I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Thirtieth Chapter

The next morning Im given the all clear. But I was given a list on how to run my life. The first thing on the list being:

'NO ALCOHOL OR YOU DIE'

And thats a pretty positive start.

I have several bottle of pills and a list of when to take what for how long.

So, as I leave, adorned with my pills and pages, I dont look back. Probably because I could end up there later.

The whole way back, Andy mumbles about how creepy hospitals are, and I dont disagree.

I arrive back at Patricks house where all the rest of the guys are together, writing music.

"So, if we sing it like 'I dont do too well on my own' we could keep it in the same key." Patrick says, turning to see Andy and I at the door.

"Jesse! Hows it going?" Pete grins.

"Currently, I have enough pills to fill up a washing machine and enough pages of information to write a book." I reply.

"Does you scar look like anything cool?" Joe asks.

I lift up my top to expose just the scar. Its red and bloated, but not infected. It looks like a child drew on me in red marker pen.

"You tell me." I say.

Everyone leans forward and looks at it like its just landed back from the moon.

"Come sit, we are working on some music to go with lyrics." Patrick beckons me.

I dont remember the last time Ive left this house to go out.

I sit down and look at the papers sprawled on the table. I see the page they are working on, my lyrics are on that one. I pick it up excitedly.

"What have you got on this one?" I ask.

"We can play you some of the riffs we are working through?" Patrick replies, looking for the 'go ahead' from the others.

I nod, shaking my fringe across my face.

Joe takes me through some of the riffs. His fingers pluck and pull the strings almost mechanically.

Ive never been this close up to Joe playing guitar, its pretty amazing. Its like seeing someone do what they were made to do and enjoy the most. It gives me fuel to do what I enjoy, although Im not quite sure what that is. It gives me fuel to be.

"What do you think?" Joe asks once he has gone through a few ideas.

I take a breath and let me mouth hang. "If thats how its going to sound then... Then... Im excited. I cant find words to describe how cool... This is." I use my hands to narrate the gap between me and Joe.

"We dont need words, we live it." Patrick smiles at the rest of the guys.

I want to live it. I want to stomp and sulk like a kid and scream. I want to turn over the table in a strop.

"Well, Im going to let you guys be creative. Im going to study my own personal Bible!" I grin sarcastically, waving the sheets around.

"Live it!" Joe jokes.

"I already am." I trace my hand over my scar before dropping onto the sofa about 10 meters away.

You can safely assume that after a page of close knit size 8 writing Im fast asleep. You can safely assume that the pages are scattered like petals and my limbs hang clumsily from different heights.

Im still recovering, its allowed.

When I wake up its dark. The big cream curtains are drawn and the only light is coming from the Tv. Andy and Joe are on the floor in front of the Tv watching a film like they are kids. Their silhouettes whisper something to one and other. My head is rested on Patricks lap, my legs on Pete.

Patrick looks down to check on me and smiles. I smile back. This should be the only way I wake up, with a smile.

"I think Lord Farquard is compensating for something..." The movie speaks.

Everyone laughs and I smile, closing my eyes again.