The Return
Taylor didn’t read the letter. It sat unopened on the table in his apartment’s entryway for days, taunting him. He had run away from Tulsa months ago and cut all ties, yet that letter was a tiny piece of his old life bleeding over into his new. For almost two weeks he walked by Zac’s letter every day, at least twice, and did not even think of ripping through the thin layers of paper containing it. When the phone call from his mother came, he did not answer that either. He didn’t need to hear her say it.
It was time to go back. Seven months of running, but it was time to go back.
He hadn’t bothered to find a job yet or make any friends in Chicago, so he had no ties to sever before packing his bags and going back. Taylor threw a haphazard array of his belongings into a few bags and bought the cheapest plane tickets he could find. With some clothes, a guitar and the letter, still unread, tucked safely into the pocket of his laptop case, he made his way back to Tulsa.
The plane ride was as uneventful as he could have hoped for. He downed a few expensive drinks just because he could and tried to find the inspiration to write in his journal. He hadn’t touched it in a year, although he carried it with him at all times. Reading through the old entries was like peeling open old wounds, but as he sipped at the drinks, he couldn’t resist the urge to flip through page after page of song lyrics and mundane details of his days. He had tried not to think about Charlotte since he left, but as the plane brought him closer and closer to his old home, the memories came flooding back.
When the plane landed, he caught a cab back to his old house. The address fell off his tongue with such ease that it seemed he’d never left at all. He leaned his head against the window of the cab and watched with only mild interest as the streets of his hometown passed by. Nothing had changed, or so it seemed. But Taylor knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t the same town without Charlotte. He’d have to sell the house if he was going to stay, he decided. He couldn’t stay in the same place they’d tried to make home when she was no longer there.
The cab deposited him in front of the little house and he had to take a long, deep breath before finding the energy to actually cross the threshold. He realized after a while that he was only being silly, standing pointlessly in the driveway. With some effort, he hoisted all of his bags up and forced himself up the driveway and through the front door. He’d never taken the key off his keychain, for stupid sentimental reasons.
Inside, it was dark and cold. Flipping the light switch on – Taylor hadn’t ever convinced himself to have the utilities turned off for some stupid reason – he saw that nothing had really changed, save for the heavy layer of dust coating every surface. The fish tank Charlotte had insisted on for their living room now sat empty and ridiculous looking. Looking out the window, he saw a car parked in front of the house next door. That had been empty when he and Charlotte moved in, but Taylor didn’t care to who the new neighbor was. He truly hoped this was only a temporary visit, not long enough to bother with introductions and acquaintances.
He shuffled to the bedroom and tossed his bags down on the bare mattress. He’d have to dig through the closets he’d never truly emptied out to see if he could find sheets and blankets, or else just crash on the couch. Taylor had a feeling the couch was more likely.
The kitchen cabinets and refrigerator were empty, of course. Taylor realized he was suddenly starving, and the only appropriate way to fix it seemed a trip to the Starbucks down the block. If anything could make him feel more at home again, it would be Starbucks.
The streets of Tulsa were not as busy as Chicago, and Taylor didn’t like that. He knew he was much more likely to run into someone he knew, and he wasn’t prepared for that. The looks of pity and the half-hearted kind words were more than he could bear. Surely after a year, people would leave him alone and let him go back to living, but it didn’t seem likely. He pulled his hat down low as he walked into Starbucks and crossed his fingers that no one would recognize him.
The coffee shop was busy, but not so busy that Taylor felt uncomfortable walking around. He got his drink and an oversized pastry quickly and took a seat at one of several empty tables. Someone had left a newspaper scattered across the table’s surface, but he didn’t think they were coming back for it; there were no other signs that someone was still occupying the table. He started to shove the crumpled papers aside, but a headline on the front page caught his eye.
Zac Hanson, 24, last seen three nights ago in Tulsa
Taylor read the headline three times before he was able to even process the words. The short article, accompanied by an old professional photo of the band, explained how Zac had evidently driven off from his apartment just days before without leaving a note or taking his cell phone. The police gave only a vague statement asking for clues and suggesting they had no clue about Zac’s motive or whereabouts. From there, the article turned to rehashing the story of how the band had gone on indefinite hiatus following the death of Taylor’s fiancée. He wadded the paper up and tossed it across the table at that point, not needing to read the sordid summary of the hell he’d lived in for the last year.
His hand shook as he tried to gulp down his meal, but he found himself unable to stomach it. The latte had gone cold, and he forced it down in huge gulps, but he couldn’t get any further than lifting the danish to his mouth and quickly lowering it right back to the table.
He tossed the unfinished meal in the garbage and hurried out onto the street, pulling out his cell phone and dial his parents’ number. It was a Sunday afternoon; he was certain that under any other circumstances, they would be home. He hurried down the street back to his house as he waited for someone to answer his call. Finally, he heard a small click on the line.
“Hello? Taylor dear?” His mother sounded as though she’d been crying.
“Yeah, it’s me…” Taylor trailed off, his mind racing with a million questions he wanted to ask. “I, umm, sorry I didn’t answer your call the other day. But I’m back in Tulsa now and…well, I just heard the news.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, with a sniffle. “It’s all right. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m on my way home now,” Taylor found himself tearing up a bit at how easily the home came tumbling out, even though he didn’t think he would ever have called Tulsa that again.
“Oh, good. The police have finally left. Hurry on over and I promise we’ll fill you in, okay? Please be careful.”
Taylor nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
With another promise to be safe, Taylor said goodbye. The walk back to his house passed quickly and he wasted no more time opening the garage door and getting in the brand new car he’d left there. Although his parents lived on the outskirts of town in a secluded subdivision and his own house was closer to downtown, the drive didn’t take very long. Still, every minute that passed gave Taylor time to think of all the worst possibilities about what might have happened to his brother.
When he finally arrived at their house, he could see even from the front gates that the driveway was full of cars. He recognized Isaac and his wife Mollie’s SUV, as well as their younger sister Jessica’s new car, which she had just bought before Taylor left. It wasn’t unusual for their parents’ house to be so full of people, but he knew that this day was different.
As soon as he stepped out of his car and onto the driveway, he saw his mother running down the front steps to meet him. He scooped her up into a tight hug and could feel her tears soaking through his shirt.
“You should have told us you were coming,” she said, her voice muffled against Taylor’s chest.
“I knew something was wrong when you called, so I just hurried back here as fast as I could.”
Diana pulled back from the hug and nodded. “Well, come on inside and we’ll tell you what we know so far. Everyone’s here, of course. So many people have been coming and going, bringing all kinds of food like someone… well, just come on in.”
Taylor followed his mother inside and into the kitchen, where Isaac and Mollie sat sipping coffee. The table and every available inch of countertop were covered, just as she had said, with all sorts of food. A tray of cold cuts was open on the table but no one seemed to be eating any of it. Taylor poured himself a cup of coffee and plopped down in one of the empty chairs, waiting for someone to start talking and help him make some sense of what had happened.
“Have you talked to Zac lately?” Isaac finally asked.
“No,” Taylor said, thinking of the letter he hadn’t even opened.
“Yeah, I didn’t figure you had.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Isaac opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Mollie reached her hand out and grasped his arm. Taylor shook his head. He knew they were all mad at him for leaving, but now didn’t really seem like the appropriate time to bring that argument up again.
Diana sat down in the remaining empty chair and cleared her throat. “Zac had been acting weird for a while now, but I don’t think any of us could have known he was going to just… disappear. The police are considering every possibility, but I think he did it on purpose. He’s a grown boy; he could take care of himself.”
“And we’re sure he’s really missing and didn’t just do something stupid like go away for the weekend and forget to call?” Taylor asked. He was grasping at straws, he knew, but nothing made sense.
“Well, we’re keeping things as quiet as we can for now, but the police think there’s something suspicious going on,” Diana replied.
“Plus, the last place anyone saw him was a bar,” Isaac added. “So he was drunk and he probably did something stupid, all right. But if he had an accident, we don’t know.”
Taylor’s stomach turned and he grasped at the table to keep his balance. Images of Charlotte’s car wreck flashed through his mind, although her car was replaced with Zac’s truck and her body with Zac’s. He couldn’t lose someone else that way. But surely, if that had happened, the police would know by now. He had to hope Zac hadn’t met the same fate.
“I think… I think I’m gonna go home. Get settled back in,” Taylor managed to mumble.
“Sure, honey. Take some food; we’ve got more than we need,” Diana said, standing up and grabbing a bag to fill with provisions for Taylor to take with him.
Taylor nodded. “Okay. I’ll stop back by tomorrow and check in?”
“Of course,” Diana said, pilling his arms full of Tupperware containers and bags of chips. “I’m sure the police will want to talk to you, just in case you know anything.”
“Right,” Taylor sighed. He was not looking forward to another trip to the police station. It was just all too familiar and opened up too many still-fresh wounds.
Taylor said his goodbyes, pilled the food into his backseat and drove home. The thought that he could wreck his own car and end everything did cross his mind, but that was nothing new. He’d found himself plagued by that thought every time he drove anywhere for the past year. He would imagine driving off the side of a bridge, swerving into a tree or running a red light. Taylor didn’t think he would actually do it, but just to be on the safe side, he hadn’t taken the car to Chicago. He decided that after this drive, it would go back in his garage again for good.
Even though he had been gone for months, the drive home seemed to just happen, Taylor’s body going through the motions on pure muscle memory without his mind having to lift a single cell to help the drive along. It took even less time than he remembered, and then he was back in the his garage, locking up the car and fiddling for the house key he’d never bothered to remove from his key ring.
He shoved all the food his mother had foisted on him in the empty pantry and refrigerator shelves. It didn’t make the kitchen feel any more like home. With a sigh, he pulled a dusty bottle of some expensive whiskey from a cabinet and didn’t bother searching for a glass that he’d probably want to wash first anyway. Instead, he unscrewed the bottle top and drank straight from it, welcoming the way it burned all the way down his throat.
Once Taylor’s insides felt warm and numb, he set the bottle back on the counter, not even caring to put the lid back on. He stumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room. It looked just as it had earlier that day when he had walked in with his suitcases. Pictures of he and Charlotte still sat in frames along the fireplace mantle, and he couldn’t resist stomping over and running his hand along the length of it, sending the frames crashing to the floor. They tumbled to the floor, landing mostly unharmed on the plush carpet. It didn’t satisfy Taylor’s anger.
He hurried up the stairs to his bedroom, deciding to tear through whatever was left of Charlotte’s possessions. He didn’t want to destroy them, but he needed something, anything, to vent his frustration. Temporarily forgetting about his suitcase, he stumbled over it and let out a loud curse. All his anger became redirected at it, and he tore through the bag, sending his own clothes flying around the room. Taylor even kicked his guitar case across the room, at the moment not caring if he damaged it. If Zac was… well, Taylor thought, he knew then that he would never play again. It didn’t matter if he destroyed every instrument he owned, not if Zac was dead.
Merely thinking about the possibility that Zac could truly be dead was enough to sober him up. He collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted, past the point of even crying. He had thought, when Charlotte died, that his life could get no worse. He was wrong.