Get Into The Light: Chapter Fifteen- A Semblance of Normality or How Chevy Chase Saved My Brain

‘You’re joking!’ Carl shouted, ‘I don’t believe it! I’ll have to tell Lola. Really didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.’
He hung up the phone. The budgie was sitting on the end of my finger. He seemed to enjoy it if you held him under your nose and lightly breathed on top of his head. He smelt like roast chicken.
‘Eddie said we’ve already got to number twenty in the Radio Tip Parade,’ Carl said smiling.
It was the first time I’d seen him smile in a long time.
‘Is that like the UK Top Forty then?’
‘Sort of. It’s based on how many times a record gets played in a week on Dutch radio.’
‘I didn’t even know we’d been on the radio yet.’
‘I didn’t want to say anything in case it made you worse. You thought you were famous and I was trying to persuade you it wasn’t the case.’
‘And in fact it was.’
‘Well not quite. It’s the Tip Parade. It’s not the cover of Rolling Stone.’
I set Bobby back on his perch. He jumped over to his mirror and twittered excitedly. Of course it wasn’t having a bird that cured me in the end - the industrial strength anti-psychotic medicine had played a big part (right from day three, I’d started to feel its levelling effects) but taking care of this creature and emptying its half-eaten bird seed shells each day served as a good distraction. There were things that were smaller than me that required my care. I felt like I was becoming a little less self-obsessed (as much as that is possible when you’re seventeen). And not everything was about me anymore (around eighty percent but that’s normal isn't it?)
‘I can’t even remember the single being released,’ I said.
‘It’s just a limited pre-release. Forest sent it to a few radio stations and a couple of DJs at the Roxy. Apparently people are actually dancing when it comes on. I can’t quite believe it.’
Carl lit a cigarette and sat down in front of his computer.
‘It’s really made me want to create more music,’ he said double clicking on one of the tracks, ‘I don’t feel like we’ve really nailed it yet. The other tracks are okay but I’m not convinced they’re brilliant.’
‘The lyrics are pretty crap,’ I said bringing it all back to me again.
But Carl wasn’t listening. He was trimming a sample or some such thing. I went over to the TV but he immediately Carl turned to look and shook his head.
‘Not yet,’ he shouted over the tinny accompaniment of the headphones.
I plonked myself back down on the sofa. I hadn’t been allowed to watch TV for a while now. The days had become uncommonly long. Usually it was normal for the TV to go on at eleven in the morning and then well it just stayed on all day. It wasn’t the centre of attention all the time but it helped the time go by. But perhaps Carl was right- it had been the source of some of those unhealthy ideas so it probably made sense to give it a wide berth.

Mum called a few times, obviously relieved everything had calmed down (had she really understood what was going on – no I don’t think so) but still kept asking when I was coming back, what I was actually doing in Amsterdam (besides getting strange ideas and not enough sleep and fresh vegetables) and didn’t I realise that it was time to get a plan together. A secretarial course would be the best route forward and would at least guarantee an office job. I couldn’t think of anything I’d be less well suited for. It was hard most days to follow the most per functionary routine. I managed to palm her off with generalisations. There was plenty of time to learn shorthand. There was new technology coming along (I saw this even in the new equipment that was constantly arriving at the studio) and when the time came (ten years?) I’d try and get my head around some of this new technology stuff and then think about an office job (but how unattractive did that sound anyway? Who wants to watch their life force leak away into the synthetic carpet?)

A semblance of domestic calm had descended on the flat but there was still a queer atmosphere like the space had undergone an exorcism. Nothing was in the right place and one of the curtains hung at an odd angle. But Prince was just a sexy midget singer now and Hildegard had gone back to being a nun a remarkable voice rather than a signifier of something more significant.

Some other events had also unfolded during this period of recuperation. Lynette and Pete had finally split. It wasn’t a surprise because Lynette had practically moved in with Joost anyway but now Pete had actually moved out and was rumoured to be finally looking for gainful employment.
‘I don’t think Pete was faithful all that time,’ Carl had announced one morning.
I was surprised that he knew something about their relationship that I didn’t.
‘How do you know?’
‘He was seeing Miss Ellen.’
‘What?’
I couldn’t believe it. Miss Ellen!
‘That’s why she came to the audition. Pete tipped her off about it. She used to do backing vocals with his old band. He said they’d bumped into one another again a while back.’
‘When did you see Pete?’
‘Near the studio. He actually looked really well. Something about Lynette just curdled that guy’s whole personality.’
This meant band politics were going to get more complicated. These two already disliked one another and this was only going to make things much worse. But on the other hand, there was nothing I could do about it and part of me was happy that sourpuss Pete had found happiness. And on a more positive note - OUR VIDEO! - had been played on MTV’s Party Zone. In fact it had been played two weeks on the trot. How ironic that I’d been so fixated on being famous and it hadn’t all been a fiction- I was actually (a tiny bit).

But before I could really think about that, there was more brain healing that needed to go on. The TV was gradually introduced back into our lives. I was allowed to watch a couple of hours at a time. I tried to eat as healthily as I could and only smoked fifteen cigarettes a day. Then Carl rented as many mindless comedies as he could and for the next week we did nothing but watch Tuner and Hooch, Dragnet, Fletch, Back to the Future (and countless others). None of these films were too dark or ambigous– this was not the time for John Carpenter, Stephen King or David Lynch.

And soon enough I was ready to receive visitors. The last time I’d seen Lynette I’d basically been completely bat shit so I could tell she was relieved that I’d brushed my hair, was sitting upright - some semblance of normality had swept in.
‘You look much better,’ Lynette sighed.
She smelt fresh – like the outside- somewhere I hadn’t been since the trip to the emergency psychiatrist. It was one day at a time right now. And in this particular moment I was enjoying a cheese and Marmite sandwich - that was enough. Carl had cycled to the English shop in town and bought me a few home comforts – he’d even remembered to get some proper tea bags that made real tea, not bitter potato water.
‘I think I’ve lost weight,’ I said, pulling up my T-shirt to demonstrate to Lynette the more prominent outline of my ribs.
I wouldn’t recommend mental illness as a good way of dieting but there was no arguing with the fact that I’d lost a fair amount of puppy fat and finally looked more like a proper woman and less like an overgrown baby.
‘Did you hear that Pete left?’ she said ignoring my comment.
‘Yes, Carl told me. Are you okay? I guess it’s for the best - you weren’t really getting on - and you’d been shagging Joost for a few weeks now.’
‘Yes- I suppose so.’
But she had a look on her face like perhaps it wasn’t so great that Pete had finally left. He’d always been a counterpoint to whatever crazy tangent she was following that particular month. It probably felt like having some of the security of living with your parents (Pete as anxious Dad) without having to smoke out the window or endure endless lectures on the joys of shorthand. Besides I’d always felt she enjoyed some of the control Pete exerted upon her, the banter between them, the fact that it was so obvious what he’d like or dislike. I sometimes suspected she did things to just get a response and now she had nothing to rebel against. She could wear a skirt that grazed the top of her thighs. She could dance on the bed in heels. Do three days worth of coke in one session. I didn’t feel like Lynette needed another hedonist in her life- if anything she needed someone who was going to rein her in. Perhaps she was also slightly concerned that Joost didn’t represent long-term relationship potential - he was a photographer, film-maker, bon viveur, forever in contact with models and gorgeous women - his natural manner was one of open flirtation. And I’d found his manner unnerving – he bought out the repressed English girl in me- those big hands constantly squeezing you at every opportunity and the way he often left a wet slobber on your cheek rather than just the normal, dry, bird-like peck.
‘You really scared the crap out of me,’ Lynette said changing the subject, ‘It was like that Betty Blue film- you could have pulled your own eyes out and ended up blind. I never thought ecstasy could have that effect,’ she did a sad face, ‘I feel guilty too I guess.’
‘Well it probably wasn’t the only thing,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure I’m a natural performer- it brings out all my paranoia. And it’s not like you forced me into anything.’
She took a drag on her cigarette and scooped a small bit of dried poo off of the kitchen table with her fingernail.
‘All this bird crap everywhere is pretty gross.’
‘But look how sweet he is,’ I said holding Bobby out of on my finger so she could inspect him.
‘He’s got a stupid expression,’ she said.
‘Take that back!’
Bobby flew up onto the curtain rail and started doing a high pitched screeching noise which was one of the less so positive things about having a small bird living with us.
‘Well it made me think a bit- put it that way,’ she said, ‘I won’t be going mental anymore. I’ve got to calm it down. I’ve been getting this headaches the past few days. Maybe I’m going to get the same thing you had.’
‘It’s not contagious you know.’
‘But I wake up with them in the morning. What if I’m getting it too? What kind of thing do I need to look out for?’
I sighed. In essence everyone was only really worried about themselves.
‘The thing is Lola, I miss Pete,’ Lynette said changing the subject again, ‘I didn’t think I would.’
‘But you’re in love with Joost aren’t you?’
‘Joost is acting a bit funny right now.’
‘It’s just your imagination silly,’ I said, ‘Try and enjoy yourself and stop inventing reasons to be unhappy.’

Why was I so good at doling out this type of laissez faire advice but pathetic at applying it to my own life? Okay I wasn’t on the same leftfield trajectory as before - nevertheless I was constantly unpicking everything, looking for flaws. Even now the video was on TV and things were happening, all I could think about was how I probably looked really silly and should have been more outgoing rather than acting like a constipated Dalek. I decided against mentioning anything about Miss Ellen and Pete right now. It sounded like Lynette had enough strife already anyway. It would probably all come out soon. The more I thought about it the more obvious it was why the two of them didn’t get along- they were just fatter and thinner versions of the same psyche. Now they had even more reason to hate one another. I was lucky to have Carl. He only really flirted with people when he was completely out of it and was constantly reassuring me and telling me how great I was. In fact when was the last time I’d ever said anything nice to him anyway? But no, the last few weeks had definitely brought us much closer- if we could survive this then we could basically get through whatever the cosmos threw at us next.
‘You haven’t even seen the final edit of the video have you?’ Lynette said getting up and helping herself to a glass of milk.
She sounded slightly nervous when she said this.

Like perhaps she didn’t really want me to see it at all.