Michael was doing a good job of saving me. And I thought maybe I was doing the same for him. We'd been working on my ability to be alone without him. I'd felt bad that he had to take me everywhere or go with me wherever I went, so I suggested that we work on it.
But now I was getting a little worried we were doing too well with distancing. Michael would still check in on me daily in my apartment. I found out that during my alcoholic stage, he had been using the key on top my door frame to check in on me every night once I'd fallen asleep. We'd exchanged keys the other day just in case something happened while the other was a way and needed into the apartment.
But Michael's visits quickly became less consistent, where instead of checking at least three times a day-unless we hung out-he started coming at odd times and maybe only once a day. I figured he was probably just tired from worrying so much about me and decided to give him some space until I figured out what to do.
I still went to gigs for the band, but normally only when they were local. And lately, the boys had been playing at other places, outside the city. I kind of missed being able to go to all of them, but the upside made up for that. They were playing in bigger places, with more people. They would play at block parties, or even small concerts over in Berkeley. And I was almost certain, if they kept it up, they'd be discovered sooner or later.
Today, however, was one of those days where it was already eight at night, and Michael still hadn't come by. Despite the inconsistency of his visits, he always made his first visit before six. And I was honestly a little worried.
I grabbed my phone, checking my messages. I immediately scrolled to my conversation with Michael, making sure he hadn't texted and I accidentally opened it without knowing. But there was nothing. I'd texted him over four hours ago, asking about their next gig. I ended up just asking Calum since Michael was unresponsive.
I was about to text him again, fingers hovering over the keypad when I locked my phone and put it in my pocket, standing from my spot on the couch and turning off whatever show I was watching on TV. I'd just go up and check on him upstairs instead, that way I could get an absolute answer as to if he was busy or not. I walked over to the front door, wincing at the pang I felt in my stomach as I walked by the kitchen and got a glimpse of the fridge. My throat still burned for the alcohol, even though I didn't. I sighed, wondering if there'd ever come a day when my body didn't long for the taste of alcohol.
Before I could open the door and step into the hallway, I heard the familiar roll of hands against a cajon and I knew that practice was starting. I let my hand slide off the doorknob and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a Capri Sun. I pulled off the straw, getting it out of its cover and poking a hole in the juice pouch. Immediately, I pulled the straw back out and flipped around so the pointy side stuck up. I don't know why I did this but I always did. Michael got me enough Capri Suns to laat me a lifetime in place of alcohol. He gave me the hardest time about it, but I caught him flipping the straw once or twice later on.
I smiled fondly at the memory and glanced upwards at the ceiling, listening to the boys tune and settled back on to the couch, eager to hear what they had to sing, even if they were on another floor, fourteen steps away.
***
"Hey! Hey Luke!" I called from my doorway as I saw a pair of black skinny jean clad legs appear on the staircase out in the hall.
"Lana?" Luke peered down the hall at me, guitar in one hand, holding on to the staircase railing with the other.
"Can I ask you something?" I could hardly contain my excited grin as I bounced on the balls of my feet, waiting for Luke to make his way over. I made the decision the other day and I finally got things in order to do it.
