filming is over. Unlike in Numb, U2 has to be in every shot of the Lemon video- though Bono/MacPhisto appears more times than the rest. After the MacPhisto scenes are filmed, Bono goes back to the changing room- I try to get him to say hi to me as he walks, but he’s distracted- and reemerges as The Fly. My eyes dance over his leather body.
Jack leans forward and whispers in my ear as I trail The Fly with my eyes. “Remember what I said earlier- about trying not to crowd Bono’s space?”
I rip my gaze away from The Fly. “What?”
Glancing around, Jack casually slips into Dutch. “I can’t seem to explain it correctly. I’ve just noticed that Bono’s entire demeanor changes when he’s at home and not working. It’s different from what you’re used to, on tour.”
I watch The Fly perch on a small ledge, leaping off, and wonder what Jack means. “He doesn’t seem any different.”
“But you have to be careful,” Jack continues. “Because remember that flirtatious, cheeky Bono you met on Zoo TV? From what I’ve observed, he’s not like that here. Surely your birthday party would be an indicator of that.”
This is even more mystifying. I hadn’t perceived any change in Bono’s behavior from the time on tour and the time of my birthday party- if anything, he was even more infectious than usual, singing love songs to me. But then again, that had been at a party. And I had asked for that kiss…
“Does this have anything to do with Ali?” I ask. Thank God we haven’t seen each other since the aftertour party.
“Not exactly…” The scene in front of us collapses and U2 drifts to separate parts of the room- Larry out a door, Adam to a corner, and Edge and The Fly to the camera to review the shots. It’s hard to focus on Jack’s words- “It may have a little to do with his family, but… I just feel that there’s a certain change in his behavior towards you.”
Shut up. “You know something? You really can’t explain it.”
“It should be obvious to see later on,” Jack says, finishing the conversation without his temper slipping away. I stand up and stroll over to the video’s director, Mark Neale, lapsing back into English. “Can I see the film?”
Mark turns the camera over to me and I watch the raw, unedited footage of Mr. MacPhisto dancing, of U2 moving around in meaningless tasks, and of The Fly doing what he does best- striking poses.
“It’s good,” I say skeptically, handing the camera back and wondering how the footage will look edited.
It takes hours to finish filming, and the stars of the shoot are exhausted by now. The last few shots are of MacPhisto alone, so the rest of U2 scatters while the Devil films his last scenes. I’m growing sleepy, nodding off on Jack’s shoulder, only to jerk back into wakefulness with each cry of, “Cut!”
Soon Jack is rousing me again- “The video’s over, Marieke.” I scan the room and see Mark and the cameramen packing up. Darnn. All I wanted today was to talk with Bono, and we’ve barely exchanged a word.
Upon leaving the building, Jack falls into Dutch, asking me, “Where are you sleeping tonight?”
I glance down at the heavy suitcase I’ve packed this morning. “Er…”
Jack’s tone grows affectionate. “You planned on crashing with me, didn’t you?”
“It’s nothing,” I say hurriedly. “I can buy a room for myself. I don’t want to take up your space.”
“What do I care about that?” Jack asks, shrugging. “You’re a friend. I’ll let you stay with me.”
“Can I sleep on the couch or on the bed?” I ask.
“Well… which one would you prefer?”
I laugh. “You know damn well what the answer is. I love you.” Embracing Jack, my eyes scan the area behind his shoulders. People are still trickling out of the building, and my watching the doorway pays off when I spy a man heading towards us, his black clothing blending in with the night’s darkness. I wave and disentangle myself from Jack, who murmurs, “I love you too, woman,” teasingly and turns around with me.
“Hi Bono,” I say.
“Hey, Marieke- how’d you like the video filming?” Amusingly enough, those dark Fly shades still cover his eyes, even in the dark of night. It’s bugging me a little not to know where his gaze is focused. I reach up to Bono’s face. “It was fun. Come now, do you really need these now?” Bono allows me to remove them, and pulls them out of my hand. “Mine,” he growls, mockingly. “No, I don’t need them. Just keeping up appearances.” Now that they’re off his face, I can see his eyes flickering from me onto Jack, and staying there. He has a puzzled expression.
“The footage will be edited by tomorrow,” Jack says. “I can’t wait to see how the video turned out.”
“Me either!” I exclaim. “Bono, you were great performing today.”
“Sounds like someone’s biased,” Bono laughs, plucking a curl from my head and tickling my cheek with it. Now this is the Bono I remember. But he still holds confusion in those blue eyes of his, and it only deepens as his gaze drifts onto Jack once more. What’s going on between them?
“Biased? You mean with MacPhisto?” I say. For some odd reason Jack decides now is a good time to intrude upon the conversation. “Hey, Marieke, sorry to interrupt-“ well, at least he’s courteous- “but we have to get a taxi soon. The hotel’s not close enough for us to walk.”
“Yeah, I meant MacPhisto,” Bono says slowly, not looking at me.
“Goodnight, Bono,” I say regretfully. “It was nice seeing you.” He nods and waves, and I wander off towards the sidewalk, wondering what’s going on in his head right now. Could this be that shift in personality that Jack described to me earlier today, or has Bono just got a lot of stuff on his mind?
“Jack, can I talk to you for a second?” Bono calls. Jack dashes back, telling Marieke to wait for him.
“What’s up, boss?”
Bono doesn’t laugh. “Just- what was that you were saying to Marieke right before she noticed me? It sounded like-“ Bono tries out a rough imitation of the phrase.
“Oh, that?” Jack repeats the phrase with perfect pronunciation. “Ik hou van je. I told her I loved her.” Noticing the unconscious glare in Bono’s eyes, Jack quickly explains, “In a friendly way, not romantically. Are you jealous or something?”
It takes a moment for Bono to laugh. “Ah, no, just wondering what it was you said. Thanks, Jack. Catch you around.” Jack nods and runs off, back to Marieke.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Oh, Bono thought when I said I loved you, I meant I actually loved you, and wanted me to make it clear for him.” I try to keep my expression indifferent, but I guess I’m not doing a good job of it, because Jack says, “Don’t read too much into it, Marieke. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know,” I say, a little huffily, and hail the first cab that comes our way.
Meanwhile, Bono is strolling home, having left his car behind, and ponders deeply the information Jack has just revealed to him. The Dutch phrase has sounded in his ears many a time when he’s hung out with Marieke- it is the only thing she has ever said to him in her native language, as far as he can remember. Come to think of it, the audience in Rotterdam was also yelling it at the opening show of Zooropa, but Bono had shut that out as he sang, focusing on the music.
What would be the point of veiling a phrase in another language so Bono can’t understand it? There’s only one explanation that makes sense- the person who spoke it doesn’t want Bono to understand it, maybe because it’s embarrassing, or a secret. A secret… Bono feels he has struck on something there. When was the first time he ever heard Marieke speak it…
The first clear memory that comes to Bono’s mind is backstage, after the show in Oslo, Norway. He’d embraced her, and after they pulled apart she had murmured something quietly- “I love you,” as Bono now knows it means. Still, when he had heard the phrase for what would appear to be the first time, it hadn’t really felt like the first time…
Bono has been trying to forget Marieke’s birthday party, as it was definitely not one of the best nights of his life- indeed, it had been downright embarrassing, with Eric and Marieke both acting so unprofessional, all culminating in that kiss outside, which was definitely worthy of being buried beneath his brain. That time he had been the one acting unprofessional, going with Marieke’s request to fill his desire- a desire that shouldn’t even be there, as just the night before Bono had been proclaiming his love for Ali as they lay in bed together.
But that night had awakened something in him, something that felt frighteningly familiar- and very right. Everything was connected- the Dutch phrase meaning “I love you,” the kiss-which hadn’t felt like the first time either, terrifying Bono to death if he thinks of it- and public phones, which even now as Bono passes one on the street feels compelling, as if he must go in. Something is up, there’s no doubt about it. Bono just can’t distinguish reality from a dream- maybe he’s just thought he kissed Marieke, which is embarrassing in its own right, but at least is in no way cheating on Ali, as would be the case if he really has kissed her. He is still struggling to work everything out as he walks up the front steps to his house.
Jack’s room is dark when we enter it together, and I unpack my suitcase as he turns on the light and strips the sheets from the bed, hauling them over to the couch. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?” I ask, and he nods. “I’ve slept on couches before. It doesn’t bother me.”
After brushing my teeth and changing clothes- behind a locked door, of course- I lie awake in bed and listen to Jack’s deep, soft breathing. For once I wish that it was him I’d fallen in love with. He may not be attracted to me now, but in another world we could be very happy together. I wonder, if we hadn’t met each other on the tour- if we had casually met in Rotterdam, or anywhere else- would it be he I’m obsessing over now? Would we be as close as Herman and Lina once were? Would she be the envious one at home, disliking Jack simply for the reason that he’s my boyfriend, and she has no one to hold?
But then again, if I’d met Jack without the added bonus of Zoo TV, I never would have found the man who tops him.
The last thing I do before sleep takes a hold on me is consciously refuse to call home.
***
After Bono has left the film studio, the rest of the band stays behind for the space of a few moments, and in those few moments Larry calls them to a meeting. “I want to talk to you guys, and we can’t include Bono in this.” Edge and Adam follow uncertainly, sitting down at the now empty refreshment table.
Once everyone’s been seated, Larry speaks up, letting loose his internal verbosity that he usual keeps silent in his head. He tells his bandmates about his suspicions that Marieke has a crush on Bono, and asks them if they have ever believed this or noticed something that might suggest her feelings towards him.
Edge is the first one to speak. “It’s funny you should say this, Lar. I never noticed it on Marieke’s part, but- well, call me crazy, but I believe I’ve spotted it on Bono’s part.” He falls silent, tapping his fingers softly against his jeans.
Larry doesn’t voice his opinion on this as he tries to process it, but Adam speaks up almost immediately- “You sure? I always thought- I always thought Marieke liked someone else. I thought she and Jack were together…”
“And we all thought Bono was forever faithful to Ali,” Larry murmurs. “What makes you think he’s not, Edge?”
Edge sighs. “It’s nothing he’s said to me. I just pick up vibes when they’re together. It could be just a crush… I’m afraid to ask him about it, though. I tried once and he dismissed the whole thing.”
“Hmmm.” Larry settles back in his seat, unable to get another word out. So Marieke’s infatuation may not be unrequited? He flashes through his memory, trying to find proof that this is true- and suddenly remembers his view of every contact Bono and Marieke have ever had. There’s a possibility that Bono’s flirting went beyond just that. Why hadn’t Larry noticed any of this before? Threads begin to spin in his head. If Bono truly loves her…
“Should we get them together?” Larry blurts.
Both Adam and Edge are surprised. Adam says, “You remember that lunch in Bologna, when I made a joke about him separating from Ali? You know how angry he got then. I don’t think he’d be happy without her.” He calmly lights a cigarette.
What an understatement, Edge thinks. He too remembers that lunch in Bologna- it had been the first time he had suspected that something was not all right with Bono.
Three-fourths of U2 finally leave the studio with the conversation heavy on their minds. Larry rolls this new-old information about Bono over in his head. He knows Bono and Ali’s marriage should never be broken apart. He knows Marieke is not the best choice for Bono. But he can’t get the idea of them together to leave his brain. Bono’s usually the matchmaker in U2, but Larry is sure he can stand in for him. After all, he thinks, Marieke didn’t deserve me, but she does deserve Bono. A little voice whispers in his ear, telling him that’s not the only reason he wants to see them together. Larry shakes it off. He believes this will work.
***
The first sight my eyes treat me to in the morning is Jack sitting on the back of the couch, talking to someone on the phone. He notices me, smiles, and turns his back. I sit up, roll out of bed, and head to the bathroom.
Once I’ve brushed my teeth, washed my face, and changed clothes, Jack has finished his call. I ask him who it was- “Someone from Rotterdam?’
“No, not Herman,” Jack says. “But it was definitely someone who-“ He stops himself short and glances around. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you could keep this on the down-low, but I’ve gotten myself into a relationship with someone in Scotland. It might not last.” He gives a shrug. “For some reason my relationships never do. But for now it’s going strong, and I’m very proud of that.” He grins.
“Man or woman?” I ask.
“You won’t know till you meet ‘er,” Jack says nonchalantly. I raise my eyebrows. “Jack, you just gave it away.”
“Oh, did I… ah, shit,” he sighs. “Oops- sorry, Marieke.”
“Doesn’t offend me,” I say.
Jack hops up. “Damn, why am I keeping you in here?” He laughs. “I don’t think you’ll be able to stand me, Marieke. I’m very quirky when I’m not working. Maybe a room for yourself is a better idea.”
“It’s more private at least,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?” Jack agrees to this and takes over the bathroom. Out of curiosity, I try the door when he’s inside- he’s locked it, and I can hear his voice calling evenly from the interior, “Can’t take any chances, now can we?”
I stare at the wall, thinking on how coincidental it is that I was just wondering what it would be like if Jack and I had dated last night, and now this morning it turns out he already has a girlfriend. When Jack returns to the main room, brown hair dripping, I relay these thoughts to him.
Jack stares. “If you and I had started dating, Marieke, neither of us would be here in Dublin right now.” He’s right, as always.
When we’re ready, we go get breakfast from the lobby downstairs, and walk out into the crisp Dublin air. Autumn is fast approaching us, and the leaves are turning and blowing off the trees- blowing into my hair, even, but I comb them out with my fingers. Next month is October, the month for which U2 has written an entire album about. It’s my least favorite U2 album, but the title track sticks in my head as Jack leads me across the street.
October, and the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care?
October, and kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall, but you go on
And on…
We conclude the walk at the foot of a large cement building, which Jack takes me inside of. Almost immediately I can hear music- a driving bass backbone, some enthusiastic drums, and an unearthly guitar. My heart springs at the wild voice, emoting in a tone of danger. “Daddy’s gonna pay for your crashed car…”
Inside the rehearsal room, the sound pounds into my brain, making it impossible to hear anyone’s voice. I stare at U2 on the makeshift stage. Edge is stomping pedals, making all the effects himself, while Adam’s bass throbs and Bono stands center, eyes half-shut, wavering in place to the music. The song ends, and I burst into applause. Bono opens his eyes and smiles, not seeming surprised that I’m here.
“Hey,” he calls, and turns to the band, asking for their feedback.
“Zooropa rehearsals?” I ask, walking towards the stage.
“No, Zooropa was last month!” Bono spins to face me. “This is Zoomerang.”
The name never fails to make me smile. I pretend that I haven’t heard it before and laugh, and Bono asks me what I thought of Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car.
“I just walked in, it was hard to judge exactly,” I say.
“Let’s run that one again!” Bono yells, and the band, fiddling with their instruments, begins. It’s a great, energetic song- though the sound could use fattening with synthesizers- and Bono is obviously getting into it, rocking and weaving through the motions.
It’s clear that the band is unsure how to end the song. My world is rocked when Bono starts yelling, “What a night! What a city! Zoooooomeraaaaasng! Zooooooooooooomeraaaaang….”
He shakes his head. I shake mine too. That didn’t sound right at all- not like the “ZOOOOORROPA!” cries at the end of Desire that I so love. And yet, I’m excited. This is implying that my man MacPhisto will sing Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car, and nothing can be better than that.
The band huddles in for a talk again. The decision is made for U2 to run Lemon. Now I’m intrigued. Ultraviolet will most likely be replaced by this song. How will it sound live?
Edge’s guitar sounds even less human than in Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car. I can’t even recognize it as a guitar- what effect is he using? Adam’s bassline is haunting- subtle on the album track, but prominent here, in person. Larry’s beats are nicely accenting the song.
And Bono opens his mouth, and the sound that slides out of it makes my heart thump. “Leeemon…”
Transfixed, my hands clasp each other. Bono sounds like an angel, using the best falsetto I’ve ever heard coming from him. His voice was nowhere near as heavenly on the album track. A dull point of wanting begins to beat inside me, a longing for- for Bono? For the song? It’s hard to say.
The ending slows way down, and I see that the band are attempting a fade-out. Unfortunately, it isn’t pulled off quite brilliantly enough. The song falls flat with a clunk.
Bono faces us- “What did you think of that?” It seems as if he’s only talking to me.
“We need to work on a better ending,” Edge says. He takes off his guitar and walks over to the drum kit.
“I liked it,” I call. “But yeah, the ending was bad. Where are you fitting this song in the set?” Maybe if I know what songs are the bread in the Lemon sandwich, it will be easier to decide how to finish it.
“We’re moving it to the encore,” Bono says. “After Daddy’s Gonna Pay, I think…”
So they’re dropping Desire too? There goes my obsessive MacPhisto attachment. However, if Lemon is replacing Ultraviolet, that means that the song that follows it up is With or Without You. And that would mean…
“Adam!” I yell, snapping everyone’s attention onto me. “Give me your bass.” I stray to the stage and Adam unstraps his bass and hands it over. I check to make sure it’s tuned, and pick out the Lemon bassline.
“I have an idea…” I murmur. Everyone, including Bono, is watching me. After a few tentative first attempts, I finally manage to hit a roll with the Lemon line and play it confidently for a few minutes before transforming it deftly into something much bigger and soul-searching…
If everyone had been interested in me before, they are enraptured now. I play With or Without You until I get bored and drop my hands. Bono is the first to applaud me. Everyone else looks mildly impressed, but he’s the only one to clap excitedly, and I glow.
“We could try that,” Adam says, smiling, and descends from the stage to take the bass back. Soon he’s testing out my new segue, polishing up my mistakes. Pride fills me. I can see the band itching to start the song once more.
“Marieke Lang, you have done it again!” Bono cries, turning back to the mic stand. I smile, but something in me folds into an uncomfortable shape. I don’t feel right. Too many eyes are on me, too many people…
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m good at transitions.”
Walking back, I wonder if this is what I was meant to do on tour all along- help the band think of musical links. Certainly Zooropa wouldn’t be the masterpiece it is if I hadn’t tampered with it, and now Lemon would have failed live if not for me.
U2 plays Lemon once more, using my segue into With or Without You. The effect is transfixing. Bono sings a few times, “Midniiight… midniiight…” before Adam’s bass thrums into one of my favorite song. Disappointingly, they cease playing once it’s worked out and nod at each other with satisfaction. But I love With or Without You…
I stick around to watch Dirty Day be rehearsed- if it wasn’t for Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car, I might insist MacPhisto to sing this- but soon wander off to find more crew members who are helping with the sound and effects of the new songs onstage. One thing I’ve learned on tour is that not even the band members can do everything. The underground musicians play a large part in getting every Zoo noise just right.
During a break in rehearsals, I find to my delight that the band is heading backstage, towards me and others. I wave. Bono breaks from the four-man pack to give me a hug. “Hi, Angel!”
“Hi Bono!” I chirp. Someone catches his attention and he turns from me. Desperate to make the conversation last, I clear my throat when they’re done talking. “Are you going to say it?”
“Say what?” Bono asks.
I imitate his Irish accent, putting my words low in my throat. “Marieke, you’re a genius!”
He laughs. “Haven’t we already established that?”
My ego gets another happy boost. The other band members are still in the room, talking to other friends- Edge is with Morleigh, and they look intense. Hm.... Adam is with Stuart, showing him the bass segue, and Larry has disappeared. My attention is momentarily suspended from wondering where he’s gone when two more men enter the room- Jack, and a man I recognize as Mark Neale, the director of the Lemon video. Excitement grows when I realize he’s carrying a tape.
I call to Jack. “Hey!” As soon as he comes over, Bono leaves my side in favor of Mark’s. Grrr… why can’t I have two men with me? Jack greets me- “Hey is for horses, Marieke”- and I ask him if that’s the finished Lemon video Mark has in his hand. Jack nods. “It sure is!”
Of course, we all decide to have a movie day. Everyday sits down in front of the TV and the video tape is fed into the VCR. I wasn’t there yesterday for the beginning of the filming, so this is going to be interesting.
And it is. Words scroll across the bottom of the screen as captions- “Man running, man dancing, man shaking guitar.” The whole scene is washed in a pale black-and-white set against a background of intersecting lines. From the moment a hornless MacPhisto sings “Lemon, see through in the sunlight” to the last shot of the camera slowly moving away from his face, I am hooked on the screen, watching Bono’s alter egos dance. The moments where Edge sings “Midnight is where the day begins” are washed in light, with faint hints of smoke trailing up as the band members rotate in a circle. The camera zooms in on MacPhisto’s expression as he clings to Adam- a scrunched up face full of longing.
The video ends, and we all applaud. I feel the need to stand up and turn my hands in Mark’s direction. Others take this cue and follow my lead, while I call “Bravo” to the band.
Adam and Edge appear flattered, but at one glance it’s easy to tell that Bono is less than pleased. In fact, he’s downright shocked, or confused- I can’t read his expression.
“I don’t like that footage,” he announces, brows knitting together. “It’s… it’s too weird.”
Weird? But the entire Zoo TV Tour is weird. Hell, Numb was weirder than that video! What’s Bono talking about?
Apparently Mark wants to know as well, because he asks Bono to elaborate. Still looking confused, he answers, “I barely looked like myself! That wasn’t what I expected..”
“Well, it’s not as if we can edit the footage,” Mark states uncomfortably.
“Can you please do something?” Bono cries. “It’s freaking me out. The video was scary. We want to bring in U2 fans, not turn them away.”
I try to tell Bono that of course he didn’t look like himself, he was MacPhisto, but he’s not listening to me. Mark is clearly worried. “Do you want to re-film it?” NO! They can’t destroy this work of art…
We are startled from this debate when yet another man enters, bringing a sense of relief- it’s Larry, back from wherever the hell he was. “Hello, guys,” he greets us, and a light grows in me- maybe he’ll approve the video to go ahead.
Three members of U2, plus Mark, urge Larry to watch and see what he thinks. I am treated to Lemon once more, and at the end of the clip Larry looks at Bono. “What’s wrong with it? This is the best performance I’ve ever seen you do.”
“Really?” Bono asks, hope flaring across his face.
“Really! That video was great!”
“Yeah,” I cut in. “It’s the best U2 video I’ve ever seen.”
Bono’s features settle back into content. “Well, we can’t let that go to waste.” I want to cheer.
“Lemon- coming straight to your TV!” I exclaim, and Bono smiles at me.
Our group breaks apart, and I travel over to Larry, feeling the need to congratulate him. “Larray!” I sing.
He isn’t nearly as jovial. “Marieke. Em, may I talk to you?”
Mistrust flows through me. “About what?”
Seeing my face harden, Larry backtracks. “I mean, I just want to ask a question.”
Hopefully it isn’t anything about our time in London. “Sure, go ahead.”
Larry glances around as if to check if anyone is watching. This is a bad sign. My muscles tighten.
But all he asks is, “What do you feel for Bono?”
What? His blue eyes pierce me, and I know he’s not going to drop this subject until I’ve answered. But- but- how could he have known? Did Jack-
“Have you been listening to rumors?” I ask.
Larry’s seriousness will not leave. “What kind of rumors are you talking about?”
Great God, I’ve just slipped up. “So, you haven’t heard anything?” I state skeptically.
He leans back. “No, I haven’t heard any gossip about you. I’ve just begun to assume that your feelings for Bono extend beyond the usual friendship. Is that true?”
“Larry-“ It’s not alarming that he’s figured it out. The secret’s been kept for far too long without anyone finding out or squealing about it. I wish there was a wall I can slump against. “The extent of our relationship does indeed go beyond friendship, but only on my part. Bono remains a devoted husband, and I’m just a woman with a schoolgirl crush.”
I think he’s going to tell me off, but instead Larry says, “Like the one I had on you.”
“Er…” How am I to relate his feelings to mine? We barely know the inside of each other’s heads. “Mine didn’t lead to a night together, though.”
Larry’s face fills with pain. “I didn’t think so.” I can tell what he’s remembering right now.
“Come on now, Larry, would Bono really cheat on Ali for me?”
Instead of answering, Larry says, “There are too many people around.” No one notices as we slink off to talk in complete privacy.
There Larry’s floodgates open up- who knew he was such a talker? Not me, that’s for sure. “Marieke, I’m worried about you and Bono. You may think it’s just an unrequited crush, but I have other ideas. Bono has you on the mind a lot more than he should. Working on those speeches together led to something deeper. I can’t tell if he’s aware of these feelings or not, but it’s clear to see- the man is infatuated with you. No one’s brought up the subject directly to him, but I’ve talked with Adam and Edge and they think the same. He loves you, Marieke. He just doesn’t know how to proceed.”
At this moment my heart is given wings and it flies right out of my chest, while at the same time my stomach plummets to the soles of my feet. Oh God. The concept is too hard to imagine. Bono loves me. He… loves… me. I can’t react right now- there’s still a few questions to ask.
“Have you known this for long?”
Larry shrugs- “I’ve always known it unconsciously, somewhere.mI can’t say when I first noticed his affection- It just sort of grew with every show. Edge was the first one to bring it to my attention. I didn’t realize you reciprocated those feelings until the tour ended, actually. Especially because of your hanging around with Jack and Eric, and then what we did together-“
“That wasn’t even about me,” I cut in. “It could have been anyone else, in anyone’s hotel room.”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Larry says quietly.
I sit down. Larry doesn’t move. For once my eyes start tracing his features, trailing across every aspect of his body…. Dammit, why does he have to be taken?
“I heard you’re engaged,” I say.
“Yes.” Larry crosses his arms. I spy the small band wrapped around his finger- nothing flashy, in fact hardly noticeable.
“Was I any part of your decision to propose?”
“Yes,” Larry repeats. He looks down. “You know my heart always belonged to Ann. I never believed in marriage until I cheated on her with you. It was an awakening. I’m hoping being officially taken will make me think before I act on impulses with other women.”
“I don’t feel so great, being that other woman,” I say. His brilliant blue eyes, a deeper sapphire color than Bono’s, stare up at me, waiting for me to continue.
“Larry, how am I supposed to forget it?”
He moves forward, sitting down next to me. “I don’t know,” he answers sincerely. I wrap my arms around myself.
“So, now you’re going to tell me to keep away from you and Bono,” I say. “I’ll never love again.”
Larry folds one leg over the other- “With me, yes. With Bono, no.” I gaze at him, surprised. He explains, “I’m on your side with this, Marieke. I don’t care if it breaks up Bono’s marriage, but you have to be with him.”
“Really?” I wonder what brought this on. Maybe Larry thinks I have feelings for him and wants to point me in Bono’s direction so I won’t try any more moves with him. Maybe he feels sorry for me and wants me to get what I want. Whatever the reason is, it’s nice knowing someone’s rooting for me- even if it is a man who once loved me.
Larry nods. “I know he needs you, somehow. You’re always the first one in his dressing room after a show. He doesn’t even let others come in until you’ve entered. I may be stuck behind the drums all the time, but it’s obvious to tell that when he dances with those women onstage, he really wants to go to the wings and bring you out. And I wonder, how has no one outside U2 noticed?”
How have I not noticed? MacPhisto may have danced with me thrice, Bono may have kissed me twice, and we may have shared intimate moments when writing speeches, but never once did I suspect what I feel was shared.
Upon leaving the room, it doesn’t take long before I’m back on the floor, staring up at the stage with my eyes glued to Bono. Larry soon slips behind the drums, is greeted by his bandmates, and the rehearsals begin again. I watch intently. Can that man in the dark shades, pouring his heart out under the spotlight, really love me? It feels like too much to hope for, but it must be true, unless Larry is leading me on.
A man makes a picture
A moving picture
A man melts the sand so he can see himself up close
MacPhisto- I mean, Bono, turns on his heel gently, keeping a hold of the hand microphone. Without thinking, I blurt, “This would look great on film!”
The music is deafening, making Jack, who is next to me, the only one to hear my remark- “You want to make the Lemon video again?”
“It was fun,” I say. “I can’t wait to see U2 perform it in Australia.”
Bill is also near us, and somehow catches the conversation. He turns around. “Didn’t you hear about the Triplecast?”
“What?”
“Oh!” Jack exclaims. “I forgot to tell you, Marieke! They’re filming one of the shows down under.”
They are? “Why is it called the Triplecast?”
“I was about to explain,” says Bill. “U2 wants to broadcast it on three different channels, from three different angles- the whole crew is talking about it.”
Except someone forgot to tell me, obviously, because this is the first I’ve heard of it. But Zoo TV on film… “The whole world will see it?”
“As many people as the broadcast reaches,” Jack says.
“So… I can be on TV?” I say, laughing. Jack laughs too. “Depends on where the cameras go!”
But that’s not what I mean. This time, I’m not going to stay backstage. I remember Bono’s warning in Oslo, the last time he danced with me- “Marieke? Don’t do that again.” Ha! Oslo was months away, and Bono has probably forgotten about that. When the broadcast occurs, I’ll be standing out there in the audience, by the B stage- and if Bono loves me like Larry says, he won’t be able to resist.
What Marieke does not know is that behind those dark Fly eyes, a pair of blue ones stare out at her, even as the mouth beneath them sings Lemon- even as the music stops.
but what is wrong with Lina? I know she doesn`t want Marieke to go but still. And those lyric fit well.
