It’s been three days since Alissa left, and it still doesn’t feel real. That may be because I haven’t left the house since then. Or it could be because I’ve done nothing but drink since that night.

I lie on the couch in my boxers and stained up t-shirt, just staring at the ceiling. No music plays. It was at first, but I can’t take it. It seems like every song is written just for me, rubbing it in that I lost the love of my life. When I finally have enough, I throw my shoe at the stereo. It now lays in a busted heap of plastic.

My dad comes over every day since I haven’t been showing up for work. Every day, he finds me in the same spot. There’s a knock on the door, and I don’t bother to move or to call out. It’s probably just my dad anyway.

After a long series of knocking, the door opens, and Sean sticks his head in. “Hey, your dad said I’d have to let myself in. I wasn’t expecting you to be sitting on the couch though. What’s up?”

“Alissa’s gone,” I slur.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, sitting in the chair.

“My dad tell you?”

His eyes bounce around from one thing to the next. “Yeah, your dad told me.”

It’s his tell. I sit up. “You’re fucking lying. How did you know?”

“What? I’m not lying.”

“I’ve known you since we were kids. I know when you’re lying.” I put the bottle of Jack down on the coffee table. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

He stands up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was you. You slept with Alissa.” I take a step toward him.

He shakes his head, and a small laugh falls from his lips. “Look, man. I just came here to make sure your ass is getting on that tour bus.”

“Tour bus? I’m not going on fucking tour. Why doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Yeah, but that was when you were with Alissa. Now that she’s gone…”

“Now that she’s gone, so is everything else. I have nothing left to live for.” I push my hair away from my face. “And you’re the one who took her from me. I told you that you’d regret fucking me over.” I dive for him, tackling him to the floor. He’s beneath me, but I’m so drunk, I can’t get my shit together.

He’s strong, a lot stronger than I ever imagined. I swing and land a weak hit to his mouth. It bleeds on impact. He shoves me off of him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I stay on the floor, leaning against the wall. “Alissa said she cheated on me, and that’s why she was leaving. The only person it could’ve been is you!”

He shakes his head and wipes at his busted lip. “Fuck you.”

“So, you admit it?” I stand and hold my arms out at my side.

He shoves me back, and in my drunken state, I go with it. I let myself fall, needing to feel some physical pain to mask the emotional pain. I land hard on the floor, my head spinning from the impact.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering to ask. You already have your mind made up anyway.” He turns to walk out the front door.

“Fuck you, Sean. We’re done. I don’t ever want to see your face again,” I scream from my spot on the floor.

The door slams, and I don’t move. I just lie on the floor, waiting.

Waiting for her to come back.

Waiting to die.

Whichever comes first.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, my head is pounding, and my stomach is rolling. It’s just as bad as the morning after my birthday, if not worse. I push myself up and take a long, hot shower. I sit in the bottom of the tub and let the water pour over me while I try sweating the rest of the alcohol out of my system.

When the water runs cold, I step out and wrap my towel around my waist.

I place my hands on the sink and look at myself in the mirror. I don’t even know who’s staring back at me anymore. My long, wet hair hangs over my bloodshot eyes. I have dark circles under them, and my cheeks seem hollow. I guess that’s what I get for going on a three-day drinking binge.

Getting irritated just from looking at myself in the mirror, I raise my hand and punch the glass. It shatters and falls to pieces all around me. A sharp, stabbing pain gets my attention, and I look at my hand to find a large piece of the mirror protruding out from between my knuckles.

I pull the piece out, and blood pours from the wound, dripping into the white sink that’s filled with broken glass.

“Fuck!” I grab a wash cloth and run it under the cold water before applying it to my hand. I apply pressure and sit on the toilet, getting dizzy from sight of the blood. When I pull the cloth away, at least a dozen tiny cuts and nicks are also bleeding.

Fed up with acting like a baby, I pour alcohol on my hand and wrap an Ace Bandage around it to stop the bleeding.

I leave the bathroom and the mess for another day.

After I dress, I head to the kitchen for some food. I find a half-eaten foot long sandwich, and I take it out. Tossing it on the table, I grab a warm beer from beside the fridge and sit down. I pop the top and take a long drink, letting the warm bubbles wash down my dry throat.

I turn the sandwich over to unwrap it and find a sticky note. It reads, “Dane, eat lunch. I’ll be back soon. Love, Alissa”

Seeing the note only pisses me off. I throw the sandwich as hard as I can into the trash can and take my beer back to the couch.

I sit and look at my guitar, but don’t dare to touch it. All I can think about is that stupid song. Why would I do that to myself? Why pick an awesome song to be tainted? Without meaning to, the lyrics start playing in my head. It only drives me crazy. Why did she do this to me? Why did she leave, and why won’t Sean fucking own up to it?

I should’ve seen this shit coming and prepared myself, but Sean? Fucking Sean? He doesn’t have anything I don’t have. He’s a fucking pussy. Why pick me a year ago just to let it end like this? To cheat on me with him?

How could I have even loved her? She did nothing but use me.

I finish the beer and go to get another. After I grab the beer, I’m passing by the table when I see something tucked away between the salt and pepper shakers.

I stop and study the piece of paper. Was that there before? I grab the note and take it back to the couch. With my unopened beer in my lap, I unfold the paper and read the note.

That’s when I understand.

She didn’t leave me because she cheated on me. She left because she thought she was holding me back.

How could she think that? I told her time and time again she was all I wanted. I still don’t want anything else. Doesn’t she know that any achievement I have in life will be nothing without her? She’s what made my life great. Not my band or the music we play.

I’ve always enjoyed playing music. I love the rush I get when a crowd watches my every move, when women dance in front of me, hoping to get my attention. But now that she’s gone, I don’t give a shit anymore.

My reason to care is gone. She was the one I played for. She was the reason I worked so hard.

I mean, yeah, I want to make it big, but not for me. For her.

The night she left, the guy in the suit was with a record label. But then I noticed she was gone. When we took our break, I left and didn’t come back. We could’ve had our own deal right then, but I passed on that just for her.

I didn’t know it at the time, but when Mark and Zach came looking for me later that night, they had good news. The guy with the record label approached them and gave them his card. He wanted us to come into the studio and record. But none of that meant anything without her.

It still doesn’t. I don’t want that life, not unless she’s by my side.

Since that night, I haven’t seen the band. I told them I wasn’t interested in signing a record deal. I don’t even want to play anymore. Without her, my life is nothing.

What good is getting your dream if you have nobody to share it with?

I lie around the house doing nothing but drinking for a week. Until my dad finally comes in, throwing around his weight.

I’m on the couch, bottle of Jack in my hand when he storms through the door. He takes the bottle without a word to me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, sitting up and watching as he walks through the kitchen to the sink.

“This shit has got to stop, Dane.” He pours the bottle down the drain.

I run over to him, needing to stop him. That’s the only thing that makes the pain go away. It numbs that overwhelming feeling of my heart breaking. “Stop!” I reach for the bottle. But once it’s emptied, he throws it down in the sink, and the empty bottle shatters.

He grabs me by the shirt and pushes me against the wall. “You will get the fuck up, shower, and go to fucking work. The world won’t stop just for you. Get your shit together.”

I shove against him and stalk back to the living room. “Fuck you! You don’t know shit about what I’m going through. You got to marry the love of your life. She didn’t fucking leave you.”

“No? You don’t think she left me? She left me with two kids I had no idea how to raise. I don’t know what you’re going through?” He lets a small laugh fall from his lips as he shakes his head. “The world didn’t stop for me, and it won’t stop for you. She’s just a girl, Dane, not your life. You will survive this. You just have to try.”

I fall back onto the couch “How’d you do it? What got you through?” Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. How did she get so much power over me?

He sits down beside me. “I had a good week of binge drinking, quite like you’re doing now. Then one day, I realized this isn’t the way I want to live my life. I needed to be a man, raise my children, and do right until I can join her.”

“I won’t get to join her. She’s gone.”

He nods his head, understanding that the love of my life didn’t die, she willingly left me. “I know it’s quite different, but that doesn’t mean you can roll over and die. You live your life.”

“She was my life, Dad. I did everything for her.”

“And whether you realize it or not, what she did, she did for you.”

I practically snort and roll my eyes. “That’s bullshit.”

He levels his eyes on me. “She believes in you. She put your wellbeing before her own.”

“Do I look like I’m doing better without her?”

“You should be taking every opportunity you can get. How many chances do you think you’ll get in a lifetime, Son? She knows what you could become, and she took herself out of the equation because you couldn’t see past her.”

I look over at him. “How do you even know this?”

“I just know. I know I’ve been wrong, but I’ve also been right. Don’t look at this like a punishment. Look at it like a chance you never thought you’d get.” He stands and walks over to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turns to face me. “You’ve had your time. Tomorrow, it’s time to come back to work. And you better be sober and not hungover.”

I don’t reply as he walks out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I know my dad’s probably right. He’s always right. I know I have to get up, dust myself off, and live my life without my heart. But one more night of self-loathing will be fine. I’ll go to work tomorrow. I’ll continue living. But music, that’s done for me. No more band. No more chances. That isn’t something I want without Alissa.

* * *

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months. I still haven’t seen her. I do what I promised my dad I would: I get up and go to work. Nothing more.

Every day after work, I come home and lie on the couch while drinking myself to sleep. She hasn’t come back for me, even though I’m not on tour or with my band that managed to get a record deal without me. Someone new sings and plays with them in my place now. I haven’t heard from them since.

For several weeks now, I’ve been getting these random phone calls. When I answer, nobody’s on the other end. Just silence. It’s her. I know it. I hear her breathing. I beg her to come back every time. But she never answers. She never says anything. Each and every time she hangs up on me, I feel the weight of her decision all over again. The sound of her breathing is something I know like the back of my hand. I’ve spent too many nights holding her against me, listening to her breathe, letting it lull me into a deep sleep. I know it’s her.

When I pick up the phone, I talk to the silent presence on the other end. It’s the only connection I have left to her. I tell her that I didn’t go on tour when Busted Lip showed up. I tell her my band got signed without me. I tell her that I’m doing nothing but waiting for her to return. Because it all means nothing without her. I tell her I still love her, and I understand why she left. But none of it makes a difference.

I haven’t seen Sean either. I don’t go back to finish high school. I decide to skip my senior year and work full-time at the bar. I feel lost. Like I’m floating through life, waiting for her to come back. Or waiting to die. I don’t even care which anymore. Life isn’t worth living without her.

I’m alone almost all the time, and the depression is getting harder and harder to crawl out of. So is the bottle of Jack that’s almost permanently attached to my hand.

I drink more than I ever have before, and I almost always have a cigarette burning.

I drink to forget.

I drink to remember.

Then, when the memories are at their strongest, when I can almost feel her like she’s sitting next to me again, I drink to go to sleep, so I can repeat the process all over again.

I find peace when I’m drifting off to sleep, when I can feel her lying next to me. This heat covers me like a blanket, I can smell her scent, and I can hear her deep, even breathing. As long as I don’t reach out and try to touch her, I can pretend she’s lying next to me, allowing me to find peace in my dreams. Dreams where she’s mine again.

* * *

As time passes, everything seems to get easier. The pain still hasn’t gone away though. I fear it’s something I’m just going to have to learn to live with. Instead of leaving me completely, it leaves a gaping hole inside of me. A deep, dark hole that isn’t ever satisfied with the girls I bring home. A hole so big and deep, it’s impossible to fill.

I go on dates, never with the intention of finding love. More like the intention of getting laid, masking the pain with someone else for a while. I’ve gone on more dates than I can count, but I still haven’t found a girl that can even compare to Alissa.

Every day I go a little longer without thinking about her. Some days, I go through the whole day without her crossing my mind, like loneliness is an old friend of mine. I find comfort in it, but when I lie down to go to sleep, there she is, still locked away deep in my subconscious.

I’m sure tonight will be no different. I lie back on the couch and focus all my attention on the movie I’m watching. I don’t want to think about work, the band, or Alissa. I just keep my eyes straight ahead. When I catch my mind wandering, I snap it back to the TV.

A knock on the door pulls me out of the movie, and I stand from the couch and twist the doorknob. It’s Mason.

I let the door swing wider, allowing him inside. He walks in, and I slump back down, my eyes on the TV. “What’s up?” I ask him.

He sits down by my feet. “Nothing. Haven’t really seen you in a while. Figured I’d stop by and see what’s up.”

I force myself up into a sitting position and turn on the lamp. The room fills with light, and I look over at my little brother for the first time in months. He’s really grown. “What have you been up to? You look like you’ve grown a foot since I last seen you.”

He shrugs before leaning back and propping his foot up on the table. “Not a lot. What about you?”

I scoff. “Same old shit,” I say as I stand to go grab a beer.

“Can I have one of those?” Mase asks me when I walk back into the living room with only one.

I look at the can in my hand and back at him. “You want a beer?”

He laughs. “You act like I’ve never drank before.”

My eyebrows raise. “Have you?”

He takes the beer from my hand and pops the top, taking a long drink. “Of course, I have. I’m seventeen now.”

I grab another from the fridge and sit down. “I know how old you are. I’m just surprised you’re drinking. You wouldn’t go near the stuff when I lived at home.”

“That was before I knew how much fun it was.” He tips the beer and takes another drink.

“So, how are things with you and that girl you were seeing?”

His eyebrows draw together. “What girl?”

“The one you lost your virginity to, despite how hard I tried to stop you.”

“We broke up. Fuck, I’ve been through three more since then.”

I turn and look at him. “Three? Damn, you’re starting to sound like me.”

He rolls his ice-blue eyes. “I didn’t sleep with all of them. One I took on a date, one I messed around with, and one I bang when I feel like it. It’s all casual. No more girlfriends. Not for a while anyway.”

“Why’s that? Did she break your heart?” I tease him.

He shakes his head before taking a drink. “No, other way around actually. I didn’t mean to fuck it up, but I did. Now, I feel guilty as shit. I’m never cheating on another girl in my life. It’s just not for me.”

“You cheated on her? With who?”

He finishes off his beer and sets the empty can on the table. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? She trusted me, and I fucked it all up. I mean, I didn’t love her, but I still didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Have you ever been in love, Mason?”

“No. And based on the way she hates me now, I don’t think I want to. It just looks painful to me.”

I nod, not wanting to let him know about how love fucked me over. I’m supposed to be the big brother — the one who has wisdom to pass along, the one who can’t be hurt.

“So, what’s the plan, Dane?”

I look at him, confused. “The plan?”

“Yeah, you know. You passed on the whole tour/record deal thing. What are you going to do?”

I shrug as I let out a long breath. “Fuck if I know. There’s not much I can do. I dropped out of school. My band signed a record deal without me, not that I want anything to do with music.”

Mason stands and grabs another beer from the fridge before walking back and taking his seat. After a long drink, he levels his eyes on me. “What happened to you? You used to want to get out of this town. All you wanted to do was play music and now, you don’t care about it anymore?”

I scoff. “Nope, I’m done with it all.”

“Why did you turn down the record deal and the tour?”

I set my beer down on the table and lean forward. “I just didn’t want it anymore. It’s one of those things you think you want until you get it. Then you realize how wrong you really were.”

“That makes no fucking sense.”

I shake my head and fall back against the couch. “It is what it is.”

Mason stands and looks down at me. “I don’t know what happened to my brother, man. You used to be cool. Now you’re just a fucking mess. Pull yourself together and get over whatever it is.” The anger rolls off him in waves.

At first, I’m a little shocked. When did Mason grow up so much? He went from a babbling pre-teen that couldn’t talk to girls to telling me to grow up? I laugh at the whole situation.

“Maybe you’re right. Nothing I can do about it now, is there?”

“I’ll tell you what you can do. You can start helping us out a bit more.”

I sit up. “What do you mean?”

Mason brushes his hair from his eyes. “Dad’s not doing so good in case you haven't noticed.”

“What’s going on? Is he sick?”

He falls back into his seat, kicking his foot up on the table again. “He works his ass off. If he’s not running back and forth between the shop and the grill, he’s trying to make these repairs on the house. He’s getting too old to be doing it all. I work myself into the ground trying to give him some rest, but between the house, the shop, and soccer, I’m burnt out. Why don’t you try talking him into making you manager at the grill or something?”

I nod. “Okay, I can do that. I don’t know how much rest that’ll give him though. You know how he is when it comes to me. He’ll probably be more stressed waiting for me to fuck something up.”

“So, don’t fuck up! I came home from practice the other day and found him lying in the yard. He’d passed out from heat exhaustion. He’s going to end up killing himself.”

“Alright. Quit yelling at me. Fuck! When did you get so bossy?”

He laughs. “I guess when I started having to take care of everything.”

“I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow,” I promise.

“Alright. I’m going home. I’ll see you later.” He stands and opens the door.

Before he steps out, I call after him. “Mason.”

“Yeah?” He turns around to face me.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. You’re really growing up.”

He cracks a smile and waves me off as he steps out.

Talking with Mason is good for me. It makes me realize how stupid I’m being. Sure, Alissa is the love of my life. I’m not talking some kind of small town puppy love. I mean, she’s it. I felt it in the pit of my stomach the first day I laid eyes on her. When I lost her, I lost sight of everything else. Everything in my life fell away. I couldn’t see past the hurt and pain losing her brought on. But Mason has put everything into perspective.

Even though she’s gone, I have to push on.

I walk into the grill first thing in morning before anyone else has arrived. I go back into the office and find my dad sitting at the computer. He looks up quickly at me and then back at the screen. “What the hell are you doing here so early?”

I fall into the chair across from his desk. “I was wrong. I’ve been stupid, and I should’ve listened to you, about all of it. You were right.”

He freezes when he hears those words. Slowly, he spins his chair around to face me. “Come again?”

I let out a small laugh. “I’m ready to move on and grow up. I’ve been acting like an immature kid, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been putting in more effort around here. I’m ready.”

He wrinkles his brow and rubs his forehead. “Ready for what exactly?”

“To grow up. I want to help out around here more. I want you to train me to be manager, so you can actually take some time off. You’re killing yourself trying to run two businesses. You can count on me.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, but from what I’ve seen, you’re not ready.”

Anger surges through me, and I stand quickly. “I just told you that I am. Why can’t you ever just trust me?”

His face turns a new shade of red as he stands with me. “I’ve known you your whole life. You jump head first into everything you do, and then act surprised when it all blows up in your face. You don’t listen to me, you don’t respect authority, and as soon as you get bored with something, you quit. Not to mention your temper. You really want to prove to me you’re ready? Then pick up some extra shifts around here, respect me, and for the love of God, cut your damn hair! You look like a punk!” He storms around his desk and holds the door open for me.

I don’t say anything as I walk out because he’s right. About everything. Everything but my hair. My hair is awesome.

I storm out of the grill and walk around to the picnic table, pulling my cigarettes from my pocket. Mason’s truck pulls into the parking lot as I’m enjoying a calming smoke. He shuts off the engine and walks over to me.

“What’s going on? You look pissed.”

“Got into it with Dad again.”

“Damn it, Dane. You were supposed to make it easier on him, not harder.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“I fucking tried, Mason. He doesn’t trust me to run his bar. He thinks I’m going to quit the second I get bored with it. He doesn’t think I’m ready.”

“So, prove to him you are. I know you and Dad have always butted heads but swallow your pride for once.” He walks to the shop, leaving me alone with my thoughts.