Page 63 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

“Jorge. I…I need help.”

Phoenix

Heroes

I’ve been stripped raw.

Gutted.

Eviscerated.

That’s how it feels to have the last shred of hope stolen from your fingers and left with nothing but a void. It isn’t that I was under the illusion that Eli would change, nor did I think, after only a handful of sober days, that he’d be better.

But, fuck, I hoped.

Christmas is bathed in grey energy this year—possibly worse than the previous one. Everyone is at my parents' house except for Oli. I know I need to see him. He’s become the catalyst for every wrong thing in my life without even meaning to be. But that’s the truth. My brother’s addiction, his overdose, and all that came after have shaped me into a jaded man with no love or understanding for anyone in his situation. It might seem stupid to someone else, but to me, I just know that if I can make peace with Oli, then maybe…just maybe I can ride out this shit with Eli.

Maybe Icanmove on.

There’s the pitiful longing inside me that doesn’t want to, that believes I can figure something out. That I’ll be able to understand…forgive, even. I would say that only time will tell, but I’m tired of waiting. Tired of existing like this. But somehow, I guess I still am waiting. I think I always will be, even though I know it’s unhealthy.

Eli and I are toxic. We always have been. Though, despite that, lately I’m beginning to realize that I might be the cancer slowly poisoning us. After all, I’m the reason we crashed last year. I’m the reason he said all those horrible things to me.

I can accept that blame.

“Fe,” Nyxia says, waving her hand in my face.

Shit. I can’t keep zoning out like this.

“Sorry.” I straighten on the back porch. My nephews are throwing a football back and forth in the yard, and Damien and his wife are over by the smoker fucking with the ham.

“You look terrible,” my little sister comments, poking at one of the bags under my eyes. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head. “I’m good. Just beat from the tour.”

She studies me for a moment, not believing my bullshit for a minute, but she won’t call me out. Nyx isn’t a prier thank god. “Think Oli will show?” she asks instead.

“Doubt it.”

“I wish he would. I worry about him.”

“Me too,” I admit. “Feels wrong without him here.”

We lapse into silence, watching my nephews, and it feels like hours pass without me being mentally present. The house is organized chaos as my brother’s kids tear through gifts. I hold my niece for a while, cracking a few smiles because she’s a cute baby, and make small talk with Veronica and my dad. Mom is single-handedly managing the kitchen. Nyx plays Uno with Deke. I’m here, but not.

I keep checking my phone. I don’t know who I wish for more, Eli or my brother. At some point, I go outside to puff my vape and text my bandmates Happy Holidays and all that jazz.

Because I put in effort to wear a dress shirt, my family assumes I’m alright. Then again, I don’t make a big deal and keep forcing out smiles as I need to so I can get through the day before I haul myself back to the apartment and cry myself to sleep. That’s the plan, anyway. The tour starts right after New Year's, and I dread being back out on the road feeling the way I do.

I should be ecstatic because we’re going to Europe.

The metal scene out there is significantly bigger than in the States. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for Dreadful to get recognized on a broader spectrum. This tour could make a career for us. We could behugeafter. But I know we’ll also still be opening for Headhunter. Leon is going to be there for every fucking show. A constant reminder of the shitshow that was these past few months, along with the fact that Eli left me.

Again.

So, yeah. I’m not excited. I’m terrified. Honestly, I'm angry and disgusted with myself…the list is endless. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I rip it out so fast it flies from my fingers into the grass.

“Fuck,” I grunt, snatching it up and unlocking the screen.

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