9. Phoenix

Phoenix

Still Here

I t’s quiet when you’re here.

That sentence has been on a fucking loop in my head. He’d said something similar one of the times he’d come California to visit me. We were laying in my bed, his cheek on my chest, and he’d said, “So quiet.” I kissed the top of his head, holding him tighter. God, I was so content just to hold him. Yes, I loved the sex and making out. But it was moments like those that filled my heart to the brim.

I’m not doing great. It’s like every night, I’m having nightmares of that day or him with Leon. All of my happy memories are tainted because instead of it being me, it’s Leon. That time we drove up to Big Bear, and I sucked him off twice on the way up. When I brought him home, he chased my nephews around the Christmas tree. When we’d stuff ourselves into my bathtub and feel each other, all of those precious moments he’s doing with another person—it’s destroying me.

And now… now , he sends a picture I’ve never seen before. It’s us, but at a weird angle. I’m on my stomach, face pressed into the pillow, and he’s on top of me, kissing my shoulder blade.

I hate that I love it. I hate that I know we hadn’t fucked there, and it was just him being sweet. I hate how it sends a painful thud through my chest. I do the only thing I can think of because I can’t take it anymore.

I call my mom.

She answers on the third ring. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey, Mom. Are you busy?” I sound like I’m about to cry.

“No. What’s wrong?”

I exhale a shaky breath, standing outside the bus while everyone else is inside the venue, getting ready. Taking a pull off my vape, I blow it out and ask, “Did I do the right thing?”

She’s quiet for a while, and I hear the soft click of a door shutting. “About Elijah?”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

“I can’t tell you that. The better question is, why are you second-guessing yourself?”

Deciding to tell her all that’s happened, I go through everything: how he’s taunted me and seems worse off than when we broke up. When I showed up at his hotel room and found him looking like death and puking blood, I tell her about the picture. She listens quietly while I expel it all.

“Do you remember when we first sent Oli to rehab?”

“Yeah.”

“He was so terrible to us. But then, when he got out and was clear-headed, he explained that it was because he was scared. He thought we were abandoning him—that we didn’t want to love him or fight for him—”

“That we threw him away,” I finish for her because I remember it like yesterday. I sigh, rubbing my face. “He’s an addict, Mom. Just like Oli. I saw him in that bathroom and only saw my baby brother face down in his own puke.”

Mom sniffles, no doubt crying because one of her kids is on this path. “Sometimes I think it’s all my fault…with your brother. Was I present enough? Attentive? Did I miss a sign or a call for help?”

“You were a great mom— are a great mom.”

“But it’s my job to make sure you kids thrive. I don’t know if I did enough. And now, with your dad and his surgeries…”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Oli is an adult. He makes his own decisions.”

“He needs us, Fe. He needs us to fight for him every day because he has lost the will to fight for himself.”

Swallowing, I puff my vape and glance at the venue. “I don’t know if I can fight. I don’t know if I want to.”

She sighs softly. “Then you made the right decision. It’s hard loving someone who can’t love themselves. And it isn’t your job to make them, either. But…it helps.”

“How is he, anyway?” I ask, too ashamed to admit I haven’t checked on him.

“Calls when he’s hungry or needs money.”

“Dad okay with that?”

A bitter laugh comes through the phone. “No, but he is bedridden, so I’m in charge. Oli is supposed to see a new therapist next week. Nyxia is taking him.”

My little sister is a boss, I swear. “Good. Maybe getting some of that pain out might help.”

“We’ll support him. Push him in the right direction. But he’s my child, my blood .” She pauses, clearing her throat. “Elijah is acting out; it would seem like a call for help. I don’t know what you should or shouldn’t do baby, but don’t sink on that ship with him.”

“I know,” I whisper. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You always call me. No matter what.”

“I will. I gotta go in. Doors are opening in an hour.” People are already parking.

“I love you, Phoenix.”

“Love you too.”

T he lead singer of Dark Wing rented a house for Thanksgiving.

It's a super sweet gesture since we’re all away from home for the holiday. Headhunter is from Sweden, so they don’t celebrate it, but they will be staying with us, too. That part fucking sucks. I busy myself while we drive to the mini-mansion that doubles as an AirBnB during the week and make sure to call everyone.

Even Oli. He didn’t answer, but I left him a voicemail telling him to call me back when he could.

Nyx sends me a picture of Helios staring longingly into the oven door where Mom’s cooking the turkey. I miss my fur child so much it hurts. I can’t wait until December so we can go home for Christmas. I save the picture because it’s cute and set it as my new wallpaper, replacing the one of his face smooshed next to mine. I’m trying to keep my chin up. I’m trying to forget that I’ll be in a house with Eli in a few minutes. Mere feet separating us.

Everyone is excited to have their own rooms, good food, and some downtime from the road. We all smell, too, since our bus doesn’t have a shower and it’s been a few days since we stayed at a hotel. Biker baths aren’t all they’re hyped up to be.

Jorge smells like fucking curry.

“Put your arm down,” I tell him and swat his stomach.

“Bitch,” he slaps me back and then attempts to shove his armpit in my face. I roll off the couch, nailing my head on Michael’s shin.

“Seriously?” he yelps, rubbing it.

“You love my musk.” Jorge flashes me a dumb grin, then smells himself and gags. “That’s nasty.”

“Exactly, and now the whole bus stinks.”

Kelly cackles from her bunk, where she’s been video chatting with her grandparents. I shoot over to the other couch before Jorge can get there. I half sit on Devon and elbow Michael in the side. He grunts. “You’re too lanky for this,” Devon grumbles.

Jorge stands, holds the back of his head, and spins. Even Terry yells at him to stop. “You’re sick!” Michael howls, scrambling to run for the back of the bus. I tuck my nose in my shirt collar, finding I don’t smell much better.

“Everyone showers. Immediately,” Devon orders us but stares at Jorge. “You first.”

Jorge dives for Devon, a high-pitched shriek exploding out of him. They fall to the floor while Jorge wrestles to rub his pits on him, and I take the opportunity to jump over them and rush for the bathroom. Kelly is already there, though.

“Nu-uh, I got here first. That’s your best friend.” She blows a raspberry at me and darts inside.

Damn it. Jorge successfully smothers Devon in his funk, then locks onto me. “Do not ,” I warn, backing up.

“Come cuddle with Papa,” he teases, then rushes me.

We’re rocking the bus with all our movement, Terry scolding us from the driver seat. Jorge tackles me, and we fall to the floor with a loud thud. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kelly’s phone poking out of the bathroom. “Traitor!” I roar, grabbing Jorge’s sides and tickling the fuck out of him.

He squeals, flailing on top of me and trying to escape. I lock him to me with my legs and destroy him. “I can’t breathe,” he wheezes, digging his fingers into my wrists.

“You’re talking. You can still breathe.” I’m laughing. Fuck, I’m laughing. Jorge lifts his arm, and I duck my head out of the way, biting his other shoulder.

It’s like we’re seven years old all over again, trying to avoid each other’s cooties. “Alright! Truce, truce, truce !”

“Oh my god, I’m totally posting this. That was great,” Kelly says with a giggle.

Jorge smiles down at me, and I laugh harder. “There he is,” he praises. I shake my head, trying to calm down. “Watch this, Kel.” The fucker leans down and licks the entire right side of my face with his Funyun breath.

“Dick!” I howl, frantically trying to wipe my face off while grabbing him at the same time. He gets free, laughing like an idiot, and blows me kisses just as the bus pulls to a stop.

We all pop up like prairie dogs, checking out where we are. My smile drops. The lightheartedness sinks like a lead weight.

Headhunter is here, unloading. Eli is here, too, and it’s like he’s looking right at me. The windows are tinted, so I know he can’t be. I remember the conversation I had with my mom. Her advice isn’t lost on me.

Don’t sink on that ship with him.

It’s easier said than done because I’ve long since had an anchor around my ankles, keeping me underwater while he stands on the surface, watching me drown.

T he air in the house is thick with tension. Not the sexy kind. Not the kind that has your entire body teetering on the edge of anticipation, waiting for that pin to drop and blow your mind.

It’s darker. Dirtier.

Since we’re meant to be sociable, civil—hell, thankful for these accommodations—I can’t hole up in the bedroom. Three turkey dinners from the local grocery store are spread out over the giant table meant to host massive parties, everyone gathering around in the kitchen.

I want to be festive. I want to enjoy this special time with my friends, but there’s no fucking oxygen in here. It’s being siphoned out of my lungs. Much like when I went to Eli’s hotel room, live wires are woven into my fingertips. I’m hyper-aware of his every movement, his tight smile given to Leon, and the subtle shake in his right hand.

He’s not okay—I don’t know that he’s ever been okay. Everyone talks around me.

I feel like I’m in a movie. In those scenes where the protagonist stands on a sidewalk, everyone passes by them, sped up so they all blur together. That’s me right now.

Only Eli is standing still, just like I am.

The table separating us, all these musicians bumping into each other to get everything ready for dinner—all the grins, relaxed shoulders, and casual wear seem so far away. It’s quiet when you’re here.

I can feel it. There’s always been this uncanny connection to Eli. It’s one of the things I love about us. With a single look, I could feel what he was feeling. I’d just know things. And I still know them.

I know he doesn’t want to be here. I know that he’s tired, scared, and cold. God, he’s so fucking cold.

“I hate stuffing,” Jorge’s voice pulls me out of the tunnel with only Eli in sight. Holding the store-made stuffing still in its container, he mumbles, “Smell this.”

“It’s hard to mess up stuffing,” I tell him but indulge him anyway. “Smells fine.”

Kelly snatches it from his hands and sets it on the table. “Don’t eat it then.” She flicks his nose before shooting me a worried glance.

I shake my head, not wanting to add more discomfort to what is supposed to be a happy night. Leon asks Eli about the cranberry sauce, thoroughly confused by it. Eli loves the stuff, but it makes me gag. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he scoops some up on a spoon and feeds it to Leon. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact he’s being so tender despite everything I know he’s feeling or the fact Leon likes the fucking cranberry sauce. Now, they have something else to bond over. Turning my back to them, I sit and play on my phone until everyone is ready.

Sometime later, possibly minutes, all three bands and their crew fill plates. People sit at the table. A fog seems to wash over me, blinding my sight from all that’s happening. I know Jorge is sitting on my left because I can hear him talking. Absently putting food on the plate before me, I don’t pay attention to what. I’m not hungry. I’m sad, angry—feeling stupid, hopeless, worthless. These emotions take the reins, steering me through a mindless series of motions. I smell meat and potatoes and the sweet scent of pies and cigarettes.

Wait… cigarettes?

Heat swarms low in my stomach, and goosebumps explode over my arms. The muscles in my legs tense, and my breaths falter.

Long fingers, the knuckles of each tattooed with little stars, pick up a plastic fork. Eli is left-handed. I peek at him. It’s a single glance, one tiny look, but I see everything. The black lip ring. The slope of his nose. The little dip in his cheek that I know deepens when he smiles. I see the familiar wild curl that only shows up when his hair is brushed. The sharp cut of his jaw. His giant Adam’s apple. His skull earring.

I swallow hard.

I drop my hands to my lap. A minty aroma takes over all other scents when he reaches for the bottle of wine before me. Lightning explodes in my chest when his arm brushes against my shoulder. God damn him. Does anyone see this? Can anyone feel this? The static, the sheer fucking chemical reaction of being so close to each other? I feel like dogshit.

Leon’s got to know. How could he not? I’d know. I’d fucking know if Eli had this with anyone else while climbing into my bed at night.

Don’t go down on that ship.

Shoving my chair from the table, I leave, abandoning my food. I think I’m having a heart attack. Numbness swallows up all sensation as I burst through the front door. The world seems to spin while tears gather at the corners of my eyes. Why? Why! I hold my face, shoulders shaking. It hurts so bad.

How do people survive this? I was doing okay. I was pushing through the dirt but still trying. He was gone, and I kept moving—kept breathing. Now that he’s back, I know it was all bullshit. I’ve been burying myself alive under everything I don’t voice. All those unspoken words because it’s been easier to stay quiet all my life.

My voice never mattered. Only silence got anyone to fucking look at me.

Maybe I should’ve fought him that night. Maybe I should’ve ignored that random fan who saw us and recorded it all. I should’ve told the cops to go fuck themselves and dragged him out of the patrol car. If I’d begged harder and dropped down on my knees and swore I’d help him, maybe this wouldn’t be my life. But I’ve done it all with Oli.

“Fuck this,” I croak only seconds before Jorge is there.

“Come here, big guy,” he mumbles and yanks me into his arms.