Hold Me Now - Alive and Kicking

"Whatever." I said. "I'm taking a month off this stuff anyways. But I promise I'll have the cash when you see me next ok?"

"Harrison!" Derek pinched his nose. "Dude. You have a problem." He mumbled.

"Why would you give a shit?" I sat down on the roof, enjoying the sun. I squinted at him. "I don't have a problem." I could feel that optimism bubbling up. "And if I did, I'm just lining your wallet."

"Not when you owe me $1200." Derek sat down beside me. He sighed. "A month off? Good. You need it."

"$1200?" I blinked. Fuck. Worse than I'd thought. By a long shot. I stared at Derek and bit my lips. There was no fucking way I was gonna manage to get that together.

"$1200." He confirmed. I stared at my shoes.

"Fuck me and call it even?" I suggested. Derek laughed and nudged my shoulder.

"Aw. Harrison. No dude."

"Worth a shot." I smiled as I started to roll a joint. I lit it and offered it to him.

"Hey." He took it. "Stick with me ok? Let me know how your month off is going. Just... please don't start offering your body to other random guys. Because some of them will say yes." I nodded absentmindedly. Not the worst deal in the world, I thought privately. Almost a win win actually. "So when's your month off starting?" Derek took the joint off me.

"Today." I grinned at him. "After this." Derek's face fell.

"Oh. That game." He said. "After this joint. Ok." He sighed and stood up. "Call me, buddy." He smiled thinly. "Look after yourself."

"Will do!" I waved goodbye as he scaled the Ivy back to the main road.

------

I was comfortable enough to catch up on the sleep I'd missed last night and fell asleep on my bed fully clothed. I woke up to find someone was holding me. I frowned and blinked blearily. Skinner. He glanced down at me as I stirred and gave me a thin smile. I sat up and yawned.

"Your boss called me." He said. I groaned and threw myself back next to him. His arm fell over my shoulders and he squeezed it gently. "He said he was a bit worried about you and he was standing you down from work for a couple of weeks. So I told him it was all good, we knew, and we'd talked about it, and you were going to try therapy, and NA, and take a break from partying and drugs." He sighed. "You showed up high this morning?"

"I show up high every morning." I snorted and pressed my face into the duvet. "He just decided to start drug testing today." I rolled over. "I don't think I was HIGH." I argued. "Just coming down."

"And you were drunk. You drove drunk, Harrison."

"I don't think I was drunk either, I'd just had some alcohol the night before..."

"You gonna keep lying and making excuses or we gonna talk about this?"

"If I've been relatively good at my job for the last two years and relatively not sober for at least the last year and no one's said or noticed anything for all that time, can we collectively agree it's not that anyone minds me actually doing it substance free, they just have dumb hang ups about it?"

"The problem with being a nice person who makes friends with everyone he meets is that people do notice, Harrrison." Skinner nudged my leg. "Jacob said he thought you were depressed, everyone in the whole city thinks you've become a moody asshole to be around, and to be honest with you, you can barely play guitar right now." Skinner glanced at me as I sat bolt upright.

"Fuck off." I folded my arms. "I'm the best guitarist you ever met."

"Agreed." Skinner raised his eyebrows at me. "Which is why it's a real shame you suck so hard when you're high."

"Fuck you." I glared at him.

"You know, it wasn't easy getting everyone together." Skinner yawned. "But when we told them it was because we were worried about you and the drugs and the booze, literally everyone you've ever met wanted to come. The only reason we didn't have to rent out a conference room is because Lando suggested we capped the numbers."

"You literally did this speech 24 hours ago." I sighed. "I was listening. Everyone cares about me yada, yada, yada...."

"It went in one ear and out the other so I'm doing it again." Skinner sat up and folded his arms as he looked at me. "Ernie. You need to get your shit together."

"My shit is together." I glared at him. "If Jake hadn't decided I needed to pass a drug test without any warning there would be NO ISSUE with my job. And you're full of shit. I play fine, always. More than fine. Even my worst nights are..."

"They're not." Skinner interrupted me. "You show up late, you can't stay in time, your stage presence is embarrassing to be honest." His lips tightened. "I can't say I get it. I can't understand the reason you decided you can't do life sober. You have everything you ever wanted. You've been working on guitar since you were a kid, and you're so good now! You're considered one the the best guitarists in the antipodes! You're like a fucking gay icon!"

"See my prior statement." I said flatly. "Got that reputation half chopped, Skinner, and you know it."

"Nope." He glared at me. "You got it back when you still just smoked a joint every now and then. We're about to record an album." He took a deep breath. "We're looking at session guitarists."

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

"Uh. Really?" My voice sounded small and far away. Skinner caught my eye and sighed, pulling me in for a hug.

"Yes, really," He nudged my shoulder. "Good news is- they all suck compared to sober Harrison." I smiled a little. "Bad news is they all sound better than wasted Harrison."

"I thought I'd try it for a month." I said quietly. "After you guys and Jake this morning... Like a month off sounds doable? And then we go from there?"

"You wanna try a day first?" Skinner asked gently. I felt my chest tighten. Ah. I see how it is. A month sounds so easy! But the second I had to consider doing like... tomorrow... sober... suddenly my breath was getting short and I could almost feel myself start to sweat. Huh.

"Ok. A day first." I said slowly. "Right on. Easy." I swallowed and stretched out, launching myself off the bed. I winced as I looked over my room. I've never been particularly bothered with keeping it in check. Ok, well, there was a project for tomorrow. I could blast music and tidy my room. I could probably manage to do that sober.

"You want dinner?" Skinner asked as he took my cue to leave.

"I'm ok."

"You sure?" Skinner casually ran his eyes over me and I felt my stomach drop a little more. He didn't have to say it. I looked like shit. I used to just be like, nicely toned. I don't ever feel like eating these days though. I didn't feel like eating right now. But the look on everyone's face when they sat me down yesterday suddenly crossed my mind. My gut churned. The last thing I wanted to do was worry everyone. If I could help them feel ok again, even if it was just by shuffling around some food and expressing my gratitude... I should get out of my room. I should show face.

"Ok." I tucked my hair behind my ears. Ew. Greasy. "I can wash up after?" I suggested.

"That would be really nice." Skinner said. He paused as he reached for the door handle. "I didn't tell anyone what happened this morning." And this afternoon, I thought silently. "How do you want to approach that?"

"Will the other guys kick me out for being honest?" I asked quietly.

"Not right yet." Skinner smiled thinly. "If there's no progress in two weeks and our money starts going missing again though, feelings might get pretty sour." I hung my head. Ah. They had noticed the cash flow problem I was having. "But take advantage of us for now, Harrison. We all agreed to be the most supportive loving cunts while you were finding your feet again." He took a deep breath and I could feel his eyes scanning me again. I looked up at him. He'd moved on to looking thoroughly over my room; with the same pursed lips and slightly pained expression. "Part of me thinks maybe you just need to hit rock bottom to understand everything you have." He sighed. "But part of me thinks none of us will be around by the time you get there."

"Ok, ouch."

"Well ouch for dragging us through this." Skinner snorted. "At some point we have to let you go, Harrison."

-------- What you gonna do when it all cracks up? ------

I sat at the kitchen table making jokes and being useless while the guys made dinner. There was a box of Coke Zero on the table, which was a pretty poor and pretty lame substitute for beer, but I appreciated the attempt as I reached for one. I always seem to need to keep my hands busy. It's why I still smoke. I think that actually slows down my drinking. I grinned as I cracked it open. This had a sweet nostalgic feel to it; just hanging out in the kitchen, taking turns to cook and wash up, with soda on the table. I felt like I was at Camp or something. I tucked my knees under my chin. With two weeks off- if that actually ended up working and I hadn't lost my job for good- I was almost starting to feel like this was an undeserved little Summer Holiday. We didn't hang out as a flat very often these days- everyone's always on a different schedule. That's life I guess. I smiled to myself. I should really spend more time here. Like... here. In the present. This wasn't going to last forever. Nat and Gill were going to get married and move in together any day now. Lando also had a long term girlfriend. Skinner would probably like his own space. They'd all leave me soon enough.

I clutched my soda as the thought hit me like a ton of bricks. God. How the fuck was I going to survive? I could barely feed myself! I didn't see mess and dirt the same way other people did, so give me like a week and I'd probably be knee deep in rats and debris. I ran my fingers through my hair. Ugh. When was the last time I washed my hair properly? I twisted it up onto the top of my head and grabbed a rubber band off the kitchen table. Maybe I should shave it all off. Maybe that would be a good fresh start. I giggled as I imagined it, distracting myself from the thoughts of eternal filth and loneliness that I foresaw for myself.

"What's so funny?" Skinner glanced over his shoulder.

"My hair was annoying me and I thought maybe I'd shave it." I laughed. "But then I realised I'd look like a bald hobbit."

"Oh you are WAY too vain to lose your hair." Lando laughed. "I swear you care more about your hair than anything else."

"Possibly true." I wrinkled my nose. Which said a lot really, if my hair was in this bad of a state. Ok, maybe I'd treat myself to like, a really long shower after dinner. A really long shower or even a bath... with like... a candle and... well. I wanted a joint but I guess I could stick with... more Coke Zero.

"Ok, would you rather lose all your hair, or all your fingernails?" Nat sat down heavily next to me and grinned.

"Uh...." I looked at my fingers. "Are fingernails useful for anything?"

"Scratching your ass, thought you'd know that one Harrison." Fox called over his shoulder as he checked on the vegetables.

"Ok. That's cool, I can buy an ass scratcher." I laughed. "I guess I keep my beautiful shining locks."

"Yeah that one was too easy." Lando sighed. "Hair, or ability to play guitar?"

"Moot point, my guitar strength is in my hair." I grinned. "Like a Dethclock version of Samson."

"That's so sick." Skinner laughed. "Concept album?"

"Yeah let's fucking bang out a Symphonic Power Metal EP, that's gonna sell." I joked.

"EVERYONE will DESPISE it." Nat groaned. "Off the back of like the most successful rock album anyone in the Southern Hemisphere has released in years as well!"

"Ugh, I want to." Lando started laughing.

"I have some time off." I shrugged. "I can try writing something."

"Nice, I've missed your lyrics." Lando nodded at me.

"Only one of us with a poetic bone in their body for sure." Fox said. "Ok! Harrison, set the table. Dinner is almost up."

I saluted him and scrambled to obey. Least I could do. Act normal and be grateful that everyone cares. That's not a very high bar. Even I could probably clear that one. We ate dinner, and then I cleaned up- supervised because everyone had lived with me for long enough now to know my ability to clean was limited. I excused myself to wash my hair once I'd passed everyone else's standards and thanked them graciously for dinner- of which I'd eaten like 3 mouthfuls- but that was better than nothing. I closed the door to the kitchen in the big old house behind me and leant against it, just to catch my breath and check in on myself.

"He seems good?" I heard Fox say.

"Yeah but he does sometimes, doesn't he?" Nat sighed. "He hits on the right mix of whatever he's doing for like a week and it's smooth sailing until...."

"Mmm, true. Maybe he needs to get laid."

"The answer to everything in life isn't to get laid!" I heard Skinner snort. "Harrison doesn't do hook ups anyway. If he finds a guy he likes then that's great, but believe me, adding a guy to the mix when we're trying to get him sober is NOT a solution." I sighed and walked away.

I ran the bath, sitting in the windowsill and leaning out so I could smoke, dipping my toes in every now and then to make sure the temperature was ok. I could feel myself getting itchy under my skin. It's not like an actual itch you can fix, or anything as visceral as bugs crawling around- it's more like a deep uncomfortable tightness where my flesh is pulled over me in a way that doesn't fit. I feel constricted, restrained... I feel like I want to peel my skin away and free the... whatever it is inside of me. But then, I hardly feel free in my own head either. That's filled with buzzing. It's so loud in there. Stupid thoughts about nothing serious, and then about the planet dying, and I didn't really feel equipped to do anything about any of that. I took a deep inhale on my cigarette and searched my pockets slowly. I knew I didn't have anything on me... but... maybe? I sighed in frustration as I, as expected, turned up nothing. I looked at the bath. Still two thirds to go. I pursed my lips and looked at the door. Well. I could just go get something. I mean, I already royally fucked up today right? This could be like, a gentle little send off before tomorrow. I didn't need like, to get fucked. I just needed something to help switch my brain off again.

I slipped down the corridor and grabbed a bottle of whatever from my bedroom, pausing only to roll my eyes at myself and my clumsy obviousness when I almost walked out of the room with the bottle dangling from my mouth. I grabbed a hoodie from the sea of damp fabric on the ground. That would do.

I crept back to the bathroom and sighed with relief as I locked the door behind me and took a sip, lighting another cigarette and launching myself back on the window. Oh fuck, that was so much better. I could feel the weird vibrations in my body start to calm down and fade. I let myself have a good fifth of the bottle before slipping into the bath with my eyes closed. This was the perfect level of not sober, I decided. The room wasn't spinning, I didn't feel out of control, but I HAD managed to stop the thoughts that make me want to carve myself up and the shaky sweatiness that seemed to start up every now and then.

I lay back and let my hair get wet. Ok. Let's make a little plan, Harrison. Things are never as bad with a To Do List. And since you currently don't have a job, it's a really good time to fill your days with something. So I'd clean my room. That would take like all day. I'd clean my room first, have a little nap... I could go for a walk, that might be nice. And I could write some music. Proper music I mean. Not the shitty short poetry with no real beat that I'd been scribbling for six months. I took a deep breath and sat up, reaching for the shampoo. There you go. That's an easy, full day planned. I reached for the bottle of liquor and gulped some more down. Oops. That was half of it gone. But maybe I should finish it. That way it wouldn't be sitting around, gleaming in the light if I opened my curtains. Hmm. And I should probably flush my haul from Derek. And whatever other pills I had lying around.

Although, maybe it was good to have a little safety net. Like one day sober was fine, but I probably would be getting withdrawals. Whatever nightmare that would feel like... I snorted to myself. Yeah, a month was real ambitious. I should do this sensibly. Not cold turkey. Just- cut down. Cut down and be sociable. And by the time I returned to work be like... what do they call that? Cali sober. Some alcohol, some weed, and that would be it. That's rational. That's super sensible. That's normal.

--------

I brushed my teeth and combed coconut oil through my hair. It felt... lovely. It felt really wholesome looking after myself like that. I've never been one for indulging myself in little treats or self care. If you ignored the fact I had a quarter of a bottle of whiskey I was trying to hide in my armful of clothes when I stepped out of the bathroom, you know, like this could be a lovely new thing I did for myself every now and then. Just Harrison time.

I made a little good night to the others and plodded to my room. I yawned. The whiskey had really dulled my brain, and part of me was suggesting, almost desperately, that I should finish the bottle. And maybe I would. Like I said, to remove temptation tomorrow. But first I'd just lie down for a second and...

I woke up with a smile on my face, and reached for it. Mmmm. I was still slightly drunk, I could feel it. I was all cosy and relaxed. Maybe if I finished the bottle it would mean I woke up feeling like this in the morning. Just all soft, and sleepy, and like... like everything was gonna be ok. I opened the cap and glanced at my phone. My chest sank.

It was 1am. That meant it was already tomorrow. That meant I was officially- for at least a day- sober. I groaned. That was SO UNFAIR. How was I meant to do this one day at a time if the days were all fucked up like this?! No! No, this is fine. I recapped the bottle. It's a DAY. Harrison, the bottle will still be there in 24 hours.

I turned over and tried to get back to sleep. But. But I was itchy again. I shouldn't have looked at my phone, it woke me up. Now I was too awake to stop thinking. Thinking about how embarrassing I was. Thinking about how shit I felt. Thinking about how to hide it if I did drink, right now. Or fuck it- what if I just had the best night ever and blew my whole stash? I'd probably have the best sleep of my life.

I grinned and sat up, uncapping the bottle again. Morning doesn't start till 7am. I decided. 7 am to 7pm. That's basically a day. Anything before or after that didn't count. And I had a rock solid game plan anyway, I'd be too busy cleaning, and walking, and writing, to crave anything....

NO. This is how it got so bad in the first place! It's not all or nothing! I had a plan! To limit myself! Dose out my stash in healthy amounts! I couldn't take everything now. I'd go to sleep now.

I set an alarm for 6am, so that I could wake up and finish the whiskey before the day started. Then I groaned and turned it off, falling back into my pillows. Why are you lying to yourself dude? A day is NOT 7am to 7pm. You said you'd honestly try for a day. Fine. Well, I would finish the bottle then. Now. That's not really breaking any self imposed rules. People were way more worried about the drugs anyway. Alcohol is normal. Everyone drinks. Frankly, everyone would be stoked if you could give up drugs but still drank.

I reached for the bottle and it was on my lips when I managed to turn my hand. I watched myself pour it out, all over my carpet. Well. All over the clothes that were on my carpet. That's fine, they needed a wash anyway. I sighed. Well that was dumb. Maybe less dumb than drinking it though. Or maybe on par. Whatever. It was gone.