What He Left Behind

“What do you think?” Charlie asks, appearing from the crowd looking sweaty and dishevelled and effortlessly attractive.

“Charlie you guys are amazing,” I grin.

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Are you coming to meet the guys?” he asks, reaching out for my hand. Charlie leads me through the crowds and towards the bar at the back of the room. Another band is playing now, although they’re not really my taste. Then again, maybe it’s just that Charlie’s band has put every other band to shame. Or maybe I’m biased.

I’m looking forward to meeting the guys. Obviously, I’ve talked to Stan briefly before, but I’ve never spoken to the others. I’m so fascinated by Charlie and everything about his life. I want to know about his music and his friends and his past and his plans for the future. I want to learn everything there possibly is to learn about him, and I’m not sure why. I’ve never been quite so drawn to someone the way I am to him.

I can’t help but think how Austin would go mad if he knew where I was right now. I barely know any of the guys and I’ve gone to meet them in a bar that I’d never been to before and my family have no idea where I am. It practically screams danger, or at least stupidity on my part. Austin used to constantly lecture me about staying on the right path and being responsible. I’d always tell him that I can’t help being impulsive and he’d always respond, “No, but you can help being dumb.”

Austin was far too protective over me. It used to drive me insane. After all, what position was he in to be lecturing me when he was hardly leading by example? Looking back though, it’s one of the things I miss most. I miss having someone that actually gave a damn about me.

“Guys, this is Noelle,” Charlie mutters, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up to see Harvey and Adam sat at the bar, each with a beer in their hand. Mason’s stood behind the bar, a couple of feet away, serving other customers and Stan’s chatting to a group of girls by the door. When he sees me he grins and comes over, dragging up a chair for me.

“Oh jeez, you’re Noelle. I thought you’d be another groupie,” Adam explains as I sit down, “It’s pathetic; we’re not even close to famous and girls are throwing themselves at Charlie.”

“That’s because whores like Coral will take whatever claim to fame they can get,” Stan points out, standing next to me and resting his elbow on my shoulder.

“Who’s Coral?” I ask, cringing at his casual use of such derogatory language.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Harvey assures.

“She’s the blonde girl in homeroom,” Stan explains, “Follows Charlie around like a lost sheep.”

“Oh I know the one,” I say, picturing the heavily made up girl that sits next to Charlie in homeroom.

“She’s so fucking annoying,” Charlie complains, “She never leaves me alone.”

“Dude, you don’t help the situation,” Stan chuckles before looking down at me, “He’s all for her when he wants a quick fuck.” I look to Charlie and he grins guiltily.

“You have a thing for blondes, don’t you?” I muse.

“What do you mean?”

“Nick told me about Tay.”

Charlie laughs a little. “Tay’s cool.”

“Nah, Tay actually is alright,” Stan agrees, “Coral’s the most clingy whingy slag I’ve ever met. Tay has a little more self-respect.”

“I see.”

“Mason!” Charlie shouts, calling his friend over to us. Mason finishes with the customer he’s serving and then grabs a beer for Charlie, without even having to ask his order.

“Noelle, what are you having?” Charlie asks me.

“Just a diet coke.”

“Oh come on,” Charlie frowns, “Nothing stronger?”

“I don’t drink,” I remind him, “How do you guys get away with drinking here anyway?”

“My uncle owns this place,” Mason informs me, passing me my drink, “He lets us drink on the house if I help him out behind the bar sometimes.”

“Legit then,” I say sarcastically. For the next hour or so we hang out at the club and then Stan, after assuring me he’s only drank a couple of beers, drives Charlie, Harvey and I back to his. Mason has to work for a short while longer so Adam stays with him.

“Are you crashing at mine too?” Stan asks me. I look to Charlie for an answer and he nods.

“If that’s alright,” I say.

“Sure.”

Stan’s house has a similar layout to mine. It’s small but cosy. His parents are out so we have the place to ourselves. Charlie sits down on the couch and pulls me down next to him while Stan goes to get more beers. The four of us make easy conversation for a while and I persuade Charlie to send me their demo tracks because I’m absolutely hooked.

It’s not long until Adam and Mason get back and the guys all cheer when Adam holds up a few bags of white powder. Instantly, I’m caught like a deer in headlights. My stomach suddenly churns due to that sickening feeling of dread. I clench my fists, my whole body feeling consumed with anger and disgust. Suddenly, I want to go home.

“Do you want some?” Charlie asks as though it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, completely oblivious to the fact I feel as though I’ve just been punched in the gut. I quickly shake my head. The guys all take a line of cocaine each, but it’s not enough to have an obvious effect thankfully. I wouldn’t think they were anything other than drunk if I wasn’t so aware of the signs.

Over the next half an hour, everyone chats and it’s fun but I can’t relax at all. The guys are getting through cans of beer like a kid gets through candy and I know cocaine and alcohol don’t mix. At one point, Charlie gets up to leave the room, and I notice him grab something off of the table on his way out. He was subtle about it, but I could swear it was another bag of cocaine.

1am comes and goes and I can’t help but realise that Charlie’s getting increasingly off-his-face. Adam is a bit louder and more boisterous than earlier, as is Harvey, but Charlie’s piss drunk and high as a kite. I sit cross-legged on the couch, watching as they all sit at the table, Charlie pushing the cocaine residue around with an old credit card.

Eventually, the unsettling feeling in my stomach is too much so I get up and go into the kitchen to get a drink. They guys are too engrossed in their conversation to notice me leave the room. I sip some water and try to clear my head, praying the night will soon be over. I’m annoyed with myself for being so thoughtless. This was a recipe for disaster and I sensed that from the start but my stupid compelling urge to get to know Charlie had me convinced it would all be okay.

“Are you alright?” a voice asks. I jump and turn around to see Stan loitering in the doorway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” he apologises, “Not used to this, huh?”

I shrug, cautious to the fact he’s not exactly sober. People are so goddamn unpredictable when they’re under the influence and it makes me wary. It makes me so fucking mad. I thought I was done with this shit a long time ago.

“It’s okay,” Stan reassures, sliding onto the kitchen counter, “I’ve only had one line, and a few beers. You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” I say, laughing dryly.

“Okay,” he concedes, “I’m just saying, you don’t need to feel uncomfortable.”

“Hmm,” I sneer, not entirely convinced.

“Have you slept with Charlie?” Stan asks randomly, changing the subject to one that’s only slightly less uncomfortable than the one we were on.

“We’re just friends.”

“Charlie sleeps with all his female friends.”

As if on cue, Charlie appears in the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s unsteady on his feet. I roll my eyes and clench my fists, so totally not in the mood to deal with this bullshit.

“What are you two doing out here?” Charlie chuckles to himself.

“Just chatting,” Stan, who’s the closest to sober out of all the guys, tells him. Charlie steps closer towards me and leans in so his face is just centimetres from mine. He smells strongly of alcohol and when his hands slide to my waist and he smirks, I’m paralysed.

“Charlie,” Stan says quietly, signalling for him to stop.

“What?” Charlie asks innocently, his eyes not leaving mine. I hold his gaze because even when he’s drunk, he has this magnetic energy that gives me no choice.

“I think you should go back to the other room man,” Stan suggests, doing his best to sound confident and assured.

“What are you talking about?” Charlie chuckles, drawing circles on my hips with his thumb. “She likes it.” I continue to stare at him, noticing how his pupils are dilated and how his eyes are hazy. After what feels like forever, he breaks eye contact and I can think slightly more clearly again and then I come to my senses.

“No I don’t,” I say, pushing his hands away. I momentarily glance in Stan’s direction. He hops off of the kitchen counter and grabs Charlie’s arm. Charlie shrugs him off.

“Oh come on, you like it, don’t you?” Charlie smirks, brushing his fingertips up and down my sides. I push him away, more forcefully this time.

“Just leave me alone, I want to go to bed.”

“You guys don’t know how to have fun,” Charlie chuckles, picking up another beer from the fridge and disappearing back to the living room.
I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could be anywhere but here.

“Are you okay?” Stan asks.

“I just want to go to sleep,” I decide.

“Okay, you can sleep in my bed if you want. My room’s upstairs on the right and the bathroom is at the end of the hall. Make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I say, refilling my glass of water before heading towards the stairs.

“Noelle,” Stan calls and I glance back. “I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s fine,” I shrug, forcing a smile.

-

When I wake the next morning, my entire body feels heavy and lethargic. I am overwhelmed by that all too familiar sense of grief, most likely triggered by last night’s events. That thought alone makes me want to go straight back to sleep, just like my mum always does. Unfortunately though, I don’t have the luxury of being able to stay in bed all day.

I sit up and glance around Stan’s room, which is considerably tidier than you might expect. It’s 9am and there is no noise coming from downstairs, so I assume the guys are all still sleeping. At least that gives me a chance to sneak out without making a fuss. Clambering out of bed, I pick up my bag before going into the bathroom across the hall. I slip out of my pyjama shorts and old t-shirt I slept in and change into a pair of high-waisted denim shorts and a white cropped top. Then I untie my hair and run a brush through it, but quickly shove it up into a bun again when I realise how greasy it is. When I have applied a bit of make-up and got myself looking as decent as possible, I gather my things and go downstairs. Before I leave, I debate poking my head into the living room to see if anyone’s awake, but I decide against it. I feel so low and irritable, and I’m not sure I have the patience to listen to anyone complain about their hangover.

-

Monday arrives and my mood, if anything, has gotten worse. I hate Charlie for inviting me to the show and I hate myself for agreeing and I hate Austin for everything. I don’t want to get out of bed, but I have to. I have no choice but to pull myself together and deal with it. I take a deep breath and then get myself ready for school, repeatedly counting to ten in a half-hearted attempt to collect my thoughts.

“Noelle,” my mum calls from her room. Sighing inwardly, I go downstairs to make my mum a cup of coffee and then take it to her room. I help her to sit up and bring the cup to her lips to let her drink from it. Days like today, I understand more than ever why she’s like this. All my anger towards her disappears and I feel nothing but sympathy because I at least have some good days. For my mum, it seems like every day’s a bad day. I don’t blame her for not being able to cope.

“I love you mama,” I whisper, running my hand through her hair and planting a kiss on her forehead. Putting on a smile, I pick up my school bag and begin the walk to school. I don’t usually mind walking but it’s impossible when your whole body feels sluggish and even the slightest movement is torturous and exhausting.

“Hey doll, avoiding me or something?” Charlie smirks, appearing out of nowhere as I walk through the school parking lot with my head down. I sigh, because I know I won’t be able to hold a decent conversation in this state. I can’t get the events of Saturday night out of my head, and my brain is warning me to stay as far away from Charlie and his friends as I can.

“No,” I mutter, staring down at the ground.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, confused.

“Nothing.”

“Did you have fun on Saturday? I don’t really remember a thing,” he admits.

“No shit, you were pissed out of your mind,” I snap.

His eyebrows come together in confusion. “Noelle, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is your fucking drug problem.”

“It’s a bit of fun, not a problem. Lighten up.”

“Yeah until someone takes it too far and winds up dead. Just leave me alone,” I mutter disinterestedly, not in the mood to argue as I disappear into the crowd before he has the chance to stop me.