How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Fifty Three: New Roommate

"My clothes," I said. Along with Cliff's toothbrush and Malcolm's toothpaste and a hotel towel. "It was the only thing I could find to put everything in."

"That's keen thinkin'," he said and walked past me to the kitchen. I peered around every corner just in case a naked woman was hiding somewhere and caught me by surprise. But by the looks of things, Bon spent the better half of the night sleeping and nothing else. He opened the fridge and pulled out one of the beers we had bought together the other day. "Want one?"

"No thanks," I smiled, Bon shrugging his shoulders. 

"Thought I'd ask," he said, putting the beer back and grabbing one carton of milk and one of orange juice. "Jus' set your stuff down anywhere, then." I placed the bag on the couch and followed him to the kitchen where he pulled down a couple glasses. "Which one?"

"Milk please," I said, remembering the orange juice from Phil's room. He poured one glass of milk out and took a sip from the carton. After doing the same to the orange juice, he slid the glass of milk across the counter where I caught it. 

"Shame about Stelle," he said and I perked up. Did Bon just call her....

Bon noticed the look I gave him and smiled. "She's a bit like a sister, ya' know?" he said. "Callin' her Estelle puts her off a bit. But it's all fun an' games."

"Is that why she calls you Ronald?" I asked. 

"Sure is," he grinned, showing me his teeth. His hair fell in his face. "I'm gonna miss doin' that," he said. "Great friend of the band."

"I hope her mom is okay." I tried shrugging off the guilt I felt by focusing on her and not on me. Whether or not it was my fault, the accident had happened. What's done was done.

"Yeah....ya' know, I might send up some flowers or somethin' like..." he said, thinking. "Fruit basket or such." I slipped off my jacket and hung it on a chair, going to sit by the fan oscillating on the table. A stack of papers held down by an empty bottle fluttered when caught in the breeze. Bon's handwriting, same as the slip of paper he gave me, was loopy and rushed. I could only assume he was writing new material for the band. "Maybe after Christmas break we can ask management if we can take a stop in England an' ask around." My hands cupped the base of my glass of milk. It ripped under the force of the fan. Bon pulled a chair out, the legs scraping. "What's all this?" he asked.

Tears hit my wrists. I hadn't noticed them until it was too late.

Wiping my eyes I shook my head. "It's nothing," I said.

"Surely ain't nothin'," Bon said. "Here, best I can do." He grabbed a napkin from a little stand and handed it to me. I crumpled it in my hand and held it to my nose, the material rough against my skin. "This about Stelle, or...."

I didn't know what to say. Where to start. "You think I had something to do with it?" I asked.

"With what?"

"With-" I wiped my nose with the napkin. "With the accident?"

"What the fuck could you have done?" Bon asked and I turned my gaze away. "You heard what Stelle said, her mum drove in bad weather an' slammed the rail. You didn't do anythin'."

"Haven't you ever thought that my time traveling might have serious consequences?" I asked, almost snapping. "That maybe circumstances change when we mess with time and space?" Bon stared into his orange juice and shrugged.

"Truth is I haven't thought much of your time travelin'," he said. "An' I really don't think it has anythin' to do with the accident, love." I wasn't convinced. I couldn't help but blame myself for a lot of things and this had me written all over it. "Ya' know accidents happen all the time?"