Love, Derek

By Mandi K

Tea’s gone cold…I’m wonderin’ why I got out of bed at all. Morning rain cloud’s up my window and I can’t see at all. And even if I could, it’d all be grey, but your picture on my wall. It reminds me that it’s not so bad…it’s not so bad.

Dear Bono,

Hey man, my name’s Derek. This is the first time I’m writing you, but I just thought you’d like to hear from one of your biggest fans. I know you hear that all the time, but I really love what U2 does and I can really relate with you guys, especially you. You’re such a great lyricist, a poet really, that it inspires me to be a better person. I have all your LPs and singles, tee shirts, ticket stubs, (I’ve seen you guys in concert 46 times!), even the Achtung Baby and PopMart condoms! LOL.

Anyway, how’s it going? I know you’re touring right now, I’ll be seeing you five more times before the U.S. leg is over. I’ve already seen you six times on this tour. Congratulations about baby John, by the way. I’m going to be a father too, in a couple months! I hope I can be as great as a father as you seem to be. My girlfriend and me have been fighting a bit lately, kinda on the edge about the baby. My new job isn’t paying what we thought it would and she says that all I ever worry about is U2, but of course she’s just saying that because she’s moody from the pregnancy. I’m sure you know all about that with your four kids! It doesn’t matter though, because whenever I have a bad day or fight with Julie, I just pop in a U2 CD and I’m fine.

So how are Larry, Edge and Adam? Tell them I said hi. I’ve met Adam twice and Larry once. I’ve met you a few times. Take a look at the photo I’m putting in here, maybe you’ll recognize me! I haven’t met Edge yet, but he seems like a nice guy. I really admire that you four have stayed friends this long. I had three best friends like that all through high school: Darren, Mike and Jarred, but Darren and Jarred died in a car crash my freshmen year of college and Mike killed himself last year…but again, because of you guys and your incredible music, I’ve made it through. You guys mean a lot to me…U2 has kept me going.

I heard your father is sick and I’m really sorry. We have a lot in common, you know. I lost my mom when I was fifteen and my dad died of lung cancer earlier this year. I hope your dad makes it, though. I’m sure he will; he’s lasted this long, right? LOL. Oh, and if we have a boy, I’m gonna make his middle name Bono! Isn’t that cool? Anyway, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have lots of fan mail.

Your biggest fan,

Derek

Tea’s gone cold, I’m wonderin’ why I got out of bed at all. Morning rain cloud’s up my window and I can’t see at all. And even if I could, it’d all be grey, but your picture on my wall. It reminds me that it’s not so bad. It’s not so bad.

Dear Bono,

I already wrote you once, but I guess you didn’t get my letter. I probably wrote my address too sloppy. I have really awful handwriting, as you can tell. Anyway, my name is Derek and I’m a really huge fan of U2, and especially you.

I’ve gone through some really hard times these past years, still kinda am, and U2 has kept me going. Your music really has saved my life, more than once too. I just wanted to thank you for all the wonderful things you do. I’ve seen you live 52 times now, I figured you might not have answered my letter coz you’re so busy with the tour. You have a break now, three or four weeks, right? I hope you write back. I’ve met you six times now; you might remember me? I was the one who told you I’d written you and you should get the letter soon and you said you couldn’t wait to answer it. If you don’t remember, that’s okay. I’m giving you my phone number on a separate sheet of paper in here, so feel free to call, man. We have a lot in common. I lost my mom when I was a teenager too.

I really am one of your biggest fans. So much so that my girlfriend Julie says I talk about you guys 24-7. LOL. She’s pregnant, you know? Only about a month and I’ll be a dad too! I’m going to name it after you if it’s a boy.

I wanted to talk to you, man…about Larry and all. Me and some other fans were standing outside your hotel a couple weeks ago and he drove right past us, didn’t even wave. What’s up with him, man? I mean; not to be rude, but that’s really shitty of him. You’ve always stopped, even when you were tired. That’s why you’re my favorite. You don’t act like a jackass like Larry did. The others weren’t that upset, but I figured they probably didn’t want to say how much they hated that he acted like that. They’re afraid to think that someone they respect might be an ass. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s really nice to you and all, but why don’t any of you three talk to him about that kinda shit?

Anyway, I just want to say that I’m real happy for you about your new son and my prayers are with your father, I know he’s sick. My dad died earlier this year of lung cancer, so I understand what you’re going through. I hope he gets better soon. Tell Adam and Edge I said hi and don’t forget to call me, man!

Your number one fan,

Derek

Bono,

Hey man, this is Derek again…it’s getting hard to believe you aren’t getting my letters. You have four weeks off, you could’ve written, it wouldn’t have killed you. I’m not mad; I just think it’s kinda bogus you don’t answer your fan mail. I’d really appreciate you answering me this time around. I gave you my phone number and I still haven’t heard from you. I hope everything’s okay. I know your dad is sick and all, like I said; I lost my dad earlier this year, so I understand.

It’s just that lately it’s been like no one understands me. Julie tells me I’m too wrapped up in U2 to think about work or her or the new baby. She says I’m not paying her enough attention and that I’m drinking too much, but I still think she’s just bitching. I’m fine; I hardly drink at all as it is. Just a couple beers with dinner. You know how that is. And I’m getting hounded at work too. It just doesn’t stop, except when I go to your concerts and listen to your music.

That’s another thing, man. Julie doesn’t want me to go to the four dates in London and Munich I have tickets to! Isn’t that bullshit? She says it’s bad enough I wasted the ticket money without asking her, but that I’d have to pay for airfare and lodging and all…I know we don’t have that much money and we have a baby coming, but she doesn’t understand what it’s like to see you guys perform live…it’s so incredible. She just doesn’t understand

So anyway, just try and write me back, man. That’s all I want, is a letter or a call. Anything, really. I know you’re not really like this, man…you’re good to your fans, I know, and I know you got a lot of shit going on right now in your life, but c’mon, man. Write me back.

Your fan,

Derek

Bono,

Alright, man, this is getting stupid. I really don’t understand why you’re being like this. I told you I’m your biggest fan and still no letter, no phone call. I don’t need this kinda shit, you know man? I think it’s fucked up that you tell me you’d write me back and after three letters you still haven’t gotten back to me. I can’t believe you didn’t get at least one of my letters. I’m starting to think this is a one sided relationship, you know, man? Please call me.

Love,

Derek

BONO,

Enough, alright? Enough of this bullshit. I thought maybe you were different, I thought you were a person with a heart, someone who gave a fuck. Maybe that’s why you and Larry are friends, coz you guys are alike. I didn’t want to believe you’d act like a shithead like he did that one day, but I don’t know anymore. I trusted you to be there for me, I’m your biggest fan. I have your name tattooed on my arm, I have your pictures all over my walls…what more do you want? I can’t be anymore than what I am. It’s like everyone wants me to be better and I hoped you’d accept me for me, but now your turning your fucking back on me, man, what the fuck is that?

I don’t deserve this; I know I don’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been loyal, I believed in you. This bitch I live with doesn’t understand what we have. I try to tell her but she doesn’t believe me and I can’t prove shit coz you won’t write me. She pisses me off, man, and sometimes I get so mad that you haven’t written or called me and she’s on my back, I just wanna slap the shit out of her. Or slit my own wrists, just to get out of the fucking place. And sometimes I do coz it’s like real, feeling life and I can feel the truth in life…you’re not being truthful though, man, fucking this shit up with me. If I don’t have you, I don’t have anyone. If I don’t have you, I don’t want anyone.

Bono, why you doing this, man? We belong together; we need each other. I love you, man. We could have been together. We could have been happy, but you pull this shit. I think it’s fucked up you don’t answer your fans. I thought you cared about me. You acted like it when I met you. You gave me money for a cab, man, what happened to that? Now you’re a fucking asshole. Get your act together, man, coz I’m telling you if this shit keeps up, you’re about to lose your biggest fan

Derek

(Tape static) “Dear Mister I’m-so-much-fucking-better-than-you…yeah, man, it’s Derek again, surprise, surprise…this is the last time I’ll ever talk to your fucking ass. You still haven’t called me or wrote. What the fuck is your problem?” (Voice rising) “WHO TOLD YOU YOU WERE FUCKING GOD? All I wanted was a fucking call or a letter. You didn’t want to talk me? FINE, then TELL ME. You’re a shithead; you’re scared. You’re a bullshit rock star. I shoulda seen through your act. You think you’re so fucking better than me? Fuck you. I’d answer my fans if I had ‘em, I’m not some pompous ass who needs thousands of people kissing his ass to feel better. All I needed was one little letter, all I needed was you to pull me out this place I’ve fallen into and you ain’t here to help me. So when you hear I’m dead, know whose fault it is. Know you KILLED someone, man, coz you don’t give a shit. I can see this now. You like people to THINK you’re so great? You think you’re too great to talk to me?” (Voice cracks) “That’s alright, man, you’ll pay for it. When you try to sleep and I’m in your dreams, when you close your eyes and I’m there, when you look at your fans, EVERY ONE OF THEM WITH MY FACE, YOU FUCK HEAD. You think this bullshit is funny? You laughing with Larry about it? Think you have some fucking excuse coz your dad died? BULLSHIT. I didn’t fuck you off when my dad died. I still went to your concert and it was only a couple days after he died.” (Mockingly) “I’m drunk off my ass, man, had a whole bottle of tequila…and guess what, man? I took some crack too, how’s my driving? I’m on the highway to the bridge, to end it all just for you. So you remember why I died and it’ll live around in you, crawl inside your head and EAT at you. Don’t worry, Bono man, you won’t rot in hell, you’ll just suffer the rest of your life…I LOVE YOU and you fucking leave me like this, man? What the hell is your problem? I hope you feel like you can’t live without me, I hope it festers inside you the rest of your life…I like that song, ‘Exit’, Bono, feels like you wrote it ‘bout me…You know my girl Julie? The bitch that tried to keep us apart? Fuck, you should see her now, man. I’m taking her with me, don’t worry…I’m taking care of her, right? Yeah, you know it, man. So next time you’re happy with your wife, forgetting about me, I hope you remember what a FUCK HEAD you are. I LOVED YOU MAN, and you FUCKED IT UP. I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU…well, I better go, Bono man, I’m at the bridge now and…OH, SHIT, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SEND THIS SHIT OUT…” (Tires screeching, glass breaking, the sound of water) (End of tape)

Bono frowned down at the letters in front of him and Larry leaned across the table toward him, concern on his face.

“Bono, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“This kid…” Bono blinked and then sighed, putting his head in his hands.

Larry pulled the letters over to him and read through them. After a few minutes he finished the last one and raised his eyebrows at the end. He put them down as if they were poisonous and let out a loud breath. He looked at Bono and their eyes met.

“Well?” Bono said finally.

“…There’s something wrong with this guy,” Larry replied.

“I can see that,” Bono sighed. “But what do I write back?”

“Well…the last letter is from a month ago,” Larry said, riffling through the letters. “I’m thinking that by now he thinks you blew him off again.”

“I know, I know…” Bono mumbled unhappily.

“Hey guys!” Edge came into the hotel room and ran to Bono’s TV, putting it on a local news channel.

“What?” Larry looked over at the TV.

“Some guy drove a car over a bridge…they said he had his girlfriend tied up in the car,” Edge said grimly.

“Oh, how sick,” Larry muttered under his breath.

Bono stared at the screen blankly as the female reporter shouted the story over the pouring rain and violent wind on the bridge:

“There has been a positive identification on the driver and his identity has finally been released to the public to be twenty-seven year old Derek Hannah. Derek drove over the bridge with his pregnant girlfriend, Julie Millerton tied up in the backseat. There has been evidence found in the flooded car, including a tequila bottle and a cassette tape still in the tape recorder. However, the police will not as of yet reveal what is on the tape. As soon as we get more information of this horrifying story, we’ll let you know. Back to you in the studio, Michael…”

Bono swallowed and looked over at Larry, whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. Bono slowly shook his head, not willing to believe what he’d just heard.

“…There’s NO WAY it’s the same guy…” Larry said, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

“What?” Edge asked, confused.

“Oh my God…” Bono whispered, his eyes watering. “Oh my fucking God…”

Larry walked over to Bono and grabbed his shoulder, “It’s okay, Bono…this isn’t your fault.”

“What isn’t?” Edge frowned.

“Oh my God,” Bono wailed, his head sinking back into his hands.

“Bono, no…it’s NOT YOUR FAULT,” Larry insisted, kneeling down and putting an arm around Bono’s shoulders, “Your dad died and we were so busy with the tour…it’s not your fault…”

Bono looked over at the TV as more shots of the car being pulled out of the choppy, frigid water filled the screen. “Oh my God.”

It’s not so bad.

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