Closing Doors
Zac
Have you ever had a moment when something makes you so angry, so full of blinding rage, that your brain glitches and has to reset? Yeah. Me too. I take a deep breath, then another; I close my eyes, because seeing the second mess Taylor’s created will only make things worse. I stand up, hands on my hips to keep them from shaking. I need a smoke.
“Washer’s down the hall,” I say, keeping my voice as unaffected as possible. “There should be clean pants in the dryer.” I don’t look at my brother, again to avoid getting upset further; I turn around and head to my room, thanking the gods I have an emergency joint rolled. I can’t get it lit quick enough, and half of it’s gone when I hear the washing machine start. I hear footsteps, and I pray Taylor is smart enough to leave me alone, but I know him better than that.
“Come in if you’re going to,” I sigh. The weed is taking the edge off, and even though I still hate that I’m stuck here with him, I don’t feel the urge to rip his head off anymore. I look up as he shuffles in, wearing a pair of my jeans that are barely hanging on his hips. I think about how we used to wear the same size; maybe I was a little bigger, but there seems to be a lot more of a difference now.
“I’m sorry about the cup… and the couch… and the floor… I’ll leave as soon as my pants are clean…” Taylor half-mumbles his apologies, and I roll my eyes.
“Do you honestly think I give a crap about a stupid cup?” I wonder if he really is as clueless as he’s acting, or if he’s just playing the pity card like always. But I’ve never seen him look this… small, in every sense of the word. Ike’s words come back to me again, about Taylor shutting down, and I feel like I need to find out more.
“So… Nat and the kids?” I ask. If it’s a tough subject, oh well; he’s the one that barged back into my life.
Taylor shrugs, as though he doesn’t know, then softly says, “They’re in Georgia.”
“Like a vacation?” I have to ask, even though I’m pretty sure that’s about as far from the truth as I could get.
Sure enough, Taylor just shakes his head, staring at the floor. “Jesus, Tay… You really don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you? Not even your kids?”
“So I let her go, so what? She’d been looking for an excuse for years, so I saved her the trouble.”
“Right, how generous of you. What about me, was I looking for an excuse? How about Ike? How long until he gives up on you, too? How long until you drive away anyone who’s ever given a crap about you?”
Taylor’s head snaps up. “Yeah, and what a way to show how much of a crap they give. Leaving.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t leave if you actually treated them like they matter. Oh wait, I forgot, they don’t.” I’m starting to lose control again, but I just can’t help it. Taylor goes through people like tissues, useful for a few seconds, then trash to be cast aside.
“Why would you say that?” Taylor asks, a mixture of hurt and indignance on his face. “Why would you think that you–that they–don’t matter to me?”
“Are you seriously asking me that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” My hands are shaking again, and it’s taking all my willpower not to punch him. This has got to be an act; there’s no way anyone is that oblivious.
“I never claimed to be a nice person. Or a good person. You know that, but why does that mean I’m incapable of having emotions? Of caring?”
“Well if you do care, you’ve got a real fucked up way of showing it.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Taylor asks. “It was all fucked up, and–”
“And what? Yeah, it was all fucked up, but you’re the one that started it. So what you were supposed to do was not make out with your fucking brother!” I stand up, slamming my feet to the floor, and storm back out to the living room. I need to get some space between us before things get more out of hand than they already are.
Taylor
I let Zac storm past me, almost afraid to follow after him. His words echo in my mind, and I know he’s right. I knew all along that it was fucked up, and it never stopped me. Why didn’t it stop me? I was already asking myself that question even before I fully realized what I had done to Zac. Now it’s one of the only thoughts I have, running through my mind constantly, and rarely does a satisfying answer follow it.
After standing alone in Zac’s bedroom for a moment, I begin to wonder if he’s coming back. He hasn’t left the apartment entirely, or I would have heard the door slam. At first, all I can hear is the washing machine entering its spin cycle. I strain to listen for any other noise that might alert me to what Zac is doing, and I’m rewarded with a scream that causes me to jump backward. That primal sound, which I can only assume came from Zac, is followed shortly after by a crash.
Against my better judgment, I hurry out of Zac’s bedroom, some strange sense of concern for him forcing me to move. As I approach the living room, I can hear him cursing, his voice a low growl that frightens me, but still I keep moving. The crashes continue, and as I round the corner, I realize what I’m hearing. Zac has smashed the painting, the one I sneakily plotted to buy from him, and is now tearing into it, reducing it to nothing but shreds.
“Zac,” I say, my voice coming out weak. I clear my throat and try again. “Zac! Stop!”
He ignores me completely, and I’m not sure if he’s just being stubborn or if he doesn’t even realize I’m there. He’s lost in his own world, tearing into the canvas with his bare hands.
“Zac, please,” I say loudly. “You don’t need to do this! The painting didn’t do anything to you. If you want to hit something, why don’t you just hit me?”
Zac whips around to stare at me, his cheeks streaked with tears and anger flashing in his eyes. I knew that would get his attention, and though I’m a little afraid of him actually doing as I say, I know I would deserve it. I barely even bother to brace myself as Zac rushes toward me. The muscles in his arms tense as he pulls back to deliver a punch I no doubt have earned. At the last second, he turns away from me, his fist denting the wall instead of my face.
“Why are you here?” he shouts, cradling his hand. Without a second glance at me, he turns back and collapses onto the couch.
That’s the question, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be here, but I saw a chance and I had to take it. And for what? Now I’m not so sure. Taking a few hesitant steps toward the couch, I reply, “It’s not like I planned this… like I came here just to see you. But then I saw your painting, and I just had to see. I had to try.”
“I was doing good here. I was building something. A life, a name; one just for me. Why couldn’t you let me have that?”
He’s not looking at me when he speaks but his words alone are enough to shake me and make me doubt what I’m about to say. “Because I don’t have a life anymore. I’m not trying to take yours, but I’d like to get mine back. Even just a little bit.”
“So what’s stopping you? You take whatever you want anyway.”
“Don’t you get it?” I nearly shout, standing over him. “It’s you. I get that I drove you away, but you left and there was just… nothing left. Nothing of me left.”
“But why? I never asked to be your… whatever. I didn’t sign up for that! So why would you put that on me?” He stares up at me, still visibly furious, but there’s a desperation in his eyes as he pleads for an answer I don’t have to give.
I shake my head. This isn’t going how I intended, although it’s not as though I’ve had any semblance of control over this day. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to put anything on you. But once we got famous, it’s not like there were a lot of people around who I could really trust… people who really cared. Who I cared about. And I know I didn’t show it, not in any sort of normal way, so you don’t need to remind me again.”
“Oh don’t worry, I won’t. Soon as you leave, I’m out of here. And this time, no one finds out where I am. So why don’t you just run along, and have your precious life back, because you will never, ever see me again!”
Hot tears begin to spill from my eyes, nearly obscuring the fact that Zac is quickly heading for the door. At first I think he’s going to leave his own apartment, but then I realize that he’s holding the door open for me. But I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I’m rooted to the spot, but shaking like a leaf as I say, “Don’t you get it? I won’t have my life back then. As long as… as long as you’re gone, there’s nothing.”
He stares at me, eyes burning, nostrils flaring, fists shaking. “Not. my. problem.”
“How is it not your problem?” I practically screech. Zac storms back over so quickly I’m sure he’s going to hit me for real this time, but he stops short, practically nose to nose with me.
“You used me!” he shouts, his voice breaking. His eyes are crazed, overflowing with raw emotion, and tears are threatening to fall.
“I loved you!” I shout, my tears falling even faster now, burning my eyes. “I still love you. Before all the fame and the bullshit, it was always you and me, you know? Like twins born two years apart. And then we got famous and everybody loved me, but they didn’t really, did they? Not the fans, not even Natalie. They didn’t really know me or understand me. They weren’t like you, and I just… I just wanted someone to really love me, and I’m so fucking sorry that it was you, because I knew it was wrong. But I love you, okay? I fucking love you.”