Lost Dad: Dan Smith

Forty Four: Fire Escape

I'm promoting Dani's Instagram without her permission. Quick! @/dresslikebastille

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Laura POV: (After dinner/in bed)

Dan had decided to put a crap-load of Wild World hot sauce in the guacamole. What he didn't know, is that I had already added more than I should. He took the first bite and actually was freaking out because apparently he could detect the spiciness, which he can never actually do. He insisted that I don't eat it because I would be "vomiting my organs out." His words, not mine. Dan's remedy for the spiciness is alcohol, which was fine for a while. He had eventually cleared out a huge (and previously full) bottle of vodka. Just him. (Obviously.) He was on the verge of passing out, so I had him go to bed. I cleaned the dishes and had a bit of the guacamole. It wasn't as spicy as Dan had made it seem with his whole speech about how we should just throw it out. I got to bed without making much noise and wonder if I should give Dan a glass of water to help with his inescapable  hangover he's sure to have tomorrow. I decide not to disturb him and let him sleep. 

-The next morning-

I look at my left arm to see what notes I had written down throughout the night. I remembered writing things, but forgot exactly what.

"Hole in invisibility cloak?" 

"Possible to -------" (Part of it was covered by the next one and impossible to read)

"------- legal in UK?"

"X2XX5X7XX9"

The rest are completely impossible to pick out meanings of. I pick up a few letters and words, but nothing I can make any sense of. I decide to try to wash off my arm and hope I didn't use a sharpie. I pick out a rainbow of bracelets (Which are all beaded or braided pastel ones) to wear today. I hear Dan pacing around his room. I bet he has a massive migraine. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I sneak into the bathroom and scrub my arm. The purple ink washes off easily, so I can assume it's one of those scented markers. 

"Laura? What are you doing?" Dan asks from the doorway, his voice groggy.

"Washing my arm..." I say as if it's obvious. (It is)

"Because..?" He asks, sipping water from a disposable bottle

"I had written some things down." I say.

"Oh." He says. "Thanks for doing the dishes." 

"No problem. The least I could do." I reply. It really was.

Dan reaches over my head and into the medicine cabinet and pulls out headache relief. Called it. He pops two or three pills into his mouth and leaves, taking the bottle with him. 

"I'm going back to the studio today. You don't have to go if you don't want to." He yells as he goes back to his room. 

"I'll go!" I yell back.

 "We have to leave in an hour. Be ready in 45 minutes." Dan yells back. Good planning.

Dan POV:

Why did I drink so much last night? The guacamole wasn't even that spicy. I had some tis morning and it was fine. There's nothing I can do, so I might as well try to ignore it. I flop on my bed, wondering if it would be socially acceptable to just throw on a sweatshirt and not bother with looking decent. I decided to just screw it, everyone there knows I'm a lazy asshole who is tired or hungover 24/7. I toss on my OPC hoodie and convince myself I look fine. We don't have nearly any breakfast food, because drunk me ate all of the fucking cereal. (Drunk me is the most cringey, annoying, regrettable person to ever exist). Laura emerges into the kitchen as I'm looking for anything to eat. She's dressed in a pastel blue top and black jeans. It really suits her. 

"I'm not hungry, by the way." She announces.

 "Alright." I say, peeling a banana.

 "I find your fruit choice very a-peel-ing." Laura says. It takes me a moment to get it. Oh no. 

"That was terrible." I say blandly. 

"I'm aware." She says. We sit together at the bar top counter. She's flicking through Tumblr and reblogging every other thing she comes across. (Basically everything but the trash Drew spams her dash with) I finish my banana and toss the peel into the trashcan. 

"We have about 20 minutes." I say. 

"Better early than late." Laura replies, putting her phone in her pocket.

 "True that." I agree. "Are you ready?" I ask. 

"Ooooohh...I'm not reeeeaaaaady." Laura sings in response. I stare blankly. "Yes I'm ready." She says quickly after noticing my expression.

-At the studio- (Sorry for obsessively skipping time.)

We're the first ones here, so I have to dig through literally every pocket imaginable in my laptop bag to find the key. I've never been the first one here, and it's really quiet and peaceful. The only sounds are cars passing by and the mini fridge making it's mini fridge rumbly noise that I would usually complain about, but now I like it. An acoustic guitar is set out on a couch and Laura's eyeballing it. 

"Nobody's here." I tell her, trying to basically say 'play the flipping guitar.'

"May I?" She asks, already picking up the guitar.

"You may." I say, doing my best impression of her voice.

She plays a short riff to make sure it's in tune. It sounds right, even though I've never picked up a guitar knowing what I'm doing. She continues the riff and eventually forms it into something that sounds familiar. 

"Is that..." I search my library of artists in my head.

"Foster the People?" She finishes my question for me. "Yes."

"It sounds good." I say, meaning it.

"I'm a bit rusty on my technique, but I remember all the notes." She says, still playing.

"That's rusty?" I ask. To be fair, it sounded damn good for a twelve year old playing it.

"Hello?" a voice calls as the door opens. It's definitely Kyle.

"Hey!" I say. Laura stops playing. Kyle walks in, shoving his wallet in his pocket.

"Hey Laura." Kyle says.

"Bonjour." Laura replies.

"Tu parle francais?" Kyle replies. (You speak french?)

"Non." She replies, grinning. (No)

"That's a shame." Kyle replies.

 "There is no love lost..." Laura sings.

I groan. "Please no."

"You wrote it." Laura replies.

"Laura." I say, slightly annoyed.

"You played it for an album." 

"Laura!"

"You preformed it live."

"LAURA!"

"I'm done."

I sigh. "Thank you."

"Wait..." Kyle says. "Were you playing the guitar?" He asks her.

"Um... Yes?" She says, putting in down.

"Would you play a song for me?" Kyle asks. I can tell he's been waiting to hear this kid, who according to him "must've inherited so much musical talent" for a while.

"Um... sure..." She says, clearly not exactly wanting to. "This ones called 'Fire Escape'."

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I say this too much, but I should never write late at night or early in the AM.