Metal Storm

Edge Of Seventeen

My eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling.
Where am I? This isn't my room...
For a second, I panicked but then relaxed as my memory came rushing back to me.
Outside, birds were singing their morning song and I could smell the delicious scent of omelet wafting from downstairs.
Eric must be up already
Stretching my limbs, I slipped my feet into my slippers and headed downstairs, sneezing from the dust particles in the air.
Sodom played quietly on the record player and I could hear loud clattering in the kitchen.
Just was about to head in and ask if Eric needed any help with making breakfast, my bandmate walked out carrying a tray with two plates and two cups of coffee balanced on the top.
      "Oh, you're awake," he said as he set the tray down on the table, "it's gonna be a long day today since we still have to get a lot of shit to get done before the other two fuckers get here."
      "Do you know when they're coming?" I asked.
"Probably in the evening," Eric said, taking a sip of his coffee, "hope the food's at least somewhat edible," he added awkwardly.
"Somewhat edible? It's pretty damn delicious!" I exclaimed. It wasn't an exaggeration. It was genuinely one of the best omelets I had in a long while.
       The guitarist smiled.
"My little brother fucking hated my food but I'm glad that at least one person appreciates my cooking," he said with a short laugh.
"Well, if this is how you always cook then I wouldn't mind having meals from you every day."
Eric looked away, a bad attempt at hiding the pink blush that had spread on his cheeks.
       We ate the rest of our breakfast in awkward silence before getting dressed and hopping into Eric's car.
       "We'll get some groceries first," Eric said, "and some other shit like dishwashing liquid, soap, extra toothpaste, all the essentials."
"Toilet paper...?" I asked.
"We're too metal for that, Marlene," Eric grinned turning the volume dial up full blast, Dio's soaring vocals filling the car, as he pulled out of the driveway, the small vehicle bouncing over the cracks.
We drove around the city for some time before we finally found a supermarket.
Eric grabbed a shopping cart and we walked into the store, occasionally asking each other what we enjoyed eating.
       By the end of the 60th minute, our cart was overflowing with everything from blueberries to canned sardines to shampoo bottles (contrary to popular belief, metalheads do in fact shower every once in a while) to plates.
      "I can pay for half of it," I said touching Eric's arm when he reached for his wallet.
       "Nah, don't worr-," the guitarist started to object.
       "Isn't it fair that way though?" I inquired.
       "I guess so but it's alright, you don't have to"
      Ignoring his protests I counted out the cash in my hand before handing the cashier half of the amount that she had charged us.
      He shook his head in mock annoyance but didn't say anything else as we headed back to the car, our shopping cart piled high with groceries and other essential items.
     "Where to next?" I asked Eric.
     He glanced at his watch, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
     "It's only noon and they won't arrive by at least 6. And I saw a neat looking record store not too far from here..."
      "Are you sure?"
      "Oh, absolutely," Eric said with a smirk, "gotta make the best of our time in town, eh?"
"Yeah, you're right," I yelled as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, our windows rolled down and Slayer blasting out, startling several passerbys who stared at us in horror.
I air guitared and Eric tried to do an impression of Tom Araya, me laughing whenever he exaggerated a high note.
Even though we were hundreds of miles away from our hometown, this felt like another outing with Astrid where we sang along to Genesis and Peter Gabriel hits in her mother's car and went to record shops on the weekend except that it was Slayer that was playing on the car radio now and it was a boy who I was with.
       Eric parked the car along the side of the road and we got out, walking along the street and peering into shops selling souvenirs, candy, and clothing along the way.
      A small store with a sign in front of it that read "Cranky Dog Records and Music" was our destination.
Eric practically skipped in and we both headed straight for the metal section.
Flipping through records, the guitarist whooped loudly when he pulled out a tape of Candlemass's "Nightfall."
"Man, I remember Svenn told me about this one. Said that the riffing and solos on here are fucking insane and these guys are Swedish too!" Eric told me.
"Maybe one day our albums will be sold in this section," I said, thumbing through a series of Deep Purple records.
       "One day," Eric agreed.
       I think I could have spent the whole day here flipping through records and tapes if it hadn't been for the fact that we still had to organize our rooms and cook dinner for our roommates.
       I was still looking through the hard rock section when Eric tapped me on the shoulder and said that it was probably time for us to head back to the house.
      I saw that he had bought a few albums and as we headed back to the car, he pulled out Destruction's debut record and wordlessly handed it to me.
       "This is...for me?"
       "Yeah. I saw it and I remembered you telling me a while back that this was your favourite album by them and that you were frustrated that our record shop didn't have it, Eric said with a small shrug.
       "Thanks, man," I whispered.
       For some reason, I wanted to hug him but decided against it, not wanting it to look like some awkward reunion in the middle of the street.
       He smiled.
       "No problem."
      On the way back, we listened to the Candlemass tape that Eric had bought. It was definitely something new. Something that was like Black Sabbath but even more melancholic and foreboding.
      Maybe one day, we will be opening for them or Bathory
       It was late afternoon when we pulled into the driveway of our new home, having to go back nearly half a dozen times before Eric's Ford Pontiac was freed of its load of supermarket items.
       Eric went to tidy up the garage, tasking me with making dinner.
       I settled on meatballs with mashed potatoes since it was something that I had helped my mom make a lot back home.
       I had just finished finished dumping everything on the plates when there was a knock on the door.
       Ace and Sebastian were here.
       I went to open the door, feeling happy at seeing Ace but somewhat nervous at seeing Sebastian again.
       I pulled the door open, inviting my two bandmates in, Ace 'oohing' and 'aahing' at how big the house was.
       "Where is Eric?" Sebastian asked me, a look of annoyance written on his face as Ace jumped up and down on the bouncy sofa, raising up a cloud of dust.
        "I'll get him," I said.
        Heading into the garage, I saw that Eric had gotten most of the junk that had been in there out and was now sweeping the floor.
        "Dinner's ready," I shouted, "oh, and the fuckers are here."
       "Jesus christ..." Eric grumbled, shaking his head and following me out of the garage, loud crashes sounding from upstairs as Ace stomped around in the rooms.