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When I woke in the morning, my head was already throbbing before I even opened my eyes. Through my eyelids, I could see bright sunlight pouring through the blinds, and it made my head ache more. I groaned loudly and rolled over, only to realize that I was alone in bed. Judging by how brightly the sun was shining, it was probably closer to midday than morning, too.

It took a moment to pry my eyes open and try to recall the series of events that might have led to me being in bed alone just days before Christmas, with a throbbing headache to boot. Then it all came crashing back down on me—the Christmas party, Isaac being an ass about my eating habits, drinking too much just to spite him and then, to top it all off, being sick in his bathroom.

Suffice it to say, it hadn’t been my best night.

None of that accounted for Kate’s absence, but the smell of fresh baked gingerbread that wafted into the bedroom did. Leave it to Kate to still be perfect, put together and ready for the holidays when I was falling apart piece by piece, day by day.

At one point, it felt like I was just cracking a little bit, just a few bits of me falling away while I was mostly able to hold it together. But over time, the pieces became larger and the cracks became gaping chasms that I couldn’t conquer. Soon, there wouldn’t be any of my left—literally or figuratively. I could try my best to cling to the pieces that remained, but I didn’t know who or what they were anymore. There was nothing familiar left of me, all the best parts having fallen away long ago, leaving nothing but a shell.

“Are you finally awake?” Kate asked, appearing in the doorway with a plateful of cookies.

“No,” I replied, but gave her a weak smile. It hurt.

“I bet you don’t have an appetite for these, either,” she replied, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Gingerbread may not be part of a balanced diet, but it sounds like a pretty good hangover cure to me.”

I eyed the cookies warily. My stomach felt hollow and empty, but I didn’t think that was a good sign. The thought of those cookies sitting in my empty stomach like a rock… I didn’t like it at all.

“They’re vegan,” Kate said. “I haven’t tried them yet, so don’t tell me if they’re horrible.”

“I’m sure they’re great,” I said softly, and I knew I had lost the battle then.

I picked up a small cookie in the shape of a star. It seemed to the be tiniest design she had used. I bit off a small chunk and forced myself to chew and swallow. Even something like cookies seemed no different than medicine these days; it took all my strength to force myself to eat, even when I knew I really was hungry. It made no difference.

Kate gave me a small but genuine smile, and it made me feel horrible. It actually made my wife happy to see me take the tiniest possible bite of food. How had this become my life? The joy had I felt seeing my body change, seeing my ability to better myself… I didn’t remember that feeling at all. That sense of fulfillment was completely eclipsed by the panic, the dread and the shame that I felt whenever I had to eat.

I hated it. But it wasn’t a choice anymore. It wasn’t something I could turn on or off at will.

The one choice I could make, no matter how much it hurt, was to force the rest of that cookie down. If it made Kate smile, I would do anything. I would eat the whole plate of cookies if I thought it was what she wanted. The thought made my stomach turn, but I knew it was the truth. Kate didn’t need to share, even the littlest bit, in these awful feelings of mine. She already knew too much. I didn’t want to show her more and cause her even more pain.

“I should have brought you a drink, too,” she said, her smile fading a bit. “I think we have some ginger ale. Do you want a glass?”

“That would be great,” I replied.

“Just stay right here and I’ll get it for you.”

A part of me hated making her wait on me, but it was only one small thing on the list of things I felt guilty for. It seemed that this entire marriage was based on Kate taking care of me while I regressed further and further. If I thought it was really the life she wanted, maybe it wouldn’t have made me hate myself so much, but I knew it wasn’t. In spite of her natural motherly instincts, I knew Kate was too much her own woman to be happy being nothing more than my maid servant.

Yet the worse I felt, the more I drowned in my guilt, the less I could make a change. It seemed to be almost a physical thing then, a tangible presence, holding me down to the mattress. I didn’t know if I would ever leave my bed again.

“Look, I’ll have him call you later, but I think he needs to get some rest after last night.”

Kate was trying to talk quietly, but she wasn’t very good at it. For someone so often considered shy and quiet, she really had no volume control. I was sure that, whoever she was talking to, I wasn’t meant to hear either end of the conversation, even though I was clearly the topic of it.

“No, I know,” Kate said. After a pause she added, “I know. I do, I do. But he’s got a serious hangover, and I think you all need some time to cool down after everything. Just let it blow over so no one gets killed at Christmas dinner, and then you can get back to business as usual after that. Okay?”

That shed a little light upon whom she might be talking to, although I doubted Isaac would have called so soon after our argument. If there was one thing Isaac was, it was a brooder. He would need longer than overnight to stew in this and make himself angrier before he finally reached his boiling point and managed to get over it.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him. I will. Tell Nat I’ll call her later, too. Bye.”

It was Taylor. That made more sense. As the door creaked open, I rolled over and closed my eyes, hoping to convince Kate that I hadn’t overheard that conversation. Even though they hadn’t said anything horrible, I was still certain it wasn’t meant for my ears.

“Zac?” Kate asked softly as she stepped into the room. “I’ve got your ginger ale, and I brought some crackers, too.”

Deciding it would be rude to ignore her, I rolled over and feigned sleepiness—which wasn’t difficult, given that I felt like I could easily go back to sleep and not wake up for weeks. I gave her a weak smile, which she returned with only slightly more enthusiasm.

“Back in the land of the living for now, huh?” She asked, carefully setting the glass and sleeve of Saltines on the bedside table before sitting down next to me. “Your brother called.”

“Which brother?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know the answer.

“Taylor. He was hoping you two could get together in the studio soon, maybe today if you weren’t busy. I told him you weren’t up for it, though. I hope that’s okay.”

I nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t really want to see anyone today. I mean, aside from you and Shepherd.”

“You can’t avoid them forever, honey,” Kate said, brushing her fingers through my hair, which had fallen down to cover one of my eyes.

“I can try really, really hard, though,” I replied.

“Like it or not, they’re still your brothers, and worse yet—your coworkers. You have to find some way to get along. Last night was bad, but it’s honestly not the end of the world. You guys haven’t been home from tour for that long. There’s probably still a lot of pressure built up, huh?”

“I guess that’s what it is,” I replied, but I wasn’t so sure. We had been home for nearly a month, and although we had squeezed in some work time around all the family time that came with the holidays, I didn’t feel all that overloaded with my brothers lately. But perhaps everything coming to a head, their frustration with me finally reaching its peak.

“Get some rest and everything will seem better, I promise,” Kate said.

“I love you so much, Katie, but you know that isn’t true.”

She nodded. “I know. It will help with the hangover, though, and whatever else has gotten you so run down lately. The rest of it… whatever it is… it can wait until tomorrow. And so can your brothers. If they get mad, you can blame me for it. I’ll let them know you’re grounded.”

I chuckled softly. “Okay, Mom.”

Kate scrunched up her nose and made a face, but ultimately laughed as well. I was glad that I could still make her laugh and smile, however fleeting those moments were. If I could barely even cheer myself up, I feared I would loose my ability to make anyone else happy. I had always relied on that; if I could make people laugh, they wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t laughing with them. If I lost that skill, I didn’t know what I would do.

“Just get some rest,” Kate said and kissed the top of my head. “Do you want me to wake up you for dinner?”

“Just save me a plate, I guess,” I replied. “If I’m not up to eating it tonight, it’ll keep for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Kate replied. With one more kiss to my forehead, she stood and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

I gulped down a few sips of the ginger ale, just to be able to say that I had, and rolled back over. Even though I had slept half the day away, I already felt on the verge of nodding off again. I cocooned myself in our blankets, trying to find some little scrap of warmth to stop my shivering.

How had I become so pathetic? Rockstars were supposed to party all night and sleep all day, but I was such a pathetic, twisted parody of that that it was almost laughable. It was past the point of laughable, actually, and straight into pathetic. If it was possible to pity yourself, then that was exactly what I felt.

In only a matter of minutes, I drifted off to sleep, but it was fitful, full of dreams that passed by in strange, incomprehensible flashes. I felt feverish. Still, the dreams were preferably to being awake, suspended in this state of shame and self hatred. Perhaps that was why I found myself so tired lately; sleeping was my only escape.

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