Gravity

Chapter Ten

Chris rolled over in bed trying to find a comfortable position but sleep seemed to be as elusive as the lyrics for the last song they had written. His restless mind had kept him awake for the last half an hour, since he had woken up from a dream in which all the work they had done for their second album had been mysteriously wiped out. He shuddered at the thought. Only when even the heavy drapes on the windows were not enough to keep the room darkened, Chris admitted he had lost his battle against insomnia once again. With nothing else to do in bed, he got up in search of something to occupy not only his time but also his surplus energy until he met with the guys, who would surely be still sleeping. They had gone out to a bar and they had been still there when Chris decided he had had enough. He weighted his options, his mind was just too muddled to write anything, reading was too quiet. What could he do? He only felt like running. How had he not thought about it before? Running was a perfect way of relaxing and clearing his head and his skinny body would certainly benefit from the workout as well. Clad in his more comfortable outfit, he made his way out of the hotel and jogged along the almost deserted streets of Liverpool.

He let his feet take him around the city, he passed the old Anglican Cathedral and countless bars and shops with their windows still shut down. As he got near the water, an eerie atmosphere settled around him. He seemed to be the only one awake in this cold misty morning. Far from being scared, he embraced the freedom and let his instinct be his guide. The morning was his. Running empowered him, revitalized him, and soothed him and his rampant thoughts. He could not help being always worried about the next step, always nervous and anxious about the future. His friends would often say he was a compulsive worrier, but weren’t them all in the band? He thought. Truth be told, he had always been a bit more neurotic than them, he admitted with a laugh. When Chris came out of his musings, he found himself on the docks; the red brick buildings barely visible among the heavy fog. With squinted eyes, he foolishly tried to get a glimpse of the undistinguishable water front. Instead, he spotted a familiar looking figure sitting down on the fourth bench from him, he was smoking a cigarette. Was it him? What was he doing here at this time? Chris got nearer; there was not a single doubt now. It was Jonny.

He was staring into the distance. He was a mess. Tired and bloodshot eyes, pale skin, disheveled hair and he was still wearing the previous day’s outfit. He had obviously not changed. Jon put the cigarette off and threw it in the nearest bin almost in a mechanical way.

Chris approached the bench, but his friend was so immersed in whatever was happening to him than he did not notice him.

“Jon?” he softly called to him, uneasiness twisting his stomach into knots.

The shaggy-haired man turned his head in his direction, blinked in recognition but did not speak. Chris’ heart skipped two beats at how distraught Jonny looked. Something must be really wrong, Chris thought with apprehension.

“What are you doing here?”

Jonny inhaled shakily. Chris held his breath.

“Is it Anne? Is she giving you trouble again?” he finally asked.

Jon shook his head. “It’s my grandpa,” he uttered in a miserable tone.

“What happened?”

“He, he just passed away.”

“Oh, man,” he said, sitting down next to Jonny and putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Jay. When did it happen?”

“Just like an hour ago. I had just got into the hotel when my mum called me. I thought it was weird that she was calling me so early. It was to tell me the news. He’d had a…..a…..,” his words choked up.