The Only Medicine

The party is well underway by the time we get there, complete with a keg and scattered red paper cups. The music is so loud that it hurts my teeth, but I’m almost too drunk to care. We find a very drunk Jaime in the kitchen, chatting to a Latino guy around the same height as him with large stretched lobes. He beams when he sees us.

“Hey, you guys made it!” he cheers, pulling us all into a sweaty hug. “Guys, this is my friend and bandmate, Tony. Tony, this is Mike”—he gestures to Mike—“his brother, Vic, aaand”—he scrunches up his face and points at me repeatedly—“Mia?”

I grin. “Yeah, that’s right, Mia.”

“Mia!” he says triumphantly, looking from me to Tony.

“Nice to meet you,” Tony says politely, giving us a small smile.

“Tony’s in my band,” Jaime repeats, slapping him on the back. “Did I say that?”

“I play guitar,” Tony adds.

“I slappah the bass,” Jaime says, mimicking the action.

I laugh. “I play bass, too. We’re in a band together as well.”

At that point, Jaime realises that his cup is empty—he points from his face to ours in an ‘I’m-watching-you’ kind of way, then dances toward where the keg presumably is. As I watch him saunter away, I spot a familiar face in the crowd.

“Oh, shit,” I mumble.

Vic follows my gaze. “Oh, Jane’s here.” He cocks his head and looks back at me. “What do you mean, ‘oh shit’?”

I intend to just shrug and not answer, but being drunk makes me honest. “Because she only wants me when she’s drunk.” I could stop there, but I keep going. “Because I really like her and she only likes me when it’s an exhibition.”

“Aww, Mia,” Vic says, enveloping me in a hug. He holds me at arm’s length. “You are beautiful and awesome and kickass and you deserve someone who wants you when she or he is sober.”

I give a small smile. “Thanks, Vic.”

“Mia?”

It was only a matter of time. I turn, keeping the smile on my face, and she’s right next to me, with her beautiful red hair and creamy complexion. She’s wearing a long blue jumper and yellow skinny jeans. She grins and then pulls me into a hug.

“I’ve missed you!” she says into my ear. She releases me then turns and smiles at Vic. “Hi, Vic.”

“Jane,” he nods at her in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t realise you’d be coming out tonight,” she says. I hadn’t realised that she’d grabbed my hand until she swings it between us playfully.

“We were just invited today,” I say, focussing on the pendulum of our hands. “Mike’s a friend of Jaime’s. You remember Mike?”

She looks over at him. “Hi, Mike.”

He raises his glass at her, and she turns back to me. He gives her body a once over, purses his lips and then turns back to Tony.


We talk and drink and talk and drink and I forget that I’m mad at her, and then we talk and drink and then we’re in the bathroom, kissing sloppily, her teeth mashing against my lips. I think her lipstick must be all over my face, but I don’t care.

“I’ve missed you,” she repeats, gasping as I nip her ear and continue kissing down her throat. Her hands make fists in my hair.

“Be quiet,” I murmur against the skin of her white tummy, slipping her jumper over her head. I’m not surprised to see that she’s wearing nothing beneath it. I can hear people talking loudly right outside the bathroom door and the music thumping, but I still don’t want to make any noise.
She continues to moan as I kiss one of her perky pink nipples, exaggerated porn star moans that grate on my nerves. I clasp one hand over her mouth and push her up against the sink, her breath hot against my fingers, and drag my kisses down her stomach, the other hand unbuttoning her jeans. She’s wearing lacy red underwear because she knew she was going to get laid tonight, somehow. I try not to be bothered by it.

“Mia,” she moans against my fingers.

I take one of her nipples in my teeth, because I know that drives her crazy, and slip my free hand beneath the fabric of her underwear. Unsurprisingly, she’s already wet. I make gentle circles against her swollen clitoris, adding more pressure with my teeth to her nipple every time she tries to whimper or moan.

She comes quickly and overly loudly, bucking her hips against my hand, tugging my hair painfully. I bite her nipple a little too hard, but either she’s in too much bliss to notice or it adds to the pleasure. Her fingers slip out of my hair and she leans her head back against the wall, panting. Her chest rises and falls against my face.

“Oh my god,” she breathes.

I remove my hand from her panties, my fingers slick with her fluids, and straighten, looking in the mirror. My lips are swollen and, yes, her lipstick has created a clown-like smear across my mouth and cheeks.

“Do you want me to do you?” she asks shyly, taking my hand—the hand that was just inside her underwear—and holding it to her lips.

I stare. Jane has never offered to get me off before. Usually I take care of her and myself at the same time. I open my mouth to reply when there’s a knocking at the door.

“Fuck it,” I mumble.

“Just a minute!” Jane calls.

“Hurry up!” says the muffled voice through the door.

I groan and pull away from her. “Maybe another time.”

She pouts, but slides to her feet and starts collecting her discarded clothes. I wash my hands and try my best to remove her lipstick from my face while she shimmies back into her jeans and pulls her sweater back on. Jane unlocks the door and tries to slip out, but something pushes the door flat open.

“Oh, shit,” says a familiar voice. Mike stands in the doorway, blinking at us.

“Uh, we were just leaving,” I say quickly, ducking past him before he can say anything else.


Jane disappears into the fray and I walk into the lounge, searching for Vic. The only familiar face I see is Jaime, his arm slung drunkenly around the shoulders of a blonde girl, deep in conversation. I presume she’s his girlfriend, but it’s a party and Jaime is overly friendly and I don’t like to jump to conclusions.

“Have you seen Vic?” I ask, approaching them.

“Mia!” Jaime cheers, ignoring my question (or possibly not hearing it—the music is still booming).

“Where’s Vic?” I repeat, louder this time.

“I dunno. Bathroom?” Jaime suggests. He plants a kiss on the blonde girl’s cheek. “Mia, this is Sophie. Sophie, Mia.”

She smiles hello and I nod back.

“I’m going to go find Vic,” I say.

I head outside to where the music isn’t so loud. There’s the pungent smell of weed and cigarette smoke in the air. I screw up my nose—I hate cigarette smoke. So does Vic, so I can’t see why he would be outside with a bunch of smokers, but I look around anyway. I catch a glimpse of Jane standing with a couple of guys and a girl I don’t recognise and I consider walking over, but I want to find Vic and I kind of just want to go home and cuddle and watch a movie or something.

I pull out my phone to call him when I see Mike come out the front door, a cigarette between his lips and a cup of beer in his hand. I wave until he spots me and heads over.

“Hello, Mia,” he grins, lighting his cigarette.

“Mike, I really don’t fancy a ribbing from you right now.”

He bursts out laughing. “Oh, yeah, I bet you don’t!”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Have you seen Vic?”

He takes a drag and blows the smoke over his shoulder. “Uh, not for a while. He was kind of occupied, last time I saw him.”

It takes a moment for me to comprehend. “Oh. Oh wow. Really?”

He nods, raising his eyebrows. “Does that bother you?”

“Not really.” I wrinkle my nose. “I kind of wanted to go home, though.”

“I always thought you wanted to fuck my brother.”

“Are you serious?”

Mike nods, chuckling. “Yes. Well, you know. Until I found out that you’re gay.”

I frown at him. “I’m not gay. I’m bi.”

“Wait, what? Bi?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But you’ve got a girlfriend,” he says quizzically.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I sigh. “And even if she was, I still like men as well. Like, you’d still like girls even if you had a girlfriend. It’s the same thing.”

“Huh,” Mike says, mulling it over, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“You learn something every day,” I add, feeling semi-awkward.

“Well, it’s good to know,” he says, his eyes scanning over the crowd behind me. Then his face falls.

“What?”

“Um, maybe don’t look.”

I turn anyway and follow his gaze. Jane is hooking up with another girl, to the whoops of barbaric delight from her male companions. I shouldn’t, but I feel sick. Mike grabs my shoulder and makes me face him.

“Hey, don’t worry about her,” he insists, handing me his paper cup of beer. “She’s just doing it for attention.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, draining the beer.

He claps my shoulder. “’Atta girl. You want another?”

“I kind of just want to go home.”

He nods understandingly, finishing his cigarette and flicking it onto the driveway. “Shall we go rescue Vic, then?”

“Um, I dunno.” I feel my eyes start to prickle with tears. Fuck it. I don’t want all these people to see me crying and think I’m too drunk, and I especially don’t want Jane to see me.

“I can try calling him,” Mike offers.

“Um, no, let’s just go,” I say, trying to stop my voice from wavering.

“You sure?”

I nod and turn away so he can’t see my eyes, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. He gently takes the cup from me, throws it in the bushes, then puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me down the driveway. And that’s all it takes—just that simple action, that mere act of kindness, and I’m sobbing against his chest.

“Shh,” he coos, holding me to him as we walk. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob. “I don’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

Notes