The Only Medicine

I remember intending to leave Jaime’s house and head home, but I must have changed my mind throughout the journey, because we end up at the party across town that Jaime was talking about. There has been no mention of Vic, or Mike, or anyone else whose bridges I’ve burnt. I never really paid too much mind in the past to stories and articles about people dying alone, but maybe this is how it starts.

For once, Jaime isn’t as drunk as me and Tony—Tony, drunk?—and he hands me a red cup as soon as we go inside.

“What’s this?” I slur, sniffing at it.

“Water, darlin’.”

I snort and drain the cup just to appease him. “I’m not even that wasted.”

Tony and I take a seat on the couch and Jaime goes into the kitchen to grab proper drinks for us. I don’t really recognise too many faces at the party, but as long as I don’t see Vic or Mike here, I don’t care. Or Jane, for that matter. I’m presuming that Jaime knows the person running the party, since he’s the social butterfly out of all of us.

“Are you all right?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You guys don’t need to ask me that every five minutes.”

Jaime comes back and hands us both a cup of beer. I notice he doesn’t have one for himself.

“Are you in big brother mode?” I ask him.

“Someone has to look after you crazy kids,” he laughs.

He and Tony chat and I look around the room drunkenly, wondering how each of these people here know each other. I recognise the pink-haired Filipina girl in the corner from somewhere, maybe another party.


I hadn’t even realised that I’d dozed off, but I wake up with my face smooshed into someone’s chest. He has his arm draped over me carefully, his hand very purposefully not touching me.

“Are you sure you saw him outside?” says the guy I’m leaning on—it’s Tony.

“Yeah, he was with some of those guys from San Diego High. And that girl was hanging off him.”

“Fuck, man … maybe we should take Mia home before she sees him.”

“Dude, she’s out to it. We’d have to carry her.”

I close my eyes and keep laying on Tony, pretending to still be asleep. Who the fuck are they talking about? Surely not Mike? Vic?

“I thought you told Mike not to come by?” Tony says.

“Yeah, well, kind of. I didn’t really think that Mia would come out with us.”

“Ah, shit …”

They go silent, so I let my eyelids open a crack and he’s standing on the other side of the room, a red solo cup in one hand. That Filipina girl is talking and staring up at him adoringly, but I can tell that his eyes are on me. I close my eyes again and let my head slip so it drops into Tony’s lap and I feel him adjust himself awkwardly underneath me.

“Oh, hey man,” says Jaime.

“Hey,” I hear Mike’s voice say. He must have come over to us.

“She just fell asleep like this, man,” Tony insists. I shouldn’t have put him in this situation, but … but what? Am I trying to make Mike jealous?

“I don’t care, dude.” He can’t keep a twinge of envy out of his voice—or am I just projecting? “… Is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, just super drunk,” Jaime says. “We’re about to take her back to her house … somehow.”

“I, uh, could give you guys a ride, if you want,” Mike says. “I’m not even drinking.”

A hand jostles my shoulder gently and I take that as my cue to wake up properly. I make a show of letting my eyelids flutter open, like I haven’t just been laying here awake and eavesdropping.

“Hey, Mia, we’re heading home,” Jaime says. I sit up slowly. “And please don’t get upset, but Mike’s offered us a ride.”

Now that I’m sitting up properly, my vision starts swimming. Perhaps that little nap didn’t get rid of the drunkenness. There are two Mikes standing in front of me, reeling in and out of focus. Jaime and Tony help me up, an arm under each of my armpits.

“Are you all right to walk?” Tony asks.

“I’m not made out of fucking paper,” I grumble.

Mike just stares at me, his expression indecipherable. Then he heads toward the door without another word, and Jaime and Tony guide me along behind him.

We’re just about out of the room when some guy next to us says to his friend, “man, that slut really gets around.” Before I can even register what he’s said or that it’s about me, Mike spins around and punches him in the face.

“Jesus!” Jaime yells, grabbing Mike’s shoulder and pulling him back.

“What the fuck?” yells someone else.

Tony hurries me out of the house before it escalates further, and Jaime drags Mike with us.

“What the fuck, man?” Tony says once we get outside. “What was that about?”

“Did you hear that asshole?” Mike mutters, shaking his hand and blowing on the knuckles.

My head is still spinning, even with the fresh air. I can barely hear what the guys are arguing about. Did Mike really punch that guy? Oh god, my stomach is roiling. We’re almost to the car; I can see it parked just down the road.

“Guys,” I moan. All this being manhandled around is making it worse.

They keep arguing, ignoring me, and I can’t stop myself—I heave up my guts, all over Tony’s Vans.

“Ah, shit!” Tony groans, jumping back from me.

“I’m so sorry!” I drop to my knees as another cramp wracks me and I vomit again on the grass by the sidewalk. Someone rubs my back; I’m not sure who.

I remain on my knees, watching the concrete spin, sure that I’m going to vomit again. Jaime tries to help me to my feet.

“Just leave me, I’m gonna have a nap,” I slur.

“Come on, Mia, we’ll get you home,” Jaime replies.

He and Mike—Mike?—help me into the back seat and Tony hops in beside me. Is he not wearing shoes anymore? I have a few other random thoughts as the car starts, and then I black out again.


I don’t remember getting home or getting into bed, but that’s where I wake, my head screaming at me. Oh god. How much did I drink last night? Underneath the blankets, I’m still fully dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, so I can only presume that Jaime and Tony (and Mike? Was Mike there?) somehow got me here. My cheeks flush with shame as I remember the events of the night before. Poor Tony. First I put him in an awkward situation, then I vomit on his shoes. My stomach turns at the memory, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left in my body to throw up now. Well done, Mia—way to keep your new friends.

“I’m never drinking again,” I mutter.

I fumble around on the nightstand for my phone, can’t find it, then feel it digging into my left butt cheek in the bed. I must’ve left it in my pocket. I flick it open and see no new messages, except for the numerous ones from Vic over the last week. My brain is too hungover to even register other emotions, so maybe now is the perfect time to read through these.

I scroll through and they’re all variations on the same theme: “I miss you”, “call me”, “I’m sorry”. I burst into tears at the latest one, from yesterday afternoon: “stay safe, I miss you”. Jaime must have told him that I was going out with them. Before I can second-guess myself, I’ve dialled his number.

“Oh, Mia,” comes the voice through the phone and I sob, unable to form words with my mouth. “Mia, what’s happened?”

“Nothing,” I say finally through ragged breaths. “Oh, Vic, I’m so sorry. Can we please be friends again?”

“We never stopped,” he says. “I’m coming to get you.”


I still can’t stop myself crying when he comes to pick me up, and when we reach his house he guides me down the hallway to his room. We simply lay snuggling on the bed together for the next hour, not talking, and the tears slowly subside. I’m still in the clothes that I wore yesterday and my breath probably smells like a brewery.

“Do you want to talk?” he says after a while.

My throat closes up at the idea, but I know we probably should. Air it all out.

“Can we eat first?” I reply instead.

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, of course. I don’t know if we’ve got much in the cupboards, though.”

“Just peanut butter on toast is fine.”

He pecks me on the head then disentangles himself from me and heads out of the room. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the heels of my palms. I’ve cried so much that even an errant thought about whether Mike is home or not doesn’t upset me. Vic comes back in with a plate of toast, an apple and a couple of hot cups of coffee. I take the coffee and the toast from him gratefully and he lets me eat in silence.

“So …” he says after a while.

“So,” I reply, fidgeting with the coffee cup. It’s empty, but I sip at it again, stalling.

He runs a hand through his long brown hair. “Mia, about Jane … I’m so sorry.” I open my mouth but he keeps going. “We were both really drunk, and I know how you felt about her.”

“It’s fine, Vic, honestly.” I take a deep breath. “I know she always had a crush on you. I could tell.” It’s probably the only reason she ever wanted to get with me.

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Vic says.

“I don’t even know why I was so upset about it,” I reply. “It’s not like we were seeing each other anymore.”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point.”

I just nod and stare into the coffee cup.

“And, uh … I heard about last night.” I wince. “Jaime said Mike started a fight with someone.”

“I don’t even remember,” I lie. Well, I kinda remember Mike punching someone in the face, but I can’t recall what it was about.

He looks at me carefully. “Look … I’m not saying I want you two to get together, or whatever … but … would you consider patching things up, for my sake?” And for the sake of the band, is the implicit meaning behind his words.

I shrug, trying to look nonchalant, but the idea of talking to Mike makes my heart want to crumble.

“I’m not saying today, or tomorrow …”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him. Before the finale.”

He takes the cup off me and places it on the night stand, then scoops me up and bundles me into his arms. I lean my face against his chest, listening to his slow breaths.

“How did you know?” I ask finally.

“About what?” he says carefully.

“You know.”

He doesn’t answer immediately and after a few moments I think he isn’t going to reply at all. “I mean, I had my suspicions for a while. And then I kinda knew it, with the way you guys were acting around each other, especially when he was going out with Jessica.”

I can’t help but blush. We were pretty obvious, despite all my pleadings to stay discreet. “You never said anything.”

“I was waiting for one of you guys to say something, and then when you didn’t …”

“Wait, Mike never told you?”

“Well, he’s my brother and we talk, but he made it pretty vague about who it was about.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, almost into a smile. “You know, you could just talk to him. I mean, I can’t say I was that thrilled about the idea of you guys being together—"

I frown up at him.

“—No, not like that. You know I don’t think of you like that.” He sighs. “I just didn’t like the idea of my best friend being around but not hanging out with me.”

“Oh, Vic.” I squeeze him. “You know I love you.”

“I know.”

Notes