Guilt
Neither of us gets much sleep the second night in Iowa. How can we? In spite of Natalie’s vague warnings, Taylor stays in my room. Nothing really sexual happens, though. Mostly, we try to distract ourselves with movies and snacks from the hotel’s vending machine. When those fail to hold our attention, we begin throwing out ideas for how to foil Nat’s plan. Since we don’t even know what her plan is, or how many possible copies of the photos she has or could make… we don’t really come up with any definite plans of our own.
Every way that we manage to look at it, we’re screwed.
That feeling of dread follows us into the morning and to the airport. It stays with us through the entire flight back to Tulsa. We seem to come to some unspoken agreement to keep our distance, at least publicly, and we put everyone else in our little entourage between us on the plane. It isn’t much, but it’s still hell to be this far away from him. Just when we’ve finally bridged this metaphorical distance between us, we’re being forced to put physical distance in its place. It isn’t fair.
But maybe it is. Maybe this is exactly what we deserve for being, in most of society’s eyes, this sick and depraved. Maybe this is karma or God’s retribution or something. I don’t know. I don’t remember the last time I really believed a word of what the preacher said in church… or the last time I even went. It’s pretty hard for me to muster up any sort of feelings of remorse or guilt, even though I’m pretty sure that’s what I should feel for wanting my brother. But I just don’t. So maybe that’s why we’re being punished. I don’t know.
But it’s Natalie. Who is she, the woman who trapped my brother in a marriage I’m positive he didn’t want, to judge anyone? She’s throwing a hell of a lot of stones out of her glass house, if you ask me.
I get pretty deep into my thoughts during the flight, but I don’t come to any sort of conclusions. It isn’t really that long of a flight, anyway, and I’m not sure there are any conclusions to be reached here. There’s nothing that can be said or done.
Everyone in our group is quiet as we make our way back through the Tulsa airport. Most of us are happy to be home, Taylor and I excluded, but even that happiness is tempered by the fatigue caused by such a short trip. Either way, the two horribly depressed men in the group don’t really seem out of place compared to how down everyone else is, and for that I’m glad… as glad as it’s possible for me to be about anything right now.
Nikki and the kids are there to greet Isaac, but there’s no one for me and Taylor. It’s a stark contrast to our last arrival home, when Taylor’s entire brood was here. Everyone has to notice, but no one says a word. By this point in the summer from hell, I think they all know better than to say a word about anything strange they’ve noticed.
I want to say or do something for Taylor, but I know I can’t. Now that we’re back in Tulsa, we have to put our guards up. Natalie could be, literally, lurking around every corner, ready to bust us for even the most innocent little thing. I hate that I can’t even offer my own brother a ride home from the airport, but that’s the state of our lives right now. Even that little gesture could be twisted around by Natalie, and with the photographic evidence she has against us, we couldn’t even defend ourselves.
So I don’t offer him a ride. With barely more than a mumbled goodbye at a safe distance of a few feet apart, we part ways and go off to our own separate lives.
As I drive back to my apartment, it occurs to me that I’ve almost completely forgotten about Carrick over the last few days. Okay, I haven’t really forgotten. I could never erase him entirely from my memory. It’s just that other things have taken precedence over him. That realization brings on a lot of guilt, but I’m not sure what to do about it. I can spend more time with him now to make up for it, but it won’t erase these few days without him.
As always, no matter what I do, I just can’t win.
When I’ve arrived home and finished unpacking, I contemplate giving him a call. Maybe we can hang out tonight. I can’t bring myself to do it, though. While I can’t muster up any guilt over what I’ve done with Taylor, I do feel guilty for ignoring Carrick so thoroughly, and that guilt leaves me too paralyzed to even send him a text.
That doesn’t leave much of anything for me to do for the rest of the day. I smoked all my stash before I left, and I’m feeling too lazy to even call around and try to replenish it. I just don’t want to do anything but sit and wallow, even though I know I should be doing something to distract myself. But I just can’t.
In the end, I settle for playing video games and scarfing down all the junk food in the apartment. Not a great way for a grown man to spend a day, but I can’t really find it in myself to care. When everything else about my life is going to shit, I might as well indulge in the few things I have left that bring me some amount of joy.
I’ve reached a point in my life where I don’t even care how sad I sound. It’s just a fact of my life; I’m a pathetic mess. I’ve accepted this.
I waste several hours on the video games, eventually taking a break only to order myself a pizza. The cheerful, probably teenage, girl on the phone talks me into a special deal that gets me an extra large pizza and wings, and I’m powerless to say no. Why not? It’s not like I’ve got any other plans for night besides eating myself into a coma and passing out as early as I can.
Not surprisingly, it ends up being more pizza than I can eat on my own, but I give it my best anyway. I’m halfway through my third slice when my cell phone starts ringing. I just got this phone a few months ago and I’ve been too lazy to assign special ringtones to the contacts, so until I locate it amongst the couch cushions and glance at the screen, I have no idea who could possibly be calling me.
It’s Taylor.
In my haste to answer him, I wipe the pizza grease off on my pants, not really even caring if it stains. My hand is shaking so hard I can barely answer the phone and hold it up to my ear, but after a few stressful seconds, I finally manage to say, “Hello?”
“Hey, Zac… umm, is is alright if I come over?” He asks breathlessly.
Well, he’s certainly not wasting any time. I want to know why, when he’s only just gotten home, he wants to come to my apartment, but that question can probably wait. “Yeah, of course. Come on over.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The phone goes silent before I can even say goodbye, and that worries me. He’s obviously in a hurry. That can’t possibly be a good thing.
Something has happened with Natalie. That’s the only possible explanation. Surely she hasn’t kicked him out, though. Hasn’t her entire purpose been to keep her marriage together at any cost? It just wouldn’t make sense for her to kick him out. So the only other possible conclusion is that… he left.
But he wouldn’t do that. Would he?
A little less than twenty minutes later, almost exactly at the time he said to expect him, the buzzer by the door goes off. I know it has to be Taylor, so I don’t even bother saying anything to him; I just buzz him right on up and wait impatiently by the door for him to arrive.
When he does, he looks like he’s been through hell. Has it only been just a few short hours since I’ve seen him? And was it only two nights ago when we were so happy and convinced that all of our problems were solved? It seems like years, and looking at Taylor, I’m guessing he feels that way, too.
I let him into the apartment without a word, because he doesn’t really look like he’s in a talking mood. He barely even seems aware of my presence; he just walks in and throws himself down on the couch. Even then, he just stares off into the distance, hardly even seeming to notice the video game on pause on the television screen in front of him. I consider offering to turn the game off and let him choose what to watch, but I don’t think he really cares. I think he just needs a little time. Or a lot of time. I don’t know.
I can’t just stand here and do nothing, though. Taking a few steps closer to the couch, I say, “I’ve got pizza and wings, if you’re hungry…”
He nods, but makes no move toward the kitchen. Since he seems pretty helpless, I head that way and fill a plate for him—two slices of pizza and most of the wings that I didn’t even want anyway. I open my mouth to ask him what he wants to drink, but think better of it, and just grab him a beer. He won’t say no to that, I’m sure, and he probably wouldn’t have answered if I had asked.
The food and beer nearly go flying out of my hand when, once again, my cell phone begins to ring. I set them back down on the counter and reach for it, my brow furrowing when I realize that the call is from Kate. What could she possibly want right now?
“Hey, Kate…” I say.
That catches Taylor’s attention. He practically flies off the couch and stares at me. I motion toward the plate on the counter, and he walks that way, but his eyes never leave me—and my phone.
“Zac,” Kate says. “Is Taylor there?”
“Yeah, he—” I begin, but I cut myself off when Taylor’s eyes go wide and he begins to frantically shake his head. “No, I haven’t seen him since, umm, since we got back earlier.”
There’s silence on the other end of line like Kate is trying to decide whether or not I’m telling the truth. After a moment, she finally replies, “Well, if you do happen to run into him… I don’t know what’s wrong, but apparently Nat is really mad at him. So wherever he is, he should probably stay there for a while and let her cool down, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll… if I see him, I’ll pass that along,” I reply.
“Okay, good,” she says. “I’ll, umm, I’ll see you soon, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Bye, Kate.”
“Bye, Zac.”
I’m really not sure what just happened. Kate had to know I was lying and that Taylor really is standing right next to me. But she covered for him—for us. If she really knew what was going on, I’m sure she wouldn’t have. If I thought religion would actually help me now, I’d thank god that Natalie kept her mouth shut about just exactly what Taylor did to upset her so much.
“What was that all about?” Taylor asks, looking just as confused as I feel.
“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly. “But I think my soon-to-be-ex-wife is covering for you. You have no idea how lucky you are.”
“It’s hard to really feel lucky right now.”
“What happened?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She’s just insane. I mean… it’s not like I expect her to be understanding about… you know, us. But why she can’t just leave… just let me go… I don’t know.”
“She won’t,” I reply. “You know you… well, your name… is her number one priority. Your status. This image of the perfect family. That’s what she wants. It’s not even about you, except for the fact that you’re Taylor Hanson.”
“Why couldn’t you have told me that ten years ago?” He asks.
I shrug. “Would you have believed me? I was just a kid.”
“But you knew it was true even then, didn’t you?” He asks. Before I can answer, he says, “But I did, too. I just didn’t want to believe it. And I wouldn’t have even if you’d told me.”
“So there’s no point in worrying about what might have been,” I reply. “It doesn’t change anything. But what are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor replies softly. “I wish I did.”
I do, too. I wish one of us had an answer. For now, for tonight, we’re safe. For whatever reason, Kate is doing us a far bigger favor than she even knows. But after tonight… god only knows what’s going to happen to either of us… and to our family.