“I get that. I do.”
He let out a breath. “Then suddenly the tour was over and I realized how tired I really was, physically and mentally, on top of feeling cut off from what had become our every day normal. I felt cut off from you guys, the crew. I didn’t know what to do with myself, especially knowing that in a few weeks we had to get back up on that horse again. Part of me wanted to scream and run away. I got…scared.” He swallowed. “If this is what it’s always going to be like, I don’t know if I can…” His voice was breaking, his gaze glued outside the window. He was trying to make sense of his feelings, he was pleading, and it broke my heart.
Jude was always the one leading the charge, clearing the air of bullshit. If any of us felt pushed around, stomped on by too much advice, by reviews, by it not happening for us the way we’d wanted, Jude was the one who had faith and insisted we just had to keep on keeping on.
Keep performing no matter where, keep practicing, no matter how tired we were or not in the mood, keep going to clubs, parties, shows to meet people, jump on any opportunity. Jude and I had been L.A. club kids. He knew DJ’s, owners, bouncers, promoters and they loved him. He also knew the drug dealers and the junkies.
From when we’d first decided to create our own band back in high school, Jude and I had been tremendously focused as we partied and hung out, and we’d found good people with the same ideas for music that we had. We’d met Zack and Myles, hooked up with Ford, and felt that everything had clicked into place at last, and it had. Freefall had created hit songs, performed all over the world, at clubs, huge arenas, top festivals.
Jude was the one who’d been high on the whole damn experience with a grin on his face no matter the lows that we sank in along the way. I tended to worry about our ultimate direction, about over exposure, and I often navigated our course. That’s where Myles would get pissy with my insistence, but then he’d put all that emotion and frustration into his powerful performances. And Zack, the steady soldier, was the even voice of practicality, who stepped in when he had to, and always stepped up, giving all of himself to his drums.
Jude’s glazed eyes snagged on mine. “But seriously—playing bass for Freefall is my job—how cool is that? I love that, man. I’m so grateful.” His cold fingers curled into my shirt. “I really am.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I want to find it again, Beck. I want to go back to that thrill … I got to…”
“I know, Jude. We will. It was one long fucking tour. It was exhausting. We don’t have to do that again. Not like that. We’re going to take our time and find our groove together again. A new album is like a new beginning. Things will be different this time. And I promise I won’t let you down.”
“You never let me down, Becks. Never. But what’s Ford gonna say? I already fucked up in Copenhagen. He already gave me the do-we-have-a-serious-problem-here talk.”
After our show in Copenhagen, Jude had disappeared at a party. He’d taken off with a crew of people to go to another club without telling us. We’d finally found him incoherent in the corner of a nightclub at a table with twenty other people laughing and drinking. Zack and I had gotten him out of there through the kitchen to a waiting cab back to the hotel.
“What if Ford sends me away to some detox center and then…and then what? I don’t want to get sent away. My mom…”
“Slow down. Slow down. Ford believes in you, man. He believes in all of us, and he wants the best for us. Dude, that’s his job description. We will figure this out together.”
Together, yes. That’s what we’d do. Figure this out and do it together. As far as new songs went, we would work out the basics, and when Jude was ready, he could dive right in and the whole thing would take off, spin, like it always did.
Only, now I knew that “like it always did” no longer applied to anything in my life anymore, did it?
“We got this, Jude.”
Outside in the hallway, Dad and Jude’s mom, Clarice, were speaking with a doctor.
“His brain function is shot,” the doctor said. “They’ve been touring for over two years back to back, correct?”
I joined them. “Yes, we have.”
“And you are…?” the doctor asked.
“Jude’s bandmate.”
“This is my son.” Dad put a hand at my back.
“We’re all family here,” said Clarice.
The doctor tilted his head at Clarice. “This is what happens sometimes for certain individuals who are consistently overstimulated, like musicians who are on tour over a long period of time. After a while your basic normal endorphin function no longer performs, and you constantly live in that hyper state. Then the lows are dismal and you search for new sources of stimulation. So you keep trying new things to find some kind of stimulation and to self soothe. We see that Jude had been diagnosed as bipolar and had been put on lithium—”
“Which he stopped taking a while back,” I said.
Clarice shot me a pained look.
“Good for him. We took a brain scan,” the doctor said. “There’s no sign of bipolarism.”
“What?” she said.
“We’re now testing for a wider range of possibilities that fit the profile of his symptoms. I really feel that something else is at play here. In the meantime, with proper nutrition and self care, he can improve quickly, but of course—” The doctor glanced at me. “ —he needs to stop the opioids and any artificial stimulants. There really wasn’t a whole lot in his system, but his level of exhaustion and malnutrition definitely contributed to his collapse. Now is a good time for him to switch gears. I’ll let you know the results once I get them.”
“Thank you,” Clarice murmured and the doctor left us.
“Clarice, I have an idea,” Dad said.
“Glad to hear it, Eric, because I’m at a loss right now,” She took in a deep breath, fighting tears. “It’s better news than I expected to hear, but…”
I put my arm around her. “What is it, Dad?”
“When Jude gets released, he could come stay with me.”
“What do you mean?” Clarice wiped at her eyes.
“Pam and Poppy are out of town for a while, and I’m on my own with this one—” He pointed at me. “Jude needs a clean environment, a positive refresh. He can live with us. I have a good friend, Ed, who’s a life coach, he does great work one on one, has a lot of experience with artists. I think that would really help him declutter and get focused. Being in a non-clinical environment, a home he’s familiar with would be terrific. And if Ed thinks Jude has more intensive issues that need deeper help, we’ll go that next level.”
“Eric, you’ve done so much for my son over the years, so much. I can’t impose on you.”
“Jude’s been like a son to me, and you know that. I want to help him find his way. I need to.” Dad’s brow furrowed.
“You and Beck were there for him when his father and I didn’t know how to be.”
“I could’ve done better, obviously,” Dad muttered. “We know more about all this stuff now than we did back in our day. If we can get him the right help right now, it would be a major turning point. He has his whole life ahead of him and he’s so talented, so bright. Our boys aren’t kids anymore. They’re hard working adults but the world they’re rolling in is a crazy fucking playground, and I know it all too well.”