Your Inaccessible Light

I haven’t been to the club to watch the guys play on my own since the very first time I saw them, but in a way, it’s nice. I like doing things on my own sometimes. I sit at a table in the corner, but I still have a good view. They come onto the stage later than usual, and instantly, I know something is wrong. Robert, Omar and Monte are first onstage. They look flustered and stressed, which is weird, because all five of them usually look so relaxed and at home when they perform. Max appears a few seconds later. He forces a small smile at the audience and at his band members, but I notice that his jaw is clenched in anger. He chews nervously on his lip, glancing to where I assume Ronnie is waiting, and then nods at his band members. They begin to play their first song just as Ronnie stumbles onto the stage. Ronnie’s hands are shaking and he’s not walking in a straight line. He looks up at the audience and I see his bloodshot eyes, and suddenly it all makes sense.

By the time the band start playing their last song, I can’t watch any longer. For the past hour, Ronnie has done nothing but mess up: tripping over, forgetting his lyrics, singing completely out of tune, and bursting into occasional fits of laughter. I get to my feet and find my way to the side stage area, just as the guys finish their set. Ronnie is the first to come off stage. His facial features are twisted into a frown and he’s covered in sweat, although I think it’s more thanks to the drugs than because he’s just been on stage.

“Ronnie, what the hell was that?!” Max yells, before I get the chance to say anything.

“Fuck off,” Ronnie spits, waving his arm in a dismissive manner as he continues to walk down the hallway towards the dressing room, not even bothering to look at his band mates or acknowledge my presence.

“That was our last fucking gig here and you’ve messed the whole thing up.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Ronnie snaps, as he walks into the dressing room, “We’re onto bigger venues now. This place doesn’t even matter.” The door slams shut before anyone is able to respond.

“Fuck!” Robert yells, punching the wall.

“Dude, calm down,” Max orders, “The last thing we need is you losing it as well.”

“I’m gonna go and talk to him,” I decide.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What other option is there?”

“Noelle, you know what he gets like. I don’t think it’s safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist, walking towards the dressing room door. The fact is that yes, I do know what he gets like, and no, I don’t think it’s safe, but I can’t leave him when he’s like this. I wish I could just walk away but he reminds me so much of Austin and I care too damn much to just leave him to make a mess of everything. I try to open the door but it’s locked.

“Ronnie, it’s me. Open the door,” I call. There is silence for a second, before Ronnie opens the door slightly, allowing me to force my way in. He sits down on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

“If you’re here to give me a lecture then go the fuck home.”

“Ronnie, don’t talk to me like that,” I snap, “You fucked up. Not me. Not your band. You! Don’t take it out on everyone else.”

“Just be quiet, you’re being too loud,” he grumbles, covering his ears with his hands. I roll my eyes, sick to death of dealing with the ridiculous behaviour of addicts.

“Can you pass me a beer?” he asks.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I’ll get one myself then,” he hisses, getting up and stumbling towards the mini fridge. He almost falls several times, so off his face that he can’t even stand up properly. There is a knock at the door and Max, Robert, Omar and Monte enter the room, picking up their belongings that are littered around the room.

“Are you alright?” Max asks me, completely ignoring Ronnie, not that I blame him.

“Yeah,” I reply, forcing a smile.

“We’re gonna head off. Do you want a ride home?”

“It’s okay. I had better make sure this idiot gets home okay.”

“Leave him to it Noelle; you’re better off without him when he’s like this.” I look to where Ronnie is sitting. He is lying down now, his eyes hazy, and he looks as though he’s struggling to stay awake. It breaks my heart to see him like this, but I care too much to leave him.

“I know, but I can’t leave him in this state.” Max holds my gaze for a second but then lets out a sigh and nods.

“Alright, I’ll take his stuff for now so you don’t have to worry about that, but text me when you get home safe, okay?”

“You sound like Ronnie now,” I tease. Max laughs as he picks up his guitar.

“I’ll see you at school.”

“See ya.” The guys take their things and leave, shutting the door behind them. I stare silently at Ronnie for a second, watching him shift uncomfortably and jitter occasionally as he downs another beer.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” I decide, taking his arms and pulling him to his feet. He’s unsteady and dizzy, and I don’t think he really knows what’s going on.

“Come on Ronnie,” I persist, trying my best to hold him up, but his balance is atrocious and I’m not strong enough to support his weight. Somehow, I manage to get him out of the room and out the back door of the club. I hail a cab and after a lot of struggling, I manage to get him inside. I tell the cab driver Ronnie’s address, silently praying his dad and his brother are either out or sound asleep.

“Where’s Max?” Ronnie asks, sitting up abruptly, his eyes suddenly wide and alert.

“He left with the others,” I tell him and he stares at me blankly, taking a few seconds to make sense of my words, before laughing slightly.

“That’s funny, is it?” I snap, still irritated with him for how ridiculously intoxicated he has got himself.

“You need to relax,” he chuckles.

“You need to sort yourself out.”

It is not long until the cab pulls up outside Ronnie’s house. I pay the driver and then drag Ronnie up the path to the front door.

“Where’s your key?” I ask him. He shrugs and laughs a bit more. Rolling my eyes, I check each of his jacket pockets until I find his house key and unlock the door. Although his dad’s car is on the driveway, it is dark inside the house, so I assume his father must have gone to bed. Ronnie pretty much crawls up the stairs and then flops down onto his bed, instantly passing out. I chew on my lip, staring helplessly at the boy I love as he messes up his life, the same way my wonderful brother did. Pulling myself together, I take off his shoes carefully so as not to wake him, and then grab one of his t-shirts from the drawer and change into it. I didn’t bother bringing an overnight bag since I was planning on going home after the show, but I can’t leave Ronnie. Even when he’s drugged up and pissed out of his mind and acting like a complete idiot, I can’t leave him. I pull the blanket over him and brush his hair out of his face and turn off the light, and then I cry myself into a troubled sleep.