Carnival by D. M. Thornton

Author:D. M. Thornton [Thornton, D. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-10T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Oliver

Travel days have always been my favorite. I utilize my time on the road to write songs or read a book. But not today. Today my skin itches and I’m antsy as fuck. Not being able to get off the tour bus except the occasional gas station to fuel up is damn near driving me out of my ever-loving mind. All I think about is Piper. Every lyric I write is in reference to her. Every melody playing through my head beats to the syllables of her name. When I read a book, it is Piper’s name I see written across the pages. I want a drink. Better yet, I want…

No. I don’t want that. I swore off drugs forever. I don’t want a drink and I don’t want drugs. All I want is Piper. My palm smacks my forehead. Fuck, stop thinking her name. Thinking her name is sending me into a tailspin on a nosedive from hell. I’m going to crash if I don’t snap out of it.

I’m staring at my phone knowing I’m going to call her, again. I’ve tried before. Every day since she left. She doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. So I pick up my phone and hold it in my hand, contemplating on chucking it across the room. I don’t. Instead, I scroll through my contacts and click on her name. It goes straight to voicemail. It always does.

I leave a message anyway. “It’s me, Oliver. Please call me back. I didn’t mean it when I said I wouldn’t wait for you. I would, until the sun dies out and the earth grows cold, I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever. I shouldn’t have let you go. I told myself, if I ever had the chance to see you again, I would never let you go. I should have stopped you from going to him. Never should have let you get into that car. Begged for you to stay, with me. I’m begging, Piper. Please.” My eyes close, and I tap the phone to my forehead. “Please just call me. Let me know you’re okay,” I whisper. I end the call then toss the phone across the bed where it lands on the floor with a thud. I need to get off this bus.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence today,” Hamlin says, showing off his full house. While I try to write music, my bandmates play poker. “Come out here to get your ass beat?”

“No,” I bark. “We need to stop. I need to get some air.”

Hamlin and Nash all set their cards down on the table in unison, hyperaware of my body language. This isn’t their first rodeo with my addiction and know I’m on the brink of caving if I don’t get off this bus.

“Pull off at the next stop, Rico,” Nash shouts to our driver.

Rico hollers back, “Rodger that.”

Another gas station, but whatever; at this point, I’d stick my head out of a window to get some fresh air in my lungs.

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