I felt like a kid again, when the tour started. Playing the bass with everyone, sober and aware and able to bask in the excited screams of the fans felt just like when I was sixteen. I feel at home, with the blinding lights of the stage shining down on me while, once again, I play my bass like I’m making love to it. When we got off stage, I felt like I’d found perfection again. Everyone joked and relaxed in the backstage areas, getting along for the first time in ages. When fans were let in to meet us, I wasn’t too tipsy to listen to them as I would have been during my time of struggle. They fawned over me, asking about my new hairstyle and how Absinthe and I get along after the breakup. It feels nice, to lean back onto the couch, throw my arm around her with the same comfortable confidence I used to have, and insist that we’re good friends after the time we spent apart.

After the fans left, I went early to the tour bus, with the echo of the smile I wore backstage still clinging to my lips. The others wouldn’t take long to join me. I leaned back into the soft seat that I claimed, but a thirst came over me. I searched my seat for my water bottle, but it seemed that I forgot it backstage. Digitalis’ bottle glinted red in the sunlight that seeped through the wide windows and I knew that she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a sip of water.

I made no effort to taste it before it was rushing down my throat, but I stopped when I recognized the spike of vodka underneath the pure flavor of the water. I cringed as I twisted the cap back on and studied the bottle, wondering when she started to drink at work. It was only after a few moments that the disulfiram took effect. I ran outside of the bus before it came, the vomit that rushed up my throat. I miss the trash can by the door and I feel like my insides are trying to get out through my mouth while the drink, and everything else I had inside of me, splattered onto the concrete. I felt pathetic, then, gasping for air as I hyperventilated over the product of my nausea. Hands slid up my back and Absinthe was there.

“What happened?” She asked me, but I can’t catch my breath. She took Digitalis’ bottle from my hands, and I realized that I still held it. I heard her open the bottle and she and Gael, who appeared at some point, smell the bottle.

“This is Digitalis’ bottle, right?” Gael’s voice was flat, with the promise of anger underneath.

“Yeah. I saw her sipping from it on the bus.” Absinthe offered, her voice low as she massaged my back with a hand. My breath was coming easier, then, and Absinthe and I went to the bus to dig for leftover fast food napkins that I can clean my face off with. From the corner of my eye, Digitalis walked out of the concert hall’s back door, giggling at one of the crew. Gael’s gait was direct, like a shooting arrow, as he approached her.

“When did you start bringing liquor along? Didn’t we already have this conversation when we put Asya through rehab?” Gael thrust the bottle at her and she took it with the spark of rage lighting in her eyes.

“I’m not a raging alcoholic, Gael. It’s just to take the edge off. What are you doing sniffing bottles, anyway?” She was already beginning to elevate into the banshee-like shrieking she often used when fighting with someone.

“I wasn’t sniffing bottles. We found out when Asya needed a drink and started throwing up because you’ve loaded that thing with booze.” The manager was peeking out from behind the concert hall door, now, wondering if he should intervene.

“It’s his own damn fault for guzzling down everyone else’s shit, Gael! I don’t know why I’m the one being scolded for his latest attempt to get drunk!”

There it was: The Shriek. Gael’s hands quivered with rage while Digitalis’ grip on her bottle got tight enough for her knuckles to go white. I pretended that I didn’t hear their words, ignoring the flush of shame that crept up my neck.

“Alright, people. Let’s calm down.” The manager slithered out from behind the door when it looked like they might start throwing things. “We can find better ways to handle the situation than yelling at each other.” The manager took the bottle, delicate to avoid aggravating Digitalis, and then he looked up at me where I stood with Absinthe on the bus stairs, napkins still crumpled in my hands as I waited to find a way to the concert hall’s trash can. “Asya, how are you feeling?” He asked, realizing that I’d been sickened by the drink.

“Well, I’m glad that my meds are working.” I gave them a forced smile and a thumbs up. “Definitely don’t want another one of her cocktails.” Digitalis laughed at the way I joked, almost immediately diffusing.

“Be nice, Asya. We can’t all be pros.” She made a crack at me before sliding past me to get onto the bus and away from the scene of her fight with Gael. The manager shrugs and turns back to order the crew around. Gael’s shoulders remain tense, however, and I notice the quiet rage left over in his eyes when I go back out to throw away my trash.

When we’re all on the bus, I notice that the tenseness in his shoulders doesn’t go away. I decide that it might be best to hide the remaining side effects of my reaction to her vodka. I don’t want him to become angrier about the incident if there’s nothing it will do to help anyone. I close my eyes and rest when my vision goes odd, doing my best to ignore the headache that took seed in my head. Absinthe offers to play a time passing game with me, but I find that my arms feel a little noodle-like and I tell her that I want to take a moment to relax from exerting myself at the concert so that she doesn’t question my unwillingness to play. When I don’t get off the bus at one of the rest stops, the manager comes over to sit beside me.

“Are you alright? You haven’t looked very good since you got back onto the bus.” He inquired and I opened my eyes to give him a reassuring smile.

“Just side effects of my meds. They make me sick when I have alcohol. Just don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t want everyone to get too tense. It was my mistake for drinking her stuff, anyway.” I sighed and closed my eyes again when my headache started to worsen because of the way they failed to perceive the world the way they were supposed to.

“Do you think you’ll make it to the after-party tonight?”

“No. I think I’ll just go to sleep in my hotel room. I’m so tired.”

“Alright.” The manager rose from where he sat beside me and went to the rest station with the others. I lay back in my seat and hope that we’ll arrive at our rooms soon.

On stage, everything was going well. I was glad to feel the full force of the adoration that the crowds bathed me in when I stood in the light. It was only when the concerts ended and the nights went on after them that I found myself feeling empty. After every concert, we threw a party to treat ourselves and the fans that we let in. During every party, I found myself alone on the couch feeling awkward and unsure of what to do. Without the drink, parties didn’t have nearly the same appeal. I felt like I didn’t belong there anymore. I’d give the fans that came to the party some time with me, and it felt like a lot of effort to keep smiling and laughing and talking all night. I began to wonder if I could handle limiting myself to just a drink or two, but I shook the temptation away each time, remembering that my meds wouldn’t let me drink anyway.

I wasn’t sure when it started, but each party I noticed that Gael smiled and laughed with the same female fan each night. The first few, I thought that maybe she was merely persistent. After a while, though, I came to realize that he was genuinely enjoying her company and they seemed to be getting closer by the day. I couldn’t take the pangs of jealousy that I felt, the only feeling I had within the empty longing I suffered when I went to the after parties. I found myself leaving early each night, going to my hotel room to bathe and stare into the darkness of the unfamiliar hotel rooms. I was haunted by that girl. What did she mean to Gael? How long have they known each other this way?

It’s another night, and another party, when I feel myself wishing for some kind of distraction again. I’m on another couch, trying not to see Gael and the girl leaning towards each other in engaged conversation. They’re across the room from me, rather small in my vision with the plethora of other people and events around them. Still, I find that the vision of them takes over everything. I’m unable to avert my gaze. I find myself wishing that I held one of the red cups everyone else drank out of, wishing for the artificial joy it may have offered me. It’s when I see Gael and the girl leave together, hand in hand, that everything implodes.

I’m going back to my own room, feeling like I’m falling in on myself. My legs feel limp and unwilling as I force each step towards my room. I hear the click of high heels behind me, but I ignore it for now. It’s only when they follow me into my hotel room that I look up to see who has decided to join me. Digitalis stands behind me, looking curious and conflicted.

“Why do you look so upset?” Her voice is unusually soft and sympathetic. Even so, I turn away from her. I don’t need whatever she’s going to throw at me right now.

“Go away, Digitalis,” I mutter, sitting onto the bed with my face in my hands.

“Oh, don’t be so bitter.” She stands over me. “You keep glaring at Gael and that girl. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” Her voice is teasing beneath the carefree laugh she makes, but I can almost feel the change in her when she sees how I deflate at her words. She stops laughing and there’s an ominous quiet. “You… You do love him, don’t you?”

“It’s torture to see him with her.” I breathe. “What does she mean to him?” My voice is thick with emotion and Digitalis seems gentler when she sits beside me. Her hands are unpracticed and awkward when she lays them on my shoulders to offer a strange side-to-side hug.

“Do you want to have a couple drinks and forget about him for tonight?” She offers. It’s almost as though she can feel the longing inside of me. I almost accept before I remember the sickness that my meds offer if I drink. I shake my head.

“My pills punish me whenever I drink. I can’t.” My shoulders tense, then, when she suddenly gets up and starts digging through my luggage.

“You mean these?” She asks, prompting me to look up. She’s holding the bottle in her hands and my whole body tightens, nervous. I start to get up, but she pushes me back down onto the bed, holding the bottle high out of reach. “You don’t have to take these, you know. You’re an adult, Asya. You can drink without living at the bottom of the bottle again. I know you can.” I relax to hear her words.

“Are you sure?” I ask, timidly.

“I’ll help you. We can learn how to drink in moderation together. I understand what you’re going through, Asya. Gael and Absinthe never will. They’ve never been addicted to anything. But you and I have. We’re the same and we can help each other.” A moment passes before I respond.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, and a smile spreads across her face.

“We flush these pills. And then we work on learning how to limit your drinking so that you can enjoy it without getting drunk like you always used to.” I take in her words. Part of me says that I should reject her offer, that I can’t handle the risk of drinking again. Part of me warns that I’m in too much of a shaky position to risk it. But then, the temptation overpowers it all. I want to shed this clinical and clean mask they put on me and to feel like me again. I tell myself, it’ll only be a little bit and that can’t hurt me. I tell myself that I can control it this time. I don’t have to be the perfect person they all expect in order to do my job and be their friend.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” I agree, and Digitalis’ excitement radiates out of her.

“Alright! Let’s flush this garbage. How long until it wears off?” She asks, pulling me from the bed to take me to the bathroom.

“Two weeks, apparently.” I cringe and she turns, mirroring my face.

“Ew… Well, we’ll learn to be patient.” She pops the cap off and I watch the white pearls tumble into the water of the toilet bowl. No turning back now. She gestures to the flush lever and I do the honors, watching them all swirl in the water before they disappear forever. “Soon, we can start training you, Asya. And then you’ll be better than someone that has to rely on pills to be responsible.” Her face is alight with excitement, but I can only offer her an unsure smile. Can I really handle trying to drink again?

We start going to my hotel room after parties and I find some comfort when I discover how she understands me. We sit on the couch in my latest hotel room, drinking virgin cocktails.

“Digitalis,” I begin, “You mentioned before that you were an addict, too. What happened with that?” I sip at the drink, bubbly with undertones of cranberry. She smirks.

“I mean, there were years that I abused painkillers.” She sits up a bit straighter and laughs a bit. “Like, I’m surprised no one noticed. I used to constantly be popping those things. Nowadays, I only take them once in a while. I taught myself to control my urges, so I’m not high all the time.”

“Wow. That must have taken a lot of self-control.”

“Well, yeah.” She has a bit of pride in her face before it melts to show a feeling I’d never seen her express before. She had an old kind of loneliness in her eyes. “But… it was hard when we started out. You guys, I mean, the three of you were always friends from the beginning. By the time I came, I didn’t feel like I fit in. I felt alone. I suppose I started popping pills because I felt like an outsider in my own band. That was rough.” She took a long, focused drink before she broke the mood with sudden laughter. “Man, I used to have so much fun with you, though. The best times I ever had were when we were partying together. You were so fun and wild.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you more of a chance when I was sober,” I whisper, feeling guilty. I barely remembered the time I spent with her when I was drunk. And I never knew about the loneliness she suffered.

“That’s okay. Now we can get to know each other for real.” She picked up the TV’s remote and turned on a movie. Neither of us bothered to watch it.

“I… I know how you felt. I always used to feel lonely, too. I mean, I had Gael and Absinthe around, but it always felt like my relationships with them slipped further by the day. I had to keep barriers up with Gael, so he wouldn’t find out about my feelings for him. And he’s always been aloof. He never talks about anything with me. Absinthe, too. She’s supportive and kind, but she won’t lean on anyone so it always felt like our friendship was a little one-sided.” I sigh and remember that everything I said still applies today. Gael hasn’t mentioned anything about the girl to me, the same way he hasn’t discussed anything about his life. Absinthe still shows her care and support, but I don’t feel like I know anything about what’s going on with her either.

“Maybe if we lean on each other, we won’t have to feel lonely.” Digitalis offers. There is a moment of quiet agreement before I feel her hands in my hair. “You know, Asya. You just aren’t you without blue in your hair.” I laugh at the suddenness of her comment.

“Yeah. It’s pretty weird. I’ve felt off about it since they made me go natural for rehab.” She dropped the bits of hair she had in her fingertips.

“They do that in rehab?” She raised an eyebrow, shocked.

“I think it was just the facility I went to. They were all about starting over and going natural. They told me that it would help me ‘redefine’ myself.”

Digitalis snickers.

“Maybe we should redefine you again. Let’s put some of that color back where it belongs.” She stands up from the couch. “Come on. The gas stations around here had some dye kits.”

I smile, her impulsive nature rubbing off on me. So we go together and get some blue dye. We spend the rest of the night learning how to add streaks of it into my hair.

The tour was coming to an end. The makeup crew threw a tantrum at me for my home dye-job and we spent hours before the final show fixing it up to make it look perfect for the spotlights. Despite their criticism, the job Digitalis and I did wasn’t all that bad. We finally made it back to the studio after the last concert. Gael commended the band and crew and we celebrated with sparkling juice. It was torment again, seeing that Gael brought that girl to the studio to celebrate with us. It would have been stupid of me to think that she was merely a fling at this point. The way they held hands and smiled together, and the fact that he’d brought her here, made it obvious to me that they were together.

I go to my apartment for the first time, barely able to enjoy the experience because of how torn up the sight of Gael and his girlfriend made me feel. Digitalis entered, the rustle of plastic following her. She set bulging bags full of bottles onto my coffee table and popped a party popper, the clean dark tile littered with cheap colorful squares of paper.

“Happy two weeks!” She shouted, reminding me that my pills wore off by today. I could only offer the smallest of grins and she nudged my arm as though to urge me to cheer up. “Look! I got all of the best stuff. Your favorite whiskey’s in here, and I found a ton of things for cocktails that you might like.” I watched nervously as she spread the bottles out on the table. When she runs out of space, she moves them all to the kitchen counter and my apartment starts to feel like a brand new bar. The fear sinks in.

“What if I fall back into this again?” I ask, anxiously.

“Don’t worry. We’ll teach you self-control, remember? Besides, I saw the way you looked when Gael was strutting around with that chick. Come on. Just have one drink and then see how you feel about it.” I eye the bottle of whiskey, hoping that my pills really are worn off.

That sickening feeling that I got the first time I drank after rehab came to my memory and I waited for it, nervous. I waited for my breaths to go beyond my control, for my stomach to lurch, and for my head to swim in a confused mess while my limbs grew weaker and weaker. It didn’t come. Instead, all that I felt was that familiar feeling of alcohol evaporating in my mouth, a light burning in my throat followed by an almost sweet taste clinging to the back of my throat like syrup. My stomach had a warmth inside of it, now, and a thrill of lightness shot up my neck to make my head feel like it was beginning to float. I loved this feeling. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.

Digitalis cheers while I down a little more, the rush in my head making me feel dizzy in the most wonderfully familiar way. I put the bottle down, then, and Digitalis claps.

“See? I told you that you could do it!” She danced over to the couch and we opened up a pint of ice cream. I sat beside her and we spent the night as we did before the pills wore off. She sighs, happy. “If we start slow like this, you’ll be a responsible drinker in no time.”

Still, I glanced back at the counter covered in bottles. How long would it take for me to drink them all if I lost myself again? How easy would it be to relapse if I already filled my home with temptation?

“You know, Asya. I really want to meet a guy.” Digitalis blurted with a mouthful of ice cream, “That tour left me full of pent-up needs. Maybe it’ll make you feel better, too. Maybe you’ll forget about Gael for a bit. We can go to the bar tomorrow and pick up some guys together, won’t that be nice?”

I looked away from the kitchen counter and the memory of Gael’s girlfriend’s hand entangled with his pushed itself to the foreground. At that moment, I thought that maybe as long as I was able to rein in my urges a little, I could afford to sleep around a bit. We watch movies and laugh until the ice cream is gone and we’d fallen asleep together on the couch.

It’s my first time in a bar for over a year, now. Digitalis wastes no time in engaging a rather attractive guy at the end of the bar. I order a drink to manufacture the confidence to find a guy for myself. My head is lighter when I notice someone that catches my eye. We exchange a few interested looks before I make my way to him. It starts with the drink he buys me, then with a brush of his hand on my knee, which continues higher until he’s feeling me through the front of my pants. I turn to kiss him, then, and we have another drink together. Digitalis comes over with the guy she met and we all laugh and drink until, somehow, we’re back at her private apartment with the guys we met and two guys I don’t remember meeting.

We’re all in her bedroom, not a single garment among the six of us, and I am overwhelmed by the mouths and hands that I feel on my body. The guy I met is on top of me, and I focus on his intense gaze. I feel fingernails grating on my wrist, a hand jerking back and forth rhythmically. It’s all a blur after that, and I wake in a pile of naked bodies. Two are missing, but I can hear someone in the kitchen frying something on the stove. I grasp my forehead when the hangover starts to get to me. Digitalis and one of the men we brought home are making out together and I put on my underwear before I greet the guy cooking breakfast. As I pour myself a glass of water, I hope with all of my heart that I’m not relapsing.