The diner we chose wasn't the most exquisite. The chair cushions had been ripped open in places with the cotton interior jutting out. The floor was slick with grease and dropped food. An old, battered TV hung on the wall that had to be at least a decade was displaying the local news on its grainy screen. The place was certainly unkempt, but we were exhausted from walking and famished and this was the closest joint we could find.
We took a booth by the wall, adjacent from the television. The surface of the table was streaked with water, I supposed it had just been wiped down from the previous customers.
A waitress with greasy yellow hair twisted into a tight bun placed menus in front of us.
"Can I get you kids something to drink?" Her voice was small, she spoke from her throat.
"We'll both take waters," I said, glancing at Tyler for his approval, who nodded. The waitress scurried away to fetch us our drinks and Tyler sighed heavily.
"This place is shady," he muttered, scanning the room. "I hope the food's okay."
"Yeah, I agree, but we've been walking for hours. I don't think I could take another step. Plus, we need energy."
He nodded and flicked a stray crumb onto the floor.
I cleared my throat. "So, uh, if you don't mind me asking... How did you end up here?"
Tyler bowed his head. "We were playing a show in Chicago. Afterwards, I began to experience vivid hallucinations in the dressing room. I used to have them as a kid, but they suddenly returned without me expecting it. I completely lost control and I sat on the floor.... I started screaming. I completely lost all perceptions of reality and I became trapped in my head. I haven't had anything like that for a while, but my manager was too concerned and he said I needed help.
"It's been so long since I saw Josh... I really miss him. I never got to say goodbye. He would know what to say. He'd make me happy again."
I tried to force words of comfort out of my throat, but I knew nothing could amount to the measure of anguish and misery he had experienced. The band's tour had to be postponed because of this, and all he wanted was to make his fans happy.
"Writing music was the best way to fight it off," he breathed, "and now I don't even have that. I miss Josh."
I slid my hand across the table to meet Tyler's, whose hands were adamant and cold. "I miss Patrick, too. It's okay, we'll see them again. I promise."
I knew I was foolish to make promises at this point. I promised Patrick I would get better. I was far too busy beating the turmoil of Ashley's suicide to even try. I didn't care. I could live with this. It couldn't torment me any longer, because I had accepted it as a part of me. I didn't feel suicidal, and I hadn't for weeks. I knew I had reasons to stay, for people who needed me. They were depending on me, and though I required it as well, I had to offer what I had.
***
The food was okay. Better than the food at the hospital, but obviously not five course, but my standards were low anyway. I paid for the meal, and as we were on our way out, the display on the old television caused my ears to prick up as I stared at the monitor with burning eyes. My heart, now in my throat, fluttered intensely as my knees began to quiver. It took every bit of my strength to keep them from giving out from under me.
"Melanie? What's wrong?" Tyler touched my arm gently.
I didn't dare speak. I lifted one finger and pointed towards the monitor. There, on the television, was a newscast. A newscast discussing the escape of two mentally ill patients, a male and a female.
