It's like I've woken up in some alternate universe.
Everything is so right, that it's wrong.
I woke up on time today, and even after crying all night, my head didn't hurt. My skin was glowing from Paul's skincare. Axl managed to slip out of bed and into the closet just in time for me to answer my wakeup call outside the hotel room door (also courtesy of Paul.) I made it to the show on time, still in my pajamas. My skin had no red marks when I got into my first outfit. For the first time all week, I walked out onto the runway and didn't feel like I was going to dry heave. The entire show went right to plan. We even finished early. I made it back to the hotel just as the boys woke up. We went to the venue, and they played the show. They made it onstage on time. There were no technical difficulties, no broken guitar strings, no hecklers ready to piss Axl off.
Duff has been sober. As sober as he can be. He slept. He's eaten. He's showered. Those shadows under his eyes have lessened. His brows sit higher, his laughter is upbeat. All night, he's been telling stupid jokes and recalling old embarassing stories that even I have trouble remembering. The show doesn't even seem to have worn him out. He looks good. Like Michael. Michael who taught me to play the drums, Michael who makes me pancakes every Saturday morning the way he learned at the restaurant. Michelle's Michael. My Michael.
"Chas, you good?"
When I look up at him, it's like a miracle. I feel convinced that something happened last night. My tears cleansed our world. They washed away the rain. Axl saw and heard me, but so did God. The universe. A miracle. . .
"I'm good," I confirm. I smile as I say it, wishing I could tell him more. 'You look like you again.' 'I missed you.'
"Good," Duff smirks. "Thought I was gonna have to shake you back to Earth. You've always done that, you know," He gestures towards the ceiling with his hand. "Dream. Even when you were really little. I remember, Alice got scared once, because you were sitting in front of our T.V., watching it, but not really. She thought you had gone catatonic at age six."
"Pulled an Axl," I muse.
At the mention of his name, he turns around from where he stands, talking to Slash.
"What about me, Chas?" His voice is deep and threatening, loud over the music from the radio and everyone's voices. But his smile? That smirk tells me and everyone involved he's kidding.
"Nothing!" I answer quickly. Snappy. We've kept our distance today, but not as much as yesterday. It would be hard to, with how I've spent nearly all day with the boys. Well, all of their day. They rolled out of bed just as I started thinking about lunch.
A miracle. . .
"That's what I thought," Axl nods, before going back to whatever he and Slash were talking about.
Duff laughs, and I can't help it as I lean back into the same leather sofa as last night. The room feels so much lighter today. The trash can isn't full of condoms. It has pizza boxes in it today. Empty salad containers, too. I couldn't believe it as I watched all the guys eat at least a little bit of green vegetables.
A miracle. . .
I'm thinking they all must've had a good night's rest, a reset. Everyone seems better, not just Duff. Even Axl, who I truly thought couldn't get any better. But he did. He did, and it's been glorious to witness. Maybe my crying was cathartic for him, too. My soul must already be so interwined with his, that my release was enough for both of us. He has more bounce in his step, more roses blossoming in his cheeks, in his smile that he's worn permanently on his lips all day. Playful and light, teasing. Not afraid like yesterday, all timid.
