Bright Shiny Morning by James Frey
Others build their lives around trying to avoid it.
No one goes through it and comes out the same, no one goes through it and comes out unscathed, no one goes through it and comes out with their innocence, no one goes through it and comes out with their trust.
She starred in her first film at ten. Her mother took her to an open audition and the director thought she was perfect and the studio screen-tested her thought she was adorable. She got the part and shot the film and audiences loved her and the film made $350 million.
Her mother had been a dancer worked as a secretary for a high school principal her father was an accountant at a pool supply company who only came home three or four nights a week when he did he was drunk. She did another film got paid a million dollars her parents became her managers collected 20 percent both of them quit their jobs. She made an album of classic children’s songs updated and set to rock music it sold two million copies she made another three million and her parents got their 20 percent. She went on tour and sold out small arenas she made fifty thousand a night her parents 20 percent.
She officially dropped out of normal school her parents hired a tutor.
They bought a bigger house in a nicer neighborhood in their Midwestern hometown the father stayed home with their other three children. He had staff to help him with them he only came home three or four nights a week. She moved to Los Angeles with her mother.
Another hit film.
She had her first drink at thirteen.
Another hit film.
Smoked pot at fourteen.
Album.
Lost her virginity at fifteen he was a twenty-four-year-old actor.
Film.
She was making eight to ten million dollars a year her parents 20 percent.
Tour.
Her mother went home and left her with her bodyguards. The father wasn’t coming home at all the other children needed someone at home with them. Cocaine at sixteen, meth at sixteen. The job of the bodyguards was to protect her, not raise her. When they tried to control her she told them to leave her alone or lose their jobs. One of them kept trying. She called home and spoke to her mother and the man lost his job.
The others gave up.
Film.
Film.
There were no rules, no guidance. All of the people around her depended on her. They made money when she made money. She was seventeen.
She felt too much responsibility. When she tried to talk to her mother, her mother told her to keep working, that work would take her mind off whatever pressures she felt. When she tried to talk to her father he wasn’t available.
Film.
She was followed everywhere she went. By photographers, reporters, people who wanted to be near her, spend time with her. People fawned over her. Got her and gave her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. All she really wanted was love. Not because of her fame and money but because of what was inside of her. No one seemed to care what was inside, when she tried to talk about how confused she was, scared she was, tired she was, overwhelmed she was, the people she tried to talk to wanted to talk about the next magazine shoot, the next album, the next film. She dated older men all of them were also famous. She thought they might understand and might love her and make her feel safe. They used her for her body, played with her, discarded her when they were done. When she called her mother heartbroken her mother couldn’t talk because she was busy working on the next deal, her father wasn’t around and no one knew where he was.
She drank it made her feel better. She got high it made her feel better.
She went out and everywhere she went people called her names and took her picture and wanted to be near her and with her and gave her things clothes food drinks jewelry cars for free and it made her feel better.
An arrest at eighteen. The judge made her pay a fine.
A film it didn’t do well.
Another man.
Her parents somewhere her bodyguards placid her friends were they really friends? She was followed everywhere and she was confused and scared and no one would tell her what she was supposed to do.
An album with disappointing sales.
Another arrest and a trip to rehab they gave her a private suite and didn’t make her follow the same rules the rest of the patients followed. Three hours after she got out she was drinking her boyfriend a twenty-six-year-old singer took her out for dinner and then took her home.
Her mother came to visit. Her mother told her she needed to calm down and get to work the entire family was depending on her. Her mother told her that her father was missing and they thought he was in Florida with another woman and she shouldn’t expect to hear from him. When she started to cry her mother told her to get it together the entire family was depending on her. She was nineteen.
Another film another disappointment.
On the covers of magazines in the gossip pages every day some of what they wrote was true but most of it wasn’t, they said nasty things about her, called her names, mocked her, made fun of her hair, her clothes, her family, her name. She didn’t understand why she had never done anything to them, it hurt her, scared her, confused. She drank and got high it made the feelings go away for her, it made her numb, it allowed her to forget, it allowed her to feel something like what she imagined normal must feel like. She drank and got high and no one tried to stop her or told her to stop it or told her she was hurting herself.
Another arrest.
Another rehab.
Headlines screaming druggie, disaster, uncontrollable menace. Her mother screaming what are you doing you’re ruining it for everyone we need you, we need you. Her father gone maybe Florida, maybe Mexico.
Her friends telling her that she’s fine, she’s just having fun, she’s still a kid. Confused hurt and scared so she does more, and she can’t stop, she does more, she can’t stop, she does more.
She’s twenty years old.
After the fifth rehab he just gave up.
Her parents saw an ad for her sex tape on TV.
He doesn’t understand why other people do the same things, but no one cares.
She trusted people when they said they would stand by her and defend her.
His career was just taking off.
Thirty years in the public eye and it didn’t mean anything.
No one will stop her because if they try they won’t be able to make any money off of her.
At this point, he just wants to die.
At this point, she might as well be dead.
Where is everyone now?
It was supposed to be a dream come true.
In 1990, the population of Los Angeles is over ten million people.
Dylan gets the day off he and Maddie have a one-day honeymoon. They take a bus to Santa Monica and have a picnic on the beach and go to the pier and eat ice cream cones he gets mint chip she gets two scoops, one strawberry and one French vanilla, she’s eating for two, eating for two.
When they finish their cones they go to the end of the pier there are rides and carnival games Dylan wants to win a teddy bear for the baby. He plays a game with a water pistol no luck he tries the ring-toss no luck he plays a free-throw game two-out-of-three YOU WIN! on the third try he gets it. A big brown teddy bear wearing the jersey of one of LA’s basketball teams. YOU WIN!!!
They leave the pier, walk up to the Third Street Promenade five blocks of upscale shops and boutiques, the street has been paved with stones and sealed off from traffic, it is lined with booths selling perfume and jewelry, it is lined with benches palm trees and streetlights. They look through the windows of clothing stores, furniture stores, they walk past crowded outdoor cafés. They stop at a toy store they go inside and look at toys someday maybe, they go into a baby store and look at bassinets, cribs, changing tables, rocking chairs, blankets that cost as much as Dylan makes in a week, someday maybe.
They leave the store walk hand-in-hand down the promenade there are other families all around them they have two
They walk back to the bus stop wait, the sun is starting to drop, they’re both tired. Dylan sits down on a bench Maddie sits on his lap, leans in kisses him long and deep for a moment, two, three, she pulls away, smiles.
He speaks.
What was that for?
She speaks.
Because I love you.
I love you too.
We’re gonna be okay.
He smiles.
Yeah, we are.
We came out here and made a life for ourselves and we’re gonna be okay.
Smiles again.
I told you we could do it.
Thank you.
We did it together.
It was you. If you hadn’t made me do it I would have never left there. And I’d have hated myself for the rest of my life.
I would have never done it if you weren’t in my life. I would have stayed too.
For the first time in my life I’m happy.
Good.
I love you.
I love you too.
The bus pulls up they get in sit down. Dylan sits next to a window, Maddie sits next to him takes his hands in hers, leans her head against his shoulder says it again I love you, says it again. The ride takes half an hour Dylan stares out the window watches the city pass by gas stations, mini-malls, fast-food restaurants, blocks of one-story Spanish-style homes, blocks of three- and four-story apartment buildings. When the bus arrives at their stop Maddie is asleep Dylan gently shakes her she smiles says what he says we’re home, we’re home.
They get off the bus walk hand-in-hand three blocks to their building.
They walk up the stairs to their floor down the hall go into their apartment. Maddie says she’s tired is going to sleep Dylan wants to watch TV. Maddie walks into the bedroom, changes into her pajamas, goes into the bathroom starts washing her face. Dylan finds a football game a team from San Francisco playing a team from New York winner is in prime position for the play-offs.
There’s a knock at the door. Dylan turns towards the bathroom, speaks loudly.
You expecting anyone?
Maddie leans her head out, speaks.
Nope.
Should I see who it is?
Might as well.
Dylan stands walks to the door looks through the eyehole. A middle-aged man in a button-down stands at the door he looks vaguely familiar though he doesn’t know why. The man knocks again, Dylan stares at him through the eyehole tries to remember. Man knocks again this time harder. Dylan speaks.
Who is it?
Man quickly glances down hall, speaks.
I need to speak to you.
Why?
You work at the golf course, right?
Why do you need to speak to me?
Maddie leans out again, speaks.
Who is it?
Dylan looks at her, shrugs, shakes his head. Man speaks again.
I need your help, please.
Dylan looks back at Maddie, who shrugs. As he looks back to the keyhole, and starts to unlock the door, he sees the man step aside. Someone steps in front of the man the eyehole goes black. Dylan tries to lock the door it flies open. He’s knocked back three men all large, tattooed, one has beard rush into the room. One of them forces Dylan against the wall puts his forearm against Dylan’s neck, one of them turns and locks the door, the other rushes towards the bedroom. All are wearing jeans, motorcycle boots, T-shirts, leather jackets. The one who locked the door turns around, pulls a sawed-off shotgun out of his jacket, speaks.
You try anything and you’re fucking dead.
The one who rushed the bedroom comes out with Maddie. He’s carrying her, holding one arm across both of her arms and her chest, holding one hand over her mouth. She’s struggling, thrashing beneath his arm, kicking. The man with the shotgun turns to her.
Calm down, bitch, or I’ll fucking shoot you.
She stops. Her eyes are wide she’s terrified. The man with the gun motions towards a chair near their table. The man with Maddie guides her towards the chair, forces her down, starts duct-taping her to the chair.
The man with the gun turns back to Dylan, who is still being held against the wall. He motions to the man holding him, the man steps back. The man with the shotgun speaks again.
You know why we’re here?
Dylan shakes his head, tries to speak, his voice cracks.
No.
You sure?
I don’t know.
You took something from a friend of ours.
Dylan shakes his head.
No.
The man finishes taping Maddie to the chair. Her arms are taped, her legs are taped, there is a strip across her mouth. Man with the shotgun motions towards the bedroom, both men walk towards it, go into it, start going through everything in it. Man with shotgun turns back to Dylan, looks at him for a moment, swings the butt of the gun at him, hits him in the face. His nose immediately breaks, blood flies against the wall, he falls to his knees his face in his hands. Man pulls his hair with one hand, holds the shotgun with the other. He jerks Dylan’s head back. Maddie’s eyes are wide, and she’s shaking. Man puts the gun in Dylan’s face.
Some money went missing from a friend of mine’s shop. Nobody but you could have taken it. He wants it back.
Dylan speaks through the blood.
Don’t have it.
Man jerks Dylan’s head again, jams the barrels of the gun into his mouth.
Where is it?
The men are tearing the room apart.
Don’t have it.
Man drags Dylan across the floor by his hair, sets him next to Maddie, speaks.
On your fucking knees.
Dylan gets on his knees. Man speaks.
We’ve been looking for you for months. Someone associated with us saw you at that fucking golf course. We’ve been watching you for a couple weeks. We know this bitch is pregnant.
He puts the barrels of the shotgun against Maddie’s stomach. You want me to kill them both?
Dylan looks at Maddie, he’s bleeding shaking with fear, she looks at him tries to say something against the tape tears start running. Dylan speaks.
We don’t have your money. I swear to God we don’t.
The men walk out of the room. Man with shotgun turns towards them. One of them has the envelope with Dylan and Maddie’s wedding money in it. He holds it up, speaks.
Four or five grand in here.
Man with the shotgun turns back to Dylan, who speaks.
Don’t have our money?
We got that from the guys I work with. They pooled it from their tips the day we got married. It was a wedding present. I swear to God, please, I swear to God.
Man kicks Dylan in the face, blood and teeth fly out of his mouth. He slumps to the ground, out fucking cold. Man turns to the other two.
Get him out to the van.
They step forward, pick him up, put his arms over their shoulders, start dragging him towards the door. When they reach it, one of them unlocks it, opens it. The man who originally knocked on the door is standing in the hall, the other men drag Dylan out and away, he goes with them. The man with the shotgun stares at Maddie, who is trying to look away from him. He puts the barrel of the gun beneath her chin, lifts, forces her to look at him. He speaks.
If you weren’t pregnant, and I had more time, I’d fuck you. Unfortunately, things are as they are. If you call the police, or try to do anything to help him, I’ll come back and I’ll cut that fucking kid out of you and then I’ll kill you.
He stares at her.
You understand?
She’s shaking, crying. She nods.
Good.
He turns and walks out.
In 1991, four white LAPD patrol officers are videotaped beating a black motorist with batons after the motorist led them on a high-speed chase, resisted arrest, and attempted to take one of their weapons. The videotape is play
Old Man Joe spends three days sitting next to the dumpster behind the liquor store drinking Thunderbird and eating beef jerky and vomiting and going to the bathroom in a bush. He leaves when the owner of the liquor store, whom he has known for years, tells him he’s going to call the police.
He leaves, he doesn’t want to be seen by anyone he knows he goes to another dumpster a block inland it’s behind a construction site, two old Venice bungalows are being torn down and replaced by a new glass and steel loft building. When it gets dark he goes to his bathroom no one sees him. He washes himself brushes his teeth. He changes into his spare set of clothes.
He walks north into Santa Monica. He walks along Ocean Avenue a block from the Pacific. It’s just before dawn the street is empty, the streetlights dropping circles of light over the blacktop, the palms still, a deserted parking lot, the only sound the waves rolling, the only smell the drifting of salt of the sea. He walks a couple miles he sits on a bench. The sun rises he watches it come there is no beauty in it for him, no joy, no peace. When he feels ready he stands and starts walking again the street slopes slightly upwards as the beach becomes the bluffs. He turns inland again walks another mile he sees the line before he sees the shelter three or four hundred homeless men, women and children snaking around the block hoping to get inside and have some breakfast.
He gets in at the end of the line, it moves slowly. Many of the people in it seem to know each other they talk about how they’ve been, where they’re sleeping, good dumpsters, new spots to sleep, who’s missing, who’s been arrested, who’s dead. Old Man Joe doesn’t speak to anyone, just stares at the sidewalk, shuffles forward. Ninety minutes later he’s inside he gets a small box of cereal, a small carton of milk, an apple, he gets a weak coffee in a paper cup it’s hot and tastes good. He eats the food walks to another line that’s in front of a door with a sign that says counseling. The line is much much shorter, twenty or thirty people, but moves much much slower. Three hours after he joined it he is shown into a small cluttered office an African-American woman sits across from him. She speaks.