Track 1: Side A

Whiskey and Regret

 

Lincoln

The icy wind bites at my skin, but another swig of whiskey helps to chase the chill away. The air smells like snow. I do a mental calculation and realize it’s only two weeks until Christmas.

When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. This time of year felt so magical and joyful. The smell of cookies baking in the oven, the twinkling lights of the tree, making a wish list of presents you hope Santa will bring.

Another gulp from the bottle clenched in my numb fist. It stopped burning on the way down about a half hour ago, right around the time the far-off city lights started to blur.

There’s no magic now. My kitchen is empty of anyone baking any sort of treats. I can’t remember the last time I bothered to get a tree. They’re not much fun to decorate all on your own. Plus, what’s the point if no one else will be there to enjoy it with you? As for a wish list...there’s only one thing I’d put on that list and it’s something—someone—I had and tossed away too many years ago.

My legs are unsteady under me as I walk to the edge of my balcony to look down at the street below.

Certainly the fall would kill me. But who would care?

I can see the headline now…Rock star Jumps to Death from New York City Apartment.

But would they really care?

My bandmates might’ve cared a few years ago, before everything started falling apart, before we were at each other’s throats constantly.

If only I’d known the name of our band—Downward Spiral— would be so apt when we chose it. Maybe it was a bad omen, or a jinx. Maybe we were just cocky little pricks who were on top of the world and didn’t think anything could ever knock us off.

I wobble as I lean farther over the railing, testing the sturdiness.

I won’t really jump. That’s what I tell myself. That’s what I always tell myself when I get into these dark moods.

I try to lift the bottle to my lips again, but it slips through my fingers. I watch as it plummets downward and then shatters on the sidewalk below.

I teeter again against the railing before taking a step back and reaching into my pocket for a cigarette. I don’t even normally smoke, just when I’m drunk and sad.

I can only imagine what Jace would say if he could see me now.

This was supposed to be your dream, asshole. What are you doing wasting it?

“I’m not wasting anything,” I argue with the apparition in my mind. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a multi-million-dollar penthouse, I own multiple sports cars, and I fuck whoever I want…I’m living the fucking dream.”

In my mind, Jace offers a snort of derision and fixes me with one of his looks that always had my balls shriveling. One of the looks I only got when I was in serious trouble with him.

Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re happy.

I lift the cigarette to my lips and light it, dragging in a lungful of harsh smoke.

I can’t even lie to my own imagination.

I watch my finger trace the long scar running down my left wrist. I can’t feel the rough, raised skin because I’ve been sitting out in the cold too long, but I’ve long since memorized the feeling of it.

The razor to my wrist was my second, and most nearly successful, suicide attempt. I can still remember the quiet peace that settled over me as I laid on the floor of my bathroom and watched my blood flow between the cracks of my white marble tile. Everything got soft around the edges, and the only thing I could think was that nothing in life ever turned out how you expected it to, so what was the point?

If being a rock star couldn’t make me happy, surely nothing ever would.

Except…

One thing used to make me happy.

His face flashes behind my eyelids as I lean back in my lounge chair on my freezing balcony.

I can still see him clear as day when I close my eyes. I can picture the moss green eyes gazing up at me with lust, anger, love, hope…we were together long enough that I saw all those emotions and so many more. I can still count the freckles on his nose, the ones that only appeared in late July when his first sunburn would fade. I can still feel his lips against mine, my arms around him, my face in the crook of his neck.

Growing up, Jace was my happy place.

Nine months out of the year I was counting down to the three summer months my family would spend at our lake house, three months I would get to spend with Jace.

Promise we’ll be together forever, Linc?

The last words he ever spoke to me echo in my ears. I didn’t have the heart to lie to him that night, knowing what I was planning as soon as he was asleep. Instead of answering him, I just kissed him soundly and tucked him closer to my chest.

A choked sob escapes as I open my eyes long enough to flick my cigarette into a small bucket I have out here for that very purpose. Then, they fall closed again, and I revel in the numbness inside and out.

Some part of my brain registers that I need to get inside, out of the cold, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

Somewhere in the distance, there’s a pounding, maybe someone shouting my name. I don’t know, and still, I don’t care.

All I want is for the pain to stop. All I want is to turn back time ten years and make a different choice.