Sweet Home... Minnesota?

“So where were you really? Please tell me not at a bar,” Mikey asks the second I step through the door.

“I didn’t lie! I’m not lying! I swear,” I say honestly.

Mikey looks unconvinced, and sighs at me.

“I wish I knew how to prove I didn’t do anything, but I don’t. I was honestly just in my car,” I say, and I feel bad because it does seem sort of illogical.

“Would you promise to tell me if you did do something?” he asks.

“Yes. I’m sorry. Honestly, I should’ve called. I stopped on the road to clear my head, and then I just fell asleep,” I leave out the part where I puked because that’s not going to make Mikey believe I was sober.

“Okay,” He nods but he looks uncertain.

“Okay?” I ask, and he nods his head noncommittally, “I’m going to take a shower then.”

I hope I don’t smell as bad as I think I do, but I can’t be sure so I walk up the stairs quickly, after waving to Pete in the kitchen.

As soon as I see myself in the mirror I realize why Mikey was so hesitant to believe me. I look like I’ve got a major hangover. My eyes look back at me and they’re a bloodshot red, and sunken into my skull even more than usual. I’ve had bags under my eyes for a few months now, but they’re usually not this deep.

I don’t know what time it is right now, or what time I fell asleep last night so I have no idea if I should feel this exhausted or not. It feels like I’ve got a ten pound weight tied around my neck. I’m being held down and choked at the same time.

I peal my shirt off of me, and as if to prove my point for me, it doesn’t smell too dandy. I smell homeless to be perfectly honest, but I try to pretend I don’t notice.

I evaluate myself in the mirror and I look unhealthy. I’ve lost weight, far too much to be good for me, and I haven’t been trying. I haven’t tried, but it’s melted off of me, and I realize I’m not hungry. I look like a walking cadaver and yet I have no desire to rectify that by eating anything.

I step into the shower and the warm water makes me melt because I haven’t relaxed in a while.

Truth be told, I would’ve stayed in there forever given the option. I don’t have that opportunity though, because before I can even rinse the conditioner out of my hair I feel a roiling in my stomach and I have to make an awkwardly slippery jump to the toilet. I still haven’t eaten anything so I don’t understand where the vomit comes from. I keep the shower running to mask the sound of my insides resurfacing so Mikey won’t have even more of a reason to worry. When I trust that I’m done, the shower doesn’t have as much appeal to me as a mattress does.

I rinse the last of the soap out of my hair, dry off, and get dressed quickly.

When I step out of the small bathroom I hear laughing from downstairs, only the number of voices doesn’t match the number I had expected. There’s three people, not two.

Curious, I make my way down the steps while trying to remove the water in my ear. I see the familiar face of the guy Mikey introduced me to yesterday.

I feel awful about it, but I don’t remember his name. I don’t remember much of yesterday at all, like it was erased from my brain but Mikey doesn’t leave me hanging for long.

“Hey Gee! You remember Frank, right?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize you were having company,” I say and I don’t think my lie is detectable because the three of them look relaxed around the dining room table. There’s an unoccupied seat right next to Frank that I suppose they left for me.

“We’re allowed to have friends who aren’t each other, Gerard,” Mikey says.

“Right, yeah, sorry.”

“Do you, like, hate me for what I said yesterday?” Frank asks.

“What?” I ask and I try to remember what he said, “I don’t um... I actually don’t remember what you said.”

“Really? We had a whole conversation,” Frank doesn’t believe me. No one believes me today. Why should they when I’m a handful of discrepancies?

“My head isn’t working properly right now I’m sorry,” I answer and then vaguely remember something. “Oh wait, yeah, you called me a cynic.”

“Pretty much,” Frank nods, and I decide I’d better walk all the way down the stairs and sit at the table so that he doesn’t call me out for being antisocial again.

“No I don’t hate you for that. I am a cynic,” I agree, “and you’re a dickhead.”

Mikey sends me an angry look, “Gerard!”

“No it’s okay,” Frank laughs, “It’s not untrue.”

“It’s just not polite to go around calling people dickheads,” Mikey answers.

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Frank says and laughs playfully, turning to look at me. I don’t know why his smile is so beautiful, especially considering the fact that I wasn’t even trying to notice it, but he is like sunshine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so physically bright and welcoming. He’s the human embodiment of a puppy which is weird because he just dissed me into oblivion less than a day ago.

His eyes are still as warm as they were yesterday and I feel guilty for looking at him for too long, so I dart my eyes away after initially sitting down next to him. It seems like a crime to stare at someone so pure for that long. Why do I care so much about his appearance? Why do I care about him, is a better question actually.

“We ordered lunch from the pizza place since Pete and I forgot to go grocery shopping,” Mikey says a second later. “I hope you’re okay with cheese because Frank doesn’t eat meat.”

“No that’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

“What?” Mikey asks looking surprised, “you hardly ate anything yesterday and nothing today. How can you not be hungry?”

“I’m just not.”

“That’s not an answer, you need to eat,” Mikey says, and Pete nods.

“It’s not that big a deal,” I mumble, but the doorbell rings a second later and he hops up to get it.

“Are you okay Gerard you look kind of green?” Pete asks me while Mikey pays the guy at the door and also has a conversation with him because they’re friends. Of course they are. Who in this town isn’t friends with Mikey?

“I’m fine,” I say and I hope I don’t look as bad as I’m picturing in my head. I’m not sure what the color green looks like on me, but I don’t think it’s as flattering on me as it is on the Incredible Hulk.

“Would you eat something at least? You haven’t really eaten a thing since you got here,” Mikey says after I decline the plate he tries to give me.

“I’m honestly not hungry.”

“You have to eat something,” Mikey says and he looks irked.

“No! I’m fine.”

Mikey raises his voice a little bit and I can tell we’re both getting aggravated, “Gerard I don’t like the way you’re not eating anything. Just take it!”

“I said no!” I answer, and my voice is also a little loud.

“Gerard just-“

“No Mikey! Stop patronizing me!” I yell, and instantly feel remorseful about it. Mikey looks half scared and half surprised. Pete and Frank wear identical faces that tell me that they both wish they were anywhere else. I just made the room fall into uncomfortable silence.

“Fine. Fine,” Mikey raises his hands in defeat, but he looks irate about having to surrender.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“Whatever Gerard. It’s your life.”

Oh he’s pissed. He’s going to give me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day I can already tell. If he’s going to act like that though, then I’m not afraid to reciprocate.

I can be a stubborn little asshole when I so wish it, and I am right now. Pete, tries to alter the conversation off topic and steers the gauntlet to Frank. He makes a not so subtle remark about music and this sends Frank into an excited tizzy about bands.

It actually works really well. I’m almost mystified by how quickly I forget to be angry with Mikey because of the way that Frank talks. The amount of passion he has for the topic is unbelievable. Watching Frank talk about music is like watching Bill Nye talk about science. You can literally see the love and passion in his eyes, and hear it in his voice.

It’s enough to distract me from the smell of the food so that I don’t even realize how my stomach begins to feel like hell again.

It kills me to interrupt him, but I have to or else things won’t be pretty, “I have to go, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I bolt upstairs as quickly as I can, feeling the red on my face brought there by the embarrassment of leaving the table or the heat of my churning insides. I’m getting kind of sick of getting sick.

I rub it off as just stress though. I doubt I’m actually sick, but I make a mental note whilst hurling to at least get a checkup a few towns over, just to be safe. As far as I can drive to be sure that Mikey won’t hear about it.

I lean my back against the door, with my hair sticking to my face, still wet from the shower. I try to catch my breathing but I might as well have just run a marathon. My body aches and my lungs have given out.

“Gerard?” A voice asks, and I’m actually thankful for the fact that it’s Pete’s. The door is still closed so I know he’s on the other side of it.

“I’m fine. I’m just-“

“Puking,” Pete finishes my sentence.

I groan, but stand up slowly, and open the door. Pete looks at me knowingly but at least he doesn’t look mad.

“Don’t tell Mikey, Pete. He’ll only get more worried.”

“I...” Pete looks unsure, “fine. For now. But if things get worse than I’m not going to hesitate.”

“It’s just one time,” I try to justify.

“No it’s not, you were looking green downstairs,” Pete says sternly. “Will you answer me this honestly: have you been drinking?”

“No,” I answer and I make eye contact so that he hopefully understands that I’m not lying, “I promise.”

“You should see a doctor though,” Pete says.

“I know, I’m on it. Mikey hears nothing about it though, okay?”

“Like I said, fine. For now.”