Page 13 of Goodbye Note

I closed my email and opened the maps app. They were playing a show tomorrow night.

Chicago to Brooklyn—twelve hours and forty-one minutes, but I could do it in eleven. If I left now, I’d make it there by midafternoon. A quick nap in the car and I’d be golden.

Depression sucks, but when my mind latched onto something and took off with it, there was nothing better than the high. My doctor told me it was manic, but I’d take it over not being able to get up any day.

I shoved a few things into a duffel and slung it over my shoulder. My parents would be long asleep, but I’d take my brother’s beater. He left it in the drive when he moved to NYC for law school. I got it started without too much trouble and backed out of the driveway, finding the tank full.Lucky break.

My dad probably drove it once a week to keep it in working order.

I shoved Dopamine-Fiend’s album into the disc player and put it on repeat.

FOUR

VARIAN

I closed out of my email.

“Maybe he lost it.” My brother, Vallen, folded our set list into a paper airplane.

“Do you think?” I’d bared my soul and gotten blown off.

“You’re on tour, sitting in a hotel business center after checking your email fifteen times a day. What is it with this guy?”

“The signal here is shit, and I figured maybe my email wasn’t delivering.” I lifted my shoulders and slumped back in the desk chair. “Am I stupid?”

“The right person will.”

“Will what?” I swiveled to look at him.

“The right person will show up for you every day.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever find the right person.” I knew my position as second fiddle.

Vallen threw the airplane at me.

I snatched it out of the air.

“What has you all?” Bronx walked into the business center, eating a bowl of cereal from the free continental breakfast, and gestured at me.His red mohawk was laid down, making him look like he had one luxurious side of hair with a buzzed other side.

“Has me what?” I played dumb, not wanting to admit it.

“You look like a wet blanket,” Fox muttered, stepping in behind Bronx, shoving food into his face.

“The bus leaves in five minutes. Why are you just eating?”I looked between our other two bandmates.

“I’m just taking advantage of the free food,” Bronx admitted, not ashamed.

“Second breakfast. I burn six thousand calories drumming under the stage lights. I can’t lose any more weight or my doctor won’t let me play.” Fox huffed but kept eating.

“So rock and roll of you to watch your weight with your doctor,” Bronx said, holding back a laugh. “You really could use to put on a few pounds, though. I’m a little worried you’ll blow over in a strong wind.” He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m trying.” Fox shoved a massive bite into his mouth before dumping the half-eaten bowl into the trash. “Hence the doctor.”

“I don’t know how you eat fifteen times what I do in a day, and you don’t gain a pound.” Bronx shook his head. “If I look at food too long, I gain five pounds.”

“Not like food on the road helps,” Val said, glancing down at himself. He’d always been self-conscious about his weight.

“You’re looking a little thin,” I said, not even sure how to address that he didn’t need to lose anymore. His cheeks were already hollow.

---