Returning To You

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Ashley's voice is angry and tense.
I try to close my eyes tighter, but it’s no use. He knows I’m not asleep. I’ve never been able to put anything over on Ashley. “What the hell was what?” I ask, not opening my eyes. He shoves my arm, and I try not to react.

“Like hell you don’t know what I’m talking about. We had a majorly influential reporter in there, Andy. What the fuck were you thinking, walking out like that?”
“I figured you guys had it covered.”
He punches my shoulder.
“Fuck, dude.” I open my eyes, pissed because I know it’s the reaction he wanted. “You wanna explain to Rob how I can’t play tomorrow ’cause you bruised the shit out of my arm?”

He gives me a look that says he isn’t buying it. “Stop being such a pussy. Sit up and talk to me.”
I pull myself into a sitting position on the couch. I had escaped to the tour bus shortly after our set. I was aware that Rob had arranged the interview with Meghan Gerber, and Ashley wasn’t messing around when he said she was one of the most influential music reporters in the business. I just knew I couldn’t keep it together for an interview, essential or not. I was exhausted, a fact I’ve been telling my manager and band mates for days, and being tired always makes me grouchy. I probably would have done the band more harm than good had I been in there.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks, sitting across from me. “You’ve been acting like a little bitch for weeks now. You need to snap out of it.”
“I need a break.”

“This is what we signed up for, Andy. You wanna go back to Ohio? Keep playing shitty local gigs?” He gestures around at the over-the-top luxury of our bus. “Or would you rather be shoved together in that van, busting ass all over the Midwest to get to dives where no one even remembered we were coming?”
His words have the opposite effect from what he intended, I’m sure. Because while our current situation may be exponentially better than our past, we are missing one thing from that ill-fated mini-tour two summers ago. One person, rather.

Daisy. There she was in my thoughts for the second time in the last ten seconds. Not that such an occurrence was anything unusual. When wasn’t she on my mind?
He runs his hands through his shoulder-length hair. “I’ll talk to Rob, okay? See if we can get a few days off soon.”

I nod, knowing it will have no effect. We’ve been promised vacation time for months. But something is always coming up—some opportunity, some show, some interview that we would just be crazy to pass up. So it goes, on and on, until I can’t even remember what city we’re in anymore.

Ashley watches me for a minute as if trying to decide if he should say something else. Finally, he sighs and gets up. “Get some rest, man. We’re taking off in a minute.”
I close my eyes again and sink into the pillows, trying to get the image of laughing blue eyes and straight black hair out of my head. Why does she have to keep showing up like this, jumping into my thoughts when I least expect it? It’s been a whole year. Isn’t it time I moved on?
I hear the guys in the front of the bus. Someone turns on the radio, and the noise level doubles. I’m pretty sure I can hear some female voices, too. They must be continuing the party from backstage. A moment later, the bus starts to move.

Are we going to the hotel? Or is it a travel night? I can’t even keep any of it straight anymore. We’re in St. Louis tonight, I think, which would mean we’re sleeping here before heading out in the morning. Or was St. Louis tomorrow? Cursing, I pull out my phone. I may as well accept that my life is now completely dictated by the itinerary Rob, our tour manager, sends out each morning.

Notes

Is it okay? Or no...