Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Disclaimer: Absolutely not true.
It only hurts when I'm breathing as performed by Shania Twain
I hope life’s been good to you since you’ve been gone
I’m doing fine now
I’ve finally moved on
It’s not so bad
I’m not that sad
And it only hurts when I’m breathing
My heart only breaks when it’s beating
My dreams only die when I’m dreaming...
*Home sweet home.* Ceili thought bitterly as she pulled up to the little ranch style house her sister and her husband had so graciously rented to her when she had left Roger. The house was in a serious state of disrepair, and they would never have been able to rent it legally, but Ceili had been desperate. She had actually done the little two bedroom house quite a bit of good in the months she was there.
She’d replaced two of the old windows around which the sashes had been rotting, the glass threatening to fall out every time someone slammed a door. She’d painted it, inside and out, and planted a few lilac bushes along the driveway. It wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it kept her relatively dry and warm. She had phoned from the airport to let them know she was coming home so they wouldn’t be too surprised. She felt about an inch tall when her sister had replied
“Yeah, we already heard all about it. Sounds like you know how to pick the loser out of even the most famous crowd.” Ceili had hurt more at her sister calling Larry a loser than anything, though. It was all her fault, too. Had she really thought she would be able to run away from her bad luck? She should’ve known it would just follow her and drag down anyone else she got involved with.
She’d been welcomed home by a whole herd of dust-bunnies, half a dozen dead plants (which her sister had promised to water religiously) and an answering machine full of messages. She didn’t even bother to listen to them, she just turned the machine off and forgot about them. No one calling with good news ever left a message, anyway.
She didn’t even bother to change into pajamas, just fell on top of the covers on her squeaky old bed and cried herself soundly into unconsciousness.
The next few days she did pretty much the same thing. She avoided calls from the press, her family, and old friends who hadn’t spoken to her since high school. She drove her little sedan to the closest convenience store and stocked her kitchen out of the frozen food and junk food selection they sold. Nothing the least bit nutritious, but she didn’t care. She lived off canned spaghetti and Twinkies, soda and juice drinks on the bottles for which was always written ‘contains no fruit juice’.
It was around the time she found herself pondering just what kind of juice was in these drinks if it wasn’t fruit juice, she realized she needed to get on with her life. She was doing no good for anyone, including herself, by sitting around in her bathrobe and crying over old episodes of ER which she’d seen a dozen times.
Her life sucked. ‘So,’ she told herself, ‘Do something about it.’ It may not have worked in the past, but that was because she was not trying to change anything then. She’d only tried to outrun the circumstances of her life. It was time to stand up to them, change what she could and accept what she could not.
She had known love, if only for a short while. Rather than mope because it was gone, she would appreciate the memory of it and cherish it. It would buoy her strength in trying times. The first thing she had done was to contact the chiropractor who had been prepared to share his office with her, back before she had heard about the job with the band.
“Dr. Henley?” She greeted the older gentleman as she peeked into the registration area at the small office, which was located in a strip mall along the old highway. It had once been the thriving business district for the small town, but once the freeway had been built, all of the retailers had moved out to the North end, near the on and off ramps for it.
“Ceili! I had heard you were coming home early. It’s so good to see you!” he greeted her, his already cheerful face lit up when he saw her, and he drew her immediately into a hug.
“It’s good to see you too, John.” She told him honestly. The man was in his late sixties, having changed careers from sports medicine to chiropractic’s in his late thirties. He swore to everyone that chiropractic medicine was the key to his mysteriously good health and youthful spirit, and no one could think of any better explanation.
“So does this mean you are ready to start work?” He asked when they parted, and tears nearly sprang to her eyes. She had been prepared to plead for the chance to work, expecting that he had found someone else when she had decided to go with the band instead.
“More ready than you can imagine.” She told him with a forced smile. “Let me tell you, nothing has looked quite as welcoming to me lately as that ‘Healing Touch’ sign did just now.”
“Oh, so you like the sign the way it is then?” He asked, moving to the window and looking out at the smaller version of the sign which hung both by the door and overhead.
“Yes, of course. Why?” She asked, standing beside him and looking out at it as well.
“Well I was thinking of changing it.”
“Changing what?”
“You see there, beneath ‘Healing Touch’, where it says J. Henley, DC?” He asked, still looking out the window rather than directly at her.
“Yeah?” She agreed.
“I’ve thought for a good long while now that something was missing there.” He turned to look down at her where she stood beside him. “I think it needs to say J. Henley DC and C. Jordan DC/massage therapist.” He wrapped a fatherly arm around her shoulders.
“I see what you mean.” She said, playing along. “But I still don’t think that’s quite right.”
“You don’t?” He laughed. “Should Jordan be first?”
“No, I think it should be Henley and Mackenzie.” She told him. “I’m going back to my maiden name.” He smiled at her approvingly.
“Good for you. Making a fresh start.”
“Exactly. And I mean to do it right this time.” She told him, her determination boosted by his friendship. She was standing on her own two feet, and it was scary as hell, but she was starting to suspect she just might actually be able to do it.
******************************************************************
“Mail.” Bono called out, seconds after the fairly large package left his hand, flying toward Larry. Fumbling it twice and recovering it inches from the floor, Larry shot his friend a look of mock irritation.
“What is this?” He asked with a frown as he examined the beaten up brown box which had been used and re-used. The return address was out of Chicago, but there was no name.
“Want one of the roadies to open it in case it’s a bomb?” Adam teased, not even looking up from his newspaper.
“Ha ha.” Larry replied with a sarcastic smile. He sat the package down and opened it quickly, staring down into the box in disbelief.
“What is it?” Bono asked, hurrying over to peek around Larry’s shoulder.
“Broken drumsticks.” Larry replied, pulling a set of drumsticks which had been broken in several places out of the box. Under the all-too-familiar drumsticks were the photo and CD they had all autographed for Ember during the reunion with her mother.
“Looks like somebody is pissed off.” Bono declared, removing the hat he’d given her. “Hey, what’d I do?” he wondered out loud.
“Have you gotten a hold of Ceili yet?” Adam asked Larry, finally interested enough to put down his newspaper.
“No. I think she’s avoiding me, I’ve tried her mobile and I’ve tried the home number on her card at least three times a day.” Larry replied.
*******************************************************************
“Ceili?” A small voice asked from the other end of the line.
“Yeah. Ember, it’s me. Thanks for calling me back.” Ceili told her daughter, closing the door to the office for a little privacy.
“Of course. I’ve heard a lot of really wild stuff, are you ok?” She asked, her genuine concern making Ceili’s heart swell.
“I’m fine. That’s why I called you. I want people to know the truth, but I just hate going to the press. You were telling me about that website. Would they be interested in hearing the whole story?” She asked, frowning when she was greeted with silence.
“Ember, are you still there?” She asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. So what are you saying…. Because I sort of got mad and sent all of my stuff back to them.” She informed her mother meekly.
“Oh, Ember, you did?” she was moved that her daughter, who had idolized U2, had been so upset on her behalf that she had returned her prized possessions. “It wasn’t anything like the tabloids made it seem.” She assured her.
“So, are you still together?”
“No. But that was because of something that I did, not him.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about your stuff.” She told her. “Maybe you can still get it back.” To this statement, Ember sighed melodramatically on the other end of the line.
“It’s not just that. I mean I REALLY wish I hadn’t sent it back now. Partly because I wish I still had it and partly because…” Her voice drifted away here, and Ceili had to urge her to continue.
“Because…”
“I kinda trashed it before I sent it back.” Ceili pursed her lips tightly together to contain the laughter which threatened. The girl was honestly upset over the situation, and she didn’t need to be laughed at. Still, the impetuousness of youth was amusing.
“I’m sorry.” She told her.
“I was pissed off. I’m glad you’re ok, though. So, what really happened?” She asked.
“I’m going to write it all down and e-mail you, ok? If you can get ahold of someone who writes for that site and see if they want it. You can give them my contact information so they can verify everything or whatever. The associated press can get it from them, and that way I don’t have to deal with any vultures.” Ceili explained.
“Absolutely.” Ember agreed enthusiastically, honored to be included in something so big.
*********************************************************************
~ I think it’s time to set the record straight. Apparently, nobody seems to want to listen to the truth, even when a group of people as good as U2 and the organizations they are affiliated with are the ones telling it. The rumors may be far more entertaining, but there is really no other value in the things many people have been saying, even just speculatively, about the incident which occurred in Detroit involving Larry Mullen Jr., Roger Jordan and myself, Ceili Mackenzie (Jordan).
My ex-husband and I were involved in a dispute. During the course of this dispute, Roger assaulted me physically. Larry intervened. End of story. Sorry to disappoint all of the gossip mongers out there, but the fact is if you’re looking for a villain, you won’t find one named Larry Mullen. He is the most honorable, kindest and just all around best man I have ever known.
While my affiliation with Larry and U2 has changed, that was not due to any action on Larry’s part nor any other member of the band, crew or administration of U2. It was due solely to a history of bad judgement on my part, and I left to deal with personal matters of my own accord.
Finally, I want to take this opportunity to thank Larry for his intervention on my behalf and apologize for all the negative attention he suffered as a result. – Cecilia Mackenzie ~
**************************************************************
“Did you read this yet?” Edge asked, sliding the laptop across the table so Larry could see what he had found. Larry read the statement twice, hardly believing he’d read it correctly.
“She blames herself for everything.” He muttered, beginning to think perhaps she was not avoiding him because she was angry at him for what he had said. She was ashamed, far moreso than she ought to be.
“I really need to get her to talk to me.” He groaned, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face.
“Do what I’ve always done to get someone’s attention.” Bono suggested.
“What’s that, make a total arse of himself?” Adam joked.
“Make a grand gesture.” Bono replied shooting Adam a playful look of irritation.
“What kind of grand gesture?” Larry wondered.
“You can think of something, you know her pretty well. You had to convince her to go out with you in the first place, didn’t you?” Edge asked, and Larry’s eyebrows raised as if he’s just been giving the formula for the cure for cancer.
“I’m going to need your help with something.” He told them, gesturing for Adam and Bono to join them at the table so he could explain his idea.
*********************************************************
“Ceili, is everything ok in there?” John asked from the other side of the bathroom door. Ceili rested her head against the cool porcelain sink and breathed deeply and evenly. This was the third day in a row she had been queasy. She’d always been fairly resilient to stomach flu’s, and couldn’t help but be a little bitter at the timing of this particularly bad one. As if she wasn’t already having a difficult enough time adjusting to life on her own.
“I’m ok, thank you.” She called out to him before standing up and splashing some water on her face. She wasn’t surprised to find him still hovering near the door when she emerged, concerned about her.
“Why don’t you take the rest of today off? I’ll call and reschedule your appointments for tomorrow, as well if you’d like. What better way to celebrate your one month anniversary than a day off?” He asked her, moving her into the office and pulling up her schedule on the computer.
“One month? I haven’t been here that long.” She informed him, yawning loudly.
“Certainly you have. One month tomorrow.” He showed her her calendar to prove it. Had she really been back in Wisconsin for six weeks? On the one hand, it seemed like it had been forever since the time she’d spent with Larry. But somehow it just didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she had lost track of the time, but there was a strange nagging sensation in the back of her head.
“I guess that’s a good sign, that time has slipped away. I must be enjoying my job to have gotten up every day without a break to my routine…” her voice drifted off and her eyes narrowed as that nagging sensation became clearer. Was it possible?
“You know what, John. I think I will take you up on that and go home for the afternoon. But I’ll be in tomorrow.” She told him, grabbing her purse and keys, obviously distracted suddenly. John wished her well, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her thoughts were a million miles away.
Be sure to stay tuned for the conclusion to our little drama. Touch Part 10, coming soon to a forum near you!
It only hurts when I'm breathing as performed by Shania Twain
I hope life’s been good to you since you’ve been gone
I’m doing fine now
I’ve finally moved on
It’s not so bad
I’m not that sad
And it only hurts when I’m breathing
My heart only breaks when it’s beating
My dreams only die when I’m dreaming...
*Home sweet home.* Ceili thought bitterly as she pulled up to the little ranch style house her sister and her husband had so graciously rented to her when she had left Roger. The house was in a serious state of disrepair, and they would never have been able to rent it legally, but Ceili had been desperate. She had actually done the little two bedroom house quite a bit of good in the months she was there.
She’d replaced two of the old windows around which the sashes had been rotting, the glass threatening to fall out every time someone slammed a door. She’d painted it, inside and out, and planted a few lilac bushes along the driveway. It wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it kept her relatively dry and warm. She had phoned from the airport to let them know she was coming home so they wouldn’t be too surprised. She felt about an inch tall when her sister had replied
“Yeah, we already heard all about it. Sounds like you know how to pick the loser out of even the most famous crowd.” Ceili had hurt more at her sister calling Larry a loser than anything, though. It was all her fault, too. Had she really thought she would be able to run away from her bad luck? She should’ve known it would just follow her and drag down anyone else she got involved with.
She’d been welcomed home by a whole herd of dust-bunnies, half a dozen dead plants (which her sister had promised to water religiously) and an answering machine full of messages. She didn’t even bother to listen to them, she just turned the machine off and forgot about them. No one calling with good news ever left a message, anyway.
She didn’t even bother to change into pajamas, just fell on top of the covers on her squeaky old bed and cried herself soundly into unconsciousness.
The next few days she did pretty much the same thing. She avoided calls from the press, her family, and old friends who hadn’t spoken to her since high school. She drove her little sedan to the closest convenience store and stocked her kitchen out of the frozen food and junk food selection they sold. Nothing the least bit nutritious, but she didn’t care. She lived off canned spaghetti and Twinkies, soda and juice drinks on the bottles for which was always written ‘contains no fruit juice’.
It was around the time she found herself pondering just what kind of juice was in these drinks if it wasn’t fruit juice, she realized she needed to get on with her life. She was doing no good for anyone, including herself, by sitting around in her bathrobe and crying over old episodes of ER which she’d seen a dozen times.
Her life sucked. ‘So,’ she told herself, ‘Do something about it.’ It may not have worked in the past, but that was because she was not trying to change anything then. She’d only tried to outrun the circumstances of her life. It was time to stand up to them, change what she could and accept what she could not.
She had known love, if only for a short while. Rather than mope because it was gone, she would appreciate the memory of it and cherish it. It would buoy her strength in trying times. The first thing she had done was to contact the chiropractor who had been prepared to share his office with her, back before she had heard about the job with the band.
“Dr. Henley?” She greeted the older gentleman as she peeked into the registration area at the small office, which was located in a strip mall along the old highway. It had once been the thriving business district for the small town, but once the freeway had been built, all of the retailers had moved out to the North end, near the on and off ramps for it.
“Ceili! I had heard you were coming home early. It’s so good to see you!” he greeted her, his already cheerful face lit up when he saw her, and he drew her immediately into a hug.
“It’s good to see you too, John.” She told him honestly. The man was in his late sixties, having changed careers from sports medicine to chiropractic’s in his late thirties. He swore to everyone that chiropractic medicine was the key to his mysteriously good health and youthful spirit, and no one could think of any better explanation.
“So does this mean you are ready to start work?” He asked when they parted, and tears nearly sprang to her eyes. She had been prepared to plead for the chance to work, expecting that he had found someone else when she had decided to go with the band instead.
“More ready than you can imagine.” She told him with a forced smile. “Let me tell you, nothing has looked quite as welcoming to me lately as that ‘Healing Touch’ sign did just now.”
“Oh, so you like the sign the way it is then?” He asked, moving to the window and looking out at the smaller version of the sign which hung both by the door and overhead.
“Yes, of course. Why?” She asked, standing beside him and looking out at it as well.
“Well I was thinking of changing it.”
“Changing what?”
“You see there, beneath ‘Healing Touch’, where it says J. Henley, DC?” He asked, still looking out the window rather than directly at her.
“Yeah?” She agreed.
“I’ve thought for a good long while now that something was missing there.” He turned to look down at her where she stood beside him. “I think it needs to say J. Henley DC and C. Jordan DC/massage therapist.” He wrapped a fatherly arm around her shoulders.
“I see what you mean.” She said, playing along. “But I still don’t think that’s quite right.”
“You don’t?” He laughed. “Should Jordan be first?”
“No, I think it should be Henley and Mackenzie.” She told him. “I’m going back to my maiden name.” He smiled at her approvingly.
“Good for you. Making a fresh start.”
“Exactly. And I mean to do it right this time.” She told him, her determination boosted by his friendship. She was standing on her own two feet, and it was scary as hell, but she was starting to suspect she just might actually be able to do it.
******************************************************************
“Mail.” Bono called out, seconds after the fairly large package left his hand, flying toward Larry. Fumbling it twice and recovering it inches from the floor, Larry shot his friend a look of mock irritation.
“What is this?” He asked with a frown as he examined the beaten up brown box which had been used and re-used. The return address was out of Chicago, but there was no name.
“Want one of the roadies to open it in case it’s a bomb?” Adam teased, not even looking up from his newspaper.
“Ha ha.” Larry replied with a sarcastic smile. He sat the package down and opened it quickly, staring down into the box in disbelief.
“What is it?” Bono asked, hurrying over to peek around Larry’s shoulder.
“Broken drumsticks.” Larry replied, pulling a set of drumsticks which had been broken in several places out of the box. Under the all-too-familiar drumsticks were the photo and CD they had all autographed for Ember during the reunion with her mother.
“Looks like somebody is pissed off.” Bono declared, removing the hat he’d given her. “Hey, what’d I do?” he wondered out loud.
“Have you gotten a hold of Ceili yet?” Adam asked Larry, finally interested enough to put down his newspaper.
“No. I think she’s avoiding me, I’ve tried her mobile and I’ve tried the home number on her card at least three times a day.” Larry replied.
*******************************************************************
“Ceili?” A small voice asked from the other end of the line.
“Yeah. Ember, it’s me. Thanks for calling me back.” Ceili told her daughter, closing the door to the office for a little privacy.
“Of course. I’ve heard a lot of really wild stuff, are you ok?” She asked, her genuine concern making Ceili’s heart swell.
“I’m fine. That’s why I called you. I want people to know the truth, but I just hate going to the press. You were telling me about that website. Would they be interested in hearing the whole story?” She asked, frowning when she was greeted with silence.
“Ember, are you still there?” She asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. So what are you saying…. Because I sort of got mad and sent all of my stuff back to them.” She informed her mother meekly.
“Oh, Ember, you did?” she was moved that her daughter, who had idolized U2, had been so upset on her behalf that she had returned her prized possessions. “It wasn’t anything like the tabloids made it seem.” She assured her.
“So, are you still together?”
“No. But that was because of something that I did, not him.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about your stuff.” She told her. “Maybe you can still get it back.” To this statement, Ember sighed melodramatically on the other end of the line.
“It’s not just that. I mean I REALLY wish I hadn’t sent it back now. Partly because I wish I still had it and partly because…” Her voice drifted away here, and Ceili had to urge her to continue.
“Because…”
“I kinda trashed it before I sent it back.” Ceili pursed her lips tightly together to contain the laughter which threatened. The girl was honestly upset over the situation, and she didn’t need to be laughed at. Still, the impetuousness of youth was amusing.
“I’m sorry.” She told her.
“I was pissed off. I’m glad you’re ok, though. So, what really happened?” She asked.
“I’m going to write it all down and e-mail you, ok? If you can get ahold of someone who writes for that site and see if they want it. You can give them my contact information so they can verify everything or whatever. The associated press can get it from them, and that way I don’t have to deal with any vultures.” Ceili explained.
“Absolutely.” Ember agreed enthusiastically, honored to be included in something so big.
*********************************************************************
~ I think it’s time to set the record straight. Apparently, nobody seems to want to listen to the truth, even when a group of people as good as U2 and the organizations they are affiliated with are the ones telling it. The rumors may be far more entertaining, but there is really no other value in the things many people have been saying, even just speculatively, about the incident which occurred in Detroit involving Larry Mullen Jr., Roger Jordan and myself, Ceili Mackenzie (Jordan).
My ex-husband and I were involved in a dispute. During the course of this dispute, Roger assaulted me physically. Larry intervened. End of story. Sorry to disappoint all of the gossip mongers out there, but the fact is if you’re looking for a villain, you won’t find one named Larry Mullen. He is the most honorable, kindest and just all around best man I have ever known.
While my affiliation with Larry and U2 has changed, that was not due to any action on Larry’s part nor any other member of the band, crew or administration of U2. It was due solely to a history of bad judgement on my part, and I left to deal with personal matters of my own accord.
Finally, I want to take this opportunity to thank Larry for his intervention on my behalf and apologize for all the negative attention he suffered as a result. – Cecilia Mackenzie ~
**************************************************************
“Did you read this yet?” Edge asked, sliding the laptop across the table so Larry could see what he had found. Larry read the statement twice, hardly believing he’d read it correctly.
“She blames herself for everything.” He muttered, beginning to think perhaps she was not avoiding him because she was angry at him for what he had said. She was ashamed, far moreso than she ought to be.
“I really need to get her to talk to me.” He groaned, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face.
“Do what I’ve always done to get someone’s attention.” Bono suggested.
“What’s that, make a total arse of himself?” Adam joked.
“Make a grand gesture.” Bono replied shooting Adam a playful look of irritation.
“What kind of grand gesture?” Larry wondered.
“You can think of something, you know her pretty well. You had to convince her to go out with you in the first place, didn’t you?” Edge asked, and Larry’s eyebrows raised as if he’s just been giving the formula for the cure for cancer.
“I’m going to need your help with something.” He told them, gesturing for Adam and Bono to join them at the table so he could explain his idea.
*********************************************************
“Ceili, is everything ok in there?” John asked from the other side of the bathroom door. Ceili rested her head against the cool porcelain sink and breathed deeply and evenly. This was the third day in a row she had been queasy. She’d always been fairly resilient to stomach flu’s, and couldn’t help but be a little bitter at the timing of this particularly bad one. As if she wasn’t already having a difficult enough time adjusting to life on her own.
“I’m ok, thank you.” She called out to him before standing up and splashing some water on her face. She wasn’t surprised to find him still hovering near the door when she emerged, concerned about her.
“Why don’t you take the rest of today off? I’ll call and reschedule your appointments for tomorrow, as well if you’d like. What better way to celebrate your one month anniversary than a day off?” He asked her, moving her into the office and pulling up her schedule on the computer.
“One month? I haven’t been here that long.” She informed him, yawning loudly.
“Certainly you have. One month tomorrow.” He showed her her calendar to prove it. Had she really been back in Wisconsin for six weeks? On the one hand, it seemed like it had been forever since the time she’d spent with Larry. But somehow it just didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she had lost track of the time, but there was a strange nagging sensation in the back of her head.
“I guess that’s a good sign, that time has slipped away. I must be enjoying my job to have gotten up every day without a break to my routine…” her voice drifted off and her eyes narrowed as that nagging sensation became clearer. Was it possible?
“You know what, John. I think I will take you up on that and go home for the afternoon. But I’ll be in tomorrow.” She told him, grabbing her purse and keys, obviously distracted suddenly. John wished her well, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her thoughts were a million miles away.
Be sure to stay tuned for the conclusion to our little drama. Touch Part 10, coming soon to a forum near you!
