Dear Sister, Here's Some Advice

Although Jack and I technically had our own beds on this tour, we usually did sleep together. It literally was the only way I could get some sleep. Everybody by now had either heard or figured out themselves that my medication wasn’t working as it was supposed to. It did something, just not enough. I’d often get jittery or irritable. But it wasn’t anything too serious yet. Everybody just knew to give me space if I snapped at them.

I was disappointed. I didn’t want to be so dependent on medication. Of course, I knew how horrible things were before I started taking anything. Still, everything had been going so well on it, that I almost forgot about just how bad my mental health really was. I really wanted nothing but to just go back to normal. But it wasn’t that easy. Cancer could at least tried to be cured, but this couldn’t. I could suppress it, but that was all.

However, I wasn’t the one doing the worst that day. Jack woke up very late. Like, not just late in the morning, but only later in the afternoon. It wasn’t abnormal for me to wake up earlier than him, but that usually wasn’t more than an hour or two. This time, he only came out of his bunk in his boxers at two pm.

“Hey! Look who decided to finally wake up!” Rian cheered. We were the only two left on the bus with a sleeping Jack. It wasn’t that nobody else wanted to stay back, they just all had better things to do.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” I teased, eating a spoonful of my cereal. I already had breakfast a long time before, but there wasn’t anything else I wanted to eat for lunch on this bus.

Jack gave us a sleepy grin, his eyes still half closed and he rubbed his face just a little. “Did I get wasted last night?”

I shook my head since I was the only one who knew. We all went out to a bar after our last show. However, Jack and I left early without really telling anybody. I knew he had only had one beer. “No, we went to bed early, remember?”

“Oh, ha.” He nodded, a smirk toying at his lips as he sat down next to me at the table. We had had more than just fun on the empty bus. Still, he rested his face in his hands again. “I just feel very hungover.”

“You literally had one beer, are you becoming a lightweight?” I joked although I could see he really did feel like shit.

He just whined and put his head on my shoulder, shifting in his seat. He was very lucky the bus was air conditioned, or else his skin would have stuck to all the faux leather.

“Did you drug him, Ireland?” Rian accused me playfully. “Are you trying to sabotage our band? Get our guitarist out of the picture?”

“I am trying to sabotage your band. But I’m going to do that by impregnating him,” I shot back and watched as Jack took a spoonful of my cereal.

However, after just one bite, he dropped the spoon back as if in disgust. He swallow the bite he did have in his mouth, but burped loudly right after. Both Rian and I made a face that showed our revulsion. He pulled away despite sitting across from us and furrowed his eyebrows. I, however, was forced to stay in place because of Jack leaning against me and could only scrunch up my nose and look in the other direction.

“Go get some advil, it might help,” I told him, deciding against telling him how gross he was. He already looked like he felt bad enough.

“And put on some clothes, we all need to go to soundcheck soon,” Rian added, obviously not really caring as much as I did. He really just thought it was a hangover, but I knew he couldn’t be having one.

At soundcheck, Jack still seemed off. He was more awake and he looked more alive with clothes on and fixed hair. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do what he had to either. He managed to play the guitar just fine. Everything worked out just fine, but Jack was just unusually stationary and slouched.

It didn’t even become a bigger thing until we got to eat our dinner. We had gotten food from a catering business to feed all the bands and all the crew. It was a lot of food. Everybody filled up their plates and took advantage of it. I did exactly the same and went into All Time Low’s dressing room to eat my food with them. Usually, Jack would have a pile so big it could be a dinner for two, but this time I found him looking very uncomfortable with no plate to be seen.

I sat down next to him as I took a large bite of some kind of chicken. “You should go get something before it’s all been eaten.”

He looked at me, then down at my plate, and grimaced. “I’m good.”

I dropped my fork and frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and tried to dismiss me. “Just feeling a little off. Thinking about eating is going to make me be sick.”

Suddenly it just clicked inside my head. It just all made sense. “Wait, are you sick?”

It wasn’t really a question meant to sound so dumb and oblivious. Honestly, I never sounded so inconsiderate before. I wanted it to come out asking whether he felt sick and if he was okay. But I was concerned, so the two questions merged together.

“Isle,” he sighed and rubbed his temples, “I’m fine, just don’t force feed me.”

I almost felt upset that he was casting me out and not telling me anything. But then I remembered just how many times I had been sick and cranky. I had gotten snappy way too many times when I was going through chemo and people asked me if I was okay. And, now I would also do exactly the same whenever I felt a little anxious.

“Okay.” I accepted that he didn’t want me pushing the subject. “Just tell me when you need me to get you something.”

But he never did. He was getting more and more distant and quiet as the evening progressed. His skin went a little more pale and he’d stare off into the distance. Occasionally, he’d get up to the bathroom. And if he hadn’t only been in there for around a minute or so each time, I would have been worried.

I let him be and eventually had to leave him to play my own show. It was only forty minutes, but when I came back, it was like Jack’s condition had worsened tenfold. The All Time Low boys were all still busy clipping on their monitors, trying to rush. Jack was helping Rian out, but I could see that Jack was in no state to play an entire show now.

He was now also sweating profusely. His hair was just a little too matted for the rather chilly rooms. I could see his hands shake softly as he finished clipping the box to Rian’s waistband. Somehow, he had managed to become more pale and his eyes had started watering. Just one glance and I immediately knew he had a fever. There was no doubt about it.

I went up to him and put my hands on his cheeks to get him to look at me. I didn’t care that I was still disgusting from playing up on stage. His skin was clammier than mine. If the roles had been reversed, Jack would have scolded me for lying about feeling fine and would have forced me to go to bed.

“You really don’t look okay,” I told him and brushed my fingers through his hair to fix it and subtly touch his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fi–” He push off my hands and brought his own fist up to his mouth, and it was like he gagged but held it back. “I’m fine.”

I shook my head, ready to disagree with him, but Alex was just a bit faster. “Dude, you look like shit. Maybe you should sit this one out.”

“I’m fine,” Jack shrugged us both off. “I can play the show.”

I wanted to tell him that he really shouldn’t. But then came the five minute warning. Jack followed everybody out, not letting me stop him. I did follow him back to sidestage, though. Although I didn’t watch them every night, occasionally just there for a few songs, I felt like I needed to be there. Jack wasn’t being smart, but I still wanted to be there for him.

He looked just as bad when he got his first guitar of the show from his guitar tech. He looked just as bad when he hung it around his neck. And he looked just as bad standing there, waiting to get the sign to go onto stage.

All he did was give me a kiss before he ran out on stage with the others.

He was jumping around like usual at the beginning, but I could see his condition deteriorating. Half way through the first song, he stopped jumping around. Then his run turned into a jog. By the third song, he was just standing to the side. Completely stationary. His eyes on his guitar to make sure he wouldn’t get his fingering wrong. He started swaying, and not to the music. It hurt me to see him push himself like this.

When the song ended, Alex started talking into his microphone. I saw Jack start to make his way over to his own very slowly and with much hesitation. Fortunately, we made eye contact just as he made his first step. I shook my head and waved my hand to beckon him over. Instead of gesturing me to leave him alone, he actually came up.

As he came closer, I saw that he was already sweating like he had played a full set. His eyes were dilated and he swallowed hard.

“You need to stop,” I urged.

He nodded and didn’t say a word. Instead, he just dropped his forehead onto my shoulder and hugged me despite the guitar getting in the way. He let out a sickly groan and I tried comforting him by running my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. It was dripping wet, but it didn’t matter. He was literally shaking with his entire body.

I looked past him to see Rian staring at us from his drum set. Alex was supposed to have his banter with Jack right now, but there was no way it was going to happen.

“Do you think you can play one more song?” I asked Jack hopefully. “I’ll figure something out.”

Jack slowly removed himself from me and looked at me like he all he wanted was to say no, that he wanted to stop now. Yet he nodded and begrudgingly left me to return to his spot on stage. He didn’t say a word into his microphone, though. Instead, he just gave Alex a sign to wrap it up and they started playing the next song.

As soon as the notes started ringing, I turned around to the rest of the crew. They all seemed worried and were trying to figure out what to do. Well, they weren’t really worried about Jack’s wellbeing, they were just unsure what to do if he couldn’t play anymore. The fact that he was sick was just a secondary thing for them.

“Alright, hook me up,” I told them, making them all look at me, “I’ll replace Jack.”

“Can you do that?” Brian, their tour manager, seemed skeptical and frowned.

“Yeah, of course,” I nodded, feeling like we had to hurry up. “I know some songs.”

“More than me?” Alan, Jack’s guitar tech asked. “I only know like three or four well enough to properly play.”

“I definitely know more.”

“Alright, get her hooked up,” Brian announced to everybody.

In no time I had multiple people rushing to get me ready to go on in a matter of two minutes. There were hands practically all over me clipping things onto my waistband and connecting my in-ears to the right channel. We were done with just seconds to spare.

Jack immediately came back over to me. He had now turned a shade of green. His swaying had intensified and he had trouble focusing on anything. He was literally seconds away from passing out. I knew, I had done it before myself.

I helped him take his guitar off and hung it from my own shoulder. As much as I would have loved to help him with everything else, I didn’t have the time. I had to save the show. Honestly, I never thought I would be the one to save All Time Low’s show. My goal wasn’t ever to play in a band. To Cam, this would have been a dream come true. For me, I just wanted to help Jack out.

I pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead, feeling a little guilty that we were going to have to part ways. “Go find John, he’ll take care of you.”

“John?” He mumbled in confusion.

“Yeah. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and started stumbling away. I went in the opposite direction and walked onto the stage. The lights were bright and blinding and I couldn’t even make out the crowd at first. There was some screaming muffled by my in-ears as I went over to Jack’s microphone. A guy from the crew came running out from side stage, quickly adjusting the microphone to my height.

“Oh!” Alex was looking at me, wondering what the screaming had been for. “You’re not Jack!”

I was perplexed about the screaming as well. When I came out with my own band, it wasn’t that loud. I was still the same person. There was no reason to get excited. But I couldn’t be self-conscious and confused. I had to make sure All Time Low’s show wasn’t ruined.

“No, but I’m the closest you’re going to get,” I retorted, praying that I could live up to the funny things Jack would say and do. Either way, anything was better than the way Jack was acting the past few songs.

“What are you doing here?” Alex laughed, causing a few shrieks from the crowd again.

“Jack was seconds away from passing out,” I told everybody honestly. We owed the crowd some sort of explanation. “But he’s taught me how to play some of your songs. What else would we do during our free time at home?”

“Have sex,” Alex snorted.

“What’s a sex?” I acted oblivious. There was no way we were going to talk about my sex life right now in front of all of these kids.

“Damn, I thought you were supposed to take over for Jack. He’s only here to make sex jokes!”

“Actually…” I reached out for my back pocket and pulled out my phone. “I’ve got some here.”

“You have a list of sex jokes on your phone?” Alex chuckled as he came over to me with his microphone in his hand.

“Jack sends a dick joke every day whenever we’re apart.” I shrugged and opened my notes. Sure, it was a bit strange that I started saving them all. But it was only useful now. “Here’s one. What do you call a guy who cries when he masturbates? A tearjerker.”

“Wow,” Alex mocked being hurt and made his way back to his microphone stand, “you don’t have to attack me so personally.”

The crowd went wild for some reason. All it was was just a cheesy sex joke. But, hey, if the crowd liked it, why not?

“You know the next song, right?” Alex checked with me, starting to get ready to play again.

“Umm…” I squinted my eyes to check over the entire setlist. “Yep. There’s just one on here I don’t know.”

“Awesome!” Alex grinned. “You’re singing with me, right? Especially for the song after this one?”

I froze up a little, not sure what my answer was supposed to be. “If you want me to…?”

“Fuck, yes. I’ve been wanting this for over a year!”

And then the intro to Backseat Serenade started playing.

The show went alright. Of course, I was no Jack, but I tried my best. I messed up a few times, but all I could do was laugh it off. These songs weren’t exactly songs I played on a daily basis. It went alright. Every single time we had a little break, Alex would ask me to pull out another dick joke. As for Dear Maria, I did not go in the crowd like Jack did. These weren’t my fans. It probably wasn’t their best show, afterall Jack was missing, but it didn’t go too badly.

As soon as the show actually ended, I was out of there. I rushed over to see how Jack was doing. He was in our dressing room, not All Time Low’s, taking up an entire couch. Despite the fact that he now had the stomach bug I had before tour, he was still lying on his stomach. John was sat on a chair, keeping an eye on him, but also not smothering him. He had placed an empty mop bucket next to Jack, telling me that Jack had already thrown up if not more than once.

Jack didn’t really pay me much mind when I went up to his half-sleeping body. I lightly stroked his head to get his attention.

“Mom?” he groaned out, and slowly turned his head to look at me. “Oh, Isle.”

The tired lop-sided grin he gave me warmed me heart. Although he was 29 years old, I was glad that he wasn’t upset to see it was me instead of his mom.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked him despite knowing he obviously wasn’t too great. I just wanted to know if he needed anything or if he maybe possibly already felt better than when he was playing.

“Like I’m going to die,” he grumbled.

Although I knew how horrible the stomach aches and nausea was, I also knew he had a little bit of the man flu. He was going to take this to his full advantage. He was past the phase where he was trying to act like he was okay. Now he was going to act like he couldn’t do anything. But, honestly, I didn’t mind. He had taken care of me for a year, I could only return the favour.

“You should take a shower, it will make you feel a lot better,” I told him, feeling how sticky his skin was.

“Don’t wanna,” he whined and hid his face in the pillow.

“I’ll help you, I’ve still gotta take a shower as well,” I bargained, getting him to look at me again with intrigue. “Just don’t throw up all over me.”

“I can’t promise that,” he sighed, but seemed to like the idea of taking a shower now.

“We’ll be in the shower anyway, it doesn’t really matter,” I gave in. Of course I preferred that he didn’t, but if it happened, then it meant that he couldn’t help it.

“Okay.” He slowly got up.

Notes