Chapter 18
San Diego, California
A,
I can’t stop shaking my leg, and I feel like throwing up. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like when you don’t drink?
I challenged myself last night: told myself I could do it because Mira’s been with me.
I just wanted to go a day. I don’t want her to worry—don’t want her to see the problem.
But I’m so sweaty she asked if I had a fever earlier, so maybe it’s just better if I put some vodka in a coffee mug at this point.
Soundcheck is in an hour, and I don’t know if I can perform like this.
Mira and Riley are currently playing guitar back and forth on the couch with Ari drumming along on his thighs.
Luke is sleeping in his bunk. The crew is setting up.
Benny is just sitting up front in the driver’s seat on his phone.
So everyone is distracted enough they wouldn’t notice if I snuck away for a bit.
They think I’m just writing songs or something right now—ever the fucking artist.
Having Mira here has made a lot of feelings come up that I didn’t expect. I’ve always wanted to protect her and feel that even stronger now. You know, she’s chosen to study music business—wants to get an MBA—and the thought makes my nausea worse.
She’s in here right now making good music with Ari and Riley. She has a great voice, and I know she’d kick ass. But it scares me. She still thinks music can help her—can change her—can erase all the baggage we carry.
I want to tear apart any path that leads her here. She deserves better. She has always deserved more than me or Ari or Dad or Mom could ever give her.
Who has she ever had to lean on?
Mom left us. Dad abused us. Ari’s constantly high, and I’m an alcoholic.
I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that I’m an alcoholic before, and it’s making me feel even shakier.
I’m going to stop writing now. I’ve got a show tonight I can’t fuck up.
I’m sorry,
Jay