Page 137 of The Song We Lost

The words echo.

Different than before.

Heavier.

Real.

A memory cuts through.

A cruiser, bright lights.

The officer’s voice. “Son… you need help.” He sounds kind, his voice is clear and steady. “You should consider rehab.”

I remember that.

I remember nodding.

I remember thinking…

Maybe.

I push myself up slowly, I think I am still in the bathroom… or maybe back in the bedroom.

I lean my back against the wall.

“Maybe I should,” I say out loud.

The room doesn’t answer.

When I mention it to Dave later…

“You don’t need rehab,” he says. “You need to get through this cycle.”

Cycle.

Like this is temporary.

Like this is manageable.

Like this isn’t…

I don’t argue.

I don’t have the energy.

But the thought stays.

The song is everywhere now.

Cars.

Studios.

Phones.

People hum it without thinking.

“When the lights were fading…”