Wine and Whine
August 11, 2007
Somehow, I seem to have convinced Isaac. I can hear the desperation in my voice, so I guess he can too. Either that, or he’s just humoring me now and he’s going to be a bastard about it later. I wouldn’t put that past him. Whatever the reasoning, it appears he’s going to put aside his usual tendencies and actually tell me what I want to know without rambling.
“I can only tell you as much as I know about it,” he begins. “But, okay. You guys had been fighting a lot. Not always those huge blowups where I think you’re gonna rip each other apart. Sometimes the quiet kind, where you don’t talk to each other for days or weeks unless it’s band stuff. That always scared me even more, you know?”
I nod. I know the kind of fight he means. It’s exactly what happened after Taylor’s wedding.
“Well, I didn’t know what was going on. I was afraid to ask. And I still don’t know, but I’m betting it’s got something to do with your… your relationship. So, umm, one night you were both at the office really late. I don’t know why. But I guess you had a fight again. And he left. Then… exactly what I told you before. Crashed his car. But the driver’s seat was empty. I don’t know, he wasn’t buckled in, so the cops figure he just got thrown over there something.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes more sense than fucking time travel.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay. But obviously there’s some part of you that believes me. So, okay. When did… when did it happen? Taylor’s… you know.”
“June 11. Well, June 12, technically. Just a bit past midnight.”
“Two months? Wow.” I don’t finish that thought. It just seems like it’s been so much longer, the way that everyone is acting. “And when did Kate…”
“About a month before that. It appears that she walked in on you guys… doing whatever it is that you do. Seriously, can you stop making me think and talk about that?”
“I can’t stop. So forgive me for wanting someone to suffer with me.”
That shuts him up, at least temporarily. And it gives me a moment to think. So, Kate found out by walking in on us. I guess I’ll have to ask her for the details of that, since Isaac doesn’t seem too keen to share. Then the car accident. It still doesn’t make sense to me. How could no one be driving his car? Where was I? Why did I let him leave an argument angry enough to wreck his car like that?
I don’t have answers to any of those questions and I know Ike won’t either. So I ask him the one thing he can answer, even if he doesn’t want to.
“How did you find out?”
“I always suspected,” Isaac says with a long-suffering sigh. “And I thought I was going crazy every time I noticed some little something between the two of you. So I put it out of my mind, but this last year… something snapped in one of you or both you, I don’t know. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I think Nat must be the same way. But Kate had no clue.”
It all makes sense. It all makes too much sense, if that’s possible. If I had to sit down and write a story to explain all that happened during my missing year, this is exactly what I would write. That means something very significant, I’m sure, but I’m not so sure what. But it does lead some credence to my theory that my brain is in control here. My brain is the thing that’s gone all wrong and forced me into this weird… I don’t know, alternate universe?
Does that mean the solution to all this is in my brain as well?
I realize I’ve been sitting here just lost in my own thoughts. I do that. Isaac is staring at me, waiting for me to say something. What can I say? “Anything else important happen while I.. wasn’t here?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing more important than what I’ve already told you. And I still really, really don’t understand all of this. I’m taking you at your word here, and your word is insanity.”
“You think this is any easier for me?” I ask, my voice turning to a squeak at the end. “Do you have any idea what it’s like in my brain right now? Scratch that – what it’s been like in brain for the past 20 – no, 21years. Everything is a mess and I’ve lost the two things that almost made my world make sense. Not to mention that one of them? He was both the reason it was a mess and the reason it made sense. Figure that out. And now. Now, on top of all that, I’m suddenly in the wrong time? If I ever thought I was crazy before – and believe me, I did – then I’m just about ready to have myself committed now.”
It’s the kind of outburst I never make. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve like Taylor. Sure, I talk a lot, but it never means anything. I talk nonsense to keep myself from saying all the meaningful, scary stuff, like everything I’ve just yelled at Ike. From the looks of things, I’ve stunned him into silence. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m guessing it’s a little of both.
He stares at me for a few more minutes before he finally decides what to say. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like in your head, and I don’t think I want to. That’s not a judgment; it’s just a statement. It sounds terrifying, if half of what you’re saying is true, which I’m still having trouble getting my head around. But say it is true. What can I do about it? What can you do about it?”
“I don’t fucking know. That’s the problem.” It’s at this point that I do the one thing I really hoped I wouldn’t do in front of Ike. I start to cry. “How can I fix things when I don’t even know what’s wrong? What if it is all in my head after all? What if it’s not? Either way, I’m pretty much fucked.”
“You’re not the only one who lost something here, you know.” Isaac’s voice is softer now, and it’s a tone I honestly can’t remember hearing him use in years, maybe not since everything was falling apart with the band and the label. “I lost a brother, too. Not in the same way you did, I know. But I loved Taylor in my own way, and my world is falling apart now, too. So just remember that; you’re not alone.”
Something about that pings that same sensor in my brain again. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know there’s something meaningful about what Ike has said. And he’s right. I’m not the only one suffering here. Natalie’s all alone with three kids now. The band is gone. Our entire family – we’ve all lost Taylor. And I’ve ruined my marriage in the process. Why does it feel like somehow I’m responsible for all of this? It all seems to center around me and Taylor.
That definitely means something. I know it does. I just don’t know what. But if I can figure that out, I can get him back. I know I can.
Ike’s staring at me again. It’s possible I was mumbling to myself just then. I offer him a tiny smile. “I know. I’m sorry for being so… self-centered, I guess. Selfish. Whatever. I know we’re all hurting. I know this isn’t just about me.”
Well, that’s only half a lie. It is about me, but it’s about Taylor too. But Isaac seems to accept my apology. He offers me a hand and helps me stand up, then pulls me into an awkward hug. As affectionate as I always was with Taylor, even before anything started, I’ve never been like that with Ike. There’s always been the normal brotherly distance, I guess. But at this moment, nothing could feel more right than the hug him.
I let him decide when the hug should end before it starts to get too weird for him. We fall into a silence that’s not really comfortable or uncomfortable – somewhere in between, in the way that silences usually are after some tragedy like this. He helps me gather up some sheet music so I won’t look like I’ve lied to mom, and I help him load a couple guitars into the back of his car.
We walk back to into the house together to return the plate and glass, and I’m relieved that the family seems to have retreated far enough into the house that we don’t have to deal with them. Are they avoiding me? I can’t help being paranoid about it, but I don’t think they are. Ike swore that only he, Natalie and Kate knew the secret. No one else. But maybe somehow they still blame me.
The silence continues until we’re back at his car, standing awkwardly by the driver’s side door. He’s turning his keys over in his hand and I’m rocking back and forth on the gravel, enjoying the way it crunches underneath my feet.
He finally clears his throat. “Look, Zac. I don’t understand this. Any of this. I don’t know if you’re right about this time stuff or if you’re really cracking up. But whatever’s happening with you, you’re still my brother, and I’m getting low on those lately. So I’m not gonna push you away for being a little nutty right now. I hope whatever it is going on, you can figure out some way to fix it.”
“Me too. Me fucking too,” I reply, then more quietly, add, “Thanks.”
I have to walk away before Ike has time to get all sappy. If given a chance, he can be pretty bad. Usually he just rolls his eyes and ignores anything I feel, but I think something about my desperation right now is getting to him, even if he’s still skeptical. Hell, I’m still skeptical.
It’s not like I’m not a total mess right now, too. If I stick around much longer, I’m going to be a blubbering mess in the fetal position, and I don’t think my parents’ driveway is a good place to end up like that. If I’m going to have a total breakdown, I should probably wait until I’m back in the safety of my own house, preferably curled up in bed with a bottle of wine. If I’m going to go down that overemotional road, I might as well pull out all the stops.
I can practically taste the wine as I drive home. Apparently I really, really want to be drunk. If I know Kate at all, she’s probably taken all the best wine and left me with the cheap shit. But that’s okay. I’m not drinking for the taste, you know? The way I feel right now, I could down a bottle of the cheapest, bottom of the barrel whiskey and probably not taste a thing.
Since I’m, evidently, a burgeoning alcoholic, I decide to forgo the glass completely. Once I manage to wrestle the cork from the bottle, there’s nothing – and I mean literally nothing – between me and sweet, sweet intoxication. Well, not that sweet, since I was right about Kate taking all the good wine.
I’m all the way down the neck of the bottle by the time I notice the little red light on the side of the kitchen telephone flickering. I have a feeling that means something. Voicemail? Sure enough, I pull out my cell phone and there’s a voicemail waiting there too. From Kate. I forgot how spotty the signal is out at mom and dad’s house. She must have called when I stepped into one of the approximately four million dead spots out there.
I don’t feel like listening to her messages, and luckily she decides to spare me from it. An entire mouthful of wine almost ends up painting the counter top when the phone starts to ring again while I’m staring at it. I gulp it down quickly, sputter a little bit, and resign myself to answering the phone. If I don’t know, she’ll just keep calling. I know how persistent she is. Odd, considering she gave up so easily on our marriage.
“’Lo? Kate?”
“You’re drunk.”
Persistent, and also observant. “Only a teensy bit. Whadya want?”
Okay, maybe I’m more drunk than I realized. Does time travel make you more susceptible to the effects of alcohol? I may need to research this. Well, I definitely need to research this. Time travel, that is. But the alcohol thing could be worth looking into as well if I have the time. Yep, definitely getting drunk.
“I’ve been trying to tell you that I managed to reschedule the meeting with our lawyers that you skipped out on the other day. There’s still a lot we have to sort out, you know.”
That’s going to require another sip of wine. So I take one, of course. “Okay. When?”
“Tomorrow. One thirty.”
Well, there goes my plan to spend the day researching time travel. Since I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t really know how much time I have to fix any of this. What if my entire timeline collapses overnight? It could totally do that, right? I don’t know. Which is why I need to do the research sooner rather than later.
“How long do you think it will take?” I don’t even care that it comes out as a total whine. She used to find my whine endearing. I have a feeling she doesn’t anymore. At the realization that I’m whining while drinking wine, I laugh out loud.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Zac,” she says. She never swears, so that shuts my laughter up quite effectively.
“I know, I know. I’ll be there on time, okay? I promise.”
“If only your promises actually meant something to me.”
She doesn’t even give me a chance to reply to that one. I’m left there with my mouth hanging open and the phone’s dial tone buzzing in my ear. Just because I can, I slam the phone down on the receiver. It isn’t nearly as satisfying an act of violence as I hoped it would be. The little time display on the phone tells me that I should already be in bed if I have any expectations of being awake, sober and functional by 1:30 tomorrow. One last, long sip of wine and I’m off to bed.
The bed is cold and lonely. I’ve never liked sleeping by myself. When we were little, I’d always end up in Taylor’s bed before morning. Sometimes I think it happened in my sleep. I learned to curb that habit on tour in the cramped bus bunks. But we always arranged it so that we could share hotel rooms, at least until he started inviting girls back to the room. By that time, I had girls of my own – first Marion, then Kate. Even though we did nothing at all but sleep, it was comforting to have one of them next to me.
Now I have no one.
I fall asleep with Taylor’s name on my lips, as if I could say it with enough conviction to bring him back and to my bed for good.