You're Gone and I've Gotta Stay High

Chapter 3

A perk to my job, just like the one at AP, meant I wasn't needed to show up everyday. Since I had finished my last column already and had nothing to do until ATL this Friday, I decided to stay home today and do some cleansing. By that I meant cleaning my apartment and watching chick flicks with Chinese take out. I pulled my hair into a pony tail and slipped on one of my old Green Day shirts to clean in. I turned on my stereo to find the sound of "Somewhere in Neverland" starting.

I then remembered the night I had put that album in. It was early in the break up and I just wanted to hear his voice on something other than old videos of us. That was too personal. So I had put in their latest album and barely made it 5 songs without sobbing myself to sleep. I listened for a moment but the sound of his voice when he said "Wendy run away with me" triggered too much emotion and I hit stop. I trusted the radio to be my friend and switched the setting on the stereo. "Up next, an oldie but a goodie, "Dear Maria Count Me In!" I slammed my hand down on the buttons and groaned so loudly it echoed. I wasn't going to catch a break. Looks like I was cleaning in silence today.

 My Chinese got delivered right as I was putting my laundry away. I opened it up and started the Breakfast Club. Not exactly a chick flick but it had its sappy moments. I picked at my egg roll as the famous gang sat in detention and John Bender in all his handsome bad boy glory argued with the "dick" himself. I found strange comfort in these movies. Maybe because they reminded me that happy endings could happen or maybe because they were the only time happy endings existed at all. I once believed in a happy ending for me. So much for that. I checked my phone and had a few texts from my old best friend, the punk rock one, Roxy.

"Heard about AG. Call me."

"Val, if you need to talk, I'm here"

"I'm still your best friend"

I paused the movie right as they began to slide through the hallways and called Roxy. Her familiar raspy but feminine in a weird way voice was like guitar feedback to my ears. I loved the chaos of it.

"Hey, glad to hear from you" she said.

"What's up my punk rock babe?" I asked.

Her laugh was so melodious.

"Still rocking my little city bitch! Listen, Jack invited me to that show so I'm on my way to NY and that's how I heard about it. Can I stop by when I get there?" She asked.

I took a deep and dramatic breath.

"I have to review it and interview them after" I admitted.

It was silent for a moment.

"I'll be there at around 9 tonight."

With that, the phone clicked off and I was actually excited to see somebody for the first time in a long time.

 Roxy arrived right as she said she would. I had texted her directions from the airport when she got off the plane. She knocked on the door and I opened it to see the same person I left behind a few months ago. Her short red hair was still a hot mess in a way that made her look dangerous and sexy. Her brown eyes were still underlined by heavy black liner and her lips matched her hair. Her outfit was her typical t shirt and ripped up jeans. She was still the same person and that made me happy and sad. Happy to know that not everyone changed and sad that I did. But she still smiled when she saw me and embraced me in a hug.

"I've missed you so much" her voice broke and I could feel myself on the verge of tears too.

"You look so different" she said taking in my appearance as we entered my apartment.

"You look exactly the same" I said with a small sad laugh.

"It's only been a couple of months Val... but looking at you it seems like years"

 We sat in my living room and I confessed to her everything I've been too scared to say to anyone. I told her about moving out here. I told her about the minute I stripped myself into something new. I even told her about getting high. What I didn't tell her was that I don't get high to forget, I do it to remember. But the more memories that tick by, the closer I get to the one that I don't want to remember. But sitting here and telling Roxy about it was so easy. It was even easy to cry. She touched my knee and told me it would be ok. No one has said that to me since Alex. I realized in that second that by cutting out Alex and my punk roots, I cut out the only people who ever cared me. I cut out myself.