Goodbye Hello
Airports have always had a constant presence in my life, and I never really gave them that much thought. Lately, though, every trip to the airport seems like it could change everything about my life. It’s always some big, watershed moment, and usually one that I dread.
Today, I dread it because it means Kate and the kids are flying back to Tulsa.
I know I can survive without her here for moral support, and I know I’ll get to see the kids again around Christmas, but knowing those two things don’t make me feel any better about watching them leave today. It’s been a few days since Kate’s dinner scheme, and although I’ve been busy taking the kids to see all the sights and sounds Los Angeles has to offer, I haven’t stopped feeling Carrick’s absence acutely. He hasn’t been back to visit since that night, and I’m afraid without Kate here to force us together, we’ll never reconcile.
I stay at the airport as long as possible, because even though airports aren’t my favorite place right now, being right here with my kids and Kate is. As long as I’m with them, even though I know we’re not a happy family anymore, I can pretend that nothing else in my life is wrong.
But of course it has to end.
Kate and the kids linger as long as possible after their flight is called, too. Although Shep and Junia cling to me and repeatedly tell me how much they will miss me, I’m speechless and so is Kate. This isn’t really how I planned for this trip to go or to end. This isn’t how I planned for anything to go, and I wish I could apologize to her for everything, especially bringing her into all of my problems.
“It’ll all work out,” Kate says softly, like she’s read my mind. “But you better call me every day and let me know how you are.”
“It won’t be long until I see you again,” I reply.
“No, it won’t,” she says. She looks like she wants to say more, but the PA system crackles to life and gives the final boarding call for her flight. She gives me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and whispers in my ear the same assertion that everything will be okay.
I hope she’s right.
After we’ve said goodbye and they’ve boarded the plane, there’s no reason for me to stay at the airport, except to keep pretending the rest of my life doesn’t exist. But it’s my ability to kid myself and believe things that just aren’t real that have gotten me into so much trouble over the years.
So I go home, back to my sad, empty condo. I know I can’t return to Tulsa, but right now, even that would be—in some ways—less depressing than this place. I had only just started to move in when the bottom dropped out. Now I’m suspended in motion here, stuck in something that barely counts as existence, and definitely not as living, in an apartment that’s not even halfway furnished. The term “bachelor pad” is far too generous for this place or for my life at the moment.
I don’t know how long I lay on my couch, feeling sorry for myself, but my pity party is eventually interrupted by the doorbell. That’s weird. There’s only one person left in Los Angeles who is even remotely likely to show up at my door, and he’s only a very, very remote possibility at the moment.
But it’s him. A quick peek through the peephole shows Carrick on my doorstep with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a strange expression on his face. I waste no time opening the door, both anxious and a little scared to know why he’s here.
“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking so sheepish that he seems a foot shorter than he really is.
“Umm, hey,” I reply, then step back to let him in. “Come on in, I guess?”
Carrick steps into the living room and wordlessly takes a seat on the couch. I watch in confusion as he pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets it up on the coffee table. At some point, surely, he’s going to explain what the hell he’s doing, acting like nothing at all has happened between us and it’s perfectly normal for him to just walk in here and make himself at home.
I clear my throat loudly. “Umm, Carrick?”
“Okay, don’t hate me for this,” he says. “I know this is kind of a manipulative move like Kate made with dinner that night. But I think it’s best for now.”
“You think what’s best for now?”
I’m answered by the sound of Carrick sending a Skype call, although it really isn’t an answer at all.
“Who are we calling?” I ask.
“Your brothers,” Carrick replies. “I know you don’t want to see them, but you do need to talk to them. And so do I. This way we can kill two birds with one stone and I hopefully won’t have to go back to Tulsa.”
I’m sure this is all about him not wanting to go to Tulsa, and helping me is only an afterthought, but I really appreciate it. It’s not like I can avoid going back to Tulsa, or at least to El Paso, apparently. And the fact that my brothers have made that decision without me… well, that’s something we definitely do need to discuss, so I take a seat on the couch just as I see their faces pop up on Carrick’s screen.
“Hey,” we both say listlessly.
“So, this is weird,” Ike says, chuckling softly. “A conference call with my brother and… well. Anyway. So, what’s up?”
Carrick glances at me, and I stare blankly back at him. I know I need to confront my brothers, but I wasn’t expecting to have to so soon. When it’s obvious I’m not going to speak, Carrick clears his throat. “Well, umm, speaking on behalf of Austin—we’re just about done mixing the album and all the artwork is ready to be printed. So I can mail you all a copy of it when it’s done to get the final approval. The money you guys put up plus what we got on Kickstarter should be more than enough for the first printing, so after it’s all finalized, we’ll start sending out the prizes to the backers. And… I guess that’s about it.”
“Sounds good, sounds good,” Isaac replies, nodding.
Taylor makes only a vague, bored sound of agreement, and it takes all my strength not to roll my eyes at how difficult he’s being. It’s not going to make what I have to say next any easier.
Ike glances at Taylor, seems to think better of saying anything to him, then turns to face the camera again. “Any input, Zac?”
“Well,” I say. “I would like to know about these plans to record in El Paso, I guess.”
“Somebody,” Isaac replies, his eyes flickering to Taylor just long enough for me to get the hint, “was supposed to call and tell you about that. Obviously, that didn’t happen. But yeah, we were thinking next week. I realize it’s now really short notice, but it is booked so… if we’re going to put an album out any time in the next decade, we should all try to be there.”
I nod. “Yeah, well, luckily I don’t have anything else going on here. So I’ll be there.”
For better or worse, I think, but don’t say out loud.
“Great,” Ike replies. “If you’ve got anything you’ve been working on, feel free to bring it. We need to get everything on the table and see if we can get at least half an album’s worth of strong demos done. And that’s not counting the stuff we were already working on.”
“He’s not asking much, is he?” Taylor quips. I shouldn’t be surprised that the first time he’s opened his mouth during the entire Skype call, it’s to make a smartass comment.
“Not at all,” I reply tersely, both because I don’t want to talk to Taylor and I don’t want to think about how it’s mostly my drama that has made us so behind on this album.
Isaac sighs. “Look, we’ve got a good two weeks to work before Christmas, and we had some good stuff before we took such a long break. I think we can pull it together.”
I wish I could share his optimism. Hell, I wish I could accurately call it optimism. It isn’t, really; that’s not a characteristic Ike has ever been known for. This is more like sheer stubbornness, wrapped up in obliviousness about how much I hate Taylor and all tied up neatly with a bow made of the desire to be able to feed and clothe his family. But he is right. We have to get this album done, and so in spite of my feelings about Taylor, I’ll be right there with him in El Paso next week.
“Yeah, alright,” I say. “I’ll book my flight as soon as we’re done here. By the way, are we done here?”
Ike looks a little annoyed at my abruptness, but I think he also realizes that it’s not an exactly comfortable conversation. After another sigh, he says, “I suppose. Oh, Mom wanted to know if you were staying with them for Christmas? Also, you should call her more often.”
“Okay, okay,” I reply. “I’ll call her after I book the flight.”
“I’ll make sure he does,” Carrick say, which earns him a soft laugh from Ike and an empty stare from Taylor.
“And I’ll see you guys in a few days,” I add.
“Sounds good,” Ike replies. “Don’t have too much fun out there in Cali, alright? See ya later.”
It isn’t the most emotional of endings to the call, especially since Taylor has said less than a dozen words the whole time, but it seems oddly fitting. I plaster a smile on my face and wave at the screen until Carrick ends the call and my brothers’ faces vanish from the screen.
“You know, we didn’t have to put on such a happy face for them,” I say as Carrick closes his laptop.
“Yeah, we kinda did,” he replies. “I mean, they don’t need to know… how things are going. Ike definitely doesn’t need to know, and telling Taylor that he’s gotten under our skin will only make him worse. He doesn’t care what people think about or feel for him; he just cares that he’s on their mind at all. I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” I admit.
“Just don’t… I don’t want you to read too much into this, alright? I still don’t know how I feel about things between us, but I know how I feel about your brother.”
I nod, but any happiness I had previous felt vanishes. I should have known that Carrick wasn’t trying to make some huge statement about our relationship by doing this for me. If anything, it was more for his benefit than for mine. The urge I had felt to kiss Carrick quickly fades away and I scoot away from him ever so slightly.
“Having said that…” Carrick sighs. “When you’re in El Paso and Tulsa, don’t hesitate to call me if you need to talk. And I have a feeling you’re going to need to talk.”
“You think?” I ask, giving him a smirk to let him know I’m not angry.
“I think you need to talk a hell of a lot more than you do… and maybe do some of that, and some thinking, before you act.”
“You may be right,” I admit, still smirking.
“Being right is a bad habit of mine,” he replies, nodding soberly.
Leave it to Carrick to make me laugh when I want to be upset that nothing is going how I want it to go. Again, I’m not angry with him. I don’t think I ever have been or could be angry with him. I only wish he could feel the same way about me, but as long as I keep doing like he says and acting without thinking, I know I’m going to find new and creative ways of upsetting him.
I can only hope not to find any of those ways during the trip to Sonic Ranch.