The Persistence of Memory
August 22, 2007
My tears dry up only hours after leaving the scene of Taylor’s death, but the headache doesn’t leave. Three days. Three fucking days my head has been killing me. It’ll fade out for a while, and then come back full force, usually with some vague memory of Taylor.
The funny thing is, not all the memories are ones I actually remember. I’m seeing scenes and sometimes just pictures of our life together, but it doesn’t all add up to anything. Sometimes it’s just this vague feeling, this sense that Taylor is near. I can’t explain it.
The frequency of these little events, these little lapses in my mind, keeps increasing until I know I have to do something. I’m just not sure what.
Really, I’m just drifting here, trying to find some sort of meaning and purpose in a life that has completely fallen apart. I can theorize all I want, but I don’t really know what’s happened or how to fix it, if it can be fixed. The way I see it, it doesn’t matter if I have any answers. It’s just about trying something; if it works, great. If it doesn’t, there’s not much else I can lose.
It feels like I’m being pulled toward something every time the headache takes hold. Like some invisible string in my body, tied to my heart, is pulling my toward… where? Toward Taylor? Every headache-induced vision is of him. If I could just figure out some way to increase the headaches even more, maybe these visions could totally overcome me and become my reality.
After lying awake all night contemplating it, I decide my best option is to do something that would remind me of Taylor even in my best mental state. Music. I didn’t think I would ever play again without him, but now I think it’s my only hope.
With my mind made up, I’m able to finally get a few hours of sleep. Visions of Taylor still invade, but I know I’m drawing closer to him. That makes it easier to pull myself from my bed in the morning, even though I still hardly feel rested.
I decide to go to the office, where I can more easily call up a few memories of Taylor, to test out my new theory. The drive passes quickly and headache-free, which is good. I can’t help worrying about what might happen if one of the visions overtakes me while I’m driving. That could end very badly. Luckily, for today at least, I don’t have to worry about that.
I let myself into the office, which is still eerily quiet, and make my way to the open practice space in the back. One of Taylor’s favorite pianos sits alone in the middle of the room. Was he the last person to use this space before he died? It certainly looks that way.
I haven’t really planned much further ahead than this exact moment. Then I remember the lyrics scrawled on my wedding invitation. I’ve tucked it into my wallet just to be sure I always have it with me. I still haven’t figured out why I think I need that piece of paper, but I’m convinced that I do.
That steels my resolve a bit and I make my way across the room toward the piano. Like everything else in here, it’s covered in dust and I wipe that off before having a seat. I tap a few keys lightly just to check, and luckily it’s still in tune. I pull out the wedding invitation and prop it up in front of me. It’s just a few short lyrics with no music, but if I let my fingers guide the way I think I can come up with something. I’m not as good as Taylor at the actual playing, but I’m not too bad creatively.
The easiest place to start is just with the lyrics on the page. My voice is a little rusty, but after clearing my throat and making a few false starts, I’ve found the melody.
“Georgia, you know that you’ve been on my mind… Georgia, we’ve both learned to compromise…”
I don’t have any more lyrics, but my fingers are dancing across the keys like they’ve heard the song before. I’m content just to play the same melody and sing the same lyrics all day. If nothing comes of it, it’s still surprisingly cathartic just to sit here and get lost in the music again.
I don’t know how long I’ve sat at the piano singing the same lyrics and playing the same notes when I feel that stabbing pain in my temples. The headache is back. But it doesn’t bring with it a memory this time. This time, my vision fades to black and I feel like I’m falling through space, pulled along by that strange tugging at my heart.
When I open my eyes again, I’m still in the studio, sitting at the piano, but I’m not alone.
Taylor is here. He’s standing on the other side of the room with his back to me and I don’t know if he sees me or not. It reminds me far too much of my wedding, how he stood aside trying deliberately not to look my way.
While he’s off in his own world, I take a look around. Things look different. It’s brighter, the dust is gone, and my hair is definitely shorter. In fact, as I look down at myself, I realize that I’m not even wearing the same clothes.
I’ve done it. I’ve traveled back in time.
“Taylor?”
He shuffles the sheets of music in his hand and turns his head to look at me. He smiles and I swear it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s not just his mouth, you know. That’s where it starts, at the corners of those beautiful lips, and then the smile spreads out over his entire face. It’s a smile I feel like he gives to only me, even though I’m sure that isn’t true.
“Yeah, Zac?”
I can feel myself smiling so hard that it actually kinda hurts, but I don’t care. “Nothing… nevermind.”
I don’t even know what to say to him now that I’m here. Is this real? Is it just another vision, another false memory? I’ve got two choices – I can tread lightly or I can throw myself headfirst into this out of fear that it will be taken from me again.
Is there any doubt at all? I choose the second option.
“Hey, Taylor… can we take a break from the music?” I don’t even know for sure if we’ve been working on anything, but I figure that’s a good place to start. I hope my voice sounded suggestive, but not too much so. I don’t even know where I stand with this Taylor.
He raises an eyebrow. “Sure. It’s not like we’re getting much done today, anyway. This album would be a lot easier to finish if Ike wasn’t always running off to tend to Nikki’s every need.”
Now I’ve got some perspective. I couldn’t tell you the date for sure, but now I know that I’m in my missing year. That helps guide my actions a little bit.
“You mean, Ike isn’t here?” I ask.
“No, it’s just you and me today…” Taylor trails off, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. There’s a look I’m becoming all too accustomed too. “Zac, what’s going on? Oh… did you mean? But we haven’t… not since you…”
He’s stuttering like I’ve never heard him stutter before. It’s cute and I have to force myself not to smile and giggle, because that just doesn’t seem like an appropriate reaction to how much he’s freaking out. We haven’t done anything? Well, that doesn’t sound like us. But I guess that was why I got married, or at least a large part of it. I wanted normalcy. This doesn’t feel like normalcy.
“We didn’t have to stop,” I say, standing and taking a few steps toward him.
He pulls back, pulls inward on himself like he’s trying to get away from me without actually leaving. “I thought that was precisely what your marriage meant. That we were stopping.”
“That’s what your marriage was supposed to mean,” I point out. I know he remembers all the times we fought, all the times he tried to turn me down and couldn’t. All the times he came back to me because he just couldn’t find anything like me anywhere else – at least, that’s what my narcissistic side tells me happened.
I can’t help reaching out to touch him. This might be the last time I ever do and I want to remember it. He flinches a little when my hand lands on the side of his face, but he doesn’t pull away completely or tell me to stop. My hand trails down his face, traces the outline of his lips, feels his pulse in his neck. When it lands on his shirt, I can’t help grabbing a fistful of it and pulling his body to mine. My other hand snakes around behind him, pressing into his back to make sure he doesn’t run away.
He doesn’t. I’m stronger than him, I know, but I don’t think it’s just my strength holding him to me. It’s definitely not my strength that makes his lips crush against mine and part willingly when I press my tongue against them. I hold onto him so tight my hands start to hurt, but I don’t care. I need him closer.
Taylor pulls away just enough to talk, but his lips still brush against mine with every word. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
“Please.”
He can’t turn me down. I know he never can, and I’m taking advantage of it like I never have before. Even I can hear the lust and desperation in my voice. His defenses are falling so fast I can practically see them crumbling down. With a sigh against my lips, he gives in and kisses me again.
The longer we kiss, the more desperate it becomes. I have to wonder how long it’s been for him, and at this point, I don’t even know how long it’s been for me. Weeks, months, years – whatever. It feels like a decade. He’s hard and it’s pressing up against my thigh, like I know mine is to him. With my hands still tugging at his shirt, I walk us backward until I crash into the piano.
“Zac? What are you…” he trails off as I kiss my way down his neck. It’s a deliberate move designed to make him lose track of his thoughts. I’m completely shameless and I don’t care.
I pull back and look his in the eyes. “Please. Right here. I need you.”
For all that I think I’m in control, I’m really not. Being so close to him has robbed me of the power of coherent speech, it seems. But he knows what I mean by the way I pull his hips against me. Usually, he’s on the receiving end of this, but this time I need to switch roles. I need to feel him inside me and I don’t even care if it hurts. He knows that’s what I want and with a strength I tend to forget he has, he spins me around so that I have to brace myself with my palms down on the piano’s body.
“Is this the way you want it?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.
I can’t do anything but nod. I’ve never gone in for all the dirty talk the way that he does, so I’m more than happy just to listen to him and not say a thing of my own. He knows that, too, so without another word, he reaches his hand around to unbutton and unzip my pants. I let out a sigh of relief – really, I don’t know how he can stand to wear his pants so tight but he keeps telling me tight pants look good on me too. I don’t know about that, but it feels amazing not to be confined by them anymore. I don’t have much time to think about that before he’s pushing my pants down to my ankles.
For a split second, the warm feeling of him pressed up behind me goes away. Surely he isn’t going to leave me like this. Then I hear the sound of his belt buckle being undone. Within seconds, he’s behind me again, his hand snaking around my front to wrap around me. He’s not gentle, but that’s okay. I’ll take this any way I can get it right now. He runs his hand across my face and I’m not sure what he’s doing at first, until he presses his finger against my lips. I oblige, taking it into my mouth and sucking it like it’s an entirely different part of his anatomy. There’s something intensely satisfying about the groan he lets out; I love knowing how good I can make him feel.
Soon, he slips the finger from my mouth. It disappears for a second, then I feel it pressing between my cheeks, seeking entrance. A loud groan escapes my mouth as Taylor finds exactly what’s he’s looking for. He’s still not being gentle with me at all. If I wanted to complain, I can’t. Every thought but how much I want this is being pushed aside and replaced by the feeling of pure pleasure with just a hint of exquisite pain.
He must be upset with me. The way he’s grunting and groaning and not giving me the slightest hint of mercy gives it away. He barely gives me any time to prepare before he withdraws his finger and swiftly replaces it with his cock. I’m almost embarrassed by the way I whimper pathetically, yet still push my hips backwards, urging him even deeper.
Taylor moves at breakneck speed, digging his fingernails so deeply into my hips that I know I’ll he’ll leave marks. Will I have to explain that to Kate? Or will I wake up back in the world where both she and Taylor have been taken from me?
“Fuck,” I manage to groan out, and it’s only partially because of the way Taylor’s tearing me apart.
I hate myself for thinking about how I know this is going to end. I know this moment can’t last forever. Somehow, I just know that this is only temporary. He’ll be taken from me again. But I don’t dare ask him to slow down and make this last. I want it to hurt. I want the pain, because it seems like that’s all I have left anyway.
He’s thrusting so hard that I can’t even think about that anymore. All I can think about is that moment, about the way his cock feels buried deep inside me, his face pressed against my neck as he kisses me between groans. He’s getting closer, I can tell. I wrap my hand around my dick and try to match his pace. With a few long, deep thrusts, he comes, whispering my name against my back, and that’s all it takes to put me over the edge, too. I’ll always love the way he says my name.
His anger seems to fade in the afterglow. He doesn’t even pull out of me yet, just holds me close as we both come down from that high. Our breathing syncs up almost perfectly. Everything about this moment is perfect.
Then the headache returns.
It’s a slow and steady throb in my temples, building to an awful tempo. I want to ignore it but I can’t. I can hear Taylor’s voice, asking if I’m okay, but he sounds miles away. I try to brace myself, try to dig my hands into the piano somehow, as if that could stop this from happening. It doesn’t. Everything goes black and my stomach turns somersaults again.
When I open my eyes, I’m still in the studio, still standing over the piano. But Taylor is nowhere to be seen and I’m all alone. I’m cold – not even the wonderful warmth of his body against mine could survive the mental journey I’ve just made.
It was all in my mind, wasn’t it? It had to be. I can’t even feel the marks his nails made against my sides. Everything about that moment is burned into my memory, but gone from reality. I’m alone again.