Through All the Dust

Justin had turned up unannounced at my doorstep. Brian was showering, which meant that I was responsible for hobbling over to unlock it and welcome the uninvited visitor. I groaned wildly when I found it to be my friend on the other side.
“Well hello to you too,” he snickered.
I rolled my eyes, “Do you understand how much it hurts to move around?”
His face burdened with empathy, “I guess I should have called first, huh?”
I shrugged.
“I brought tacos,” he offered in peace, shaking a grease-stained brown bag around.
I nodded, “You’re a smart man.”
Then I made off, limping on my lone crutch back toward the couch from whence I’d come. I looked a little like Tiny Tim.
“Where’s Bri?” Justin asked curiously as he closed the door behind himself and followed me, ever so slowly, into the living room.
“Shower.”
“He left you alone for ten minutes to shower?” Justin playfully gasped.
I raised my eyebrows, turning my head to give him the dramatics brewing behind my eyes, “Oh, don’t you worry, Jay. He took his cell phone into the bathroom with him…Just in case.”
Brian had literally not left my side in the entire time that I’d been home. Everywhere I was, he was. On the rare occasion that he’d have to leave for any time at all, he’d call in the reinforcements—usually Lauren, sometimes Matt. Hell, one time he’d even called in Zacky to keep a watchful eye on me. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble Brian thought I could be getting up to—it had been almost two weeks and I could still hardly move around without serious agony.
He’d brought my car home to me and had deliberately parked it in the garage, away from sight and, specifically, my prying eyes. He was convinced that it would only upset me—and that I could go and weep over the hood in good time. I felt much like a child that had been grounded.
“So?” Justin asked as he took my hands to lower me back onto the sofa. “How’re we feeling?”
“On the verge of death,” I replied theatrically but flatly. “Always.”
“You look it,” he laughed. “That gash is going to scar nicely, huh?”
I touched at my forehead where the stitches were still very much intact and holding my skull together, “Oh, probably. Good thing looks aren’t everything.”
He smirked, “Yeah, right. A badass scar will only make you that much more beautiful.”
“Don’t,” I scowled. “I don’t need that ego-stroking bullshit from the likes of you.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” he laughed, hands at his chest. “Mona’s been meaning to get her ass over here…But ya know…”
“Not really,” I offered with a grunt.
I’d heard rumblings of Mona’s presence in the hospital but hadn’t actually had the pleasure of seeing it in the flesh. I hadn’t seen, or heard from, her at all since the whole ordeal had happened. To say that I was unimpressed was an understatement. Her fiancée, however, was at my house nearly every other day. Usually with food.
I snatched the paper bag and rummaged around until I found my desired taco, loaded without tomatoes. They just made it mushy. They had to be abolished.
“She’s just a little freaked out by what happened,” Justin offered to me lamely. “She has literally been acting like you died.”
I took a gigantic bite of tortilla, “Haven’t I?”
Justin cocked his head.
Moving the food around in my mouth so I could speak, I groaned, “To her, I mean.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” Justin told me seriously. “Even for you.”
I swallowed the taco down, “Mmm…I don’t know. If my best friend was in a pretty serious car accident, and lived to complain about it, I’d probably go out of my way every day to make sure that they were alright…But maybe that’s just me.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, but you do that,” I continued sarcastically. “And Lauren…And Matt…And—”
“I get it,” he stopped me with a hand on my knee. “I’m seriously not defending her. I agree, she’s acting like an idiot…All I’m trying to do is act as a bridge here.”
I took another big bite, “No need.”
I’d pretty well come to terms with the fact that people handle unfortunate situations in vastly different ways. For me, I clung to the ones I loved in hopes of somehow resurrecting them. Brian was similar for the most part. Mona, however, was self-centered and selfish. But it was part of who she was…It was accepting that last bit that seemed to trip me up the most.
“New subject,” I decided aloud once I’d finished chewing. “Tell me about the world outside. What’s new out there?”
“Nothing,” Justin told me with a shrug, unwrapping his own taco. “Nothing is ever new. It’s the same old shit, day after day.”
I squinted at him, “Okay, Mr. Pessimistic.”
He laughed, “Well it is.”
“Gabe had an interesting call the other day,” I told Justin, picking a piece of stray tomato out from my grip.
“Oh?”
“Live Nation is doing some mental health benefit something or other,” I told him vaguely. “It’s apparently supposed to be a pretty decent lineup…If it actually comes to fruition, anyway.”
“And they called Gabe?”
I nodded, “They’re considering me for a slot.”
“Really?” Justin asked blankly.
I shrugged, “Something about they’re looking for artists who have, and I quote, been effected by mental illness—in some sort of abstract and bullshit way…my words.”
“Yours is hardly abstract,” Justin said seriously. “Between Ty and Jimmy—”
“Don’t,” I warned him with my taco. “That’s touchy.”
“I didn’t mean—” he paused. “I just meant with who he was…Anyway, beyond that…What about yourself? You’ve had a rough couple of years.”
I shrugged.
“When is this supposed to be going down?” he asked curiously.
“Next month.”
He looked at me nervously, as if cautiously aware of how insensitive his next question was. I just laughed.
“Out with it,” I demanded lightly.
“Will you be well enough…to do that?” Justin asked slowly. “You know…stand on a stage and perform?”
“Who says I have to stand?” I smirked. “I can sit at a piano. Problem solved.”
Justin narrowed his eyes, “Can you play the piano with that busted arm of yours?”
“No,” I chuckled. “But in a month, maybe… Probably... I’ll make it work.”
Brian emerged from the woodwork, his hair wet and spiked out in every direction. I loved a freshly bathed Brian—he was rarely clothed and his dark hair was always a disastrous mess. I fucking loved it.
“Well, well, well,” Brian grinned when he caught sight of my taco-bearing friend. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Justin brought tacos,” I told Brian excitedly, holding my half-eaten shell in the air for all to admire.
Brian smiled, “I see that.”
“What’s your take on this Live Nation benefit?” Justin asked Brian curiously.
But my heart sank as Brian’s face contorted with confusion. I hadn’t mentioned the call, or the tentative offer, to him yet. The way he was still supervising my every move…I just didn’t think he’d understand. I wasn’t sure he was ready to picture me whole again.
His face only concreted that nervousness.
“What Live Nation benefit?” he asked callously.
Justin cringed with his face, giving me one awfully apologetic look.
“Gabe got a call,” I explained weakly. “I’m being considered to perform for a benefit show next month for mental health.”
“How fucking progressive,” Brian grumbled with a quick roll of his beautiful eyes.
“Don’t be a grump,” I told him flatly. “It’s an interesting concept with a pretty solid meaning behind it.”
“You won’t be able to perform in a month,” he told me.
Shit may have happened in my life that acted as a pure catalyst for change. My life had shifted in many, many ways. But one thing that had not changed, at all, was my absolute resilience to bullshit. I had never, and still would not, tolerate men trying to tell me what to do as if I were some malleable dough.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” I assured him cockily.
Brian appeared as if he might challenge me at first. But the lines in his face softened and the darkness flooding his eyes relented.
“I just meant with how you’re feeling,” he backpedaled. “Do you really think you’ll be up to a big venue so soon?”
I shrugged, “Realistically all I need are my vocal chords. Last time I checked, those are still very much intact.”
“If it’s something you want to do,” Justin offered. “You know I’ve got your back.”
Brian added on, “Me too…I can play piano just as well as you can.”
“Like fuck you can,” I laughed. “Nice try.”
“He’s a good stand-in if your bones don’t start healing by then,” Justin smirked.
“I only have to wear this dumb thing,” I groaned, gesturing to the cast on my wrist that the Avenged guys had wasted no time absolutely covering in childish artwork, “for another three weeks.”
Justin raised an eyebrow, “You know sometimes broken bones still hurt after they’re not in a cast anymore, right?”
I stared at him deadpan.
“Just feed her another taco,” Brian instructed Justin quietly.
Justin slid it to me nervously, his eyes wide.
“You both are awfully condescending today,” I grumbled, snatching the taco from Justin’s hand. “You’re lucky that I’m stationary or I’d storm out of here.”
“Sure you would,” Justin laughed.
“When I’m done eating this,” I told them both seriously with a mouth full of delicious, delicious taco, “I will need assistance storming off…preferably outside…and with my cigarettes.”
“Whatever you want, Crazy Lady,” Brian grinned.

Notes

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