Page 60 of Your Chorus
18My Blood || Twenty One Pilots
COLE
My bass feelsforeign in my hands, like rolling over to find the wrong person beside you in bed at night. The metal and wood are just that—plain materials I’m not even sure what to do with. The instrument won’t come alive under my fingers, won’t fuse with my body and my mind until it feels so familiar it’s like having an extra limb.
Instead, it just sits there in my lap, as dead and useless as the guy holding it. I trace the edge of the Fender’s body before finally giving in and setting the thing back on its stand.
I missed rehearsal today. I’ve never missed a session before. When I say I’ll be somewhere, I’ll be there. There’s nowhere that holds truer than my commitment to the band, but I just couldn’t face them.
Our manager was pissed when I didn’t play Osheaga. A lot of people were pissed. Apparently the show went all right, but we’re not the kind of band that settles for ‘all right’—especially not for something that big.
I don’t know what should freak me out more: how easy it was to bail on something I told myself I’d never bail on, or how easily the guys let it go. Even today, they’re not putting up a fight about me sitting on my ass at home. Matt treats rehearsal even more sacredly than I do, and all he did was text to say it was fine if I didn’t want to show.
It’s not fine. It’s fucking cowardly, but I barely feel like I can breathe right now, never mind walk and talk and play music like nothing has changed.
Everything has changed. She’s gone. She’s gone for good. I know it’s real this time around because I never realized just how much of my life was wrapped around her until I felt her rip herself out of it. This isn’t temporary. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something that can be fixed.
It’s the same way I felt when my mom left. It’s the same way I felt as I stood in Auntie andOncle’sdriveway and watched my dad’s car leave for the last time. He said he’d be back, but somehow I knew. I knew even then it was the last time I’d see him. No matter what he was, losing him felt like a piece of me had fallen out of my body. That’s exactly how I feel right now.
I find myself standing in front of my fridge, staring at the expired milk carton and the half-empty pack of cold cuts inside. We’ve been back in Montreal for almost two weeks, and I’ve been living on take-out and the remnants of whatever I have in my cupboards. I’ve tried to shop, but I just end up staring at all the food the same way I keep looking at my bass: like I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with it.
Monroe brought me a casserole. Acasserole—like someone died or something.
In a way, I guess someone did. There’s a version of me I know I’m never going to get back.
I grab the cold cuts and walk out onto the balcony. It’s late afternoon, the hottest part of the day here, and the streets are subdued, sated as they soak up the heat this city spent all winter craving. I lean against the near-scalding metal railing and try to pretend the heat can satisfy me too.
I’ve had my fill of turkey slices when my phone starts ringing back inside. The shock of confusion I feel when I see the name on the screen is the strongest snap back to reality I’ve felt in days.
“Lexi?” I answer, not even sure it’s really going to be Nadia’s sister on the line.
“Cole.” I hear her swallow on the other end of the line. “Cole, I...”
We haven’t talked in longer than I care to remember. Whereas Auntie andOnclesoftened over time and eventually did their best to take me back into the family, Lexi stood by Nadia’s vow to keep me out. I didn’t get invited to her wedding. I’ve only met her kids twice, both times by accident when I showed up at the house before she’d had a chance to leave.
All that falls away and gets forgotten when I hear the tone of her voice.
“What happened?” I demand. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “Lexi, what’s wrong?”
“It’sMaman.” She sounds terrified of speaking, like the words have a power she doesn’t want to hold. “Heart attack. You...You need to come to the hospital. Now.”
“I’m coming.” I’m already at my apartment door. “Lexi, what is...? Is she...?”
I feel it too: that hesitation to breathe out the words no one wants to say.
“They’re trying to save her. They said...They said we might need to say goodbye.” She’s whispering now. “Please hurry, Cole. She needs you here. I know she does.”
“I’m coming,” I repeat, as I fly out onto the sidewalk. There somehow happens to be an empty cab driving by on the street. “Just hold on, okay? Just hold on.”
There’s no time to stop and think. I hang up after confirming what hospital they’re at and tell the driver to get there as fast he can. Downtown whips by as we head to the hospital at the foot of the mountain. I clench my fists on the seat, my whole body tense like I’m heading into a fight. Those same words keep repeating in my head.
Just hold on. Just hold on.
They’re going to save her. They have to. I’m not losing anyone else.
We get stopped at a red light a few metres from the turnoff for the emergency room. I toss the driver a twenty and book it out of the car, not breaking out of a full sprint until I reach the glass doors. I’m running on pure adrenaline, and it’s a struggle to slow down enough to get inside.
The place is packed. I’ve heard of people spending over twenty-four hours waiting in here to see a doctor. Kids are screaming, and people are shouting at nurses while names and numbers get blared across the PA system, but I barely hear anything. I scan through the chaos until I spotOncle’s face.
