Cleaning Out the Closet

Mina closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. She pats her thigh to the beat of the click track coming through her headphones. It’s been a long day. She’s in the middle of recording vocals for a song she wrote less than twenty-four hours ago. It should have been one or two takes, tops. But her voice keeps breaking at the key change. Her producer, Jim, is patiently sitting outside the booth, his hands folded in front of his mouth, praying that Mina can finally wrap this song. 



She barely even opens her mouth before she freezes. She knows nothing good is going to come out. 

“I can’t do it,” Mina whimpers into the microphone. She yanks off the headphones and drops them. The aux cord saves them from crashing to the ground. A fire lights in Mina’s stomach and ripples across her whole body. She falls to the floor, heaving deep, shaky breaths. Jim jumps out of his chair and steps into the booth, joining Mina on the floor. 

“What’s goin’ on, Meen?” He asks softly, taking her hand in his. This is the first time he’s seen Mina like this. Typically, she glides through their recording sessions, confident and bursting with energy. 

“I just… I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Mina breaks into sobs, wedging her face between her knees. Dark, wet patches begin to form on her blue jeans. “Take after take after take. I don’t even like this song that much.”

“Then why record it?”

“Because we’re making an album! We only have six songs. We can’t put that out.”

“Honey, y’all just dropped an album six months ago. Why do you need another one already?”

“The fans want one,” Mina pauses. She sits back up and looks at Jim, trying to stop her tears. “The label wants one. Slow Burn is hot right now. Really hot.”

“You guys are hot, but you can’t just force a bunch of new music out. The fans will understand. The label will get over it if I tell them to get over it. I hate to say it, Mina, but I think Slow Burn is slowly burning you out.”

Mina sighs and glares at Jim for the bad joke. “I’ve just never failed like this before. Not with music.”

“You aren’t failing,” Jim says sternly. He takes both of Mina’s hands. “You’re just tired. Please, just take some time off. You haven’t stopped writing and recording and touring and doing press since Slow Burn formed, what, three years ago? I know it’s exciting to be breaking through, but your name has been on people’s lips for a long time, queen. I don’t expect anybody to forget about you anytime soon. 

“Now, I’m gonna go get your purse, drive you home, and I don’t wanna hear a peep outta you unless you’re giving me a Netflix recommendation, ok? Just chill. Take at least a week off and relax.”

Mina nods, but remains seated on the floor while Jim grabs her bag and his car keys. She looks up at the microphone and swallows. 

Relax. Just relax. Take a week off. You can do this.

Jim pokes his head back in, jingling his keys. “C’mon, mama. It’s vacation time!”

---

It’s six days into Mina’s forced vacation. The first three days off are pure anxiety. She isn’t used to being idle. The fourth and fifth days are kind of nice. She doesn’t get to enjoy her beautiful house and pool very often. By the sixth day, however, she’s been still far too long and is beginning to feel trapped.

A random surge of energy inspires Mina to clean out her giant walk-in closet. She sorts through hundreds of black band t-shirts--mostly gifts from friends in the industry--and begins folding them neatly until she comes across a small mountain of Stone Cold Kill shirts. She presses one to her face. It’s dirty, but smells distinctly like her girlfriend, Coda, the band’s rhythm guitarist. Mina smiles into the musky, deodorant-stained fabric and realizes that Coda should have gotten home from tour the night before. 

Mina paws through the piles of shirts surrounding her for her phone. The tiny rose gold charm that dangles off the top of her case pokes out, and she grabs it, firing off a text inviting Coda over. Mina receives an “omw” with a sparkly heart emoji seconds later. She feels butterflies erupt in her stomach. She hasn’t seen Coda in over two months, and she doesn’t have any meetings or interviews to run off to. They can just be alone together for as long as they want. 

She continues folding until she hears her doorbell ring through the cavernous front hall of her house. Mina squeals and dashes across the cold marble floors, careful not to wipe out in her socks. She throws the door open and launches herself into Coda’s arms, completely unaware that she’s holding something. Coda sets her down and Mina plants a long kiss on her lips.

“Ooh, damn, hello to you too,” Coda smiles, stepping into Mina’s kitchen. “Bear made you some cookies.” Coda holds up a big plastic bag filled with snickerdoodles. 

Mina takes the bag and unzips the top. “I love that man,” she moans, shoving a cookie in her mouth.

Coda laughs and reaches into a dark purple backpack. She pulls out a DVD box set of The L Word, some clothes, and a toiletry bag. “I hope you don’t mind me staying a few days. I figured you could use some trash and some company.”

“Mm, are Bette and Tina really company though, hon?” Mina smirks, cackling at Coda’s distraught face. She reaches up and pats her cheek. “Kidding, obviously. I’m so happy you’re here. Please stay forever.”

Coda sets her things down on the massive kitchen island and wraps her girlfriend up in a tight hug. When Coda lets go, they meander through the house, discussing the highlight’s of Coda’s tour and Mina’s time off. Eventually, they end up in Mina’s closet. Coda is stunned by the mind-boggling number of black band tees spread across the floor, but helps finish up the folding. Tidying another corner of the closet, Coda spots a busted cardboard box under some thigh-high boots. She reaches in and pulls out a jewel case with a disc inside labeled “Music 1999”.

“Hey, Meen, what’s this?” Coda asks, showing her the disc.

“Oh my god,” Mina breathes, taking the DVD. “I think this is, like, all my musical performances from when I was little. My dad put this together for me for one of my birthdays.”

Coda asks her to play it and Mina reluctantly agrees. They snuggle in on her white leather couch in the living room and start the DVD. A tiny Mina sitting at an electric keyboard fills up the massive TV screen. Her itty bitty hands pound chords onto the keyboard as she sings “I’m the Only One” into a Playskool microphone.

“How did they not know you’re a lesbian?” Coda whispers.

Mina shushes her, her eyes locked onto the screen. The clip ends and switches to a school talent show. A first-grade version of Mina stands center stage looking uncomfortable in a suit. A track begins crackling through the speakers hanging about the stage. Little Mina bursts into a goosebump-inducing rendition of Cher’s “Believe.” The person filming captures some of the parents in the audience, jaws hanging to the floor in amazement.

“Seriously, how many hints did you give them?” Coda jokes. Mina doesn’t respond. The video jump cuts to the award ceremony. The crowd stands and cheers as little Mina struggles to raise a giant first place trophy into the air. The next clip is Mina sitting on an amp, a tiny green Fender in her lap. She’s laughing and playing along to a Led Zeppelin album spinning on a turntable nearby. Her father’s voice comes from behind the camera, saying something in Tagalog. Coda can hear how proud he is. She looks over at Mina, whose eyes are filling with tears. Mina pauses the video. 

“I was good at everything,” she whispers. “I could sing, play guitar, I taught myself piano. I won every contest I entered, got every solo. My dad was so proud of me. I just had some natural gift for music. I couldn’t fail.

“I didn’t know failure until I came out to my parents. I was fifteen and miserable, but my parents didn’t want a daughter. I can still hear my dad’s heart breaking. That was the worst moment of my life. After that, they acted like I didn’t exist. I petitioned for emancipation on my sixteenth birthday and they agreed without even hesitating. I did anything and everything to keep myself alive and fund my medical transition. But through all that, I still had music and was still experiencing success. I won open-mic contests. I got scouted by my first producer at a karaoke night. I think I took this failed album so hard because music is the only thing that’s never let me down. It’s never rejected me. I was basically a prodigy. That’s a high pedestal to fall from, and it hurts like hell.”

Mina sniffs loudly, wiping her eyes. “It seems so dumb to get so worked up about this. I’m living my dreams. I have albums and fans and this huge house. I could afford to take a whole year off if I wanted to! But it’s like… when a straight-A student gets their first B. It’s not a big deal, but it turns their whole world upside down. I’m afraid if I don’t keep busting my ass, I’m really gonna fuck up and it’s all gonna go away.”

Coda pulls her in, holding Mina’s face to her chest, stroking her hair. 

“God, now I’m treating you like a therapist,” Mina laughs, slipping her arms around Coda’s waist.

“I charge by the hour, but I do accept payment in kisses.”

Mina sniffs and lets out a small giggle. There’s a moment of silence.

“I don’t think you’re going to fuck up,” Coda begins. “But if you do, it’s okay. We’re artists. We fuck up constantly, but that’s what makes our art better. You’re allowed to be upset right now. Give yourself time to process and relax. You’ve been so busy being Mina the Rockstar. You haven’t had time to enjoy being Mina...the Lady with the Cute Butt.”

“Is that how you think of me?” Mina pushes herself up and looks at Coda, amused.

“Only when I’m behind you.” Coda sticks her tongue out. They laugh and Mina picks her phone back up. She taps the screen a few times and puts the phone on speaker. After two rings, Jim answers.

“Hey, Jim. I think I’m gonna take your advice. You and Coda have convinced me to take some time off. I need to recharge and reconnect.” Mina smiles.

Jim gives a huge sigh of relief. “Happy to hear that, babygirl!” He chimes. “Thank you, Coda!”

“You’re welcome, Jim!” Coda laughs. Mina hangs up and tosses her phone onto the floor.

“So what kind of reconnecting are you trying to do?” Coda smirks, reaching over to gently wipe the black streaks of eyeliner from Mina’s cheeks. “I have been on tour for two months, you know.”

 Mina’s face breaks out in a broad grin. She tugs at Coda’s white v-neck, pulling her on top of her. They kiss, but Coda quickly breaks away.

“Really? With baby you watching us?” Coda gestures to the TV, still paused on six-year-old Mina playing guitar.

“Ooh, you right. C’mere.”

They jump off the couch and race to Mina’s bedroom, crashing into the tousled sheets and adding to the pile of discarded clothes outside the closet door.