"See you this evening, have a nice day." I smile and she pecks me on the lips quickly before entering her little clothes boutique—Polly's. I'd begun counting time in Wednesdays. Nine Wednesdays since we'd broken up as a band, Eight Wednesdays since I'd gone out with Hazel for coffee, Eight Wednesdays since Dad died, Seven Wednesdays since his funeral, Two Wednesdays since mine and Hazel's little picnic in the park.

Things seem to be going well—better. Hazel and I have kind of gotten into a routine, I walk her to work (the jewelry store or Polly's depending on the day) and pick her up later and take her out for dinner. Things seem to not weigh me down as much when she's around, its like for once I can breathe again, its not effort to wake up in the morning, sure it hurts that Dad is gone and honestly that is something I'm never going to just get over or be able to come to terms with but she makes it bearable.

I have a feeling in my gut that today is going to be a good day, a very good day. And I have something planned that would make it an even better day. I call Jaime and Tony on my walk home and tell them to come to the RV—that is still parked outside my house—in about an hour or so.

They happily oblige.

I kick Mike in the shoulder gently "Michael," I say trying to wake him up, hoping the strange and rare use of his actual forename will stir him from his stupor. I am wrong of course. I kick his shoulder a little harder and he groans and rolls over onto his side murmuring something about Scarlett Johansson

"Get the fuck up, will you? Mike!" I yell kicking him possibly a little too hard to be conveyed as nice.

"What?" He mumbles half into the floor

"I need you up and sober, by, well...now would be a great time really. Have you slept on the floor all night?"

"Maybe." he grunts

"Well up you get little brother." I kick him lightly again just for the sake of it and head into the kitchen. I only just realize how empty the house is, the living room is lacking furniture and also life, making it look twice the size I remember it looking. The kitchen is bare of food, the oak table I've had so many memories at is tipped over onto its side and god knows where the chairs are and cobwebs cover the inside of the cupboards. I guess I've been a little ignorant lately, wrapped up in my own world while my little brother goes down the shitter.

How selfish of me.

The emptiness of the house is creeping me out, every sound echoes off of the walls and there's no physical belongings left around that have any memories behind them but the walls know all my secrets, all of our secrets, they've witnessed this once happy family break off bit by bit and fall apart piece by piece until it was no longer repairable. The whole situation makes me shudder and I have to get out of here—I head out of the house and into the RV. Now that I think about it, the RV isn't any less memory provoking, fans letters, artwork, gifts strewn all over the place in the back lounge, bunks we've slept in in almost every country around the world, tables we've sat at and attempted to write songs before giving up and cracking open a bottle of Jack Daniels, guitars that used to be played but are now lonely and collecting dust. Was anywhere safe from the torture?

No. I won't let myself get dragged down by negative thoughts. No. Not today of all days, today is going to be a great day, a happy day. And of course right on cue, Jaime's cheerful voice fills the bus with a warm glow.

"Hi stranger who I haven't seen in weeks because you're too busy with a girl I've never met and I'm starting to believe is in fact your right hand," he inhales deeply, refilling his lungs. "You called?" his dimples show as he smiles, his head slightly slanted to the side like he's questioning me. Tony is on his heels, kind of shy—as usual—and kind of smiling happily, which made me happy too.

"Hi stranger who I haven't seen in weeks but has been more of a help to me these past few weeks than my own right hand," I take a huge breath, just for effect, to mimic him. "I did" I mirror his smile and his canted head.

"Why did you call stranger who I haven- ah fuck this. What's up man?" I love the way Jaime can brighten a room just by walking into it, he just has an energy about him that makes you feel happier even before he's spoken and he really has helped the past two months, with my mom, before she went on vacation. I don't know what I'd have done without him, he's been such a help. And the fact I was about to unload this news on him made me really happy because I knew it was going to make him happy too.

"Sit down, guys," I gesture to the table I'd sat at nine Wednesdays ago with the fan letters. Tony looks at me cautiously like he isn't sure what he's expecting next. I know he's not expecting this. The thought makes me grin. They both sit down on the same bench and at the same side of the table, waiting for me to do or say something. It is weird, now that I have them here, ready to hear me out, ready to hear what I want to say, I don't know how to start.

"I'm gonna go find Mike, he needs to be here too" I mumbled, my eyebrows furrowing, heading off of the bus without another word.

"Mike?" I shout, shuddering again at the thought of how much these walls would have to say if they could actually talk.

"Yeah?" he walks into the kitchen, he looks exhausted and aged, no longer looking youthful but looking old like a worn piece of leather. I didn't like this look on him, it didn't suit him, he hasn't shaved in the past eight weeks so his chin and jaw line was decorated with hair.

"Mike, dude...you gotta stop this" my voice sounds unfamiliar to me but I carry on "please..."

"What do you want?" he asks defensively, clearly dismissing my statement, obviously not wanting to discuss how often he's been drinking lately.

"Um, RV, meeting, you, me, Jaime and Tone. Now" my voice is as harsh as I can make it but admittedly it isn't that cold, somehow I can't talk to people harshly like others can so easily, I struggle to talk to anybody like shit, never mind my little brother.

Hahahahaha — my subconscious laughs at me, remembering the day after Mike's party, where I got really angry and stormed out.

"Now?" he repeats rubbing his face in an I-can't-deal-with-this kind of way, I nod in reply to him.

"Okay" he sighs, pulling a joint from his cigarette tin and putting it between his lips. I walk over to him and pull it out from between his lips and onto the floor, crushing it with my foot.

"No, stop that. Just fucking get on the RV okay, dammit" I am getting frustrated, not because I so desperately want to tell my news, that can always wait. Right now I just hate to see Mike crumbling right in front of me and I haven't done anything to stop it or help him, was I really that much of a selfish machine?

"Jeez, okay, don't shout, fuck!" he puts his hands over his ears as if the sound of my voice coming sharp at him is triggering a headache. I roll my eyes and head back out onto the RV.

As I walk back onto the RV, Tony is laughing at something Jaime has said and Jaime is pulling a goofy face, the normal, happy gestures make me feel instantly better and remind me why I'm here—the news!

"Right, what do you want? Make this quick because it's like the middle of the night" Mike snaps his eyes half closed against the brightness of the midday sun coming through the window.

"It's almost noon dude" Tony laughs looking at me for elaboration of why Mike looks like a hobo and is acting like a recovered alcoholic in need of a pint. — recovered? hm, not so much.

"Whatever, same difference" he mumbles, throwing himself in the opposite side of the table to Tony and Jaime, hunching himself over the table.

"Uh, okay guys" I'm too anxious and excited to sit down so I stand as I say "I want to start the band again"

Mike's head flops onto the table, Jaime's jaw drops and Tony beams at me in the most admiring.

"So, wha'dya say?" I ask. Anxiously awaiting for their reply.