Brooklyn - Taylor Swift

Part 15

Two weeks had passed since we bid our final farewell to Cora at the lake house. Life had carried on, as it always does, with its relentless current. But the void left by her absence was still raw and palpable, an ache that lingered in the depths of our souls. You would think we would be used to this by now. Ren had died. Junior had died. Donna, well, she is a whole different bag of cats. The point is I should be used to this sort of pain. But I'm not. No matter how often I experience it, it shreds my soul every time.

In a cruel twist of fate, we found ourselves back in the vibrant chaos of New York City. The annual spectacle of the MTV Video Music Awards loomed on the horizon. We had already agreed to perform, and while Lanie had offered to try and get us out of it, the three of us agreed that performing would do us some good. Not to mention it gave us a great platform to drop our latest surprise.

As the sun set on that fateful evening, we gathered in the dressing room, a space bustling with activity and nerves. Teddy fidgeted with his drumsticks, his hands even more twitchy than normal as he drummed a repetitive tune against any surface he could reach. Mick, lost in his own thoughts, absentmindedly fixed and refixed the black turtle neck he was wearing. I stared into the mirror, meeting my own gaze, searching for fragments of the person I once was.

The room was filled with an air of anticipation, intermingled with the weight of our loss. Our bond as a band had been forged through shared experiences, triumphs, and tragedies alike. And now, as we prepared for this glittering distraction, we were reminded of the void that Cora's absence had left behind.

In the corner, our stylist flitted about, finalizing the last touches on our outfits. The vibrant colours and sparkling fabrics stood in stark contrast to the somberness that still clung to our hearts. Yet every coloured piece of clothing offered to us was rejected, as the three of us chose to wear all black for the event. Mick had on a black turtleneck wifebeater hybrid sort of thing with black slacks and trainers, while Teddy wore a black puffy shirt and black jeans with boots. Meanwhile, I wore a long black skirt with a slight paired with a matching black crop halterneck. The stylist insisted that just because we're in mourning doesn't mean we can't be stylish while we're at it. 

With a deep breath, we stepped out of the dressing room, our faces masked with a practised smile, concealing the turmoil beneath. The corridor leading to the red carpet was a flurry of activity, with celebrities and their entourages jostling for space and attention. Lanie had offered for us to get ready at a different hotel, but none of us was in the mood for the song and dance all that takes, so we settled on getting ready here before coming back around to walk to the carpet briefly.

Cameras flashed, illuminating the corridor with bursts of blinding light. Famous faces floated past us, their gazes fixed on the camera lenses that sought to capture their every move. Some exchanged polite nods, while others were too absorbed in their own celebrity orbits to notice our presence.

We found ourselves surrounded by a whirlwind of glittering gowns and sharply tailored suits. Conversations buzzed in a symphony of laughter and whispered secrets. But the air was charged with a superficiality that grated against our raw emotions. We yearned for a genuine connection, a moment of understanding amidst the chaos. But no one knew, and it was our job to make sure they couldn't tell.

As we made our way down the red carpet, we caught glimpses of familiar faces. A wave of nostalgia washed over us as we spotted musicians we had crossed paths with during our journey in the industry. They offered kind words and empty smiles as we politely complemented each other's work, not a single word feeling sincere as we bounced from one celebrity to the next. In fact, for once, I let the boys do the talking, too caught up in my head to field the casual chit-chat.

But the sea of unfamiliar faces continued to surge around us, each individual consumed by their own pursuit of stardom. It was a constant reminder that, in the grand scheme of things, our own grief was but a mere footnote in the glittering tapestry of fame and success.