Sequel: Requiem of Revenge ›
When Three Becomes Two
Homecoming
Mike’s PoV
Three hours after leaving the hotel room, Billie returned. I was glad, too—we needed to make the arrangements for the funeral, since we were coming back to Oakland the next day.
“What took you so long to gain forgiveness?” I asked as he sat heavily on the couch.
“It didn’t take long. I just sat with her for a while after.” He said, not looking me in the eye.
“Bill, I know that expression. You weren’t just sitting with her, were you? And after all, you had a bed oh-so-conveniently waiting for you…” My eyebrows arched in a smirk.
“Oh, fine. I made it up to her.”
“That’s my man.” I reached over and thumped him on the back. My grin faded. “But anyway, we have to buy the plane tickets for tomorrow, and pack.”
The rest of the day was uneventful, except for a couple things. One, I had a real hard time finding my suitcase amongst the mountains of random crap that had accumulated in our hotel room the past week. Two, we had an even harder time with a certain drum set.
“MIKE! Help me!”
I dropped my armful of clothes and ran to Tre’s room where the yelling had come from. The blood on the floor still had not come out.
“Wha-a-t?”
“This goddamn drum set will not move!”
Tre’s drum kit had been set up in the corner of the hotel room before…before he left. He always did that so he could practice. I knew the drums weren’t heavy and Billie and I had each carried them many times. But now Billie stood there, heels digging into the carpet, trying so hard to pull the drum set towards him his fingers were turning white. But it would not move. The whole thing looked funny in a weird way. Well, if I didn’t have a good idea what was stopping the drum set from moving.
“You do know why you can’t move it, right Billie?”
“Yes, I do. But I have to throw them away!” replied my friend, still pulling. “We don’t need them anymore, not unless we want painful reminders of—“
“Maybe we should just pack them and bring them with us. He probably wouldn’t want us throwing away his drum kit. You know, it being important and all.”
“Yeah, all—“
CRASH.
Billie finally pulled the drum set free, but unfortunately his momentum sent him slamming into the bed next to it. I couldn’t help but snicker.
“Very funny.”
The next day, we were flying Southwest straight for Oakland. During the plane ride, we got a lot more stares than usual. What was even stranger was that even though well over half the plane’s eyes were trained on me and Billie, and whispers echoed everywhere, no one actually talked to us, asked us for an autograph, or snapped a picture. They clearly knew what had happened to Tre—well, the major details anyway.
Walking through the airport was even more disturbing. Silence fell wherever we walked, and people muttered and pointed. But still, no one dared approach us. It was as if they were afraid that we might start crying all over them—and while we did wallow in grief every night, we were past the open mourning, and now we simply forced ourselves to ignore our missing friend—we had not mentioned his name since my temporary fallout with Adie, and after the funeral it was unlikely we would ever do so again.
Billie and I went our separate ways, each going to our own houses in our respective cars. In a way, it made me nervous to be alone. It gave me too much time to ponder the events that had occurred recently. The only thing that brought me to sleep that night, despite my relief at being home, was the fact that after tomorrow, my best friend’s death was unlikely to trouble me ever again.
Three hours after leaving the hotel room, Billie returned. I was glad, too—we needed to make the arrangements for the funeral, since we were coming back to Oakland the next day.
“What took you so long to gain forgiveness?” I asked as he sat heavily on the couch.
“It didn’t take long. I just sat with her for a while after.” He said, not looking me in the eye.
“Bill, I know that expression. You weren’t just sitting with her, were you? And after all, you had a bed oh-so-conveniently waiting for you…” My eyebrows arched in a smirk.
“Oh, fine. I made it up to her.”
“That’s my man.” I reached over and thumped him on the back. My grin faded. “But anyway, we have to buy the plane tickets for tomorrow, and pack.”
The rest of the day was uneventful, except for a couple things. One, I had a real hard time finding my suitcase amongst the mountains of random crap that had accumulated in our hotel room the past week. Two, we had an even harder time with a certain drum set.
“MIKE! Help me!”
I dropped my armful of clothes and ran to Tre’s room where the yelling had come from. The blood on the floor still had not come out.
“Wha-a-t?”
“This goddamn drum set will not move!”
Tre’s drum kit had been set up in the corner of the hotel room before…before he left. He always did that so he could practice. I knew the drums weren’t heavy and Billie and I had each carried them many times. But now Billie stood there, heels digging into the carpet, trying so hard to pull the drum set towards him his fingers were turning white. But it would not move. The whole thing looked funny in a weird way. Well, if I didn’t have a good idea what was stopping the drum set from moving.
“You do know why you can’t move it, right Billie?”
“Yes, I do. But I have to throw them away!” replied my friend, still pulling. “We don’t need them anymore, not unless we want painful reminders of—“
“Maybe we should just pack them and bring them with us. He probably wouldn’t want us throwing away his drum kit. You know, it being important and all.”
“Yeah, all—“
CRASH.
Billie finally pulled the drum set free, but unfortunately his momentum sent him slamming into the bed next to it. I couldn’t help but snicker.
“Very funny.”
The next day, we were flying Southwest straight for Oakland. During the plane ride, we got a lot more stares than usual. What was even stranger was that even though well over half the plane’s eyes were trained on me and Billie, and whispers echoed everywhere, no one actually talked to us, asked us for an autograph, or snapped a picture. They clearly knew what had happened to Tre—well, the major details anyway.
Walking through the airport was even more disturbing. Silence fell wherever we walked, and people muttered and pointed. But still, no one dared approach us. It was as if they were afraid that we might start crying all over them—and while we did wallow in grief every night, we were past the open mourning, and now we simply forced ourselves to ignore our missing friend—we had not mentioned his name since my temporary fallout with Adie, and after the funeral it was unlikely we would ever do so again.
Billie and I went our separate ways, each going to our own houses in our respective cars. In a way, it made me nervous to be alone. It gave me too much time to ponder the events that had occurred recently. The only thing that brought me to sleep that night, despite my relief at being home, was the fact that after tomorrow, my best friend’s death was unlikely to trouble me ever again.