Picking Up the Pieces

Saying goodbye to the boys was one of the hardest and saddest things I’ve ever done. Even though we would most likely see each other again, it was just kind of a solemn day; like, you’ve lived with these people for two and a half months, they’re practically your family, you’ve partied and laughed and sang together and had so much fun, but suddenly they’re gone.

It’s kind of like coming home from summer camp when you were little. Life just seems so boring afterwards. You just kind of it around the house and reminisce in a sort of vegetative state– eat, sleep, nostalgia. You have to do normal things, and it feels unnatural. Housework, laundry, going to bed before midnight, taking showers. Your house doesn’t feel like a home. Your real home is a crowded, smelly, dirty-ass one bathroom bus that’s too small to hold twelve grown men and one sassy woman.

You think post-concert depression is bad? Try post-tour depression. It’s worse than the plague. But normal PTD is nothing considered to PWTD. Post-Warped Tour depression. Three months hanging with the best people on the planet, only to go home with nothing but embarrassing tanlines, a massive hangover, and memories.

I’m getting off topic.

Speaking of hangovers, I felt like I got hit by a train, and looked it too. My head was pounding, my body aching, and I could barely stand or keep my eyes open. Not to mention, Mike had given me a feel-better joint after seeing my condition, so my muscles felt like jelly and I was really tired. Needless to say, I was not feeling better. So while everyone was loading out and packing everything up, I took a nap on top of Tony’s suitcase.

I felt a hand run through my hair, waking me up. “Good morning, sunshine,” Tony whispered. “It’s time to go, you wanna say goodbye to everyone?”

I sat up and nodded, rubbing my face. He took my hand and led me to where everyone stood in a glob, trading hugs and i’ll see you soon, bros.

My first goodbye was a package deal, Shuke, who held each others hands cutely. Shane was holding back tears as he gave me a huge bear hug. He pulled away after a few seconds and then fanned his eyes like a girl. “I’ll miss you, Zoe,” he said. “I love you, big sister!”

“I love you, too, Shaney bear,” I replied with a smile. I looked at Luke, who was awkwardly looking at the ground, and pulled him into a hug, too. “I’LL MISS YOU LUKEY BEAR!!!!!!!!!!!”

He gave me a small smile in response. “Yeah, yeah. Have Tony give you my number, my phone’s dead. Bye, Zoe.” He took Shane’s hand again, and I watched as they walked to Luke’s car, got in, and drove off.

My solemn white-girl-in-a-90s-movie moment was broken into pieces when I felt someone wrap muscled arms around me from behind and pick me up and spin me around as I screamed in shock. It was Joe, of course. He smiled as he put me down. I know I haven’t talked about him too much, but Joe was really awesome. He’s like a gentle giant. Or a mama bear: nice, strong, and protective. I’d definitely miss him.

I put my arms around his big belly and rocked him (nOT LIKE THAT) slowly, like a baby. “I’ll miss you, Joey,” I grumbled sadly.

“And I’ll miss you, cupcake,” he choked out. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I pulled back from our hug. No way. He was crying. There were tears in his beard and flowing down his face. Wow. “Yes, you will. Be good now, Jojo.”

He nodded and ruffled my hair, sniffling. I saw Casey come up behind him. Even though we was kind of a jerk sometimes, I hugged him.

“Bye Casey,” I said, crossing my arms sassily.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Goodbye, Zoe Green. I hate to say it, but I think I might just miss you a little bit,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I think I feel the same way. See you whenever.” I smirked at him, laughing a little.

He hugged me again, and then Joe did the same. We said our final goodbyes (Joe’s was more of a whimper), and I watched as they too drove off.

For a couple seconds, I stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do, until I saw Evan, the sound guy who looked like Ed Sheeran. He sat alone, on a curb, smoking a cigarette and looking down at the pavement. I strode over to him and took a seat.

“You’re a cool bean, Zoe Green,” he mused, looking forward.

“You’re a cool ginger, Evan McSoundGuy.” I nudged him and he smiled at me.

He took another drag and blew it out in rings. “We should hang sometime, Zoe Green,” he suggested. “You want my number?”

“I do, actually, Evan McSoundGuy,” I agreed. I took my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him.

It was quiet as he typed his number in, holding the cigarette between his teeth. After he handed it back to me, he put out his cigarette and pulled me into a hug.

“I should get going,” he mumbled as we both stood up. “It was really fun touring with you, Zoe. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I nodded at him and we walked to his car. I stood back as he got in and started the engine. He pressed a couple buttons and then a familiar song blasted out of the speakers.

I LIKE DRINKIN WHISKEY WITH MY FRIENDS
I DONT GIVE A FUCK WHAT TIME IT IS.....

He waved goodbye from the window, because I wouldn’t hear him if he spoke, and I flicked him off as he drove away.

Now it was just me and the band. I looked over at them from across the parking lot, making eye contact with Jaime, who opened his arms and started to run at me in slow motion like a plane or something. He would.

I did the same to him, making airplane noises and swinging my arms about, my cardigan flapping in the wind.

We collided in a noisy, uncoordinated mess. It’s almost shameful how dramatic we were about it. I made the explosion noises as he yelled in his best pilot voice COLLISION COLLISION HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM EVERYONE FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS YOUR SEAT CUSHIONS MAY BE USED AS FLOTATION DEVICES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was our version of a goodbye hug. Well, a semi-goodbye hug. Tony and Jaime are very close, we’d definitely see him soon.

From beside us, Mike shook his head. “You two are fucking idiots.”

“I AM NOT AN IDIOT!” Tony cut in. Hehehh. Fucking idiots.

“I’m gonna miss seeing your fine ass all day, errday,” he stated. His version of a heartfelt goodbye. To top it off, he slapped my ass. Hard. Stay classy, whiskeyhandz.

I rolled my eyes at him and turned to Mr. Victor Sassypants, who wore an especially flowery flowery shirt. “You should come over sometime,” I told him. “We could swap flowery shirts and do our hair.”

“Fuck you, Zoe,” he replied, laughing.

“That’s Tony’s job,” I shot back. “But really. We can watch Harry Potter if you like.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “And eat popcorn!”

“Yes Vic, we can eat popcorn, too.”

He clapped giddily and I returned to Tony’s side, who put an arm around me. Then there was a peaceful silence I hadn’t encountered in months. I’m pretty positive we were all thinking the same thing: when does tour start again? I really hoped I would still be their manager on their next tour. After all, I was sent in as a substitute manager, not a permanent one.

“Alright, guys. Bring it in,” Jaime announced. “One last time.”

We all huddled together, and I had a feeling what for: the devil’s everywheeere. And it was; a solemn, bummed-out chant of how the devil is everywhere. Even though we’d probably see them again soon, and often, it wouldn’t be the same– no bus, no tour, no excessive amount of liquor.

After a group hug, we pulled away from each other and gathered up whatever was left of our gear (most of it goes into the garage at the Fuentes’ house). Vic and Mike left together, and since Tony usually rides with Jaime, I was stuck providing transportation for him. Not that I minded, we were going to the same place anyways.

We walked to my car, our hands swinging in between us, and I apologized in advance for the horrible mess. I’m like a hoarder, but instead of my house, I keep my shit in my car. He didn’t seem too phased by it when we got in, though. I thanked god for that because I am not about to clean all the stuff out. If I did, I’d probably find fossils or strike oil.

Following his directions, we soon arrived at a small, one-story house in northern San Diego, in Mission Bay. Even though I hadn’t expected a huge house in La Jolla, I wasn’t really expecting a shabby place in the...ahem....rough....part of town either.

He came around and opened the door for me like a true gentleman. I took his hand and stepped out, and we walked together to the front door, where he let me enter the house first.

All of my previous assumptions about this house in the ghetto were shattered upon walking into the home. A bachelor pad for sure; it was messy, but I liked it. It looked lived in, cozy, home-y. I could definitely see us living here.

“I’m gonna get the bags,” he said softly. “Make yourself comfortable. Mi casa es su casa.”

I nodded as he turned around to go, continuing to take in my new surroundings. I stepped in slowly and peered about. The front door opened into the living room, and beyond that was the kitchen, that had a counter separating the two. The wall to my right opened up into a hallway that I guess led to the bedrooms. On most of the walls hung framed vintage-looking Star Wars posters. Saw that coming.

I went in further and sat on the living room couch, a dark red suede number covered in laundry. Across from the couch, there was a TV, that sat on a dark wooden bench with matching shelf cases on either side. Looking closer, I saw they were covered in little trinkets. I got up to see what they were.

The odds and ends on his shelves were extensive and very diverse. They included concert pictures, gifts from fans, cacti, star wars paraphernalia, some mexican figurines, and a jar filled with guitar picks of all colors, sizes, and patterns. But what really touched my heart was the entire shelf devoted to me. Well, us. Polaroid photos from when we were little, the valentines and letters I gave him, a few of my school pictures, and some infantile artwork. There was our graduation cap, with the tassel that said ‘06, and his diploma, too.

I jumped when someone spoke beside me. “I haven’t added anything to this shelf in a very long time,” Tony whispered. “But I’ve got something new to add, finally.” He carefully placed two photos in the back of the shelf, the ones of us at the aquarium. I felt my lips curve into a smile at the sight of them.

He put an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him so he could kiss my temple. “Shall I give you the grand tour then?”

I nodded contently and he took my hand, and we navigated our way through the piles and boxes of stuff on the floor.

“This is the living room,” he stated, gesturing to the couch and TV. “I don’t have cable, but the whole band and crew shares a Netflix so go crazy on that.”

He led me into the kitchen, pushing dirty dishes aside and opening cabinets to show me whatever was inside them ("sorry, I mostly have ramen, cereal and frozen burritos") as we passed through. "Ignore the mess in here– same goes for the rest of the house," he urged. "We'll go grocery shopping soon."

Next was the hallway that led to the rest of the rooms. There were three doors, and Tony opened the door to each one as he told me what they were. First was the door to the stairs to the basement, then the bathroom, and finally, his room. Our room, now, I guess.

“And this is my room,” he told me, opening the door and stepping inside.

His room was a near perfect reflection of his personality: calm and peaceful, with a couple quirks. And I’ll admit....a bit dirty.

The walls were a really pale color of teal that made the room look clean. Parts of them were covered in posters and photos, and some of PTV’s tour posters were framed above his bed, whose black comforter sat unkempt at the foot of it. As I looked around, he hastily shoved some of the stuff on his floor under the bed and into the closet. How cute, what a gentleman.

After I made sure he was turned around, I quickly stripped out of my shorts and shirt, leaving me in my bra and undies, and crawled onto his bed with an innocent look on my face.

He turned around and instantly, a devilish smirk spread across his face. He knowingly strode the few steps to the bed, taking his shirt off on the way. He started to move so he was on top, but I shoved his chest roughly, making us switch positions.

I straddled him and ran my hands down his chest as I leaned down to kiss him.

“Welcome home.”