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Old 04-01-2010, 02:09 AM   #1
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Adrift-Chapter Thirteen

I had the hardest difficulty writing this chapter! So if it's plain, I'm sorry. A writers block is coming on...Alas, here is the next chapter! Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I own my writers block. FICTIONAL otherwise.

Chapter Thirteen

An article in the paper was waiting for when I woken the next morning. It was a small square on the fourth page, a picture of me next to the Edge Wards Off Larry wall image. In short, the article explained who I was, what I did, about the exhibit and who was there and who bought what. Luckily, there was no word about Bono and his affair with the “young, up-rising Rock Music photojournalist.” Hm, I like that.

“Young, up-rising Rock Music photojournalist.” I repeated to myself, skipping about the apartment, cleaning up the kitchen and bedroom.

Late into the afternoon, I found it odd that Bono hadn’t called. Not that he had to, but I had expected a little “hello” or “how are you.” Silly, I know. Could it be the kiss we shared last that caused his absence? If that being the case, there would be no hard feelings. Surely we were caught up in the moment and years and years of built up desire out-voted common sense.

Oh well, I thought to myself, another night alone in this damned apartment. I’m ok with that. I turned on the TV and channel surfed for what seemed like ever until finding a decent movie. Curling up on the couch, I watched in fuzzy daze. Since when did I come so dependent? As a teen I loved being by myself. Now I hated it. Dreaded it. Loathed it!

The night passed and still no word from the rock star. Brooke and I met for our usual coffee the following morning and I explained to her my situation.

“So he didn’t call you for one night,” Brooke shrugged. “Men do that all the time.”

That was a laugh and a half. “He’s not just another man, Brooke. You don’t know him like I do. He wouldn’t just not call. Especially after we k-” I stopped.

Brooke squinted at me. “Oh, no, you don’t, miss! Especially after what?”


“Did you two do it!”

“NO! We just…kissed.”

“Same difference, now you know why he’s not calling you.”

My heart into my stomach. “How is kissing and sex the same thing? And what do you mean by that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She sat back in her seat and crossed her long legs. “It’s all a power trip to him. He turned around, blamed everything on you. I mean, how is it in any way your fault for him not contacting you? So you were harsh to him, you should be harsh to him! You told him you want to be friends, he still wants to be more, you said no and then you done fucked up and kissed him!”

“I…I thought it was what he wanted.”

“It’s exactly what he wanted!” My friend shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. “He won. You gave in! And now he probably wants nothing to do with you.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Brooked rolled her eyes. “Arg! You have been denying him, telling him you don’t love him anymore. He’s a rock star, Jessie. Girls would give their left leg just to be in the same city as him. I bet for him, having someone tell him that they don’t love him is like a shot to the ego. But you kissed him, therefore, you love him and he was right.”

“That’s not it. He is human, Brooke. He wouldn’t be that cruel.”

“He was cruel enough to abandon you.”

Biting my lip, she had a good point. Did Bono leave me a second time, just as I was finally starting to come around? Or was I overreacting? It was just one night and he is engaged and we agreed, well I agreed, to settle for friendship. Was there a possibility that he was giving me space to think upon my feelings?

Feelings were the last things I wanted to work on…I’ve had enough of being a ping-pong, crashing from one side of my emotions to the other. Did I want to fall in love again, not only with Bono but with any other man? Falling for someone was too complicated and only gets worse when you end up let down. I've experienced that first hand.

One night turned into two nights, two to three and three to four. This couldn’t be happening again! He was not torturing me! Was this a sick idea of a joke because no one is laughing!

Day six, I spent on the couch from morning until six that night, drifting in and out of an irregular sleep.

“Jessie, sweetheart, you have to get up sometime soon. At least eat something.” Lynn urged, sitting on the edge of her daughters bed. “What’s wrong with you lately? Ever since the band left you’ve been here in your room, your grades are falling. You have to get a good GPA if you want to go to New York.”

“I know,” Jessica groaned into her pillow. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re down cause they’re gone but you have to move on with your life. Did you expect them to stick around?”

No, she thought, not all of them, just one. “No, mom. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Jessica lied. She had no other choice. Even after three months of the band being gone, she couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom the true reason to her odd depression. Lynn and Alan had a discussion on whether or not to put their daughter on anti-depressants. In the end, they took her a doctor and he prescribed her with a month trial of Lexapro.

Two months after, she was still on them, her dosage increasing. Then Lynn wondered if they should send her to a shrink. Jessica went against it. She was eighteen and couldn’t be forced. Nothing, not a pill or a crazy shrink, could solve Jessica’s issues. No one in the world could understand what she was going through.

She missed Bono. Plain and simple.

Plain and simple. I miss him…Damn this! I didn’t want to be eighteen for a second time. Once was more than enough.

Hearing the familiar ring of my cell phone laying on my chest, Bono’s ID showed up on the small screen. Thank God!

“Bono,” I breathed. “It’s about time! I mean, I know the phone works both ways but damn, you cou-”

“Jessica,” He interrupted. “I’m sorry but I had to leave.”

There was something in his voice that didn’t fit. He sounded tired and…I don’t even know how to describe it. Normally he was chirpy, optimistic. Now he spoke so low that it was hard to determine if it was really him or not.

“Listen, you’re probably mad at me and you have every right but…I need to see you.”

“Of course,” I softened my tone. “What’s the matter? Are you ok? Bono? Are you…are you crying?”

I heard him sniff from the other side of the phone. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can, ok?”

“I’m not in New York.”

Not in NY? “Where are you then? Jersey?”

“No,” He anticipated. “France.”

“FRANCE? How do you expect me to get to France? Swim?”

“I know, I know. It’s a long story but I swear I will explain. I could really use a friend right now. You don’t understand how much I need you.”

If not for his lack of humor and over abundance of grief, I would have labeled the man crazy. There was no denying that there was something terribly wrong. He wouldn’t ask me to go all the way to France if everything was normal.

“Are you still there?” Bono’s voice cracked.

I nodded, even if he couldn’t see me. “Yes, I’m still here. I’ll book a flight for th-”

“No need. I have a private…a private pilot who can take you. Just…just go to JFK and…”

“Breathe, Bono. I can’t understand you.”

Waiting patiently for his sobs to subdue, I ran to my room to pack, my heart quickening and aching. What could be bothering him so much?

“Ok,” He said finally, hiccuping a few times. “Go to JFK and wait outside the valet parking area. A tall man with a white mustache and brown leather jacket will be waiting for you at the doors. His name is Benny.”

“I’m on my way now.” I added, zipping my suitcase.

“Thank you, Jessica.”

A tear fell down my cheek. “No need to thank me. I’ll see you soon.”



Taxi’s. I hated taxi’s about as much as I hated my old boss. Obviously annoyed with me as much as I was with him, the driver kept yelling "calm down" when I pounded on the seat with my fists. Calm down! How could I be calm? There was a sobbing rock star in France!

Arriving to the airport, in one piece thankfully, I threw my fair money in the drivers lap and dashed towards the front doors of the valet parking section. Looking around frantically for a man in a brown coat with no such luck, I sat on my suitcase and grunted. People stared as they walked by and I rolled my eyes. Like they’ve never seen a “loony” in this city before…

“Ms. Stewart?” A kind, deep manly voice brought me to my senses.

Brown coat, white mustache, yep, it was Benny! Smiling, he took my hand in his, the handshake steady and polite.

“I’m Benny, Mr. Bono’s private pilot. Sorry I’m a bit late, I had to make sure the tank was full. Are we ready?”

“Yes,” I said, grabbing my bag. Benny insisted and took the suitcase from my hands.

Following behind the pilot, we took a “private” detour of the airport until reaching a launching pad. The plane was small compared to the number of large jets that surrounded it from either side. We climbed up a flight of stairs and Benny told me to make myself at home and buckle up.

Although small, the inside was cozy, equipped with a couch, a tiny kitchen and an even more miniature bathroom. After pushing a few switches and buttons, Benny announced that it was time for take off. I had only flown once in my life, from Ohio to New York. This was a much bigger challenge. Flying was a sort of “fear” for me. I’m used to walking with my feet.

Safely in the air, I asked Benny if it was alright if I sat next to him. He was more than delighted.

“Mr. Bono likes to sit in the passengers seat, too.” Benny gleamed with a slight English accent. “Wonderful man. Not like the lot of them celebrities.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “How long have you known Bono?”

“It will be going on eight years now. We’ve had some wonderful flights together, Mr. Bono and myself. We’ve been all over the world.”

“What’s he doing in France?” I asked, hoping to get some sort of explanation.

Benny’s shoulders pushed up. “I never question Mr. Bono. Sometimes he will tell me why he is going here or there, sometimes he doesn’t. I’m just a pilot.”

“Surly you’re friends, though.”

“Of course we are, silly girl. He didn’t say much on our flight to France. He was unusually quiet. Slept most of the way.”

I hummed and sat back in the chair. Benny spoke again.

“He did speak of you, though, Ms. Stewart.”

This caught my attention. “Really? What did he say?”

“He said you’re a photographer and that you two used to be really good friends. He said that you’re special to him. That he cherishes you. Such a loving man. His heart is so big that I swear the world could fit inside it. How do you know each other?”

“Uh…just through mutual friends.”

The look on his face told me that he knew I was lying. And if he did know, he let it slide. “Well, it’s another six hours before we land. Would you maybe like some coffee or a stiff drink?”

“Coffee sounds nice. Maybe even a nap.”

We landed in France and Benny handed me bag. “Mr. Thomas will take over from here. It was a lovely time chatting with you, Ms. Stewart. Welcome to Nice and have a nice visit.”

Shaking his hand, I thanked him and then got into the black jeep waiting for me. Mr. Thomas was an old man, well into his late seventies, I imagined. He had a sweet, almost grandfather voice and was very small boned. Bless his heart, Mr. Thomas loaded my suitcase into the trunk of the car, waving me off when I begged him to let me take care of it.

Driving along the quiet streets, green numbers flashed from the dashboard. No way. Now was it-

“Six a.m.? It’s six in the morning here?”

“Afraid so, Ms. Stewart. You’re going to sleep very well tonight. Or should I say ‘this morning.’ We’re only a half hour away from Mr. Bono’s house. Just sit back and relax.”

At 6:45 Mr. Thomas pulled up to a large, two story, pumpkin orange building. I say ‘building’ because I have never in my life seen such a house! Even through the dark I could make out a beautiful balcony on the second floor. A tall, white concrete gate protected the radius and there were trees amongst trees!

Pulling up to a black barred gate, Mr. Thomas retrieved my suitcase before I could protest and set it at my feet.

“It was pleasure, Ms. Stewart.” He tipped his hat. “Mr. Bono gave me instructions to drop you off at the gate and to tell you to go right in.”

“Ok. Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

Tipping his hat again, I watched the car drive down the road. A load creak from the gate echoed through the empty air. Like a kid sneaking into his parents house after curfew, I tip-toed through the door, greeted by a long, wide hallway. A small lamp provided the only source of light and I desperately searched for a switch.

Success! Inside, the interior decorating was exquisite: cream painted walls, hardwood floors, flowing curtains. On the downfall, the house was HUGE and Bono was no where in sight. At least ten minutes passed until I found a stairway and a room to the right at the right, the door cracked open.

Pushing, I peered inside. A few candles burned and Bono slept on a large bed next to a set of French doors. Smiling at the sight, I set down my suitcase and smelled an intoxicating scent of salty ocean.

Not wanting to wake Bono, I made sure to walk lightly out the French doors and lit a cigarette, resting my elbows on the orange balcony rail. The sky was starting to lighten, soon it would be time for sunrise. In the back of my mind I told myself it was loco to fly to France on a whim like this. However, I couldn’t fight against the awing view.

Bono appeared beside me just as the sun was rising, the sky morphing from black to a splendor mixture of orange, pink, yellow and crimson. Resting his hand on mine, Bono flashed a small grin my way. He was still dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. He looked tired, his eyes baggy and hair ruffled.

“This is beautiful,” I said, lacing my fingers through his. “Where are we exactly?”

“Eze-sur-mer,” Bono answered, stealing a cigarette from my pack of Camels. “You mind?”

“Not at all.”

He lit the end and inhaled deeply, resting the side of his face on my shoulder. I kissed his hair and marveled at the blue, blue waters of Nice. The morning was air cool, smelling fresh and salty. I could almost feel the white sand beneath my feet, warm and dusty.

“Aren‘t you tired?” Bono asked.

I answered. “Yes.”

“I didn’t finish sleeping. Come on.”

Taking my hand, he led me into the large bedroom, it’s vanilla walls and cream carpets opening it up even more. White curtains danced with the strong breeze. Bono laid down next to me on the king sized bed. We didn’t bother to cover up with the sea-foam green sheets while looking into each others eyes. As if reading my mind, Bono kissed my lips delicately.

With a smile, I pulled away, tracing my fingertips over his face. His lips grazed over my skin, a tear falling down towards his chin. Kissing the drop away, I asked in an almost inaudible voice. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know how else to say this.”

“Bono, it’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”

The singer closed his baby blue eyes, kissed my wrist, palm and knuckles before looking up at me again. “There is a likely possibility that I have throat cancer, Jessica.”

“Wha-what? What do you mean ’cancer?’ No!”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid so. That’s why I’m here. There’s a great doctor who will keep his mouth shut. I haven’t told the mates or Olivia. You’re the only one I can find comfort in.”

“Oh, baby.”

Crying profusely, I was too stunned to move. Not Bono! Where would the world be without his unique, heart-melting tenor? Where would his world be? Singing was his passion, his reason for life. And surely life couldn’t be this cruel to such a wonderful, caring, beautiful creature!

“Hold me,” He pleaded with tear struck eyes, his voice tight and broken.

Not thinking twice, my arms circled around him, his face buried in between my breast and body shaking uncontrollably in tune with his loud sobs.

“You can be weak,” I encouraged. “This time, I’ll be strong for you.”


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Old 04-01-2010, 03:13 AM   #2
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i was totally NOT expecting that! Poor Bono ) :

but definately =

I thought it was great - scare the writers block away!

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Old 04-01-2010, 05:37 AM   #3
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I may have to own up to having a tear or two in my eyes

Poor Bono Totally unexpected!

Another wonderful chapter, hope your writers block vanishes, we're all loving the story and your style of writing
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Old 04-01-2010, 12:18 PM   #4
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! Your story keeps getting better and better. Poor Bono..I hope this never happens to him. Thats why he HAS to stop smoking. Sorry I won't rant too much, its just that my Mom finally quit after nearly 40 years of smoking and now she has emphysema. She's not smoking and she's constantly out of breath. I know that quitting is hard, but I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy. So I'm certainly connected with where you're taking this story. Bravo!
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Old 04-01-2010, 01:14 PM   #5
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Awww, thank you so much ladies

And I don't know if any of you know this, but in U2 by U2, Bono did explain that he had throat cancer scare and he didn't tell anyone, not even his wife and kids, about it. that's where i got the idea from

greanbean, I know how you feel. But I, myself, am a smoker and still very young. i have an uncle who got cancer from it and thank the lord, he came out strong. and now my grandpa is going through the same thing your mother is going through. well, not sure about the out of breath part. if my gramps is ever out of breath he hides it very well. and he's saying to me, "Ah, my favorite grand daughter with the chocolate smelling cigarettes." and I have to say "No, grandpa, you're not getting a cig. nice try." lol. it's turned into a family joke now. we're a very dark humored family.

damn, i rambled on more than i meant to. hahah.

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Old 04-01-2010, 03:56 PM   #6
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Yeah I drove my Mom nuts trying to get her to quit. We lost my Uncle to emphysema as well. She finally ended up getting Chantix and it worked. Same for my sister and my Aunt. Great, huh?
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Old 04-01-2010, 06:13 PM   #7
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Oh, the end of this chapter is so sad. I hope things will turn out ok. I hope that writer's block you think you're getting doesn't win. Yeah, I read about that in U2 by U2 about his cancer scare. I'm glad things are ok now. Looking forward to the next chapter and I hope it won't be too long of a wait.
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Old 04-01-2010, 06:38 PM   #8
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Poor baby!!

Great chapter...plot twist!! I hope the writers block disappears...tis an eeevil thing.
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Old 04-01-2010, 09:34 PM   #9
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Oh my freakin' God
Poor Bono!! I feel truly sorry for him!

So good this is fictional

Please, please, please: keep them coming!!
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Old 04-01-2010, 09:45 PM   #10
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to geanbean: that is wonderful! i'm really happy for them! what an accomplishment! i hope to someday quit. it's hard when you're around it so much, you know. and i've been a smoker since i was fourteen and i'm twenty-one now. trust me, i hate it. i hate the smell, i hate the taste but i've been with it for so long that i physically, mentally and emotionally crave it. i've met some people who just quit cold turkey. i'm waiting for my day. lol

as for everyone else, i just off work and i'm on my way to Microsoft! thank you for all your support!
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Old 04-01-2010, 09:58 PM   #11
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I hafta say, I'm reeeeally excited you came and announced that, and I will probably stay up to a wierd hour so I can read it before I go to bed
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Old 09-19-2010, 09:59 PM   #12
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Are you kidding moi?!?!?!!!
I seriously read this chap at a nervous, frantic speed!! And now you drop such a bombshell on us, but OMG if Bono EVER gets this, I don't know, I think I'd go in mourning or something

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