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Editor Note: The images used for this story were purchased and used under royalty-free license* from Istockphoto.com . ~Sephrena
Author Note: Please email me at AngelJediGirl (at) gmail (dot) com before posting this story to any other site. Posting to a pay site is prohibited.

Comments and suggestions are also welcome at the above email address.

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Sarah Carerra Book 2: Summer Medley

Chapter 2.07 - Press Forward

Dad had hired a limo to take us home. I felt really weird leaving the hospital and climbing into a limo, but that's what happened.

"You need to take it easy for the next week or so, Megan," my mom said while we were driving.

"I know, Mom," I sighed. The doctor and Catherine had been pretty adamant about that. "Do I have any Sarah appointments?"

"No," Dad said. "After tomorrow's press conference, you don't have anything scheduled for a few weeks.”

I nodded. I wanted to be on stage again, but I understood the need to recover first. There would be plenty of time for appearances later.

"We'd like to get you into the studio, though," Dad continued. "It shouldn't be too much effort to record a few more songs, and we need to get working on them if we're going to get your album out in time."

"Okay," I told him. "I've got another song that I wanted to include, and a couple of other unfinished ones that I think I can get done."

"Good," Dad replied. "Scott will be happy about that. He was hoping that you would be able to provide most of the remaining songs. He wanted half of the songs on the CD to be written by you."

"Okay," I said again. We were pulling up to the house now. Uncle Kevin's van was not in the driveway. "Did Uncle Kevin go home?"

"No," Dad replied. "They took Austin and went to Disneyland this morning."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. I was hoping to see Madison again.

"They needed some vacation time, Megan," Dad replied as we exited the limo and started walking toward the house. "You scared everybody Monday morning, and it’s been a stressful week."

I sighed. That made sense. At least I had Emily and Ethan. I turned toward her.

"Where's Ethan?" I asked. I hadn't heard anything from him since we had gone to 'The Tonight Show' together last Friday.

Emily grimaced, and I immediately knew that I wasn’t going to be happy with the answer to my question. She didn't answer until we were inside and were sitting on the couch in the front room. "He's at summer camp," she finally said.

"What?" I asked incredulously. That didn't sound like Ethan at all! He'd never been to a camp in his life, and he'd never expressed an interest to do so! "Why?"

Emily sighed. I wouldn't like this answer either. "To get away from you," she said. I flinched. That was not the answer that I was expecting. "He said he needed time to figure things out, Megan. Don't be mad."

I wasn't mad - I was astonished! I knew that I had created a problem when I had kissed his cheek, but I thought that we would be working it out together. Now he was gone, and I had no chance to talk to him about his feelings, and...and to determine what mine were!

"When does he get back?" I asked, afraid that he would be gone all summer. I wasn't sure that I could handle that.

"At the end of next week," she said. "It was a two week camp, and he left early Monday morning. I don't think he even heard about your collapse, because he hasn't called for more information."

I sighed and leaned my head back against the couch. I was supposed to be recuperating, but instead I started my recuperation by being stressed out over Ethan.

I spent most of the rest of the day hanging out with Emily. We tried to watch TV and do things that had a minimum of physical activity. When Madison returned home, the three of us moved into Sarah's room, where we spent most of the night working on a new song. I was happy to have co-writers again, and I knew that Madison was excited that she could tell her friends that she had helped write one of Sarah's songs. I told her that her name would be listed on the album, and she practically beamed the rest of the night.

By the time I climbed into bed, I was exhausted. This was the first day I had been out of bed all week, and it showed. Madison had insisted that I sleep in my own room, in my very comfortable bed. She said that she'd sleep on the less comfortable couch bed in Sarah's room. I think she just wanted to sleep in there. Either way, I was grateful for the comfort of familiar surroundings as I drifted off to sleep.

*  *  *

The next morning came too early. I got up, showered, ate, and got dressed in another feminine sundress. Julia had decided that I needed glam today, and I was teetering on a pair of heeled sandals while I slipped on some bangles and a necklace.

The press conference was going to be held in the press room at Olympic Records, and Mom, Dad, and I set out early to get there in time. On the way, Dad handed me a sheet of paper.

"Read over this, Megan," he said. "These are the points that we want you to discuss, but please use your own words. After your statement, we'll be taking questions. You don't have to answer any that you don't want to, okay?"

"Okay," I said, taking the paper from him and looking it over. We were officially calling this a surgery to address "womanly issues." That seemed to be specific enough to give everyone a general idea of what went wrong, but vague enough that I didn't have to get into the details.

When we reached the studio, I felt my nerves start to grow. I was worried about answering some of the questions that I might be asked, and I did not know what I would say if they asked me something I didn't want to answer.

Dad pulled around to the side entrance that was kept clear of the press. They were going to get plenty of chances to ask me questions and take pictures. They didn't need to hound me when I got out of the car too. Once we were inside the building, we were led down a few hallways until we reached a small room where we could wait and get ready. Stephanie was there waiting for me.

"How are you doing, Sarah?" she asked me when I sat down in a seat to let her do my makeup.

"I'm tired but fine, Stephanie," I replied. "Thank you for asking. I'm nervous about the press conference, but physically I'm fine."

"That's good to hear," she said. I felt that she was hoping for more details, but I was unwilling to give them, and she seemed unwilling to ask directly. I sat in silence, going over the points that Dad had given me in my mind while she worked. I felt bad that I didn't talk to her like I usually did while she worked on me, but I just wasn't in the mood this morning.

When she was done, she leaned down and gave me a hug. I almost broke out in tears at her gesture. I really liked Stephanie, and I would call us friends, but she had never done anything like that before. I smiled back at her in appreciation when she let me go.

"It's not bad news, is it?" she asked. I realized that my depressive mood might have given her the wrong idea about the press conference. I shook my head.

"Not at all," I told her. "I just don't want to discuss this with everyone. What happened...it was very personal."

Stephanie nodded her understanding. Before she could say anything in reply, we were interrupted by Scott.

"Sarah!" he greeted me warmly when he entered the small room. "How are you doing?"

I was really getting sick of answering that question, but Scott was a genuinely nice guy. I wouldn't be where I was today without him, and his gentle manner had kept me from having a meltdown on more than one occasion while we worked in the studio.

"Hi, Scott," I replied. "I'm doing fine. I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be sorry," he replied. "You are an amazing young woman who I am privileged to work with. This is a small setback for your career, but in the greater scheme of things, it's a step forward in your personal life. Don't feel bad about this."

He was looking down at me with a quirky smile, and I couldn't help but chuckle back at him. He once again found a way to make me feel better and keep going.

"We're ready," said some lady whom I had never met. She spoke from a door that I guessed led into the press room. I stood up, and took a step toward her, but was intercepted by my mom.

"We'll be right behind you, okay?" she said and gazed at me with loving eyes. I nodded, and she stepped back to let me lead the way. Only Scott was in front of me as we walked through the door and over to a small podium.

He stepped up to the microphone, and I stopped short just behind him, in plain view of the large number of people that filled the room. I had never seen so many reporters and photographers in one place before!

"Good morning," Scott said into the microphone, and I diverted my attention to what he was saying. "My name is Scott Crawford and I am Sarah's representative with Olympic Records. Sarah will be giving a brief statement and we will be taking questions afterward. I ask that you hold all comments until that time. Sarah Carerra."

Scott stepped back from the podium and gave me a smile. I gulped before taking a step forward and then looked out at the crowd. There were so many of them, and I was startled when a few flashes went off. I just needed to get through this quickly.

"Good morning," I started. I could hear the nervousness in my voice, and cleared my throat. "Monday morning's incident was caused by a minor medical condition that I had learned about two weeks earlier. I was scheduled to have the condition corrected on Tuesday to prevent this sort of thing from happening, and it was purely bad timing that caused me to collapse."

I looked out at everyone again. Some seemed eager to hear my words, others looked at me with pity, and a few looked at me with concern. I pressed forward.

"My body went into shock just after I started singing because of some womanly issues that I would prefer not to go into detail about. I am completely fine, healing well, and not at risk for any repeats of what happened Monday morning. The condition has been completely corrected, and my doctors believe that I will have no adverse side effects.

"I want to reiterate to my fans that I am healthy, and I want to apologize to everyone who wanted to see me perform Monday morning. I'm sorry for disappointing you, and I hope I can make it up to you in the future. Thank you."

I stepped back from the podium for a second, trying to recapture my bearings. Some of the people in the audience were already shouting out questions, and I was quickly being overwhelmed. Scott stepped forward.

"One at a time, folks," he said. "Please don't ask your question until Sarah calls on you."

He stepped back again, and I hesitantly stepped forward.

"What kind of womanly problems?" someone screamed from the left side of the room. I glanced over, but I hadn't called on the man dressed in a polo shirt and jeans, and I certainly didn't want to answer that question, so I ignored him. Instead, I pointed to a young man toward the front that I recognized from a local news station.

"Ms. Carerra," he started. "You say that this condition was minor, yet hospital spokespersons said that you were unconscious for three days after the surgery. How minor could it be?"

"Yeah!" the guy from the left side of the room screamed again. "What womanly issues?"

Ignoring the jerk, I turned to answering the question from the young man.

"The medical condition could cause serious issues if it wasn't corrected," I told him. "But the procedure wasn't on or near any major organs. There is always a risk with surgery, but the success rate of this procedure was very high." I took a breath. I performed in front of thousands of people; answering a few questions couldn't be that bad. "I was not unconscious for all that time. I came out of the anesthesia without complications, but I had a bad reaction to the pain medicine that they put me on. I repeat - I wasn't unconscious, I was sleeping that off."

With his question answered, I quickly searched through the numerous raised hands for someone else to call on. I pointed to a woman wearing a smart business suit.

"You mentioned womanly problems," she said. "But was any of this caused by your use of drugs and alcohol?"

I was stunned at her question for a moment! I had never even seen an illegal drug, and I had never taking a sip of an alcoholic drink! But her tone seemed to imply that I had done both.

"No," I replied curtly. "I have never taken an illegal drug in my life, and I don't drink. And I never plan to do either. This was purely biological, and not caused by anything I have done in my life."

She smiled like a cat hovering over a canary, and I quickly pointed at another guy. Before he got a chance to ask his question, we were interrupted by the man on the left again.

"What womanly issues?" he yelled again. I gritted my teeth, and someone actually yelled back "Shut up, Brady."

When it was quiet again, the man whom I had pointed to asked his question. "How will this affect your schedule, and are there any accommodations you need to make?"

"The doctors have asked that I take it easy for another week or two," I told him. "I did not have anything scheduled because this was a planned surgery. But I'll be back in the studio next week to start recording for the album again. I should be back on stage shortly thereafter."

"What womanly issues?" Brady yelled again. I almost yelled back; how inconsiderate could he be? Instead, I pointed to a man who had graying hair, but had a friendly smile on his face.

"Why won't you answer Brady's question?" the man asked, making me wish I hadn't picked him.

"Yeah!" Brady yelled.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. But Scott stepped up beside me and spoke instead.

"Please be respectful of Ms. Carerra's desires," he said. "If you cannot wait your turn to ask a question, we will cut this press conference short."

He stepped back again, and I turned toward a young woman whom I recognized from one of the shows Emily and I liked to watch together.

"Have you spoken with Josh since you woke up?" she asked. I couldn't help it; her question had me blushing immediately. I really felt embarrassed when a few people started to chuckle at my reaction.

"Yes," I was finally able to reply. "I called to tell him that I was okay after seeing his interview the other day. Like I've said, Josh and I are good friends."

I pointed at another guy whom I recognized. I hoped that if I recognized them, I might remember who the good ones were.

"Can you elaborate on what you mean by womanly issues?" he asked. I was ready to strangle him! Why couldn't people just respect my desire for privacy in this matter!

"Yeah, what womanly issues?" Brady yelled again.

I hated myself the moment I did it, but I snapped. "I had a blockage during my first period, okay?!" I yelled back at him. "Are you happy now?"

Immediately I felt the tears start pouring out of my eyes, and I turned away from the podium. I couldn't answer anything else now. Mom was there immediately, and she wrapped her arms around me and started moving me toward the door we had entered through.

"What is wrong with you people!" Scott shouted into the microphone. "Couldn't you respect her wishes? This press conference is now over. Leave immediately."

Then I was through the door and into the silence of the room that Stephanie had done my makeup in. She was still there, and she looked stricken at what had just happened. Mom led me over to a pair of seats, and I sat down and leaned my head against her shoulder and cried.

*  *  *

A knock on my open door caused me to look up from where I was lying on my bed. Dad was standing there with a goofy smile on his face. Despite how bad I felt, it made me smile.

"Hi, Princess," he greeted me.

"Hi, Daddy," I replied. I couldn't quite keep the smile on my face long enough to greet him properly. But it was enough, he stepped into my room and came and sat down on the side of my bed.

I'd been lying on my bed alone for a few hours now, trying to come to grips with the twists that my life had thrown at me this week. We'd gotten home from the press conference just in time to say goodbye to Uncle Kevin and his family. It was a teary goodbye between Madison and me. Emily had been there when Madison was gone, but she too had left for a family commitment. I knew that I was wallowing in self pity, but I didn’t feel like doing anything else. I didn't even get a chance to see Mary this morning, because she was out of town. I really could have used a good session with her.

"This isn't the end of the world," Dad told me. I grimaced at him. It certainly felt like the end to me. Everybody in the world now knew that I had just had my first period! The whole world! This wasn't like being in class at school the first time and not knowing what to do. This was on a global scale! I knew I had fans all over the world, and the press conference, or at least the news, had spread to them by now.

Dad held up a stack of papers, which left me puzzled.

"Scott just faxed these over," he said. "They might cheer you up a bit."

"What are they?" I asked. I was ready for any glimmer of hope that these feelings would end.

"These are the results of some polls that were conducted since the press conference," Dad replied. "Your popularity is skyrocketing right now."

"Oh great. Now I'm famous because of my misery," I cried, and I could feel the tears start to bubble in my eyes once more.

"While some of it may be because of your misfortune, the majority of it is not," Dad said. I grunted, because that seemed unlikely. "I'm serious, Megan," he stated. "You won over the Mom and the young female adult fan base this morning. They can relate to what you are going through, and they are sympathetic to how you are feeling. These polls show just how much they are on your side. This may not be the type of publicity that we would have wanted for you, but it does work in your favor."

Perhaps he was right. Every woman has had to go through this at some point. Every woman has had a first period, and they have had to deal with its consequences. The only difference here was that mine had made the news. Heaven only knew how much I wished that wasn't the case.

"This one will make you feel even better," Dad said and shuffled through the papers. Then he started reading.

"Dear Ms. Carerra," he read. "With deep regret I am writing this later to apologize for the actions of my reporter, Brady Townsend. Mr. Townsend was out of line at your press conference, and never should have yelled his question or even asked that specific question at all. I deeply regret assigning him to cover your story, and I personally wanted to inform you that his actions do not reflect the feelings and attitudes of our esteemed paper.

"Mr. Townsend has been terminated from his position as an entertainment columnist and is no longer employed by my company. Please accept this apology with the intent that it is written, and get well soon. Hollywood isn't the same without you. Best regards, Tanner Beesley, editor-in-chief of the Hollywood Herald."

If anything could bring a smile to my face, that letter had been it! I knew I lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I told you that would make you feel better," Dad said with a chuckle and a bright gleam in his eye. His smile had grown tenfold when I had smiled, and I knew that it was hurting him to see me depressed.

"You’re right," I replied. "That is one of the best things that I could have heard."

"Good," he said. "How about you come out of here and we have a late lunch?"

I smiled back at him. I loved my dad so much. But I had to turn him down.

"I can't," I replied, and he immediately frowned. Instead, I reached down to the floor beside my bed and picked up my guitar case. "I have something I need to do first."

"Okay," he replied, and his smile returned. He nodded at me and stood up. "We'll be out here when you’re done."

I nodded back to him. I would have loved to walk out of this room with him. But now that my spirits had been lifted, the pain and agony that I had felt this morning were starting to solidify into an idea - an idea that would make for an excellent song.

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