Sound Effects and Overdramatics

Michelle came to find me in the basement, guitar sitting lifeless in my lap, a slew of beer bottles around my feet. With her sigh, the walls heaved inward, and then outward as she exhaled.

“Matt's here.” she told me softly, not leaving the bottom stair.

I grunted, plucked a string.

“Brian, you need to get up.”

“Why?”

“You're not the only one who lost something.” She told me. I snorted out a harsh chuckle, the words echoing, bringing back a memory I'd tried to drown out for almost two years.

She didn't say anything, but she didn't leave. She stood, silent and defeated. She didn't know what to say, no one did, and she couldn't help me, as much as she wanted to; she knew she wasn’t who I needed.

Another sigh left her before she started back up the stairs. The wood creaked with weight and I knew it was Matt coming to retrieve me.

“Get up.”

“We got work?” I asked, plucking another string.

“No, but you need to get your ass off that couch.”

“What for?”

“Damn it, Gates.” He picked up a bottle and threw it, smashing it against the wall. I barely gave him a glance.

“None of us can do this alone. Why are you trying?” He sat on the coffee table. I couldn’t ignore his hulking frame in my frontal vision.

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah.”

I sighed and set my guitar aside, lighting a cigarette from a forgotten pack.

He did the same and looked up when the basement door opened. I followed his gaze and saw Zack and Johnny hovering. Slowly, they made their way down the stairs. Johnny headed over, Zacky
grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar, and they sat.

In silence we smoked and drank. There was a heaviness in the air, one that couldn't be breached.
Our friend was dead. Our brother found dead two days ago. We were still in shock and disbelief. Hell, in my drunken stupor, I found myself looking towards the stairs, expecting the Rev to come down and join us, but he never did.

Loss was a burden, but at least this time, I was sharing it with them.

A couple hours passed. We eventually made our way upstairs. Everyone was here, paying respects, checking up on us, sharing in our grief. We began telling stories, trying to find joy in our friend's memory, instead of the sorrow caused by the spot he left empty.

As people left, others came in. None of us wanted to be alone. So we stayed up, drinking and talking. Everyone had a memory of Jimmy. He loved fiercely and made you feel like you were the only one that mattered.

One by one, people fell asleep where they could. Others stayed awake, tossing empties, dumping ashtrays, cleaning up. Even more people trickled in, bringing food and condolences.

Upstairs, Michelle was already asleep. My head spun, but not from drinking. I felt hollow, dragged down by grief. I missed Jimmy. I was still expecting him to come barreling in at any second, drunk or fucked up or raving about a new song. Something.

He was too alive to have died the way he did.

Michelle's chest rose and fell steadily, moonlight falling across her face diagonally. Curled on her side, a strand of hair stuck to her mouth, her hands tucked under her pillow, she looked serene. Her eyes flicked back and forth behind her eyelids and I wondered what she was dreaming about.

Probably a life of peace with someone who didn’t have a drinking problem.

Instead of curling up next to my wife-to-be, I quietly shut the door and stumbled my way back downstairs. Matt and Val had taken up residence in the guestroom. Down in the basement, Zack and Johnny were on the couch, playing Call of Duty. I sat next to them, unable to sleep, or get sober.

Sometime in the morning, Michelle came downstairs. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek.

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I told her. Johnny had passed out sitting up. Zack had left a little bit ago with Gena. My eyes itched, and I knew I needed to try, but every time I closed my eyes, memories broke through the dam, and I couldn’t rebuild it.

They weren’t just memories of Jimmy, either.

"Come up and get some coffee. Val and Matt went to get some breakfast. You need to eat."

I obeyed robotically. I put down the gaming controller and left Johnny asleep, following her up the stairs with her hand clasped in mine.

In the kitchen, she poured me a mug of fresh coffee. "I'm worried about you."

I shrugged and drank. It wasn't something that necessitated a response. If I was her, I'd be worried about me, too.

"You have hardly slept in four days. You haven't been sober for practically a week. Whatever it is, it started before Jimmy-"

"Michelle, don't start."

"I'm not. I'm just-"

I grabbed my coffee mug and walked out the sliding door. I didn't need a lecture and I didn't need her looking at me with pity.

My oldest friend was dead and she wasn't who I needed.

"Can I take your car?" I asked Matt as he pulled up. There were too many in the driveway and lining the streets. I didn't wanna go through the hassle of trying to get mine out.

"Sure, man. Where?"

I shrugged. I wasn't sure. I just wanted to be far away.

Without paying attention to where I was headed, I found myself in front of a small, whitewashed house. The lawn was lush and green, but the screen door wasn't fully closed. There was only one car in the driveway and I hoped that he was home.

I left Matt's car idling while I smoked. The sun rose higher, and still, I couldn’t bring myself to get out and knock on the door.

After a while, I didn't have to. Jason came outside, sweats hung low on his hips, a hoodie halfway zipped over his bare chest.

Slowly, he approached me. I flicked my cigarette and stepped out of the car, but left it running.

“I’m sorry.” He offered, seeming sincere. I nodded, pushing a pebble around with the toe of my shoe.

“I need to talk to her."

“You think that's a good idea?”

“What do you think?” I asked desperately.

"I can't help you anyway."

“You don't talk to her?”

He shook his head. "All I know is that she isn't in Chicago anymore. Ali won't tell me anything else."

“Oh.” I muttered lamely. I started to say something else, but he cut me off.

“You didn't come all the way out here just to ask about her, did you?"

I shook my head and lit another cigarette. "Not exactly, no."

He knew what I was asking, and he knew that if I had a choice, I wouldn't be. He was probably right, though. Jason was a rabbit hole I hadn't considered since Laurel left. After he moved in with Ian, contact slowed and then stopped. I never thought I would want to open that door again.

He kissed me before I could come up with a smartass remark. Due to all the excessive drinking, my reflexes weren't the best. When he clamped his teeth on my neck I hissed and yanked his hair to pry him loose.

"Let's go then. Ian will be home soon."

I nodded and tossed my cigarette to the ground before shutting off Matt's car.

If anyone could help me get my head right, it was Jason.