The Next Morning
August 10, 2007
It is a well known fact that I am not a morning person. No, that’s a gross understatement. I hate mornings with a burning passion. Burning is a very appropriate word, in fact, because the first thing I see when I wake up on this particular morning is the sun coming right through the curtains and blinding me. I growl at it, like that’s going to make a difference, and pull the pillow up over my head.
That’s when I realize I’m alone in bed. If Kate was with me, she would have stirred by now. She can’t stand the way that I wiggle around when I can’t get comfortable. Slowly, I peel the pillow off of my face and glance around.
No Kate.
But that’s not what scares me the most.
I’m not in the hotel suite at all. I’m lying in bed in my brand new house, the one me and Kate bought, but haven’t moved into yet. But the room is furnished and it definitely looks lived in. I shoot up out and of the bed and look around. No sign of Kate at all, but every sign that I’ve been living here for quite some time; my dirty clothes and shoes litter the floor all around the big bed that I seem to be sharing with no one.
My head is spinning. I’ve got to find something, anything, in this room to explain what happened. Was the entire wedding a dream? No, that doesn’t explain it. Where has my life gone? Where is my wife, if she even is that at all? And why don’t I remember moving into this house?
I see my billfold laying on the dresser and I stumble over to it. My driver’s license is in place. Yup, I’m still Zac Hanson. At least that hasn’t changed overnight. Everything else seems to be in order. My cell phone is right there, so I check it next, just to see the time and date.
August 10, 2007.
2007. That’s an entire year of my life, gone. Now my entire body is spinning from the inside out. I lean against the dresser just to brace myself until it doesn’t feel like I’m going to pass out. When I went to bed, I was in a hotel suite and it was June 3, 2006. I’m absolutely certain that was real and true. But now, it’s August 10, 2007. Over a year later and I’m sleeping alone in a king sized bed in the house I’m supposed to sharing with my wife. And I have no memory at all of how I got here.
Not even the phrase “one hell of a hangover” can explain this.
I scroll through the contacts in my phone until I find Kate – it strikes me as odd that she isn’t listed among the recent calls, but that seems like my least concern right now – and press “call.” I tap my feet impatiently while I wait for her to answer, if she does.
“Hello, you’ve reached Kate Tucker. Please leave a message at the beep and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
Sigh.
“Katie, this is Zac. Please call me back. I don’t… I don’t know what happened, but I just need you to call me back.”
I can’t imagine how I would reply if I got that kind of vague, confused voicemail. But what else could I say? I’ve got to figure this out. Maybe my memory will come back after I really wake up all the way. I stumble into the first pair of jeans I can find and I decide to take a look around what evidently isn’t my brand new house.
One look in the bathroom assures me that Kate is definitely not living here; there’s no makeup, no girly shampoos, nothing at all to hint at a female presence in the house. With this revelation, I continue on to the kitchen, where I discover a giant stack of dishes in the sink. Typical. Of course I’ve let this place become a pigsty. What else would I expect from myself?
At least the bread looks vaguely fresh. I pop a few slices in the toaster and sit down at the kitchen table to contemplate my situation.
It can’t be a hangover. It just can’t be. Maybe it’s amnesia. But what sort of doctor would let an amnesia patient, with an entire year missing, just wander around unattended? So, I haven’t been to a hospital. The amnesia is a new condition – maybe it even happened the night before. The actual night before, not the wedding night that I remember. What could I have done to myself to knock an entire year out of my brain, then climb into bed like nothing at all was wrong?
No, that doesn’t make sense either.
All things considered, I’ve only got two possibilities at hand. Either one makes my nerdy, science fiction loving brain happier than they should, even though I know, logically, both are impossible.
The first is that I’m in an alternate universe. Maybe Kate and I aren’t married at all in this one. But it all seems similar enough to my real world, at least so far. So I’m not inclined to accept this theory. Which leaves me with the second one…
I’ve traveled through time. But how? And why? And what, exactly, have I done in the past year to end up all alone in this big old house?
Whatever happened to bring me here, I figure my best course of action is just to go through my day as though nothing at all is wrong. Eventually, I’ll figure out what I’ve missed, even if I don’t ever remember any of it. Then I can get things back to normal. Maybe I’ll even get Kate back, since she was my last shot at anything really normal.
With these thoughts in mind, I butter my toast and shove it all in my mouth in just a few bites. I feel rejuvenated now. Energized. I shower quickly and dress myself in the cleanest clothes I can find, which really aren’t that clean at all. But this isn’t a time to be concerned with things like hygiene. After my shower, I stand in front of the mirror and look at myself. I haven’t had a haircut in the past year, it seems. I can almost get my hair back in a ponytail now, instead of that short business Kate insisted on for the wedding. I’d been clean shaven for the wedding too, just as she’d insisted, but now my chin is sporting some pretty impressive stubble.
If I really am a bachelor now, in this fast forward future or alternate universe, at least I look the park.
Once I’m done being narcissistic in the mirror, I walk to the garage and hop into my car. It’s funny how I easily fall into a normal routine and seem to know my way around the house, but I don’t feel like dwelling on that. There’s not much to make of it, really. It isn’t like I’ve never been in the house before. I might not have that many memories of it, but at least I have a few. One memory I know I haven’t lost is the drive to our office.
It’s still early in the morning, so I’m not surprised that neither Isaac nor Taylor has bothered to show up at the office yet; none of us are morning people under normal circumstances. My key slides easily into the door, and I instinctively remember where the light switch is.
Everything is normal, so far. Until I look around.
The room is covered in dust and paperwork is laying haphazardly all around. It doesn’t look like anyone has been in the office for quite some time. It doesn’t make sense at all. I keep walking through the rooms, flipping on the lights and finding more of the same. It’s obvious that, for some reason, we’re no longer using this office. I pick up the phone on the corner of my desk and it doesn’t even have a dial tone. Disconnected.
I fish my cell phone out of my pocket and scroll down to Taylor’s name and number. Taylor will know what’s wrong. Taylor will be able to explain everything to me and make everything all right.
“The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is not currently in use. Please hang up and try your call again.”
That’s weird. I know the number is programmed correctly into my phone, so it’s not even possible that I’ve dialed the wrong digits. I press redial and listen as the same message is replayed again. Now I’m really starting to wonder how much I’ve missed in the past year and why Taylor has changed his number without even letting his own damn brother know.
I call Taylor’s home number next, not caring if I wake up the entire household. I’m sure Taylor is still in bed, but if I whine enough, Natalie will wake up him for me. The phone rings and rings until I start to think no one is going to answer. Finally, I hear the click of a phone being picked up and the static before anyone speaks.
“Hello?” Natalie’s voice.
“Nat? It’s Zac.”
Silence. Very, very awkward silence.
“What do you want?” Her tone is terse and clipped, and it’s obvious she’s biting back whatever words she really wants to say to me.
“Is Taylor there?”
More silence.
“Are you drunk, Zac? Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?”
Okay, I know it’s early, but that’s just ridiculous. “What – what are you talking about, Natalie? I just wanna talk to Taylor. Can you please wake him up for me?”
“No, I can’t wake him up for you,” Natalie replies, her words mocking and her voice still so full of venom, but I think I can hear the hint of a sniffle like she’s about to cry. “I can’t get him and you know that. Please don’t call and say things like that again.”
“I’m sorry, I just –”
Before I can finish my sentence, I’m met with silence. I don’t know what Natalie’s talking about, but it gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I didn’t like one bit. The kind of feeling that comes when you know someone is about to give you horrible news. I don’t want to know the truth of the situation, but I can’t stay in the dark. I shuffle to Isaac’s number and press “call.”
Again, I’m met with ringing and ringing until I start to think I’m not going to get an answer here either.
“Hello?” Isaac’s groggy voice answers. Finally, something that sounds normal.
“Ike?” I ask, trying to choose my words carefully. “I think we need to talk. Can you come in to the office?”
“The office? Are you at the office?” he asks, his voice incredulous.
“Yeah… Why is that so weird? Why am I the only one here? It’s like the office is deserted or something,” I blurt out. So much for choosing my words carefully.
Isaac is quiet. Too quiet. I’ve definitely said too much and stuck my foot in my mouth somehow. I can’t very well take it all back, so I just stand there and wait for Isaac to say something, anything.
“Zac, are you feeling okay?”
I groan. “Why do people keep asking me that? I just want to know what’s going on here.”
“Are you telling me you really have no clue? Or are you shitting me here? This is a fucking sick prank, Zac.”
There it is again. Whatever I’ve missed is definitely important, and definitely bad. I need to just shut my mouth so that someone will actually say what it is instead of yelling at me for not knowing.
“Zac… you’re not joking are you? You really don’t know?” Isaac asks, his voice gentler this time, like he’s dealing with a child rather than the grown ass man I’d like to think I am.
“No, I really don’t know.”
Isaac sighs loud enough to carry through the phone. “Okay. Have a seat. I’ll come down to the office and talk with you. I guess it’s not weird for you go to into shock like this and forget. Maybe. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay…”
“Just please stay right where you are, Zac. I’ll see you in like fifteen minutes.”
I end the call and sink down into my desk chair. Something is very, very wrong. That feeling in the pit of my stomach is growing, threatening to consume me completely, because I know whatever’s wrong has something to do with Taylor.
Taylor…
The last time I saw Taylor was just before I walked out of the wedding reception. Tay was so quiet and still, which is so unlike him that it scared me, and his lips were pressed together in such a tight line you could barely see them. I said goodnight to him, even though there was so much more I wanted to say, but those words wouldn’t come. Taylor just gave me a small nod and didn’t even return my goodnight. It was beginning to feel like that was the last time I would ever see him – at least, the last time I would remember seeing him.
The minutes seem to stretch on forever as I replay the previous night – as I remember it – in my mind and wait for Isaac to walk in. When the door finally swings open to reveal him, I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I almost jump out of my chair. He’s carrying two coffees and a giant bag that I can only assume is filled with pastries from the coffee shop. I jump up to offer him a hand, and I can’t miss the sad look on his face. But it’s not just sadness; it looks more like pity.
We sort out the food and drinks in silence. I gulp down half my coffee while he stares at the doughnut in his hand. Neither of us speaks for a while. I didn’t want to say the first words because I really, really didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t dig me even deeper into my hole. So I wait for Ike to make the first move.
“Zac… this really isn’t easy, you know. I’m not sure how to explain it to you.”
“Just tell me what’s going on,” I say between sips of coffee.
Isaac runs his hands through his hair and I can see how frustrating this is for him, too. “I want to. I really do. But I need you to tell me what you remember. I don’t really understand what’s going on with you.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing out loud. It’s just all so absurd. “I really can’t tell you. I don’t understand it myself. And believe me, if I told you the last thing I remembered… you’d think I was either lying or crazy.”
“That really doesn’t help me at all,” Isaac replies.
“I know it doesn’t, okay? I’d be more helpful if I could be.” My voice does that stupid screeching thing that it does when I get angry. I take a minute to compose myself so that doesn’t happen again. “Just tell me why my wife isn’t at home, why our office is abandoned, and what the hell is going on with Taylor.”
Isaac’s eyes go wide. “You really don’t know the answer to any of those questions?”
“I really don’t,” I admit.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What’s going on, Ike? You gotta tell me.”
He runs his hands through his hair again, like he’s considering some creative lie, then slowly nods his head. “Okay. Okay, one question at a time. First, your wife.”
“Okay.”
“She isn’t.”
“My wife?”
“Exactly,” Isaac replies. “Well, she still is for a while now. I guess. But she isn’t living with you and she sure as hell doesn’t want to be your wife.”
“I think I can guess why,” I mumble. I can only think of one reason Kate would leave me. Taylor.
“Good, because I don’t want to have to say it,” Isaac says, trying not to let his face move and betray any emotion. So he knows too.
“Second question?”
“Actually, that one kind of ties in with the third,” Isaac says. “It’s a little difficult to run the business with only me and you…”
“Is Taylor…?” I can’t force the next word out of my mouth. I don’t like how easily I’ve figured out the answers to these questions, despite my lack of memories, and I don’t like that I was right.
Isaac nods, his mouth falling into a frown. I can see the tears welling up in his eyes, and I realize that I’m crying too.
“What happened?”
“A car accident. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh, god. Was he driving? Was he drunk? Did some drunk bastard hit him?” The questions tumble out of my mouth all at once, practically on top of each other.
“No, he… he wasn’t driving. We don’t know what happened. Someone drove by and saw the car smashed against a tree. Taylor was… in the passenger seat. The driver’s seat was empty.”
It feels like there’s more Isaac wants to say, but he’s holding back. I don’t know how much he really knows about everything between me and Taylor, but I can’t ask. I just ask. I wonder if Natalie knows, too. It’s obvious that Kate knows. She must, if she’s gone.
How could everything have gotten screwed up this badly? Things weren’t perfect before, but we were making do. I was even starting a new life, a normal life. I didn’t know what to be more scared about. The fact that my life was all out of order and missing from my memory, or how everything I can’t remember had gone so horrible wrong.
The one thing I know is that I have to figure out what happened. I have to find my missing year and make things right.