Page 44 of Where You Are

I get up from my bunk and head right to the bathroom, never having to piss so bad in my life. After that, my stiff as hell legs carry me to the fridge to grab a bottle of water which I immediately start chugging, as if I can instantaneously flush out the remaining toxins and demons that are still trying to cling on to my blood cells.

When I’ve drained the bottle, I grab a shirt from my bunk and pull it over my head before looking for some shorts.

When I’ve painfully pulled on my running shoes, I trudge down the bus steps and into the morning air, pulling in a lungful, hoping to God it doesn’t result in the water I just drank coming back up. When I feel a small breath of life start to circulate through my body instead, I take another, and then another. And then I run. As much as I want to sprint, running as fast as I can to leave the black shadows of last night in the dust, I keep it to a steady stride, focusing on getting my heartrate up and my blood pumping, and hopefully I can sweat out more garbage.

Once I’ve adopted a steady pace and feel slightly more human, my mind wanders back to Melanie, as much as I don’t even want to think her name.

Now I know how she felt that morning in college she was telling me about, and how it scared her into being so strict with her alcohol consumption. It’s both unsettling and unnerving to know I had no control over myself, and no memory of what happened.

I always admired that about her, how she took control over that part of her life because she didn’t want something like that to happen again, and I’m thinking I’d do well to take a page out of her book. If being that guy means more nights like that, I’m out. I can’t do it. I make a mental note to get myself a health check from the medic that travels with us, and get my shit together again.

For the rest of my run, I give in and let myself think about Melanie. While it kills me that she left, I need to acknowledge that she was here; with me. What happened between us was real and it was there. I loved her, and as much as I don’t want to, I still do. But her leaving will never hurt as much as not knowing why.

“Matt!” I hear Chris’s voice call just before he appears beside me, matching his pace to mine.

“Hey,” I say in surprise. I have to adjust to being jarred from my thoughts, but it’s just as well.

“Glad to see you’re up and running. I wasn’t sure you would be after last night.”

“What do you mean?” I puff out, turning my face towards him.

“You were pretty blitzed last night. Didn’t seem like you even knew who, what, or where you were.” The jovial smile is missing from his face; he’s genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, I hate to say it but I had a blackout. I don’t know how the hell I woke up without the hangover I deserve,” I confirm as we slow to a walk. “I mean, I feel like shit run over twice, but I expected a lot worse.”

“Matt…” Chris starts, and the look on his face makes my insides freeze. There’s not excitement on his face and his perma-smile is prominently absent. Whatever is on his mind isn’t good. “You… really fucking scared me last night,” he says, his tone extremely frank as he stops us where we stand.

I place my hands on my hips, bracing myself for what he’s about to tell me. I don’t want to know, but I need to.

“You never go into that back room. You’ve never felt the need, you’ve never wanted to. But while I don’t know what it is, something made you want to last night, because you did.”

I drop my eyes to the asphalt and let out a quiet breath. When I feel like I can take it, I bring my eyes back up to his, seeing that they are devoid of his perpetual zest. They’re dark and full of worry, and I hate that I made him have that look, so I give him the slightest of nods, encouraging him to continue. I need to know what happened so I can acknowledge it, feel it, and take steps to rebuild.

“The Matt I know would never want me to let you wander back there. I kept watching the door, hoping you’d come to your own senses and come back out of it, but when you didn’t come right back out, I came in after you.”

While I like to think of myself as the strong and stoic type, I feel the backs of my eyes give a slight twinge, warning me that they’re about to mist over. I’m overcome with gratitude for our drummer right now. I’ve always been thankful for the laughs and joy he brings to our band, wherever on the map we are, but never before has he had to come through for any of us like this; because before now, it had always been me looking out for everybody. And he doesn’t have to say what he does next for me to know he passed the test with flying colors. Waking up safely, alone in my bunk, is my proof.

“Tell me, Chris,” I request, my voice flat. I don’t want to know, but I need to. I need to know exactly how far I fell so I can start my climb back up again. He blows out a heavy breath, and thank God, he spits it out quickly.

“I found you leaning against the wall sucking down a bottle of Johnny like your life depended on it while a whacked-out looking groupie knelt in front of you undoing your pants while other chicks started coming over; to watch or join in I have no idea. I knew if you were your normal, rational self, you would never let that happen, so I grabbed you by the arm, told them the party was over and dragged your drunk-as-a-skunk ass out of there. I leaned you against the wall in the hallway and thank fuck you were able to do up your pants, because dude, I love you and all that but I never wanted to be that close to your junk. When I knew your pants would stay where they should, I hauled us out of there to the SUV as fast as your hammered ass could move.”

Fuck.

“When I got you on the bus, you undressed yourself,thank fuck. Then I put you in a cold shower for ten minutes, got you to your bunk, got two bottles of water down you, and stayed until you were sawing logs with no sign of getting up again.”

When the last word is out of his mouth, I leave no time for reflection. I straighten up, grab him by the material of the sweatshirt on his shoulder and yank him into me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and the amazingly caring goon hugs me back just as fiercely.

I always considered him one of my brothers; I just never got to see how far his loyalty extended. When I pull away, he’s still regarding me seriously.

“By the way, who’s Em?” he asks.

What the fuck?

“What do you mean?” I ask, sincerely not having a clue where that came from. How the hell could he know?

“You were mumbling the name ‘Em’ in your sleep,” he explains. “I couldn’t understand anything else you said, but it sounded like something about missing her. Does she have anything to do with how you’ve been acting lately?”

I look away, offering him nothing but an exaggerated shrug along with a shake of my head.

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