Standing By

Llama Drama

(Tim)

My alarm woke me up the next morning and I reached a hand out to shut it off though.  I was about as tired as I was when I went to bed last night.  When would I get another good night of sleep?  Of restful, refreshing sleep?  It was becoming more and more of a rarity.  About the only time I'd even slept through the night was two nights ago, when I was so drunk I'd slept with some random girl.  And clearly, I'd done a whole lot more than just sleep that night.  Was I seriously going to have to drink myself into oblivion to just sleep?  The thought saddened me.  I mean, yeah, I like to drink—it tastes good and I like the way the alcohol makes me feel—but still.  Getting drunk every night wasn't a good option either.  And I sure as hell can't be having a lot of one-night stands here.  I'm an adult with responsibilities, not some beachcomber that just hangs out all day with nothing to hold him down.  Oh, how I wished I could turn back time.  Figured I'd dial that time machine back to, ah... two weeks ago, when life was relatively calm and stable, no major crises.  When Jenika was still the Jenika I knew and once loved.  When life was good.  Traveling around with friends and bandmates I loved, singing and performing in front of large crowds yelling my name every time I spoke, cheering on the five of us, the fans, the fun I have up there on that stage.  And then coming home to a loving wife who offered affection and tenderness instead of contempt.  Who enjoyed being with me, spending time with me, cooking healthy meals, laughing and playing, holding my hand as we walked along, holding and hugging on to my neck when we made love.  Gone was the woman I'd given my heart to, given my wedding vows to, given my last name to, all replaced with a Jenika-bot who'd turn her personality around into a manipulative, untruthful woman whose heart was full of hatred and a desire to see me hurt. 

    Something heavy moved around next to me and I felt a breath exhale onto my shoulder.

    "Thachur alarm?" a heavy male voice asked me

     I swallowed and spoke, my own voice heavy with sleep.  "Yeah.  It's, um..."  I picked it up.  "7:25."

    "Whassit, thirty-five minutes we got to get up and get ourselves situated and downstairs?" Chance asked.

    "Yeah."  I reached over and turned it off.

    "Kay," he said with a large and drawn-out yawn.  He sat up, yawned again, stood up, and yawned again.  "I'mma go back to my room.  Holler if ya—aawwwhhhrrr."  He shook his head, patting his yawning mouth.  "Need anything."

    "Think I got things from here," I muttered, sitting up myself.  Somehow, I drug myself up into a vertical position.  "Thanks, Chance, I appreciate everything you..."  I paused to yawn myself.  "Do."

    "Welcome," he said, already halfway through the door.

    I made my way to the bathroom, flipping on the water in the shower.  Waiting for it to warm up, I used the toilet, then brushed my teeth and swallowed a couple of Tylenol to loosen up sore and stiff joints.  There, ought to be warmed up by now.  I eased my way in, letting the hot water warm up my back, run down my body, and coax me awake.  I squeezed a substantial amount of body wash in my hand and washcloth, starting to wash up.  I needed another good squirt before slowly rinsing off, now a giant, six foot three inch soap bubble. I washed and conditioned my hair then flipped off the water, substantially more awake than I had been fifteen minutes ago.  Wrapped up in a towel, I drip-dried while blow-drying my hair, then inserted my contacts.  I actually looked decent despite the fitful night.  I finished drying off and pulled on some clothes, then frowned at my favorite stage boots.  Should I carry them with me?  What was I going to wear tonight?  The current wardrobe could work—I rarely get dressed up for performances—but what if I spilled breakfast or lunch or something on me?  Just because I don't get dressed up for performances doesn't mean I should wear ketchup or something on stage.  I pulled out a second T-shirt, just in case, then a second pair of jeans and laid them on the bed with the stage boots.