Somehow, my stash of pills managed to last through the holidays, helped by the fact that it was becoming increasingly difficult to sneak away to pop one or two of them. The last few that I had squirreled away in my car got me through to New Years Eve, and that was it. It was just my luck, I supposed, that I would run out before yet another party.
This time, Kate was hosting. In a surprising stroke of luck for me, she realized early in the evening that she’d forgotten the ginger ale for her punch, and since she still had various finger foods to prepare to go with said punch, I was tasked with running out to the corner store to pick up a two liter.
That was how I found myself sitting in the parking lot of a Quik Trip, two packets of my new favorite vice clenched in my fist.
I didn’t even know why I was hesitating. I looked down at the little packets, and they seemed so harmless. Of course I knew that they weren’t, but I wasn’t going to let something like that happen to me again. And it hadn’t, had it? I was being careful. I had things under control and I knew my limits. And I knew that a handful of these pills would be just fine.
With that thought in mind, I ripped into the first package and poured its contents onto my tongue. I had bought a Mountain Dew, too, and I took a swig of that to wash the pills down. The sugar and fizz didn’t mix well with the tablets, but I forced them down anyway. I needed them. It didn’t matter how unpleasant the taste was. I needed this, and I was going to do it.
I stuffed the other packet into my pocket and put the car into drive. The pills would kick in soon enough and give me the boost I needed to get through the party. I just had to wait; if I had to guess, I would be feeling it before I even pulled in the driveway.
I took the long way around our neighborhood, just to give the pills a little extra time to kick in. It was stiflingly hot in my car, so I rolled the windows down and turned the radio up. It was December, but I felt like I was cruising along the California coast in the height of summer. It wasn’t as pleasant of a feeling as I would have hoped, and I wanted to keep on driving and never stop, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to go home.
When I finally pulled into my driveway, it was full of cars. I must have driven around for longer than I had thought. A quick glance at my car’s clock confirmed that, and a check of my cell phone revealed multiple calls and texts from Kate trying to figure out what was taking me so long. I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t know how time had gotten away from me. All I knew was that it had. Once again, my perception of not just myself but the world around me seemed to be wrong. What seemed like mere minutes was really over an hour.
Now the party was apparently in full swing without me. That part wasn’t such a surprise. Of course they all decided they could get along just fine without me there to dampen the mood. Of course they didn’t really miss me at all.
With that thought in mind, I couldn’t get out of my car at all. I turned the engine off, but I didn’t move. I stayed planted in the driver’s seat, staring at the license plate on Taylor’s car. Did I even want to go inside? I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted at all. All I knew was that my body wouldn’t move.
I was vaguely aware of the shutters being opened just enough to peek through, and I looked away. The sound of the front door opening and closing hit my ears, but I still didn’t move. Only when Kate ripped open the door to my car did I manage to turn my head.
“What the hell, Zac?” She hissed out. “I’ve been calling nonstop. And now… this. In front of everyone.”
I glanced back and the house and saw that there was indeed a cluster of my friends and family standing by the door, gaping. Of course they would enjoy watching the Zac Hanson Shitshow again. This was shaping up to be a really good episode, too. I almost felt like an observer of it, as well, watching the scene from somewhere outside my body where I couldn’t control my behavior at all.
“Will you please just stop whatever this is and come inside?” Kate asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”
Kate gave a soft sigh. “Is this an existential crisis I can help with or something else?”
“Something else, I think,” I replied.
Kate vanished from sight for a moment, and I thought she was giving up on me. Then I heard the passenger door open and realized she was trying a different tactic. I had to admire the woman’s patience. I would have given up on me years ago.
“Okay,” she said. “So it’s something else. Can we narrow it down any more than that? Let’s break this down into little, manageable pieces so we can get through this.”
“Me,” I corrected. “Not we. You’re not… you’re not part of this. You didn’t do this to me.”
“I’m your wife. Of course I’m part of this.”
I shook my head. “But you shouldn’t be. This is… it’s too much, Katie. I don’t want this for me, so I damn sure don’t want it for you.”
“Well, you should have thought of that before you married me,” she replied, but it was without venom. It was merely a statement of fact, and I couldn’t really dispute it. She reached for my hand, but pulled back quickly, wiping her own hand on the car seat. “God, Zac. You’re practically dripping sweat and it’s the middle of winter.”
As if to prove her point, she put a hand up to my forehead. I cringed, but it wasn’t like I had room to get away from her. I did feel hot. I supposed it was the pills. I probably should have been concerned about that, but I had bigger problems than another possible overdose.
“You need to get inside and lay down if you’re sick,” Kate said. She reached for my hand again but I yanked it away, and instead her hand landed in the cup holder. She pulled it up, something plastic caught between her fingers. “What’s this?”
For a brief moment, I thought my heart had actually stopped, and I wasn’t sure if that was because of the pills or because the pills were no longer a secret.
“Zac, these are…” Kate gasped out, eyeing the ripped packaging closely. What remained of it was obviously still enough for her to puzzle out what it had once contained. She wasn’t dumb, after all. “They’re… diet pills? You’ve been taking these?”
I nodded, because what else could I do? I had stupidly left the proof right there for her to find.
“For how long?”
“I don’t think you want to know,” I replied, but even as I said it, I knew it was the wrong answer.
“For how long?” Kate repeated.
I hung my head. “October, I think. After my birthday.”
The car filled with a horrible silence. I couldn’t remember another silence so oppressive, so thick in the air that I felt like I could almost see it, taste it, grasp it in my hand and throw it out the window. If only it were that easy to rid myself of my problems.
Finally, Kate let out a breath. “When you were in the hospital.”
It wasn’t a question. I nodded.
“What else have you lied about?” She asked, then shook her head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. Here I am killing myself to stay in shape, lose the baby weight, while it seemed so easy for you. I was dying to know your secret. Some fucking secret.”
“I didn’t…” I trailed off, because I wasn’t sure where I was going with that sentence. There was nothing to deny, other than the fact that I hadn’t lied to her about anything else. But why would she believe that? It wasn’t even worth fighting about. Nothing was.
“I feel so stupid for not seeing it. For not seeing that something was wrong. But maybe I’m just as bad, you know, with the exercise and fad diets and everything.”
I shook my head. “You’re not. You’re not like me at all. You’re so much better than me, and all… all I wanted to was to be that good. That perfect.”
“This isn’t perfection, Zac. I mean—I’m not perfect, and whatever you’re doing… whatever you’ve done… it’s not good. Not good at all. And I want to be the good wife right now—maybe for the first time ever—and try to stop this. Try to stop you. But mostly, I’m just really, really angry at myself, that you could do something like this and that I didn’t even see it.”
“I guess that’s understandable,” I replied. There was no fight left in me. I nodded to the backseat. “Your ginger ale is there. Not that I think anyone really cares about the punch anymore. But it’s there and I’m… I’m just gonna go.”
“Go?” Kate asked, and there was a hurt in her eyes that I hadn’t expected.
“I think I’ve caused enough of a scene tonight,” I said.
“So you’re going to leave,” she said, her voice turning cold. “Because that won’t cause even more of a scene; one of the hosts of the party being absent.”
“We ought to know by now that I ruin every party. Someday you’re all just going to stop inviting me at all.”
“If you’re going, then go.” Kate reached into the backseat for the plastic bag that contained the catalyst for my newest breakdown. “But just… don’t stay gone. And I mean that in distance and in spirit. You’ve been so, so far away for so long. I just want you back. That’s all.”
Kate turned away from me then, but not too quickly to keep from me seeing the tears pooling in her eyes. Mine were dry. A part of me wished I could cry. I knew that I would felt more normal if I could.
But I didn’t.
In silence, eyes dry, I watched Kate climb out of my truck and walk back to the house. I turned my head as she ushered all the nosy observers back inside, and I tried not to think about how she would be forced to explain what I had done. But I couldn’t undo it. Staying would only make it worse, and so I turned my car back on and drove away.
I wasn’t sure where I was going at first, but my body instinctively drove toward our downtown studio. The couch inside wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, and it wouldn’t be the first time a Hanson man had spent the night there. I hoped it was only one night. A part of me wanted to wait until I had found myself again to come home, but I knew that meant I might be on the run forever.
I was really tired of running.
I was just tired.