Sincerely, Mike

01: Waiting

The three weeks that followed the IHeartRadio incident passed like minutes for all except Mike, who found himself still being ripped to shreds by his guilt and grief every day. He had expected that, after thoughtful reflection and the passage of what most would deem ample time to overcome a feeling, the grief would have begun to dissipate and the guilt would have ceased eating away at him, but time proved to heal no wounds.

Day after never-ending day saw him sinking further and further into a bottomless pit of grief. His will to do anything aside from wallow in guilt and sadness was practically nonexistent. The energy he had once channeled into playing an outstanding show with his best friends now only translated into days spent vegetating on the couch by the window, staring out at the street as unending thoughts of guilt and anguish swirled through his head.

There was only one part of the day that even remotely lifted his spirits.

Every day, at around 5:06 o'clock, the sound of the mail truck's roaring engine just down the street would be just enough to perk a glum Mike up like an excited puppy. He would spring off the couch and dart down the driveway to meet the mailman at the mailbox, where he would desperately yet apprehensively rip the stack of envelopes out of the poor unsuspecting mailman's hands and sift through them in a frenzy, hoping with every last cell in his body to finally find a response to the initial, heartfelt note of apology he had mailed Billie the day after the incident.

And every day, at around 5:08 o'clock, Mike would trudge back through the front door with his head hung and his eyes watery at the realization of the fact that not a single envelope in the thick stack in his hand contained Billie's response.

Sometimes he wondered why he even expected a response. Most days he found himself trying to convince his more naive and hopeful side that expecting a response from someone receiving intense treatment for substance abuse was irrational. But regardless of the immense time and effort he put into trying to convince himself of the irrationality of it all, he continued to spend his days waiting to receive a note that simply affirmed that Billie had forgiven him for indirectly letting this mess happen and that, most importantly, his best friend was still alive.

Today, initially, seemed no different from any other day. Three weeks and one day after the incident, Mike assumed the day would consist of the same depressing events as every day before it: waiting silently, body glued to the couch and eyes glued to the street, and trapped within the confines of a mind swirling with thoughts of guilt and self-hatred until he heard the glorious whir of a mail truck that delivered nothing but disappointment. As he stared at the empty street through the dirty glass, guilt on his mind and apprehension on his brow, he became so engrossed in the words and emotions filling his mind that he took no notice of his wife's calls to him or the small cardboard box she placed next to him before leaving his side.

Hours passed- or so Mike assumed, as he never really kept track of the time anymore- before he even noticed the little box next to him, but as soon as his eyes fell upon it, it was enough to pull him away from the death grip his emotions had on his psyche.

Slowly, he reached out and lifted the box onto his lap, grabbing hold of the flaps and pulling them back to reveal several items from the last tour about a year and a half ago, which had been cut short at the sudden discovery of the fact that Billie had a son and his decision to accept the challenging task of raising a child on his own.

Distant memories of days spent with the people he loved most flooded his mind as he pulled keychains, stickers, pins, and other assorted tchotchkes he had collected in each city throughout the tour.

As he continued to dig through the box, he wondered why his wife had brought it to him at that moment. As much as he loved dumb knickknacks, he didn't exactly see how this would help his current situation.

He soon found the answer at the bottom of the box.

For the first time in a very long time, a small smile creased Mike's lips as he pulled a small stuffed dog up towards him.

The dog had been a gift from Billie when Mike had gotten awful food poisoning from eating week-old pizza on the last tour. While on a late-night medicine run at CVS, Billie had purchased the dog with only the purest intention of bringing a smile to his sick friend's face.

"I know it seems stupid," Mike remembered Billie saying as he pulled the plush toy out of the plastic bag, "cuddling something when I'm sick and lonely always makes me feel better."

And, as dumb and childish as it sounded, cuddling with that little wolf-like dog somehow had made Mike feel better.

A melancholy sigh escaped him as he gently set the plush toy down next to him and continued to reflect on the trinket's significance.

Billie had always been so caring and thoughtful, always thinking of others before himself. He radiated and lived to spread happiness. If any of his friends ever lost their reason to smile, he would drop everything and make it his mission to ensure that they were smiling again as soon as possible.

The thought that Billie might never live to experience any form of happiness again chilled Mike to his core.

There had to be a way, Mike told himself, to send Billie even the smallest drop of happiness. There had to be some way in the unending expanse of the universe to deliver even the smallest amount of happiness to his poor friend.

He more than deserved it.

Hell, as far as Mike was concerned, he deserved that and so much more.

And Mike still felt like he owed Billie something for allowing his addictions to get as serious as they did.

If he could only come up with a goddamn idea...

Mike's train of thought stopped mid-sentence as his bleary eyes slowly drifted over to the plush toy next to him.

And that was just it.

-
A/N: Hello all, no, contrary to popular belief I am not dead, just a tad lazy. Sorry for putting this one off as long as I did, but I can promise regular updates from now until about the end of August. Hope you're enjoying this trainwreck thus far. If you are, please do not hesitate to leave me comments or drop me a line to talk about my writing (or yours, if you'd like some help!), as I love to discuss my characters and storyscape with others and hear their feedback.

That's all for now folks.
~Jay