Coffee and Cigarettes

Three months had passed. Life had been pretty dull lately...Libby and Mikey were still a couple, the band had written a few new songs, but no band name had been created thus far. I still wasn't talking to Bob (I hold huge grudges), and Blair was doing fairly well.

At least, it seemed like it.

On a happier note, Frank and I were getting closer and closer and I was starting to like him even more. Libby knew I liked him, as did Mikey and Matt. I don't think it was really a secret, but I was in the middle of telling Libby when Mikey and Matt walked in and overheard.

We flirted nonstop. Everyone said it was almost nauseating. We were always together, always cuddling during movies, tickling each other, making each other laugh. Libby had dubbed us an "unofficial couple".

I have to say, that did make me smile. But just slightly.

But you know, I liked being around Frank. He made me happy, and he was one of the few people who knew how to cheer me up and make me smile. I was slowly opening up to him and considered him as one of my best friends.

Libby and I sat in the Way's garage on the tattered old couch, picking away at loose pieces of fluff protruding in unsightly places. The boys had called a band meeting.

Why? No idea. But band meetings are never good, that I learned from watching a lot of television.

Gerard leaned against the wall of the garage, a cigarette perched between his lips. "Okay, we will now read out the minutes from our last band's meeting."

"We had minutes from our last meeting?" Mikey asked, confused.

"Yes, now shut up and listen."

"Wait, did this happen when I was at my dad's house?" Frank asked frantically. "Did I miss something important? Why did no one tell me about these minutes? What are minutes?"

Ray smacked him in the back of the head. Very effective way of making him shut up.

"You know what, screw last meeting's minutes. That was just a time-waster, anyway." Gerard muttered, tossing his finished cigarette butt onto the ground, putting it out with the toe of his shoe. "We have something to discuss. The band needs to make a few changes."

Libby and I glanced at each other. We both knew exactly where this was going.

Everyone's eyes fell on Matt. "What?" he asked once he felt the presence of our stares.

"Matt, you've been messing up a lot lately during practices," Gerard said, since no one else would open their mouths. He scratched at the back of his head. "The rest of us think that your performance as a drummer has declined significantly and that your hard-partying lifestyle is no good for the band's future."

Matt was stunned. "But...Gerard, we made the band together. We've been writing songs for months! How can you say that?"

"Pretty sure I just did," he sighed. "Go on, Matt."

Matt rose to his feet from behind his drum kit. "Fine," he spat. "See if I care. Go have fun finding a replacement for me."

"We live in Jersey," Frank said with a toothy grin. "How hard could it be?"

Matt's face flushed red and he moved towards the garage entrance. Suddenly, he stopped. "Gerard, you said that my so-called hard-partying lifestyle was no good for this band. You know what you are? You're a fucking hypocrite. Who's the one who stays up until three in the morning almost every night, holding onto a bottle of scotch, getting smashed and getting high?"

Gerard's face fell. I gave him a confused look, but he didn't notice. His eyes were fixated on his shoes. "Shut up and get out."

Matt snorted victoriously and left the garage.

"Gerard," I whispered quietly while rising from my seat. I softly nudged his shoulder. "Gerard, do you have a drinking problem?"

He stared up at me, his eyes glazed with tears. "No," he replied sternly. "The alcohol helps me. I don't fucking have a problem."

He pushed past everyone and ran into his house, presumably running off to his room. Poor guy.

I glanced at Libby. "I guess we'd better go," I said quietly, as everyone nodded. Libby got up and gave Mikey a quick peck on the lips before we said our goodbyes and walked back home.

"Do you think that Gerard really has a drinking problem?" Libby finally asked me.

"Wouldn't doubt it," I shrugged. "I always thought something was a bit off about him. I just hope he doesn't start getting too carried away."

Libby nodded in agreement. "Alcohol's a dangerous thing. And drugs too? He'd better be careful or he'll end up in the hospital."

I went home and immediately went to my room. My English assignment, the short story, was handed in months ago, but I felt that I had a solid plot line and that I could continue to build on it. It was my personal project to turn my short story into a published novel.

It was a dream of course, but it's always nice to have some aspirations.

I wanted to change the title, though. Right now, it was called Peering Through the Tears. I didn't like it at all, and it didn't really reflect the story in the way that I wanted.

With my pen in hand and a pile of lined paper in front of me, I started to write. A few times, I had to scratch out what I had written and restart from a different point, but I had managed to write five pages, both sides, and I was full of pride.

I glanced at the clock. It read 8:30pm. Time flies when you're having fun, right?

I decided to go take a shower. I walked down the hall with my change of clothes and my towel. I opened the door to the bathroom just as Blair shut the medicine cabinet and stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Um...are you all done here?" I asked her in an awkward tone.

She nodded. "Yeah, knock yourself out."

I noticed that Blair's clothes had gotten baggier over the months. What was she hiding underneath the over-sized fabric?

I placed my clothes and towel on the bathroom counter as I closed and locked the door. I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. As I turned on the faucet, I was getting curious.

What was Blair looking through in the medicine cabinet?

I opened the cabinet, hidden behind the mirror, and scanned my eyes over the small shelves to see if anything was out of place.

Well, something definitely was.

There was a little bright orange bottle hidden behind a tube of toothpaste. I snatched it and turned it to read what the label said.

Blair had scratched out the words. I couldn't make out what it said, but I knew something for sure...they were drugs and Blair was definitely hiding something.

It really should've clicked in at that very moment, but you know, I was ignorant. I didn't know the significance of that little orange bottle, and I didn't know what the consequences of my actions were as I threw the bottle into the trash.