Late Goodbye

I had fallen asleep with Brian on my lap and my hand tangled in his hair. My fingers were gently tugging on it for the greatest part of the night. I damn well knew what will he be feeling when he wakes up and it was nothing pleasant. Back in the day, which was no more than four weeks ago, I didn’t even experience hangovers, I never allowed them to creep up on me, cause I’d be drinking day and night, being wasted off any limits all the time, but still kind of being able to function. But there were those magnificent mornings, where I’d kind of sober up and I was too sick... of everything, to pour another shot in me. To think about it, I should’ve died a long time ago. Of intoxication. It was a goddamn miracle I didn’t.

I woke up, feeling Brian sitting up and moaning in excruciating pain. My eyes opened slightly to see Brian leaning against the bath tub next to me, cupping his head and what it seemed like even dieing.

„Jesus fuck...” He exclaimed sliding his fingers further in his hair. I guess he wished to be really dead.

„ ‘Morning to you too.” His hand dropped to his side as he looked at me, and he looked really pathetic. I couldn’t force the smile creeping up on my lips. His eyelids were swollen, his eyes were the reddest you would ever imagine a red to be, and the eyeliner was everywhere.

„Fuck...” His voice was very throaty and he reeked of a shit load of booze. Yes, still. Even after those throw up sessions. „If I wasn’t so ashamed,”

„You would ask what happened yesterday?” I believe I looked too cheerful as I continued Brian’s sentence. He just looked at me, being all miserable. „Nothing much. You just got drunk as you already suppose.”

„Did I do-„

„Anything stupid?” He nodded weakly, still not moving his bloodshot eyes away from me. „Well... You told your girlfriend you’re not going to sleep with her. And I’m being very modest with my word choice at the moment.”

„Fuck...” I guess he could already imagine what was the way and the right slang form for laying the statement to Michelle. To be completely honest? I even got my kink out of it, I didn’t like her, obviously, and seeing her face drop, when he flipped her off was just the joy of my day.

„I guess I’ll go fix you some breakfast ” I boosted myself from the white tiled floor. Actually, I even felt kind of good, even after a good amount of almost none sleep and being the whole night on the bathroom floor. And it seemed like Brian felt just the opposite.

„I don’t want to eat...” He moaned, mimicking my action. I was surprised he had any strength left in him.

„Then some coffee... You need to shower. You were puking rainbows the whole night,” I said it like it was oh-so obvious, but I guess he didn’t even realize we were in the bathroom until my statement made him look around, with a great frown on his pale complexion. He went for the mirror and jumped a little when he saw his reflection.

„Oh. My. God. What the hell is this? Is this some pasta intervention? What the fuck is it?” I left him picking something out of his hair, which looked a bit like a chunk of digested macaroni from his yesterday’s meal. I closed the door and heard him run the water in that spacious shower he had. My eyes dropped to my wristwatch as I went along the hallway, noticing he had hanged a new photo on the purple wall. Right beside the picture of him and the band, there was a photo of which’s existence I hadn’t even known. I was sitting on one of the kitchen’s cupboards and smearing a cake in Brian’s face. I remembered that day. He told me I didn’t have the gut to really do it, we were arguing over something and word by word I told him I’m going to throw the cake in his face. But the right question is, who did catch the moment and why did he put it on his memory wall?

I brushed it off and went to the spacious kitchen, taking out two mugs of the cupboard and turning on the coffee maker, before I saw Brian coming in, fully clothed, but with slightly dripping hair. He started to look like a human being. He went over to one of the cupboards and took out the first aid, which seemed nothing like the first aid at all. It was stocked full with some anti-hangover pills. But I guess that’s what first aid stood for here, in Synyster Gates threshold.

„I’m thinking of opening a fond...” I said as he poured himself a glass of water.

„Oh yeah?” Brian leaned against the cupboard, eying me as I poured the coffe in one of the mugs.

„For people like me. Who have a strong passion for music, but they’ve been disabled somehow...” He didn’t say anything, so I just continued, „I want to name it after Jamie.”

„I’ve never thought of you as a philanthropist.” He took the black mug, sitting down at the high stool, next to me.

„Yeah... Well, I guess I owe that to her.” I shrugged and braced my hands on the surface of the kitchen island, feeling his intense stare. „I’ve also booked an operation... I think of it of my last shot. If this fails, I’m really giving up.”

„You really want to do it?” I heard him standing up and walking behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, before I felt him doing this little massage thing.

„This is something different. It might work...” That was my very last hope. Since I met Brian, I couldn’t flip off the temptation of picking up one of his guitars and trying out my luck. See back at home I had already sold every string instrument I owed, but it was different here. I couldn’t just tell him to get it away from my eyes. The temptation was just too great. And so I picked up his striped Schecter while he was at the studio. The worst idea I ever had. I was cursing myself for the rest of the day, freaking out when I didn’t find any painkillers in his house, just some perfectly useless anti-hangover pills. I felt him drawing sort of circles with his fingers and the feeling was good. I wanted to play again.

„When’s the surgery?” He asked in a quiet voice.

„In a week,” I answered sighing heavily. You know what? I actually was scared. What would happen if they fucked me up for good this time and they had to take my hand off? Nevertheless, it was a risk I was willing to take.

„So soon?” His hands stopped for a second, „How did you book it so fucking soon?”

„I bribed them. Big time.”

„Where did you get the money?” I fished in deeper waters, your wallet for example.

„I never said I didn’t have money.” I sighed. „I just have a limit that keeps me from doing stupid shit.” Like drinking my life away. And even tho I craved booze very, very much, I was a smart cookie and made the password of taking the limit off something I was willing to remember... No, willing was not the right word, let’s say able. I was able to remember only when I was sober. The date of the car crash.

Did he honestly think as a record producer I worked for pennies? I had my good share of everything my artists made. My pay check was very decent to say the least. Decent enough I didn’t know what to do with the money, plus there were still flowing in some dollars from my own records with Black Sapphire. That wasn’t a big number, but it could let me live without any bother for quite a while. If I wanted to live in the area of Slater, sell crack on the street, ride a on-a-gamble-with-death pickup truck and eat microwave food. Yes, my fair share was that huge. But hey, even that was a better life than my previous one, right? No. Not really. „You know we’re finishing our album any day now right?”

„I know...” He took his previous seat. „That’s why I’m going to the studio today. To listen to the songs.”

„Yeah, that’s great,” He kind of mumbled out, not really looking at me, but at his fingers as he frowned. What was the matter with him? „I just hope we... Me and you... are good, right? And the album also comes out good...”

„What are you saying?” I was getting kind of irritated. I knew exactly where this was going. By befriending me, he hoped to get their album out there in a jiffy. Well, that’s not how Jill Miller does things, amigo. „I still have to listen to the songs, although you’ve already annoyed me with all your solo’s. It’s my job, Brian, and when I do my job, I do it the way it needs to be done.”

„What?” He looked up at me, really confused. „No... God, I didn’t mean that...” Now it seemed that he started to get irritated.

„Then what did you mean, cause I’m kind of lost...” I narrowed my eyes on his pale face as I took a swig of my coffee.

„The tour’s coming... Man this is hard...” He scratched the back of his head, starting to get a bit nervous. Was the pills finally starting to kick in? „I mean...fuck. I’d want you to come along.”

Okay, mindblown was not a word at the moment. He wanted me to... what? I got it. I sighed heavily, starting to get really pissed. „Brian, I’m not going to drink myself to death, once you’re gone.” I exhaled heavily, seeing him just looking at me, but not saying anything, „You’d honestly think being on a tour buss with five rockstars who drink their way through the tour, would be healthy for me?” He looked stunned and I couldn’t understand if he was thinking the same as I was.

„No, you’re right.” He said coldly, finishing the coffee, before putting the mug in the sink. „It wouldn’t be healthy... For you.” Before exiting the kitchen, he looked over me for a second, „You know, I think I liked you better when you were an arrant drunk.” I heard the front door slam.

He liked when... Well it's not hard to arrange it.