The Only Medicine

I can barely peel my eyes open the following morning—at least, it feels like morning. Given how late I went to sleep, it’s probably the afternoon already. I prop myself up on my elbows and try to catch a glimpse of the clock by Vic’s bed, but it’s facing the wrong way. Vic’s still curled up on the bed, back to the wall. His face looks wan and tired and peaceful all at once. I fumble around on the bed for my phone, but I can’t find it, so I sit up, wincing as the springs creak loudly beneath me. Vic doesn’t stir. I have a new appreciation for him sleeping on this fold-out bed every time I stay over—it’s uncomfortable as fuck and my back hurts where the springs have poked into it. My phone has fallen on the floor near Vic’s dresser, so I lean over and drag it towards me with my fingers.

“Morning mija. I have to work another late shift tonight, so I’ve put some dinner for you in the fridge. Love Mama x.”

I hadn’t even heard the text come through. It’s very endearing, the way she texts in full sentences. Text speak is well beyond my mother.

“hey Mama. No problem. Ill text u if I stay another nite at Vic’s x” I text back.

The time on my phone reads 11:23AM, which is actually earlier than I thought it would be. It disorientates me a bit. I glance over at Vic again. We were going to rehearse this afternoon, so I suppose I have time to head to the gym first. Vic probably won’t wake for another hour; in fact, it’s probably best for him to sleep as long as he can.

There’s no one upstairs when I get there, so I presume Mama and Papa Fuentes have gone to the farmer’s market or something. They generally go most weekends. I make myself some coffee and toast with peanut butter and apple, then sit at the dining table with the morning paper. I’m surprised that I don’t feel hungover, even though I didn’t really drink much—at least not in comparison to Vic.

I’m halfway through the second slice of toast when Mike appears at the top of the stairs. He steals a quick glance down the staircase, then hurries over and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. I smirk at him.

“Morning,” he says casually, heading into the kitchen. He comes back with a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and a glass of juice. He’s halfway through a mouthful of cereal when he glances up at me and almost chokes.

“Jesus. What’s wrong?” I frown.

He coughs and takes a sip of juice. “You looked in the mirror today?”

I cock an eyebrow. “Do you really think that’s an appropriate thing to say to someone?”

He gestures at my neck, trying not to laugh. “You’ve got a hickey.”

My hand immediately slaps to my throat, mortified. “You’re fucking kidding.”

There’s a big mirror on the wall in the lounge, so I hurry over to it. Sure enough, there’s a faint bruise-like shape on the side of my throat, as well as a rash from where Mike’s stubble scraped me. I spin to face him.

“You fucking did this on purpose,” I accuse.

He laughs, holding his hands up in supplication. “I swear, I didn’t!”

Vic will know exactly what’s happened when he sees this. Jesus Christ. Luckily it’s not too dark, so hopefully I can pass it off as something else if he asks. Maybe some kind of gym injury?

“I gotta go anyway,” I say, striding over to the table and picking up my plate. I pop the last corner of toast into my mouth.

“What? Where?”

“I’m gonna get a workout done before rehearsal this afternoon.” I chuck the plate in the sink and give it a quick rinse. Usually I would do my dishes properly, but I feel like I’m racing against time.

“Well, I’ll come too.” Mike starts shovelling mouthfuls of cereal in.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because if we both go and I come back with this on my neck, he’s going to put two and two together, isn’t he?”

Mike pauses. “Well, I’ll drop you off anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Vic is still asleep when I get back to the room, so I quietly grab my gym gear and tiptoe back out.


Mike keeps stealing glances at me in the car when he thinks I’m not looking. “So, uh, what are you going to do today?” he says eventually.

I frown at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, uh, your workout.”

I give him a bemused smile. “You want to know what I’m doing for my workout?” I have a feeling he wouldn’t even know what half of the exercises are. “Well, uh, I was planning on doing some deadlifts and some chin ups, and then just whatever I feel like. Maybe some bench and dips and stuff.”

“How do you know what to do?”

“I dunno. I looked up some stuff on the Internet and just talked to other people in the gym and stuff.”

“When will you be finished?”

“Probably in an hour and a half. I’ll just shower at the gym and then come back over for band practice.”

“If Vic’s even awake by then,” Mike adds.

“Yeah, he had a pretty rough night.”

He pulls the car over in the parking lot outside the gym. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

I lean over and kiss him gently. I think I take him by surprise, but he kisses me back. After a bit, I pull away and grab my gym gear from the backseat of the car. “I’ll see you later on.”


I’m halfway through a set of deadlifts when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I finish my last rep and set the weight down, then grab the phone out of my pocket. It’s a text from Jane, of all people.

“hey wat u up2 2nite,” it merely reads.

Most of my feelings for Jane have vanished after we met and called things off, but my stomach still tries to pull into a knot of anticipation when she texts me. It’s like it hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of not being let down by her. Also, the last time she texted me was to tell me about the rumours going around school about me and Vic and Mike, so I’m not quite sure how to feel.

“probs just hanging w Vic, why?” I text back. It seems like the safest option.

I rep out another set of deadlifts, then check my phone again for her reply.

“havin a party. U guys shud come.”

My gut tells me that taking Vic to a party the night after drinking a bottle of rum by himself is not a good idea. I mean, I can’t exactly stop him from drinking, but I can try my best to not be an enabler. Another text comes through; this time it’s from Mike.

“Vic is awake and not even hungover wtf.”

I can’t help but let out a laugh. I’d really thought that he’d be comatose all day, and that when he did wake, he wouldn’t want to get out of bed.

“nice. Ill be over soon.” I text back.


Vic greets me at the door when I arrive. My hair is still wet from the shower at the gym, plus the drizzly weather I just walked in from the bus stop. Mike was right—he’s looking considerably fresh, given the events of the night before.

“How was the gym?” he asks, stepping aside so I can come in.

“Good. Sweaty.” I kick off my Vans. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” I can’t read his expression. “I just want to practice these new songs.”

Mike looks up from his drum kit as we enter the garage. For some reason, seeing him sitting there, dancing a drumstick around his knuckles, looking nonchalant, it makes my breath catch in my throat. “’Sup,” he says.

“I brought your bass in,” Vic says. It’s propped up against the couch, still in its case.

“Thanks.” I get my things together and plug in. “What are we going to practice?”

“Well, I figured we could decide on a setlist for Friday, and then there’s this new song that I’ve been writing all week. I haven’t quite got all the music sorted, but I’m pretty happy with the lyrics.” Vic reaches into his guitar case and pulls out his notebook.

We spend most of the first hour going through the new song, figuring out the music together. It’s an angry song. Vic sings with an unbridled fury that I haven’t heard in a long time. I can only guess who it’s about—at least this hopefully means he’s moving onto the next stage of his grief.


“What are you doing tonight?” Vic asks when we finish rehearsing. We’re sitting next to each other on the couch, eating toast. Mike’s disappeared somewhere, probably to his bedroom or the bathroom.

“Probably just sleeping. Mama’s working another late shift, so it’ll be nice to just have the house to myself.”

“Well, I’m going round to Jaime’s, if you wanna come?” They’ve really become fast friends. I find myself wondering if Tony will be there, too.

“Nah, maybe not tonight. I’m pretty worn out.”

“You sure?”

I frown. “Why?”

“Well, I just thought you might want to hang out with us. We’re just having a few drinks.”

I cock an eyebrow but say nothing.

“What?” he demands.

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you even want to drink after last night.” I don’t really want to bring it up, in case it reminds him about his cutting, or something. I don’t know.

“It’s fine. I’m not going to get drunk.”

“I know.” I pick at the bottom of my shirt, unsure what else to say. After a pause, I get to my feet. “Do you want to drop me home? I have to grab some stuff from the supermarket.”

“Sure.” We head out of the garage and then he goes upstairs to grab his keys.

I can’t help but feel like I’ve disappointed him somehow; I mean, there have been plenty of weekends where we haven’t hung out Friday to Sunday, but I feel like I should have agreed to go with him to Jaime’s house. I just feel so worn out after last night, what with the drama with Vic and then Mike and staying up until the wee hours of the morning. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mike coming out of his bedroom, jolting me from my reverie.

“Where’s Vic?” he asks.

“Upstairs, grabbing his keys.”

“Are you going home?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to have a quiet night by myself.” The more I talk about it, the more I can’t wait—I’m going to heat up whatever Mama’s left me for dinner, then sit on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn and watch a horror movie. I know it’s the right decision for me, but I still feel bad about Vic.

Vic comes bounding back down the stairs. “You ready?”

I nod.

He looks up at Mike. “I’m going to Jaime’s. Tell Mom and Dad that I’ll be home late.”

“Right.” His eyes catch mine quickly, then flick away. “Well, have fun.”


“Are you okay?” I ask again in the car after we finish in the supermarket. A grocery bag full of Oreos, soy ice cream, Coke and popcorn kernels sits between my feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Vic repeats. He’s not—I can tell. It sounds like he’s been annoyed with me all day, but I guess that could be the hangover finally kicking in. “I’m just tired.”

I pause as we pull up outside my house. “You know I love you, Vicky.”

He sighs and I feel the tension evaporate a bit. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

I reach over and pull him to me and he hugs back, and then he lets me go and I get out the car with my bag of junk food and he drives off. I watch him leave, then fumble in my bag for my house key. My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I get into the kitchen; I quickly put the ice cream in the freezer and the Coke in the fridge, then check it.

“u comin 2nite?” It’s from Jane.

“nah, just having a quiet 1,” I text back.

“boo x” she replies seconds later.

I guess it’s nice that she wants to include me in things, like a friend—at least, I presume these are friendly texts and not booty call texts. They don’t feel like booty call texts.


A few hours later, I’m spread out on the couch in my underwear and an old Cradle of Filth shirt, a bowl of popcorn between my legs and the big bottle of Coke on the table in front of me. I’ve already polished off the pint of ice cream and half the Oreos. It feels like literal heaven. The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre is on TV and I’m kind of watching it, kind of writing in my notebook. I don’t have any proper lyrics, just random snippets, as usual. So far, all I’ve written is “your mouth tastes like drowning again”. I keep rewriting over parts of it absentmindedly, thickening up the letters.

My phone vibrates noisily on the table, making me jump. It couldn’t have gone off at a more inopportune moment—on the TV, Leatherface is just carving up some poor soul with his chainsaw.

“where r u.” It’s from Jane again.

“at home,” I reply, frowning slightly.

After a few minutes, she replies, “but Vics here.”

Vic’s at the party? I run my fingers through my hair. Well, I guess he was going to hang out with Jaime, and maybe they decided to go there. I know Jaime’s friends with Jane, or at least they have mutual friends. I flip my phone back and forth between my hands for a bit, and then I decide to text Vic.

“how’s it going,” I merely say. I don’t want him to think I’m his mother, or else he’ll block me out.

To be honest, I’m mostly surprised that he’s at the party so early. It’s not even eleven o’clock yet. And I suppose it’s good that he’s drinking at a party with friends, rather than in a room by himself. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.

I don’t get any texts back from Jane or Vic, and the movie draws to a close. I go into the kitchen and put the carton of ice cream in the trash, then head up to my room. I find HIM’s Greatest Lovesongs Vol. 666 and put it on, smiling as the bass line kicks in in the first song, For You. This song always gives me shivers; Ville Valo was always my original man crush, and the brooding way he sings in this song … Love Metal, indeed.

I’m laying on the bed and thinking of Mike when he texts me. “sup”.

“not much, just home alone,” I reply.

“I tht u went 2 the party with Vic?”

“nope. my mom is out til mornin…hint hint,” I text back, smirking to myself.

“ur fuckin kiddin me…im 2 drunk n stoned 2 go anywhere :(” comes the reply about a minute later.

It’s disappointing, and it feels like such a waste of a good opportunity, but I’m kind of glad to have a night to myself. I mean, my body has barely recovered after last night.

“poor baby. Ill just have 2 play w myself ;)”

“Ill make it up 2 u, I promise x x x x x,” he replies. It kind of takes me by surprise; I’ve never seen this side of Mike before, not with any of his girlfriends. I quash the thought before it can lead anywhere, but I find myself reading that text a few times before I finally get to sleep.

What is he doing to me?

Notes