Page 13 of Thanks for Coming Along
"That morning, I immediately started therapy. I found an amazing therapist who helped me work through everything. She saved my life by diagnosing me with depression." she continued, her voice steadier now.
"That journey to get to the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't easy. There were times when I forgot what light felt like, what it looked like. But once I was able to bask in that warmth, it was well worth the wait." Her eyes locked onto Ronan's as she spoke. His eyes softened a silent understanding passing between them. "I found the right medication, and with therapy, I'm happy. I am so much happier than I was one year ago, but it's a spectrum. Some days are better than others."
"I'm truly glad to hear that you're in a better place now," Ronan said, his gaze still filled with empathy.
"Once I started therapy, I just took all that anger and pain and threw it into my second album," Eden said, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Writing those songs was my way of working through everything. I used my music to get all the feelings out. I told myself I was done being the victim, so I used this one paparazzi shot of me tossing Liam's stuff out of our apartment for the album cover."
"You are incredibly brave for that. You turned something awful and invasive into something beautiful." Eden felt a surge of warmth wash over her at his words.
"Thank you,” she sniffled slightly, his large hand still lingering on her forearm. She could feel the roughness of his palm against her skin, which strangely felt nice and comforting, maybe a littletoonice. It was a feeling that she could see herself getting used to. She immediately cast the idea from her mind, she knew that the documentary would eventually end, like all things do in the end.
"That's enough of that." Eden clapped her hands together, letting his hand drop off her arm, allowing the warmth of his hand to dissipate, and started digging into the memory box again.
8/29 8:03 AM PT
BNN'S RONAN MURPHY FILMING DOCUMENTARY ON EDEN PERCY'S LIFE
Ronan Murphy and various other camera crews were spotted at Eden's final performance of her North American tour last night at the Hollywood Palladium on Sunset Boulevard. It appears BNN is to release the documentary that goes in-depth with the secretive Eden Percy.
We've learned the production plans to put the spotlight on Eden's life ... the highs and lows -- from her rise to stardom to overcoming mental health and her alleged substance abuse history.
Murphy is not only the director of the doc, he is rumored to appear on camera as well with his typical hard hitting interview questions. We look forward to seeing the final product, everyone is dying to learn more about this mysterious rocker.
8
Ronan
Ronan watched Eden's slight shoulders moving in rhythm, her long brown hair swaying delicately over her shoulder blades. She sat on a white shag area rug over the dark hardwood floor. With an acoustic guitar resting in her lap, she strummed a series of chords, her body gently swaying to the music. The afternoon light spilled into the windows and cast a light on Eden's face, making her look ethereal. Ronan focused his camera on her hands, capturing each movement as she carefully plucked the strings. He then zoomed in, capturing the fine details of her face, her closed eyes framed by long, sweeping eyelashes.
They stayed like that for a while. He filmed her slowly putting together a song. She would sometimes start with a loose idea of the lyrics, letting the words take shape before her, while at other times, the melody would lead the way in creating a song. It just depended on how the inspiration hit her. Watching her entire creative process unfold before him was a mesmerizing experience, unlike anything he had ever witnessed.
Well, besides watching her perform live the first night they had met. Watching her perform had been electrifying. Her voice was powerful and slightly raspy. It had sent chills coursing through his entire body. The air at that concert seemed to crackle when she performed, and his heart jolted when she ran through the crowd at the opening song. He half-expected the audience to swarm her, but instead, they hoisted her back to the stage where she had delivered a performance that would be etched into his memory forever. Her stage presence was nothing short of incredible. She effortlessly commanded the stage, and the crowd hung on her every movement.
Yesterday afternoon, they went through more pictures from her memory box—endless shots of Eden and Ingrid. Ronan couldn't help but notice there were no pictures of her parents, especially after she had clammed up about her childhood. He didn’t want to push, though, since she’d already shared a lot about her past with Liam. It was clear that her childhood was something she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. The fact that she’d share about Liam but not her parents made him think it was a painful subject for her.
Liam. Just thinking about him made Ronan feel a burning rage flare up inside. How could anyone claim to love someone while treating them like that? Liam was a piece of shit, and Ronan couldn’t help imagining what he’d do to the guy if they ever crossed paths.
Afterward, they had lunch on her deck. Eden had made a salad because, as she put it, "I couldn't cook to save my life." Ronan had watched as she turned the kitchen into what he’d call 'Hurricane Eden.' Utensils were scattered everywhere, and there were splatters of olive oil all over the floor from her overly enthusiastic salad-mixing. Then they sat down to eat and chatted while the ocean waves set the rhythm in the background. The warmth of the sun had made him feel relaxed and a little drowsy. His usual anxiety was nowhere to be found.
He had learned a few more details about Eden: her favorite flower was Magnolias, she was a total foodie, and she loved the rain, but thunder scared her. Ronan shared a few minor details about his life, too. How he grew up in San Diego and that both his parents worked at San Diego State University. He also spoke about his younger sister Sadie, her fearlessness, and how Sadie was his closest friend.
"Ugh, I need a break!" Eden exclaimed, shifting her guitar off her lap and collapsing onto the fluffy rug, her brown hair fanning out like a halo around her head. She rolled her head slightly and glanced at Ronan, the camera still diligently filming in his hand.
"My record label is hounding me to write a new album. They want another 'Smoke and Mirrors,' my second album. Catchy songs, the ones that'll chart. But I've always wanted to dive into a different sound, one that's softer and not as angry. I love complex instrumentation. It is what I studied at Juilliard, along with a major in vocal arts."
"Why not just write the songs you love and see if they'll like them?"
"I guess I could, but it's risky. Either way, I've been dealing with writer's block for months. I've worked on improving my mental health, but my music seems to be paying the price," she lamented, shaking her head. Rolling onto her shoulder, she turned to face Ronan, a hint of frustration in her eyes.
"Do you play any instruments?" Eden asked, and Ronan shook his head. "You want me to show you the basics?"
"Okay," he agreed, placing the camera on the couch and letting it continue recording. He settled in front of her, and she handed him the guitar. Their hands brushed ever so slightly, and he felt a subtle electric hum running up his arm. Eden seemed unfazed as she ran her fingers over the guitar's neck, which now rested in his lap.
"These are the frets," she pointed her dark-painted fingernail to the small raised metal bars that sat on the neck of the guitar under the strings.
"Put your pointer finger on the top string, and your middle finger on the string right below it—that’s an E minor chord," Eden explained. She guided him through more chords, her touch light as she helped adjust his fingers. Every time her skin brushed against his, he felt a small jolt, one he tried not to pay too much attention to. He figured it was probably just the lack of any intimate touch lately. It had been a while—his last relationship ended ten months ago, and with all the time he spent overseas before that, he hadn’t been with anyone else. It wasn’t that he wasn’t over his ex, Melanie; it was more like he just couldn’t bring himself to care about sex after the accident eight months ago.
"Like this," she said, attempting to strum the guitar while sitting in front to show him the strumming pattern, but the sound came out disjointed from the incorrect angle of her arm and hand.
