I tried a differentapproach.
"The guys wished they'd heard from you,"Isaid.
"You mean the guys who kicked me out of my own band?Thoseguys?"
August was doing a great impression of Noah's impassive voice, not giving away anything. But there were undertones to those words that made me pause, a suspicion forming in the back ofmymind.
"They're worried about you," I said. "And soamI."
"There's nothing to worryabout."
"Please, August. They care about you. I careaboutyou."
He sat up straight, throwing his pencil on thetable.
"If you cared so much, you wouldn't have taken away the one thing in the world that means somethingtome."
The more he spoke, the more pronounced that undertone became. He spoke carefully, slowly, but I couldhearit.
His words wereslurred.
A sharp stabbing pain hit my heart, so similar to the stab of pain I felt the first time I realized whathe'ddone.
"How much have you taken today?" I askedquietly.
He saidnothing.
Indignation rose in mychest.
"So you've been sitting at home doing drugs this whole time. Is that it? After all your talk about how you're not an addict, how you can stop any time, that you only need it to play… was that all a lie? Was everything you ever told mealie?"
The more I spoke, the louder my words became, until I was standing and shouting, the patio chair tipped sideways, kicked to the ground. I tried to keep hysterical tears from falling down mycheeks.
I didn't want to ask, but I knew Ihadto.
"Were you lyingaboutus?"
August took off his sunglasses, pushing them up on his head. I could see the hazy, glazed over ice blue ofhiseyes.
"I haveChronicRSI."
His words were flat.Monotone.
I stopped. Paused. I sniffled back thetears.
Chronic. That… wasn't a good word,wasit?
I didn't know what the rest of his words meant, but I could hear the weight of them in his voice, could sense the importanceofthem.
"I don't understand," I told him. "I don't know what thatmeans."
"Chronic Repetitive Strain Injury." He let out a dark, bitter chuckle. "It means my shoulder isfucked."
I drew in a sharp breath. I'd known his shoulderhurt,but…
I clenched my fists to hide my trembling fingers but it didn't stop my shakyvoice.
"How badisit?"