Phone Calls
The afternoon passes us by in a blur of cigarette smoke and silly little recollections of our life in the old house. When those recollections drift toward the times we hid from fans and dodged camera lenses while just trying to play in our own yard, we fall into silence yet again. I think Taylor even manages to fall asleep for a few minutes, his head nestled against my shoulder.
Only the chiming of his cell phone’s text alert pulls us from our reverie. He wiggles around a bit to free the phone from his pocket and I have to move away from him before the wiggling gets to be more than I can handle. I don’t ask him what the text says, and all he offers is that he should probably get home soon. I can’t really argue with that.
The drive back to our office passes by all too quickly. I turn the radio on this time, so softly it might as well not be on at all, and Taylor hums along with a few songs. That’s a good sign, I suppose. I don’t know what I’ve done, but maybe I’ve managed to improve his mood a little just by being there. This isn’t the kind of thing you get over in a few hours or even a few days, though; I should know. If Taylor can find anything at all to be happy about right now, though, that’s a step in the right direction.
I park my truck in front of the alley where his SUV still sits. Taylor glares at it through the windshield, as though it were responsible for today’s events. I suppose he’s just dreading anything that will bring him closer to Natalie and force him to face it all again. If I could keep him from it, I would, but I know that stealing him away from his family won’t fix anything.
For once, I guess I can’t give Taylor what he wants.
He finally pulls his eyes away from truck and looks back at me. His mouth twitches like he’s trying to figure out what to say or if he should say anything at all. I don’t know what to say either, so I just slide my hand across the cab of the truck and rest it on Taylor’s thigh. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got right now.
Taylor places his hand over mine and gives me the tiniest smile ever. “Thanks.”
I’m not really sure what he’s thanking me for. Just being there for him, I suppose, although I still feel like I didn’t really do anything. I was just there, offering stupid advice that we both knew wasn’t all that true. Still, if he wants to thank me for it, I’m not going to argue with him. Instead, I just try to return his smile the best I can and say, “You’re welcome.”
He surprises me then. He leans across the cab of the truck, closing the small distance between us, and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle and over quickly – so quickly that I barely notice the stale cigarette taste. When he pulls back, I can’t read the look on his face or that all to familiar vacancy in his eyes.
He mumbles something that might be “see you later” and slips out of the truck. I’m actually getting pretty accustomed to him just running away like that. The time that he sticks around after one of these strange little encounters will be the time that really surprises and confuses me.
I watch him walk away for as long as I can bear to before putting my truck in reverse and easing it back into the street. I crank the radio up; if Taylor’s there I can handle the silence, however awkward, but on my own I need something other than my thoughts to fill it up.
The drive passes by quickly enough, and soon I’m walking back into my empty house. Even when Kate was here, the house was never a noisy place. Our kids are the quiet type – far quieter than any children of mine ought to be, but they seem happy enough – and except for what little conversation is necessary and the television, the house just stays quiet. Still, it seems so much quieter now with no one at all there, even though I know it isn’t objectively that much worse.
The only sound now is the beeping of the telephone, alerting me to a message. I swear no one at all called this house until I had it all to myself, but now I seem to be wanted by all kinds of people. I shuffle into the kitchen and pick up the phone, hoping that the combination of buttons I press is the correct one to play the messages. It is. After pressing a few more buttons, I’m greeted by Kate’s voice.
“Hey, Zac. I just wanted to let you know that I’m coming back. I’m driving through the night, so we’ll be here in the morning, I guess. Natalie called and told me what happened and I just… well, I just think I need to come back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I find myself just staring at the phone even after the message ends. I know that replaying it won’t reveal anything that I didn’t hear the first time, so after a moment, I convince myself to just hang the phone up.
There was something so hollow about her voice. I know this can’t be easy on her. First the trouble between us and now Natalie. But Kate doesn’t fall apart. Kate buries her pain away under layers of silence and religion. So it’s not surprising that I didn’t hear any hint of emotion in her voice.
I wish I could find comfort as easily as she does. I tried. I attended the services with her and even went along with the daily prayers, the fasts and whatever else she devised that was supposed to help us get closer to God. I had never felt further away from everything familiar – further away from the woman I thought I knew, further away from the person I thought I was. Eventually, she gave up on me and let me stay home in peace on Sunday while she still prayed for both our everlasting souls.
The only comfort I ever really found was in that one little substance that seems to put yet another wedge between the two of us – the pot. It makes me sound like such an addict to put it that way, and maybe I am. It has been a comfort to me, though. When I can’t take all the people around me, especially during the long nights on the road, all I need is a bowl to slow my mind down and stop all the anxious thoughts from swirling around it.
Until Carrick moved here, I honestly did try to avoid bringing it into this house. Kate didn’t like it and didn’t understand it, and I wanted to please her. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed now. Thanks to Carrick, I’ve got a little stashed in my bedroom drawer, and I know one of my pipes is still packed away in a suitcase from our last tour. Right now, I think a nice bowl is exactly what I need to deal with today.
I carry the pipe and the little plastic baggie out the back yard, because despite everything else I’ve done wrong, I’m at least considerate enough not to make the house smell like weed. I know it’s not enough to make Kate happy, but it will at least be one less reason for her to be mad at me.
The first hit is always the hardest and the best. It burns so much that every time, for just a second, I wonder why I do this to myself. And then it hits me – that wonderful numbness, that feeling of floating and sinking at the same time and just not caring.
The bowl is gone quicker than I would like, but at least it leave me feeling a little better. I don’t have to think about anything now. I can just lay here and stay up at the sky. It must be getting pretty late in the day, because the sun isn’t blinding me at all. How have I managed to let the entire day slip away? I know the answer to that – I spent the day with Taylor – but it still seems like it has gone by in a matter of minutes rather than hours.
I wonder Carrick has done all day.
So much for not thinking about anything. Once the thought of him appears in my mind, it plants itself there and he’s all I can see and think about. I’ve deserted him as easily as Taylor seems to desert me. I wonder if that’s how Carrick sees it. He can claim to be an open book, and he certainly isn’t as enigmatic as Taylor, but I rarely know what he’s thinking. I want to know, though.
I wiggle my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the recent calls until I find Carrick’s name. I hope he isn’t busy, but I can’t imagine that he is. Maybe he even wants to hear from me. I won’t know until he answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey…” I croak out, suddenly forgetting all my reasons for calling and hating that I probably sound really stoned.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” I reply, then sigh. “Yeah, I guess. Natalie, umm… well, she lost the baby.”
Carrick is uncharacteristically quiet, no doubt trying to figure out how that’s really something wrong with me. I’m not really prepared to explain all the ways that Natalie’s miscarriage affects me, so hopefully he can figure that out on his own. I don’t really want to tell him about what happened with Taylor this morning, either. I’m starting to wonder why I even called him when there’s really nothing I want to talk about.
“And Kate’s coming back,” I add, just to fill in the silence.
“Oh,” Carrick replies. “She… is?”
“Her idea, not mine. I guess because of Natalie…”
Carrick exhales loudly enough that the phone picks it up. “So, do you think… I mean, you two aren’t going to try to work things out, are you?”
He seems almost hopeful, almost like he’s asking me not to work things out with her. I know he wouldn’t come right out and ask for that, though. I honestly don’t know if I would do anything Carrick asked of me, the way I would Taylor, but it doesn’t matter. Carrick won’t ask me to do anything – at least, nothing so selfish as that.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Honestly… I don’t think want to. But I guess I’ll see what she says.”
“And if she wants to work things out then you will?” He sounds like he’s getting a little irritated with me, and I can’t say that I blame him.
“I don’t know,” I say again. I’m suddenly really, really regretting this phone call.
Carrick sighs again. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to figure out where your head’s at right now, that’s all.”
“And I really don’t know. Sorry I sound like a broken record.”
He laughs softly at that, at least. “It’s okay. I’ll stop prying.”
“I miss you,” I say. I wasn’t planning to say it at all. The words just tumble out of my mouth completely unplanned. It’s like I’ve been drinking instead of smoking.
“I’m right here, you know,” he replies. “Just a few minutes away. I know I left, but… well, I just figured it was easier if you didn’t have to explain why I had apparently moved in. But I’m still here. You can see me any time you want.”
“Yeah, I guess I can,” I reply, even though we both know it isn’t that simple and will be even less simple once Kate is back. For now, it’s nice enough to imagine that things can carry on with Carrick like nothing has changed.