Everything I Used to be is Coming Back to Torture Me
Questions
As usual when she was hung-over, Clover awoke slowly. She finally woke up enough to realize that she was no longer on the couch. After a moment of brief panic, during which she looked frantically around the dark room looking for any recognizable objects, she understood that someone had simply moved her from the couch onto one of the bunk beds. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and Clover could make out the picture of Michelle tacked to the wall beside the bed. Brian must’ve moved her and put her in his bunk then.
Clover pushed herself up onto her elbows and then braced her hands against the mattress, shoving her body up into a completely upright position. With a dull thud, her head made contact with the bunk above hers, and Clover groaned, ducking her head and rubbing the spot that hit the wooden bottom of the bunk bed. That sure didn’t help her head. The annoying, constant throbbing in her head that came with hangovers was back at full force, exemplified by the slight blow to the head she just gave herself.
Clover rolled off of the bunk, minding her head this time, and slowly stood up. Her head felt as though it was peeling like a banana, but she ignored the pain and focused on finding some clothes. She finally hunted down a pair of her jeans and a tank top and quickly changed into them. She pulled her thick hair into a ponytail and then went into the main part of the bus.
Clover’s band mates sat on the floor, at the table, and on the couch, watching television or working on lyrics or sheet music. She walked into the kitchen area, grabbing an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter, and sat down next to Matt at the table. She took a large bite from the apple, leaning over to look over Matt’s colorful arm at the book he was thoughtfully contemplating. It was a book of Sudoku puzzles.
“Never saw you as a Sudoku man,” Clover commented as Matt filled in a number in one of the squares.
“It’s so fucking addicting,” Matt answered. “You play it once, you’re hooked and there’s no going back.”
By the time Clover finished her apple, Matt was done with his puzzle. He tucked the pencil into the book and then closed it, looking over at Clover as she stood and threw the apple core into the trash. Matt twisted in his seat to look over at Brian, who was looking at him. Brian gave a slight nod of his head and stood. Matt rose as well, addressing Clover as she turned away from the trashcan.
“Clover, can Brian and I speak to you in the bunk room?” Matt asked. Clover nodded and followed the pair back into the bunk area. Brian flicked on the light as they walked in and Matt closed the door behind them once Clover had stepped inside. Clover began to assume the worse at this point: anything that couldn’t be said around the others usually wasn’t good news.
“Both Matt and I have been noticing strange changes in you since the tour started,” Brian began. He shared a glance with Matt, one that must have been encouragement, because he quickly plowed on. “Clover, have you been drinking during the day?”
Clover looked back and forth between the two of them. They stared solemnly at her, both of their arms crossed over their chests. She knew she couldn’t bullshit either of them.
“I guess I am,” Clover sighed, finding sudden interest in her hands. “But it’s not very much, I swear. I wouldn’t even call it drinking; just a sip here or there. I don’t see any harm in it. It’s…” Clover trailed off, unable to explain herself. Shame bloomed in her stomach and hardened into a ball of steel.
“No harm?” Brian asked harshly.
“You have to stop,” Matt said at the exact same moment.
“How can you not see any harm in it?” Brian continued, still sounding angry. Clover raised her head to catch the warning glance Matt threw in Brian’s direction.
“Habitual drinking will affect your playing,” Matt continued once he was certain Brian wouldn’t interrupt. “The band should be first priority, Clover.”
“I know,” Clover muttered.
“Anyway, it’s safer that way,” Brian said. “Alcoholism—”
“I’m not an alcoholic!” Clover snapped, raising her head. “I can stop anytime! In fact, I will stop! You’re right, the band is top priority. Drinking could make me play badly. I’ll stop right away.” Clover didn’t even realize that already she was coming up with ideas of how to still drink but hide it from the band better.
“He wasn’t calling you an alcoholic,” Matt said softly.
“He was!” Clover answered, glaring at Brian. “I know what alcoholism is. I’ve seen it. I am not an alcoholic.”
“Alright, I’m sorry,” Brian said. Clover didn’t respond, but she did stop glaring at him.
“Clover, do you mind telling us what, exactly, happened to your mother?” Matt asked, trying to change the subject and ease the tension filling the room from Brian and Clover.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Clover answered instantly, looking around at Matt. “Listen, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go sit for a little while. If you gentlemen will excuse me…”
Without another word, she left the bunk area, taking a seat on the couch beside Johnny. She wished there was somehow a way to forget her past without getting drunk, something that would be less suspicious to the guys.
Clover pushed herself up onto her elbows and then braced her hands against the mattress, shoving her body up into a completely upright position. With a dull thud, her head made contact with the bunk above hers, and Clover groaned, ducking her head and rubbing the spot that hit the wooden bottom of the bunk bed. That sure didn’t help her head. The annoying, constant throbbing in her head that came with hangovers was back at full force, exemplified by the slight blow to the head she just gave herself.
Clover rolled off of the bunk, minding her head this time, and slowly stood up. Her head felt as though it was peeling like a banana, but she ignored the pain and focused on finding some clothes. She finally hunted down a pair of her jeans and a tank top and quickly changed into them. She pulled her thick hair into a ponytail and then went into the main part of the bus.
Clover’s band mates sat on the floor, at the table, and on the couch, watching television or working on lyrics or sheet music. She walked into the kitchen area, grabbing an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter, and sat down next to Matt at the table. She took a large bite from the apple, leaning over to look over Matt’s colorful arm at the book he was thoughtfully contemplating. It was a book of Sudoku puzzles.
“Never saw you as a Sudoku man,” Clover commented as Matt filled in a number in one of the squares.
“It’s so fucking addicting,” Matt answered. “You play it once, you’re hooked and there’s no going back.”
By the time Clover finished her apple, Matt was done with his puzzle. He tucked the pencil into the book and then closed it, looking over at Clover as she stood and threw the apple core into the trash. Matt twisted in his seat to look over at Brian, who was looking at him. Brian gave a slight nod of his head and stood. Matt rose as well, addressing Clover as she turned away from the trashcan.
“Clover, can Brian and I speak to you in the bunk room?” Matt asked. Clover nodded and followed the pair back into the bunk area. Brian flicked on the light as they walked in and Matt closed the door behind them once Clover had stepped inside. Clover began to assume the worse at this point: anything that couldn’t be said around the others usually wasn’t good news.
“Both Matt and I have been noticing strange changes in you since the tour started,” Brian began. He shared a glance with Matt, one that must have been encouragement, because he quickly plowed on. “Clover, have you been drinking during the day?”
Clover looked back and forth between the two of them. They stared solemnly at her, both of their arms crossed over their chests. She knew she couldn’t bullshit either of them.
“I guess I am,” Clover sighed, finding sudden interest in her hands. “But it’s not very much, I swear. I wouldn’t even call it drinking; just a sip here or there. I don’t see any harm in it. It’s…” Clover trailed off, unable to explain herself. Shame bloomed in her stomach and hardened into a ball of steel.
“No harm?” Brian asked harshly.
“You have to stop,” Matt said at the exact same moment.
“How can you not see any harm in it?” Brian continued, still sounding angry. Clover raised her head to catch the warning glance Matt threw in Brian’s direction.
“Habitual drinking will affect your playing,” Matt continued once he was certain Brian wouldn’t interrupt. “The band should be first priority, Clover.”
“I know,” Clover muttered.
“Anyway, it’s safer that way,” Brian said. “Alcoholism—”
“I’m not an alcoholic!” Clover snapped, raising her head. “I can stop anytime! In fact, I will stop! You’re right, the band is top priority. Drinking could make me play badly. I’ll stop right away.” Clover didn’t even realize that already she was coming up with ideas of how to still drink but hide it from the band better.
“He wasn’t calling you an alcoholic,” Matt said softly.
“He was!” Clover answered, glaring at Brian. “I know what alcoholism is. I’ve seen it. I am not an alcoholic.”
“Alright, I’m sorry,” Brian said. Clover didn’t respond, but she did stop glaring at him.
“Clover, do you mind telling us what, exactly, happened to your mother?” Matt asked, trying to change the subject and ease the tension filling the room from Brian and Clover.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Clover answered instantly, looking around at Matt. “Listen, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go sit for a little while. If you gentlemen will excuse me…”
Without another word, she left the bunk area, taking a seat on the couch beside Johnny. She wished there was somehow a way to forget her past without getting drunk, something that would be less suspicious to the guys.