Bulls in the Bronx

After PTV’s departure, Chandler quickly paced to the car—to avoid awkwardly speaking to Austin and Veronica. Over the next couple of days, Tony hadn’t called and she was continuously disappointed every time she came home to an empty house. She was beginning to regret not going with them but she repeatedly tells herself, “It’s only been three days, calm your shit.”
One the third evening after Tony’s leaving, Chandler was in the kitchen getting ready to heat up her Asian noodles in the microwave when her phone rang on the counter—We Are Gonna Be Friends by The Whites Stripes being the ringtone.
“Hey babe, how ya doing?” Tony asked.
“Umm,” she mumbled, “I’ve been good; probably be better if you would’ve like called or something but I’m pretty good nonetheless.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called, Vic’s been up our asses about some last minute practicing,” he paused, “God I miss you already.”
She removed her food from the microwave, got a fork, and moved to the couch.
“Glad I’m not the only one…but cheer up. You have a sea of fans you have to play for.” They went on to talk about how their day was with which Chandler stated, “Long” with which he replied, “I know something longer” and they both chuckled. When the doorbell rang, both of them were taken aback, Tony knowing the Chandler doesn’t invite people over when she’s alone.
“Who’s that?” Tony asked
After looking out the peep hole at a short female with short brown hair, although it was odd for her, she still knew who it was.
“It’s Mich,” she opened the door.
“Heyyyy, Chan,” replied Michelle sort of awkwardly, “Sorry I haven’t called. Been…been thinking a lot.” Despite her awkwardness, there was a smile on her face as she rubbed her hair.
“Tony, can I call you back?”
“Sure thing, love you.”
“Love you too,” and she hung up and hugged the melancholy Michelle, “I fucking love your hair; you have a mid-2000s Natalie Portman kinda thing going on. I just--wow. It looks perfect on you!”
“Thanks,” she mumbled as she parted, “Ya know…umm Chan, I actually came over to tell you something.”
Chandler kind of furrowed her eyebrows, “Everything’s okay, right?”
“Umm,” Michelle rubbed the back of her neck, “Listen Chan, before they left, I kind of signed up to an Alcoholics Anonymous type of thingy. Mike liked the idea of you helping me out but he also thought if I wanted to get better then…I should see a professional.”
“Well, that’s understandable; a professional would be better than an unstable therapist. Hope it helps.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I know it will. Everyone’ll be happy.”
They hugged once more then Mich left, Chandler went back to her couch, noodles and Tony’s voice, not knowing that that would be the last words of her young friend.

A week later, it was the beginning of October. The skies had grown darker around six o’clock, to where it looks like nine ‘o clock; the leaves on the trees were starting to change from green to orange; and Halloween movies were twenty percent off at Target. Chandler was driving home, more eager than usual because of the Tim Burton marathon on ABC Family, when Mike called her cellphone.
“What’s up my nigga?” She answered.
“Hey umm Chandler,” he sounded kind of scared and restrained at the same time, “Have you tried to get in touch with Michelle lately?”
“No,” she answered nonchalantly, “I haven’t talked to her since she told me she signed up for like rehab.”
“Wait...what are you--what are you...talking about?” he sounded terrified. Chandler caught his voice and pulled over.
“You know, she told me signed up for…Alcoholics… Anony…” Chandler mind replayed that night, ‘Everyone’ll be happy.’
She turned the car around and headed to Mich’s house.
“Chandler…” he sounded like he was on the verge of tears, she was too.
“Mike, she’s okay,” Chandler was trying to convince herself as well, “She probably just forgot to tell you.”
“Chandler…I can’t” and he hung up.
Chandler pulled up to Michelle and Mike’s home and used the spare key Mich gave her, she didn't need it however. Chandler crept inside, afraid of what she would see.
“Mich,” she called, “Michelle, if you’re here, you should probably call Mike; he’s--he’s worried about you.” She checked the kitchen, no Mich; bathroom, no Mich; living room, no Mich. She was hoping not to find Mich there; that she actually went to rehab. But, hoping something only goes so far. Chandler slowly crept into the bedroom, and couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. A small female with short brown hair, lied, motionless, on the bed. Her eyes were wide open and lifeless; a weak smile stood on her face and a dried tear streak stained her left cheek. Michelle wore a white sundress and black flats; she lied perfectly straight on the bed with her fingers intertwined with each other. She was gone.

Chandler fell to the floor and sobbed.