Standing here watching my little sister sitting at a table with her perfect family makes me sick. Her husband has their adorable son on his lap and it looks like the kind of picture you get in a frame when you buy it. I shouldn’t jealous, I should be happy for her. But it’s not fair; it’s not fucking fair.  Becca never wanted kids; she never fucking wanted a kid. I’ve wanted a kid since I was a kid. My whole life I was waiting to get married and pregnant. I’m married, I got that part down but we’ve been trying to have a baby for the past eight fucking years and nothing is happening. My sister, on the other hand, gets pregnant three months after she gets married. How is this fair?

            It’s always been like this. I’m two years older than her and it’s like everything I do she does better two years later. I got into UCLA, and she got into Pepperdine. I majored in education so I could be a teacher while she decided she wanted to go into music production. That one actually worked better for me, especially since my parents never thought she’d find a job being a producer. But she did.  She ended up being the kind of producer that huge record companies pay millions of dollars to have their artist work with. Becca also met her husband, Justin Timberlake, when they worked together to record what Rolling Stone Magazine called the best album of the year. Justin Timberlake. I’m married to a doctor; ok he’s a dentist but same thing. I’d say that’s pretty impressive, it’s not like Tyler works at a gas station. Everyone was impressed with that for a while, that is of course until Becca brings home Justin Timberlake, current king of pop. They literally make beautiful music together. Literally they are a power team as far as the music industry is concerned.

            I am happy for her. It’s just annoying that everything always is so perfect for her. Just once I want something to be fucking hard for her, I want her to go through something that sucks. That’s horrible, she’s my little sister. I love her so much but it’s just annoying. And standing here watching her perfect little family makes me want to hide in a closet and cry. I just can’t get over it.

            All I’ve ever wanted is a baby and her son is so fucking adorable. I wanted him to be a cranky little shit but he’s not. He hardly ever cries and he laughs so much. God, deep down I really wanted him to be ugly, or at least not as adorable as he is. How perfect would it if he was missing a toe or something, nothing too major, just a little toe.  Oh my god, what is wrong with me? That’s a horrible thing to wish.

            The only problem with him is that his name is Lyric. Lyric. But even that’s kind of cute for them because they’re both music people. Plus his middle name is Andrew so if he wants he can go by that. See what I mean, they think of everything. It’s like right when something could possibly go wrong they have a backup plan. Ugh, it drives me crazy.

            It all goes back to me being jealous about not having a baby of my own. I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult for my husband’s sperm to fucking fertilize an egg.  It’s not like we don’t have sex, my god we have sex. It’s like my own husband pretends he’s asleep so he doesn’t have to fuck me when I’m menstruating. It’s not supposed to be like that. I’m supposed to be the one faking a migraine to get out of sex. I’m ready to do one of those fertility treatments and end up with sextuplets. I’m totally fine with that, I just can’t deal with forever being that couple without kids while my perfect little sister has her perfect little family. I just know she’s going to have another kid before I get pregnant even once. And I bet it’ll be a girl too, just because that’s how it’s supposed to work for me. I always wanted a boy first and then a girl.

            I’m so sick of everyone giving me those looks like they feel so bad for me. And if one more person asks me what my thoughts are about adoption I swear to god I’m going to kill someone. My thought about adoption is that it’s not my kid. I want my kid to be half me and half my husband not whole some person I’ve never met. Now once again, I sound like an asshole. Adoption is great, and I’d be more than happy to adopt a kid AFTER I have a couple of my own. It’s not the same. I need at least one of my own. Or if all else fails I can have my sister carry a kid for me, hell I might as well have her fucking gorgeous husband be the sperm donor.

            I’m just annoyed, obviously I love my husband more that life itself and I wouldn’t want any other man’s sperm fertilizing my egg. I also love my sister and my brother in law, and I’m so glad that their life has turned out so perfectly. I just want one thing to go wrong for them. I just want one little thing to make their life a little less perfect.

            “Baby?” I heard her voice and immediately stuck the small plastic bag in a sneaker. “Are you in here?” she continued walking through our bedroom and stopped at the door of the walk-in closet where I was sitting on the ground in the corner. “Are you ok?” She looked down at me, a true look of concern covering her face. I nodded my head as she walked closer, sitting down next to me before pulling her legs to her chest. “What are you doing in the closet?”

            I shrugged, looking around for some excuse so I don’t have to tell my wife that the reason why I’m in the closet is because I need to do dope to get through the day. “I’m looking for my… sneakers, the black ones.”

            She grabbed onto my foot and offered a sweet smile, “Found them.”

            I looked down to see I was wearing the sneakers I told her I was looking for. “Well I found them.” I answered quickly, giving her the attitude I know she doesn’t deserve.

            “I see that,” she curled up into my arm, “Are you feeling any better?”  She asked, her hand touching my nose. I’ve been sniffling a lot lately, something she’s noticed right away. I told her I wasn’t feeling well but the truth is it’s because of the dope. I can’t inject it because she’d notice the track marks, and if I were to smoke it she’d know. At least when I snort it there’s no actual proof… except for me always sniffling.

            I nodded my head so she’d remove her hand from my face and took a deep breath.

            “Are you sure? Everyone’s out there waiting for you. Your mother thinks something is seriously wrong with you,” she forced a laugh but I know she’s worried too. I wish there was some way I could assure her I’m ok, but I’m not so sure I am. “I told her you’re just not feeling well but she wasn’t buying it so I figured I’d come find you before she does. We’re going to do the cake soon. My sister bought the cutest little birthday hats but Lyric wouldn’t wear one, he kept throwing it off. So I put it on, and he loved it like he was laughing so much. It was adorable. And then everyone else put them on and he’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. It’s like almost as funny to him as that time you were pretending the stuffed animal was biting you. Do you remember that?” I nodded my head before she continued, “So then everyone was wearing them and he did that thing he does with his hands, like squishing his fingers together and he goes… ha… ha, like he’s trying to say hat. And so I put it on him and he has this huge smile on his face that will not go away.”

            “That’s really cute Becca,” I smiled, placing my hand on her leg, “Sounds like he’s having fun.”

            “He is, he really is,” she forced a smile but she has that look in her eye like she wants to cry. “So are you going to come out?”

            “Yeah, I was just looking for my shoe,” I lied again, lie number 2 in the short conversation I’ve had with my wife. It’s the same lie, so it doesn’t really count, although there’s millions of lies I’m telling her without actually speaking.

            “Good, and you’ll wear the hat?”

            “Of course I will wear the hat for my son,” I smiled as she placed the hat on my head, reaching the rubber band type strap under my chin before kissing me gently, “Perfect.”

            “Perfect,” she repeated, “Thanks Justin.”

            I stood up before her and reached my hand down to help her up, never letting go of it as we walked out of the room, “You know I love you, right baby?”

            At least I made her smile; I haven’t seen that real smile in a very long time. “I know, I just worry about you sometimes.”

            I nodded my head instead of telling her there’s nothing to worry about. There are some lies even I can’t tell my wife. Instead I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it gently. “I love you,” I whispered again. I do love her, more than anything. I don’t want to hurt her, I just don’t know what the fuck has happened in my life. I don’t know why I’m so fucking addicted to heroine. I have a good life; people who get addicted to drugs have problems. I don’t have problems. I had a great childhood; millions of dollars, a huge house on the hills, a gorgeous wife that is not only beautiful but also smart and shares my dreams, not even to mention a little angel of a two-year-old son that looks just like me.

            We walked downstairs and into the living room to see all our family and friends wearing their party hats just like Becca said. “Hey Ma,” I went to my mother first, kissing her cheek and plastering a smile on my face, “Thanks for coming.”

            “How are you feeling, sweetie? Becca said you’ve been sick.”

            “Yeah,” I nodded my head, “I’ve been working a lot and it’s really been fucking me up.” I’m twenty seven years old, I’ve been married for three years, I have a son who just turned two today and my mother still gives me that look when I swear like I’m fourteen. “Sorry Ma, I’ve just been busy and working late and shit… stuff.” Dammit, I always do that. I don’t even swear that much, especially with a two year old I try my hardest not to. All I need is his first word to be fuck or something equally as horrible. He doesn’t really speak yet. I mean he says dada and mama, but it’s more like he’s trying to make sounds. I feel like he should be talking by now but I don’t know a damn thing about kids and their developmental stages.

            I walked away from my mother so I could have a second to control the words coming out of my mouth and made the rounds saying hello to Becca’s family and the rest of our friends. “Thanks for the hats, it’s a nice touch,” I smiled before kissing Becca’s sister on the cheek and grabbing my son from her arms.  “How are you doing man?”

            Becca attached her arms around my waist and kissed my lips gently before kissing Lyric’s cheek. “I think we’re ready for the cake. Do you want to go sit with him at the table so your mother can bring it out?” she laughed as Lyric giggled, “I know, cake! You’re excited, aren’t you?”

            “I know I am,” I answered with a smile. Becca’s an amazing mother, I know it’s weird but I knew she would be the second I met her. She wasn’t so sure, in fact she was scared to death when she found out she was pregnant. Lyric wasn’t exactly planned, don’t get me wrong we were married and wanted kids at some point, but not exactly as quickly as it happened.  But she’s got that natural motherly quality that just clicked the second she held him in her arms.

            “I know you are,” she laughed grabbing onto my hand and pulling me to the dining room table, “We’re going to do the cake!” she called out to everyone. They all got up and came in the room quickly. Everyone’s so fucking cooperative it drives me crazy. I just want one fucking person to tell her to wait a goddamn minute. I need someone to blame all this shit on instead of taking the entire fault myself.

            I sat down with my son in my lap and my wife right next to me while my mother brought in the birthday cake.  For a second I thought my life was perfect. I was sitting there with my beautiful wife and my adorable son with all our family and friends wearing goofy party hats singing to my son. I’m trying really hard to find something wrong with my life, I need some excuse, something to blame all my shit on. There has to be something.

            After everyone left I helped Becca put Lyric to bed and then went for a run to clear my mind. I really need to figure my shit out. I’ve gotten to the point that I need to snort to get through the day. It’s not even like I feel high or I get the good feelings that I used to when I do it. But if I don’t do it I feel like complete shit. Fuck that, I feel like shit either way. When I don’t do it it’s like the worst feeling in the world. But then again, when I keep doing it and I know I’m going to pull my life apart. That right there is the worst feeling in the world.

            When I got back to the house I stopped in front of Lyric’s room, peaking in to see him sound asleep. He’s always been good at sleeping; at least he can sleep the whole night through. There were only a couple months that he kept waking up when he was first born; I guess we were lucky with that. There are a lot of ways I’m lucky.  I went across the hall into our bedroom, pulling my sweaty t-shirt off and tossing it in the hamper.  “Are you in here babe?”

            Becca stepped out of the closet with lines of mascara smudged across her face. I felt my heart break as she wiped the tears away, trying her hardest to stay strong when I know she wants to crumble.

            “What’s wrong?” I don’t know why I asked the question because I already knew the answer. I didn’t want to hear her say it, but I needed her to so it would be real. It’s not just me fucking myself up anymore; I’m fucking her up.

            “What is this?” she managed to stop crying enough to ask me, holding up the bag full of dope.

            I sat down at the foot of the bed, running my hands through my hair nervously.  “It’s dope Becca,” I answered honestly.

            She walked towards me trying her hardest not to cry, “Tell me it’s not yours. Tell me it’s someone else’s. Tell me your clothes got mixed up and you took someone else’s jacket. Tell me that’s not why you were in the closet during Lyric’s party. Please, tell me it’s not yours.”

            She can’t hide the tears anymore; they’re flowing down her face. I hate seeing her like this. I hate hurting her. “It’s mine.”

            The tears started down even faster, if that was possible. Her whole body was shaking and sobs were coming from her mouth. “I knew it,” she answered softly, “I knew something was going on and I knew it wasn’t just you being sick. I ignored it for too long and I can’t ignore it anymore. You’re better than this Justin, I can’t sit back and watch you hurt yourself. I love you too much.”

            “I love you too. I’m sorry.”

            “You’re sorry?” she shouted with a laugh, “You’re sorry? How are you sorry? Why are you doing this? I can help you. I want to help you. Just tell me why you’re doing heroine.”

            I dropped my head to my hands before answering her, “I don’t know baby it’s not like that. I just… got into it when I was in the studio and we just started smoking it and…”

            “Are you addicted?” she broke in before I could finish.

             I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, “No, I’m… no. I don’t know.”

            “Could you stop? If I were to take it and flush it down the toilet would you stop or would you go find some more?”

            I’m not going to lie to her. I can’t do it. I’m going to be completely honest and she’s going to freak out but I think we can get through this. “I have more.”

            “You have more,” she repeated, “Do you have like a dealer? Does he know where we live? Oh my god, has he been in the house?”

            “No, of course not. Come on Becca, it’s not like that.”

            “What is it like then? You’re doing heroine in our closet with our two-year-old son across the hall. That’s what it’s like Justin.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You’re sorry, that’s not good enough.  You’re going to kill yourself, is that what you want? Do you want Lyric to grow up without a father?  Do you want him to think of you as another fucking celebrity that ODs? Do you want him to hate you?”

            I’m not exactly sure if she wants answers to those questions or if they’re supposed to be rhetorical.  She stood up and walked back to the closet only to come back out a few seconds later. “I’m leaving… because I can’t see you like this and you need to get help.  I don’t want Lyric to see you like this and I’m afraid that’s how he’s going to see you forever. So we’re going to go and you’re going to get your shit figured out. I love you. I still love you and I will love you and I’m here. I know that you can get your shit straightened out, and I’m here for you while you’re doing it. I’m going to come see you and I want you to call me when you’re having a hard time and I’ll talk you through it. But I can’t stay here. I know you’re going to get through this. And I love you so much, so please get through this,” she placed her hands on either side of my face and I watched the tears flowing down her face. “But you listen, this is your chance. If you don’t take it seriously we’re leaving and never coming back. Lyric is not going to know you as a druggie. There is no possible way that is going to happen. We will leave and you will never see your son or me again. Do you understand that?”

            I nodded my head as I felt a tear fall down my face, “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t say you’re sorry!” she shouted, “Do something about it. I’m here for you, I will always have my phone on and I will always be here for you. But I’m not going to do it for you. You need to get your own help, you need to want to be helped or it’s not going to happen. I love you.”

            “I love you.”

            “I know. You know that I love you, right Justin? You know that’s why I’m doing this, because I love you. And I know how much you love me and how much you love Lyric, but this is the only way you’ll wake up and realize what’s happening. Please, wake up and realize what you’re doing.”  Becca kissed my lips gently and I watched as she packed some things before going across the hall and packing for Lyric.

            I walked across the hall, leaning against the doorframe of his room, “Where are you going to go?”

            “I don’t know,” she whispered, “I’ll probably try and get a suite at the Wilshire.”

            “And what are you going to do when the paparazzi follows you?” That’s the question I ask. My wife is about to take my son and leave me and the question I ask her is what she’s going to do when there are pictures in the magazines telling the world we’re having problems. That’s fucked up.

            “They’re not going to, it’s late and I’m not going to leave and come back. Please don’t worry about that. I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled and tell you where we are so you don’t have to worry about that either. And I want you to call me as soon as you figured out what you’re doing.” She grabbed the bag of Lyric’s things and placed it in the hall before going back into our room. “Look online at the different rehab centers. There’s Wonderland or that one in Malibu, there’s a lot of nice places, pick one you wouldn’t mind staying at. I’ll come visit you as much as they let me. But you have to work for it; I know you’ll try. Where’s your stash?” she asked before grabbing the baggie she found before and going into the bathroom. I went into the bedroom and grabbed the other bag before following her into the bathroom.

            Becca grabbed it from me, “This is all of it?” I nodded my head; I’m not here to start shit. I just want to get this figured out so I can get on with my life. “Thank you Justin,” she said as she poured it into the toilet. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to see it go down the drain. Seeing Becca look at me the way she’s looking at me is what hurts the most.

            She kissed me gently, “OK. I’ll call you when we get everything figured out.”

            “You don’t want to wait until the morning?”

            She bit at her bottom lip the way she always does when she feels nervous or uncomfortable. It’s killing me that she’s looking at me like that. “No then everyone will make a big deal out of it. Get a good nights sleep and then do everything in the morning.”

            “I will.”

            “I know you will,” she smiled. It is good that she has faith in me even when I don’t have that much in myself. But she’s giving me this ultimatum. I either get my shit figured out or she’s leaving for good. That’s what I need.

            I grabbed the suitcases and followed her into the hallway while she grabbed onto Lyric. I can’t believe I’m helping her leave me. It doesn’t make sense, but I know deep down that it’s what I have to do. I love my wife and my son more than anything and I know she’s right. I can’t drag them down with me; I need to get my shit figured out. 

            She sat at the foot of the bed, biting her bottom lip and looking up at me.  She offered a sweet smile but it was killing me. I haven’t been home in six months and it’s awkward, it’s not supposed to be awkward. “I’m really proud of you.”

            “I know,” I answered quickly; she’s said it a hundred times. I know she means well, but I don’t think the fact that I just finished a six-month detox and rehab program is anything to be proud of.  It’s something that I should be ashamed of, or at least the fact that I was taking heroine in the first place.

            My wife looked at me again, placing her hand on my lap, “It’s just really good to have you home.”

            She’s said that a few times as well. I just can’t deal with the awkward shit when I’m back home in my bed with my wife of almost four years sitting next to me, smiling nervously like it’s our first fucking date. I dropped my head to my hands and took a deep breath, “I can’t deal with this awkward shit Becca.”

            “I know, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say to you.”

            She doesn’t know what to say to me. I’ve known the girl for five fucking years and she doesn’t know what to say to me. When the hell did that happen? Oh, right probably around the same time she found my stash.

            “Lyric’s doing good with talking, maybe we could get some tips from him,” I glanced up to see her smile.

            “He is, it’s like something just clicked. I was so worried something was seriously wrong with him.”

            “I know you were, I was too,” I nodded my head.

            “I swear it was like one morning he woke up and he was like ‘mama cup’ and then the next day he was like ‘mama go play’ and now it’s like he says it, he says ‘mommy I want to go outside’. It’s such a relief,” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “I was so scared and everyone’s just like telling me he’s fine but it wasing. All the kids at the Gymboree place were talking and he was just like looking at them. He followed directions and stuff but he just didn’t want to talk.”

            “I know,” I nodded my head, “It’s a relief.”

            “Yeah, Dr. Utter said Lyric just didn’t want to talk. He said he just wasn’t ready and now that he is he’s like even above kids his age.”

            I nodded my head again, “It’s great.”

            Now we’re back to the awkward silence. My eyes fell back to the floor and I tried my hardest to be able to actually look at my wife. I feel like I really messed our relationship up. I’m supposed to be the man, I’m supposed to be strong and take care of my family. I didn’t take care of them, I felt them on their own for six months not even to mention all the time I was actually doing the dope. I was never like that, I still don’t know what the fuck got into me.

            “We could do something,” her voice broke me from my thoughts.

            “OK.”

            “We could watch a movie,” she suggested. My first night out of rehab and I’m going to lie in bed and watch a movie when it’s nine o’clock at night. I got out around noon and it hasn’t been awkward since the last few minutes. We came home after the graduation ceremony and all my family was here. But the most important thing for me was to see my son. I swear he looks a year older. I’m surprised he even remembered me, but he did. And that smile on his face when he saw me paired with the way he said Daddy just made me burst into tears. It wasn’t exactly one of my most masculine moments.  But fuck, when I left he was hardly able to say Dada and now he’s making full sentences.

            “I don’t want to watch a movie Becca.”

            “Yeah, me neither. We could have sex, do you want to have sex?” I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at her offer.  It’s been six months since we’ve had sex but I don’t want to have sex with her when she can’t even look at me. Call me a romantic, but that’s not exactly how I’ve been picturing it.

            I ran my hands through my hair, trying to think of a way to tell her that I don’t want to have sex with her. That would definitely be the first time in our relationship that I’ve ever had to do that, but it’s pretty clear she’s not exactly into it either. It’s just my first night home so she thinks that’s what I want.

            “We could go downstairs?”

            I nodded my head for that one and stood right up, “Let me just grab my notebook.”

            Becca went in Lyric’s room and turned on his monitor, something we used to do just about every night before all the shit started happening. Before she gave birth to our son, back when we first got married we’d be down there all night every night living like vampires. There’s just something about making music at night, but hell it worked. When Becca and I work together magic happens. I know that sounds corny and cliché but it’s true, we understand each other on a different level. It’s like we can read each other’s thoughts and we know exactly what will work. At least that used to be how it worked. I’ll admit I’m a little worried about how it’s going to work now.

            “So you wrote a lot, huh?” Becca asked as we walked to the studio in the basement.

            “Yeah, that’s how I got by. Did you do a lot of beats?”

            She nodded her head and smiled softly, “That’s how I got by.”

            I smiled as a response and grabbed onto her hand. I don’t know why I even asked I knew she was down here all the time working on beats. We’re alike in that way, we need music to help us deal with shit. It’s our escape.

            “You got anything good?”

            “What do you think?” I asked with a cocky smile.

            “I think you have a whole five records worth of amazing songs.”

            I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her forehead as we walked downstairs to the studio. “I do, I hope you got the beats for me little lady.”

            “I do,” she wrapped her arms around my waist, “I’m so glad you’re back. I know I’ve said it a hundred times and it’s probably annoying the shit out of you but I really am.”

            “I know, I’m really glad to be home too. You have no idea.  It was like jail baby.”

            “Jail? With five course meals and luxury accommodations,” she laughed.

            “Not in that sense.  Being away from you and Lyric was like hell. I missed your smile, and your laugh, and your eyes.”

            “I missed your lips,” she smiled that mischievous smile she has before pressing her lips against mine, “And that smile. You weren’t very smiley when I came to visit you.”

            “Sorry, I was smiling on the inside,” she laughed at my answer as we stood in front of the studio. I placed my hand on the doorknob but couldn’t turn it. This is very symbolic. The studio represents such a huge part of my life, something I’ve been craving since I went into the rehab. But it was in a studio, not our studio, that I did have my first experience with the drugs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            I sat at the soundboard mixing some beats when Becca walked into the studio, “Sorry. I know I’m late, my alarm didn’t go off and it’s like… crazy hectic.”

            I turned to look at her; her short blonde hair was up in a ponytail with little pieces all over the place. She was wearing a pair of jeans tucked into brown Ugg boots and a navy Pepperdine hooded sweatshirt. Even though it was only about a week that we’d known each other it was at that moment that I realized how beautiful she is, even when she looks like she just woke up. “Yet you had time to stop for coffee.”

            “I’m not even that late, don’t be mean. I got you some,” she offered, holding a cup in front of me.

            “Good try, stop trying to butter me up Becca. I can’t have coffee before I’m about to record, it’ll make my voice all rigid.”

            “That’s right, but tea will make it so sexy smooth,” there was that smile on her face as I grabbed the cup from her hand, “Your welcome. Where’s Tim?”

            “Thank you. He’s not coming, he’s got issues.”

            “So you were here for forty five minutes all by yourself?” I nodded my head, “Aww, I’m sorry for making you wait. You should have called me and woke me up.”

            “That could work if I had your number.”

            “Oh ok, smooth. Don’t go calling me twenty times a day though.” She said before giving me her number and sitting down next to me at the board, “OK, so let’s focus.”

            “I’ve been trying to focus Becca, don’t give me that. I’ve been here for forty five minutes focusing all by myself.”

            “Oh my god!” she shouted with an eye roll, “Get over it. I’m sorry.”

            “All I’m saying is this is your first job, right? The first week of your first job and you’re forty five minutes late. It’s not very professional, I’m trying to help you out here.”

            Becca laughed, “Like you’re so professional in your sweatpants and slippers.”

            “Hey, I was on time.”

            She shook her head and rolled her eyes once again, “Can you get in the damn booth?”

            I stood up and pushed her chair across the room before going into the booth. I really just enjoy fucking with her. She just got out of college and made some serious connections while in school. But she has some serious talent and I’m honestly excited to see what she’s got on her own.

            In the middle of recording my cell phone rang and I dropped my head in embarrassment, “Please tell me that isn’t your phone,” she spoke through the microphone while shaking her head, “Mr. Professional could not have possibly brought his cell phone in the booth with him. I thought no cell phones were allowed in the studio.”

            It is true that I’m usually very strict with the whole no cell phone rule for cases such as this. But today seems like a jam session, especially since it’s just Becca and I.

            “My bad,” I answered honestly turning my phone off, “I just have all these girls after me, it’s out of control.” It’s actually my mother but it’s better to look like I do have all these girls falling after me. At least that’s what they say; you always look better when you’re not so available.

            I watched her laugh, “I just rolled my eyes so hard it hurts. You just have that golden dick they’re all after, huh?”

            “Silver,” I corrected her, “I cum second.”

            Becca threw her head down as she laughed. I’m already at the point where I’ll do just about anything to hear that laugh. “That’s a good one, I like that.”

            “Yeah, they usually do.”

            “OK,” she smiled, “Focus.”

            “I’m all about the focus.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 “We can do something else,” Becca offered. Sometimes I wonder if she can really read my mind.

            “Nah, I’m good. I want to hear what you got.” I need to suck it up. I opened the door and walked in slowly, closing my eyes and deeply inhaling the scent. It’s true what they say about the scent bringing back memories. The studio brings back all kinds of memories.  I met Becca in a studio, I proposed to her in the studio, hell Lyric was even conceived in this studio.  At least, that’s a possibility; we’re not exactly sure which time we got it right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Becca and I slouched down on the couch after a long night in the studio, waiting to watch my manager’s reaction to our songs. She was biting at her bottom lip, a nervous tendency I quickly realized, and playing with the string on her sweatshirt, “What if he doesn’t like it?” she whispered.

            “Then you’re fired. It’s been good knowing you kid,” I playfully slapped her lap before looking up to see how nervous she really was, “If he doesn’t like it we move on. He’ll like it, relax.”

            For the first time she placed her head on my shoulder and I felt like this was the girl for me. That’s a very girly reaction but it’s true, we feel it too we just don’t go announcing it to the world. “I’m so tired.”

            “Me too,” I agreed resting my head on hers, “He’ll probably want to get lunch afterwards.”

            “Are you serious? With me too?”

            “Yeah,” I laughed, “You gotta get used to this, we don’t sleep.”

            My manager called me over so unfortunately I got up, even though I would be completely fine with staying on that couch forever with Becca. Of course he loved the song, I’m confident about my music. There are times it gets confused with cockiness, but it’s really confidence. We were invited to lunch and decided we’d meet everyone there, “I can’t believe he loved it.”

            “Why is that something you can’t believe? Of course he loved it.”

            “I know, it’s just my first song by myself and he loved it.”

            “By yourself? Hello? What the fuck am I?”

            She laughed and slapped my arm before grabbing onto her bag, “You know what I mean.”

“It is impressive,” I agreed, ”Don’t act all surprised though, you know you got it.”

            Becca shrugged her shoulders and followed me out of the studio and to my car. I unlocked the passenger’s side for her and walked around to get myself in. There were only two guys out there with cameras, that’s a pretty low-key day. “Does that get annoying?”

            “I guess, it’s not too bad. I’m used to it. It’s just because they love me so much, it could be worse,” I answered sarcastically.

            She nodded her head as I backed out of the parking lot, “That’s because you’re so charming.”

            Did she just call me charming? I glanced over at her but she was looking out the window, “Charming?” I laughed, “Did you just call me charming?”

            “No,” she answered quickly, I can see her turning red. A nice guy would let it go but it’s way more fun to mess with her.

            “You did. You think I’m charming?”

            “Sometimes, a little.” She’s still not looking at me, but that’s a good thing because I know I have a big goofy smile covering my face.

            “Did you just give me a compliment for the first time ever? A little compliment.”

            “What? Do you live for compliments?”

            “I do.”

            Becca laughed, finally looking at me, “It’s not like you give me compliments all the time.”

            “Oh, get out of here. I’ve told you a million times how sexy your elbows are.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            “Are you good?” Becca asked, kissing my shoulder.

            I nodded my head, “Perfect.  For you, m’lady.” I handed her my notebook and sat down at the soundboard.

            Becca sat at the couch, pulling her legs to her chest as she read the words of my soul. I don’t know why I’m nervous about her reading them; I’ve always let her read everything. In fact, the first day I met her I let her read some of my shit I didn’t want anyone else reading. But this is different, this is when I was going through some real shit.

            I played the beats once again not sure if I should be smiling or crying. I’ve been having so many different emotions it’s confusing the shit out of me. We’re connected even when we’re not together, her beats match exactly what I had in my head for the songs.  I looked back to see Becca reading intently, tears falling down her face.

            “Becca,” I hate seeing her cry, it really gets to me. Especially after the past reasons I’ve made her cry. “Don’t cry, that’s old shit,” I sat on the couch and pulled her on my lap.

            “I know,” she curled up against me, “I know it’s just… a lot… I can’t believe you’re home and you’re here and everything is ok. I love you so much. I was so scared you wouldn’t come back. Not that you wouldn’t get better, because I knew you would, but that you would just want nothing to do with me.”

            “Why would I want nothing to do with you? Baby, you’re the reason why I got help.”

            “I should have been able to help you before though. I should have been able to recognize what was going on and helped you. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come to me. I should have been there more.”

            “Rebecca stop. Do not blame yourself for my shit. You’re the reason why I got cleaned up and if it weren’t for you I’d still be doing that shit. It’s over and I’m better and we need to just move on. “

Four months later I find myself sitting on a tan couch with my arm around my wife waiting backstage to go on the Oprah Winfrey show. I’m about to go on live television in front of millions and tell them all about my problems. I’m a guy; I’m not completely into opening up and discussing my feelings. Not even to mention this shows complete weakness that I’m not particularly excited about sharing with the world.

            “You don’t have to do it,” I heard Becca whisper, “It’s not too late to leave.”

            “It’s ok, I want to,” I said as I rested my hand on her lap. Everyone’s been saying that all this shit is happening too fast but I’d rather get it over with. Sure, I’m not exactly excited to show the world my weakness, but part of the whole rehab program is to open up and not hide anything. My life has always been in the limelight and I feel like I owe it to everyone, especially my fans, to get the truth out there. I swear there’s more rumors going on about us that the truth will probably look a hell of a lot less scandalous.

            It’s one thing to say I’m going to do all this but it’s a completely different thing to actually do it. I know it’s what I have to do, but it’s going to be tough when I’m actually out there on that yellow couch looking into the camera knowing I’m showing up in millions of people’s living rooms.  It’s just difficult knowing that so many people that used to look up to me now have all these fucked up images of me, although some of them are rightfully legit.

            “Five minutes,” a stagehand woke me from my thoughts.

            I took a deep breath before taking a sip of Fiji water and running my hands through my hair. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. “Are you ready for this?” I asked with a smile, it’s going to be as hard for her as it is for me. In fact, I’d say it’s even harder in some ways since she has to just sit there and relive everything with a camera in her face.

            “I’m ready,” she smiled before kissing my lips gently, “I’ll be right there in the front.  Remember, if you don’t want to answer something don’t answer it.”

            “I know. I’m ok baby, don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

            “I know, you’re a professional with interviews. Just turn up that Timberlake charm,” she smiled, “I love you. I’ll see you out there.”

            I watched her walk out of the room and took another deep breath. The stagehand came back a minute later and I followed him to the stage while I could hear them getting the audience ready.  I’ve seen my share of Oprah episodes and you can always tell within the first two seconds if it’s going to be a fun Oprah or a serious Oprah. If it’s a fun one all the lights are on, she’s wearing bright colors and her hair is curly. If it’s going to be a serious episode she does her opening in the dark, with one spotlight on her wearing dark colors.  I was on her show one other time and she wore a dark green dress with wavy hair.  It was a combination fun and serious interview, but this time I’m sure she’ll be wearing black and ready to bring on the tough questions.

            As for me, I’m wearing a full out suit ready to impress.  Becca’s looking absolutely gorgeous in her dark green halter dress with her straight blonde hair half up with a clip. She looks very professional; I’d say we both have the look down.  I’m scared about what the reaction will be when I walk out there. Usually, I get people screaming for me, but I haven’t had an interview since all the shit went down and I have this fear no one is going to even clap.

            Luckily, when Oprah called me out I was greeted with applause, not to the extreme that I’m used to but much better than the boos I was expecting. “Justin Timberlake.”

            “Oprah Winfrey,” I smiled before hugging her and sitting down on that yellow couch that Tom Cruise jumped all over. I will not be jumping on this couch, that’s a promise. She’s wearing a black skirt suit; we’re in for the serious Oprah today ladies and gentlemen.

            I looked into the audience to find Becca sitting right there in the front row. She smiled at me and made me feel much better about the whole situation. “Thank you so much for coming here for your first interview, how are you doing Justin?”

            “I’m fantastic, thank you for having me.”

            “You look fantastic, you do. You look great, you look happy, and everything is good?”

            “Everything is great. I got everything straightened out and I’m back to the way things always were.”

            “Perfect, now let’s talk about that. You’ve had some great press in the past.  You’ve sold millions of records; you’ve raised millions of dollars for charities.  You’ve always been kind of low-key. I’ve met you before and I remember being surprised at how normal you were, as in down to earth. You weren’t someone that we read about in the tabloids for being out all night partying or drinking and driving. You really stayed out of the negative press.”

            “Well thank you. Honestly, I never really got caught up in that. I mean I partied, don’t get me wrong, but I think I had the sense to keep it private. But I mean, this was years ago. I got married kind of young, we had our son, partying wasn’t really high up on my priority list.”

            “Do you think that there’s something to be said about young Hollywood and the recent drugs and alcohol addiction?”

            “Um, I don’t know. I mean, it’s obviously something that we all face and it’s easy to get drugs in Hollywood. But that’s no excuse for anything. Drugs are ruining people’s lives all over the world not just in Hollywood.”

            “How did it happen, for you? How did it all get started, why did you start?”

            I hate when there’s three questions in one. I took a deep breath before answering, “You know, I was working a lot and kind of being at the top is a tough place to be. Everyone wants a piece of you, everyone wants your name on their album and people expect everything with my name on it to be a huge hit. These things can’t be forced I’ve never been someone that could just sit down from nine to five and write a song. Ideas hit me at different times; I mean I wrote a bunch of my songs at three o’clock in the morning waking up when my son couldn’t sleep. But it’s stressful when you get to a point that people expect you to just be able to sit down and write a hit.  And even worse is when you can’t. It’s like admitting failure almost that I couldn’t do it. I’m a huge perfectionist and it wasn’t enough for me to just admit I couldn’t do it. I needed to find a way to do it.”

            “So you turned to heroine?”

            “I had to find some kind of a balance between all that I’m expected to do. I needed to learn how to say no. That’s difficult because, I mean, come on, I knew that I wasn’t always going to be on the top. I’m realistic in that sense, and I always knew it could all go away. I mean, in that sense I never overdid anything because I was always aware that it could all be gone so fast. So that’s why I always felt like I couldn’t turn anything down because you know, in a year or five years or ten years it could all be gone. I’ve always been so used to everything being either black or white. The good or the bad, clear options. And you’re always told to live one way and take a stand and I mean politicians are getting bad reps because they’re in the gray. But for me, and I think most people it’s important to find a balance, to live in the gray. I can have the music and the fame and I can have the family life but I don’t have to turn to other ways to be able to fit it all in.”

            “Is that why you started heroine?”

            “I was in the studio actually and could not for the life of me come up with anything. I was working with another artist and it was at the point that everyone was saying if you work with me it’d be a definite hit. And I could not come up with anything! It was driving me absolutely crazy. And being in a studio with a group of musicians all trying to come up with this one three minute song is just stressful. It’s tough when your whole career is about being creative and you’re so used to having the creative juices flow without any problems and suddenly they just stop. So people, you know, musicians, have ways to get those creative juices flowing again.”

            “Like heroine?”

            It’s still hard to say that, even after as long as it’s been. And so hard to hear, and it’s like she keeps saying it.  “That is what I turned to, yes.”

            “Were you addicted?”

            I nodded my head and bit at my bottom lip before speaking, “I have an addictive personality. I want to do everything. And the heroine at the time helped me get what I needed to get done done.  I wrote the songs, I had time to come home and play with my son, spend time with my wife.”

            “Your wife, Becca, who is right there in the front row.” Oprah said and Becca smiled and waved, “Come up, can you come up?

            “Sure,” she smiled and stood up, walking over to us. Becca got a huge applause, way more than I did. She hugged Oprah and then kissed me before sitting down next to me.  I don’t know how she’s staying so strong.

            “Now Becca, we know, is a famous producer. The two of you, from the day you met I would imagine, were know as a dream team.”

            “We still are Oprah,” Becca answered with a smile, causing the audience to laugh. She’s so adorable, she gets nervous doing interviews but she’s naturally adorable and entertaining.

            “Excuse me, of course you still are,” Oprah answered with a laugh, “Now, I thought that you always worked together and when I heard that his addiction started in the studio, I didn’t understand it. Were you there?”

            “Oh no, we don’t always work together,” Becca smiled, “We do his songs together and we do work together at other times but we have a son so I’ve cut back a lot, and kind of let him do his own thing. Justin’s really a workaholic and loves to be in the studio and I do too, but after Lyric was born I haven’t been doing as much and he contractually has to.”

            “Did you realize he was high? I mean, what were the signs that you actually knew something was going on?”

            “I was never high in front of her, I was sure that I wasn’t because I knew she’d catch on right away. When recording sometimes I’m there for twenty four hours straight, and I made sure to never let her see me high. Now, it got to the point that needed it to get through the day.”

            “Yeah, um he just seemed really distant,” Becca continued placing a hand in my lap, “It was kind of like he was depressed, he just wasn’t himself. We always talked and joked around and he was just quiet and… distant. I knew something was going on.”

            “How did you know? What was the point that you realized it?”

            I placed my arm left arm over Becca’s shoulder and my right in her lap. I know this is hard for her to relive and that’s why I wasn’t so sure about bringing her here with me. It’s one thing for me to have to relive everything but it’s completely different to have her do it.

            “It was our son’s second birthday party and Justin had been claiming he wasn’t feeling well for days. All of our family and friends were over and he was nowhere to be found so I went to look for him and found him on the floor in the closet. He’s really good at hiding things and he’s a great actor, as we know,” she smiled and looked into my eyes, “But I knew there was more to it than that. And then later that night I was going through the closet and I found his stash.”

            “We have a picture of both of you and your son that was taken at his birthday party, the day Becca found the drugs.” Oprah said as she showed the picture of the three of us, wearing the goofy party hats and huge smiles. The audience let out collective awws, “He is adorable, you’re such an adorable family.”

            “Thank you.”

            “That is the day that you found it? Right? Look at that, you would never expect Justin to be addicted to heroine at that point. He looks happy like a normal proud father,” she continued, “How did you confront him?”

            “I just kind of asked him. We’ve always been honest and I had it so I just asked him if it was his and he was honest. It was easy, it was like he wanted me to find them and he wanted help.”

            “Did you? Justin, did you want her to find it?”

            “I don’t think I’d go that far,” I laughed, “I mean, I knew that it was going too far and I knew I had to get straightened out so I wasn’t going to fight her about it. I was ready.”

            “What was your wake up call?”

            “Seeing her cry, having her leave,” I swear to god I am not crying on national television. I felt her hand on my leg and managed to pull myself together.

            “You left?”

            Becca nodded her head, “I told him that we needed to leave, and I didn’t want Lyric to see his Daddy like that. And Justin knew, I mean he carried the bags to the car.”

            “She told me that she had to leave but she’d always be there for me. Her phone would always be on and if I needed her help to get through something she’d be there. But she also said she wasn’t going to do anything for me. I had to be the one to make the arrangements because if someone made me do it I wouldn’t have gotten better. I needed to do it myself, that’s the kind of person I am.”

            Oprah nodded her head, “That must have been tough.”

            “Oh yeah, very tough but I knew he could do it. I told him if he did I’d be right back there with him. But that was his only chance and if he didn’t get himself straightened out he’d never see me and especially never see Lyric again.”

            People clapped and I honestly think that was the best thing she could have done for me.  “So you started rehab right away?”

            I nodded my head, “The next day I went down and joined the intense rehab and detoxification process.”

            “How was that?”

            “Hell. One word, hell,” I laughed, “It was tough.”

            “What was the hardest part?”

            “Being away from my family and not being able to see anyone. I got to see Becca once every three weeks for an hour. And I got to talk to her on the phone once a week for a half an hour. I mean, we hadn’t been apart for more than a couple days since we met. Even when I was touring we’d fly out every week or so.  And I didn’t get to see lyric at all. That was tough. But the whole process in itself was tough as well. I mean, going through the actual process was hell too. The whole situation was, I can’t pick one part.”

            “But you’re done now, do you find it difficult to keep clean?”

            I shook my head, “Not at all. I mean, it’s really not even something on my mind. I just don’t want to go through all that again, and I know I’d loose everything and it’s not worth it. I’ve never been into drugs; I’ve never really experimented. It was completely out of normal for me to do it and I have no cravings to go back.”

            “Now you’re here for the new album. Some critics say it’s a little too fast for you to be coming out with something new and you should be taking time to focus on your family. Were you pressured by your record company into coming out with something so fast?”

            “No. I was dying in there not being able to record. I spent my days writing and Becca mixed a lot of beats while I was away.  We really breathe music and we live in the studio. I don’t think people understand the extent to our obsessiveness.”

            The audience laughed before Becca added, “We really do. His whole album was pretty much done before he got back. We both are like connected as far as music goes and when he handed me his notebook and he listened to my tracks everything fit. It was the easiest record I think we ever worked on.”

            “So you’re saying you went right to work when you got back?”

            I nodded my head, “It’s an escape. Everyone has their own escapes but music is both of ours. I mean, that first night I came home we went downstairs to the studio and spent the whole night working on tracks.”

            “The whole night?” Oprah asked with a laugh.

            “Yes, literally the whole night,” Becca smiled, “We made it to bed at like six in the morning and Lyric woke us up at 6:30. It was a very tough day.”

            “But things went back to normal with you right away or were there awkward moments?”

            “There were awkward moments at the very beginning. When everyone left and Lyric was in bed and it was just the two of us. But we went down to the studio and everything went back to normal. That really is like our haven. We live down there. Seriously we met in a studio, I proposed in the studio, we got married in the studio.”

            “We did not get married in the studio,” Becca corrected me with a laugh, “That makes us sound like freaks, we got married in a church like normal people.”

            Everyone laughed, they love her. I swear she could get her own show, “Yeah, sorry that’s not what I mean. We just have a lot of memories in the studio.”

            “What about your son? He’s how old?”

            “He’ll be three in two months.”

            “He’s so adorable, what was it like coming home to him? Did he remember you?”

            “Yeah, surprisingly he did I was real worried about that. But Becca made sure he’d remember me. It was tough because he had grown so much and when I left he was starting with sounds and when I got home he was all talking in mixed up sentences.”

            “We have your son Lyric, on Skype with Justin’s mother, Lynn Harless. Hello?”

            “Hello,” my mother’s southern drawl filled the room, “Say hi sweetie.”

            “Hi!” Lyric smiled and waved, “Oh! It’s Mommy! Hi Mommy! Hi Daddy! You come home?”

            “Hey buddy, is Granny taking good care of you?” I asked as everyone sighed. He is adorable, there’s no surprise here.

            “Yeah, we had ice cream! Huh?”

            “Nice Ma, real nice,” I laughed.

            “She got caught,” Oprah laughed, “Grannies always sneak in the sweets.”

            “Mommy I go swim,” my son just cut off Oprah Winfrey, that’s not good.

            Becca looks like she’s about to cry, “Good job babe, I miss you.”

            “I miss you! You come home. Daddy come home too!”

            We all said our goodbyes and I rested my hand on Becca’s lap as she waved goodbye.  “Are you ok Becca?” Oprah asked.

            She nodded her head, “I’ve never been away from him for more than like a couple hours,” she laughed and wiped her eyes, “I’m ok though, we’re ok, I’m sorry.”

            The rest of the interview was focusing on the good things I’ve done. We talked about the different charities I have sent up and my new album.  Becca was back in the audience with Oprah when I performed my new single. Looking out into the crowd and seeing Becca with that look in her eyes really makes me realize how lucky I am to have my life back.  After the show I hung out to sign autographs. I’m surprised they still want my autograph, so I’ll stay out here signing them until I’m forced to leave.

            It was great to actually talk to the people in the crowd. A lot of them had stories about family members going through what I went through and they said it really helped seeing the steps I’ve made and now they have faith that they can do it too. I almost cried about five times, but there were only tears once. I’ve become an emotional wreck.

            When we left the show we went right to the private jet on our way back to LA.

            “You did great,” Becca kissed me gently, “They loved you.”

            ‘They loved you,” I corrected her, “You’re a natural out there, we should get you a show.”

            She laughed, resting her legs on my lap and taking off her heels, “I’ve learned how to charm, just like you.”

            “That’s right, now that you’re a Timberlake you got the charm.” I kissed her forehead, “Thanks for coming, thanks for everything baby. I’m indebted to you forever.”

            “Good, you can start paying off your debt by rubbing my feet. Those heels were killing me.”