Page 45 of Fall From Grace
My phone buzzes while I’m sticking my head in the refrigerator, wishing I had something strong to drink. With a sigh, I pull my phone out of my pocket to see who it is, and for some stupid reason, that dumb box in my chest sinks when I see it’s just my brother.
I meander to the living room and plop down on the couch as I read the message:How’s it going at MSU?
My brother has never been one to reach out, not really. He’s angry and avoidant like me. Still, when it comes to family, we’re both trying to be better. We talk now more than we did when I first got kicked out of Black Sacrament.
I send him a message back:I don’t know that I’m cut out for this shit, bro.
The dots appear, like he’s typing something, and then those dots stop, like he changed his mind about whatever he was goingto say. The words that eventually pop up on my screen are ones I don’t expect:You ok?
Just two words. A simple question that should have a simple answer, only it doesn’t.
My immediate reaction is to type out a single word, yes, but then I hesitate before I send it, and I end up deleting those three letters before typing two different ones in the form of the word:No.
My brother responds by calling, and I groan. I’m not really in the mood to talk, but… maybe it would be nice to offload. Maybe talking about it to someone who’s not actually here, someone who can tell it to me straight, would make me feel better. There are only three people in the world who can possibly understand what I’m going through, and my brother is one of them.
I answer the phone and lean my head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as I say, “Hey.”
“Logan, what’s going on?” My brother’s voice is worried, the concern laced within each word. Deacon is what he goes by at Black Sacrament. It’s crazy how something might not be your birth-given name, but when you use it enough, it’s what it feels like. Hell, I probably respond quicker to Pope than I do Logan.
All I do is sigh, and Deacon is quiet for a while. I can’t help but wonder where he is, if he’s with the others… or if he’s with that girl, Angel. The one who took my place. The one who’s dating all of them simultaneously.
Eventually, I say, “This shit is just harder than I thought it would be.” I chuckle, although it’s a sound full of bitterness and self-resentment. “Who knew going to fucking college would be harder than going on tour?” I close my eyes as memories flash in my head, vivid as if they happened just yesterday. “What I wouldn’t give to be on tour right now.”
“That’s because when we went on tour, you fucked around all the time. You only put in the work when you were on stage.”
Hmm. I don’t really remember it being like that, but I do remember the drugs and the pussy were always better when you were on the road. The actual performing part was miniscule. Still, his easy response makes me wonder if, perhaps, I saw things with rose-colored glasses when it came to Black Sacrament.
After a few moments of thought, I mutter, “Maybe you’re right. I…”
“What’s happening? Just spit it out.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t fucking shake the anger, man. Not at you and the others, but… at the whole damn world. Being Logan again after so long—” I run my hand along the side of my face as I sit up and hunch forward. “—I feel like an imposter in my own skin.”
“Maybe you lost yourself too much in Pope.”
Those words strike a chord in me, and I frown at nothing in particular. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I did, and maybe, because of that, I fucked myself up good for the future.
He goes on, “So, besides you being angry, how’s the rest of it going? Are you actually dragging yourself to class, or are you skipping already?”
My brother knows me well. “I’ll have you know I only skipped two days’ worth so far, and I only skipped because…”
Deacon groans. “Because why? Let’s hear whatever excuse it is.”
My brother and I haven’t really spoken too much since classes began. He’s been off doing his own thing, while I’ve been here, doing mine. We’re not the kind of siblings who talk every day. In all honesty, talking to him just reminds me of what I lost, so I was all for the radio silence.
But today, it’s different. Today I don’t mind it. It’s nice to hear my brother’s voice.
With a sigh, I mumble, “There’s… a girl—” Deacon bursts out laughing, something totally out of character for him, and even though he’s not in the room with me, I scowl at him as if he is. “What the fuck is your deal?”
“Sorry, it’s just,” he pauses, “having girl problems is such a… well, it’s a you problem. It doesn’t matter where you are, you always have girl problems. Thought maybe, after everything that happened, you’d be careful when it comes to girls.”
“I was,” I quickly hiss out. “I was good when it comes to girls for a long fucking time.” Let’s not forget it’s been over a year since I was kicked out of the band. I’ve handled myself just fine… until now, I guess.
Deacon says, “Tell me about this girl, then. Or girls. Whatever it is. Knowing you, you probably got a whole fan club already.”
The old me definitely would have a fan club, a whole gaggle of girls who chased after me. Girls who would be ready for a random message at two in the morning asking for them to come over, girls who would hustle to do just that.
“Believe it or not, it’s just one.”
