A terrible analogy, I know. But quite possibly true.
At any rate, I couldn’t think about it right now. Literally couldn’t. Any usage of the brain was bad. Inside my skull, things throbbed and hurt. I threw down two Advil with a bottle full of water and made a cup of coffee while trying not to think of anything. Only, trying not to think of anything was just as bad as focusing on something, and the malevolent organism in my head took it as a declaration of war.
Pain, so much pain.
Maybe not drinking anything with an alcohol percentage for a while was the way to go. Also, Eric must die. Enablers were bad, evil people. The world must be purged of them.
I hid behind my sunglasses, sitting at one of the few remaining dining room chairs (several had fallen during the great fight) and listened to him playing through the open kitchen doors. Thank god for coffee. Coffee understood. Coffee was my friend.
Merrily, the drugs were at long last beginning to kick in when he noticed my presence.
“Morning.” He shifted his position, all the better to see me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t a good view.
“Hi.”
“How you feeling?”
“Like Long Island Iced Teas are not my friend.”
He inspected me over the top of his sunglasses. “Shit, you were drinking those? No wonder you were smashed.”
“One Old Fashioned, one lychee martini, one Caipirinha, and one Long Island Iced Tea.”
“So you had four cocktails,” he said. “Last night you told me three.”
“Did I? Huh.”
He gave me a look that was most dubious.
“I’ve decided I have no further statement to make about last night.”
“Have you now?” His tongue played behind his cheek. No idea what expression filled his eyes; he’d retreated back behind his shades. Probably for the best.
He gave up the sun and came inside, carrying his guitar in one hand and a pad and pen in the other. All of it got dumped on the kitchen table.
“Working on a new song?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, sitting down across the table from me. “It’s called ‘You Say Funny Shit When You’re Drunk.”
“I like it. Sounds like a winner.”
“Yeah. It’s going to be by the Devil Dick and Demon Tongue Band.” He took off his sunglasses, placed them on the table. “What do you think?”
“That’s the name of the new band? Sweet.”
“Classy, right?”
“Totally.” I suppressed my smile, just barely. Funny bastard. I swirled the dregs of my coffee around in the cup. “Do you have any plans for today?”
“No, nothing today.” He stared out the open kitchen doors at the world beyond. The large broken panel of glass had been replaced sometime yesterday. “I, ah, I accepted an offer on the house.”
My face froze. “You did?”
A nod.
“Wow. That was fast. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s a great property.”
High up on the wall, the kitchen clock was ticking. I don’t know if I’d really noticed it before, but now … damn, it was loud.
“You’re happy with the price?” I asked.
“Very.”
“Great.” I smiled, trying my utmost to be happy for him. Just like a friend would be. “That’s … that’s really great.”
Odd how he didn’t smile back. Instead, he kept staring out at the backyard, face betraying no emotion. It was his parents’ place. Whatever his issues over accepting their death, giving up his childhood home had to hit hard. All those memories.
“When are you thinking of leaving town?”
“Henning and Conn want to get started putting together the new material soon as possible.” He grabbed at the back of his neck. “So early next week, I guess.”
“That soon?”
“Yeah.” His gaze zeroed in on me. “Is that a problem for you, with your stuff and all that, Lydia?”
“No.” I looked down, trying to get a handle on … well, me. It felt like my little world had been turned upside down and been shaken to shit. The perfect scene in the snow globe was a blizzardy mess. What the hell was my problem? None of this should be a surprise. “No. I’ll get storage sorted out in the next few days. Not a problem.”
“So you’re still thinking of staying?”
“Maybe.” It was my turn to look away, to avoid his eyes. Such a perfect shade of blue. I’d just have to avoid looking up at the sky for the rest of my life so as not to be reminded of him. Completely doable. “So, early next week. What are you thinking, Monday, Tuesday?”