Georgia On My Mind
August 31, 2007
After a few days away from the studio and away from most of my family, aside from Kate, I’m starting to feel a little bit more like myself again. I still feel like there’s something missing, somehow, and I know it isn’t just that things are over with Taylor. There’s something just out of my grasp, like I told Dr. Ramos the other day. Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, but I’m not convinced.
I’m sure eventually I’ll figure out what it is. Maybe it’s just weird adjusting to life outside of the hospital. Maybe everyone feels a little bit wrong after a coma. That’s what the doctors would have me believe, and I know they probably do know what they’re talking about.
While it is kind of nice to just spend the days lounging around my house with Kate, part of me does miss being actually out in the world. I want to get back all the things that made me feel like me – most important among those being my music. So I can’t help but break out into a gigantic smile when Isaac texts me to ask if I’m ready to come back into the studio.
On the way there, I try not to think too much about what might happen when Taylor and I are finally in the same room again. It’s barely been a week since I’ve seen him, but it feels like a lifetime. Something about being away from him like that is gnawing at my consciousness. That feeling that I’m missing something, that my mind is grasping at something just out of its reach, comes back to me again. I don’t know what it means.
I try to push all those weird thoughts out of my head and just focus on the business stuff. We were nearly finished the album just before the accident. I remember that much. We even had a working track list, which I’m sure will be the first thing we talk about today, just to see if we’re all still happy with it. Since I clearly haven’t done any songwriting in the past almost three months, I’m prepared to just sit back and accept whatever Ike and Taylor decide on – if they can decide on anything at all.
Yeah, it’s definitely not going to be a fun day in the office, I decide as I push my way through the already unlocked door. I guess I’m not the first to arrive, which I hope means the meeting will start soon without much time spent awkwardly sitting around beforehand.
No such luck, of course. As I make my way into the building, I can only hear silence, except for music coming from the studio. It’s the piano, so I’m betting it’s Taylor, and I haven’t seen or heard a sign of Isaac at all. That means he’s probably running late and I’m left alone to deal with Taylor. Fantastic.
As I enter the studio, I start to recognize the song. It’s the same one that Taylor was playing for me in the hospital just before I woke up. Something seemed very significant about that moment, but I couldn’t quite place what. He was only playing then, not singing, and even now he’s mostly just humming along with the melody. I’ve always thought it was cute how he would do that before filling in all the verses with actual lyrics.
That restless, just out of my grasp feeling is back, and it’s stronger than ever.
“What did you say this song was called?” I ask, hoping my voice is loud enough to be heard over the piano. It still comes out a little hoarse every now and then, I suppose from lack of use.
“I didn’t say,” he says, abruptly stopping and turning to look at me. “But it’s called Georgia.”
“That makes sense,” I reply, even though I’m not sure why. It’s just one of those weird things that strikes a nerve in me. “I’ve heard it before, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, I was playing it for you in the hospital.”
He seems annoyed with my questions, but that’s not going to stop me. Memories and scenes are flying through my mind at an alarming rate and I’m struggling to piece them all together in a way that makes sense. If only I could think of the right questions to ask Taylor that might help me to understand what my brain is doing.
“What are the lyrics? Sing it to me.”
“I haven’t figured them all out yet. What I was singing just then is basically all I’ve written, and I’ve been working on this damn song for months.”
I grab the notebook laid out in front of him and stare at the lyrics. Something is definitely missing. I know there are more lyrics than that, but I don’t know how I know that. “You’ve been working on it on your own?”
“Yeah,” he replies, suddenly looking away from me. “Like I said, it’s for Nat… so I wanted to write it on my own, okay?”
Not caring how little he wants to be near me, I push my way onto the piano bench next to him and try to tap out the same melody he was playing a minute ago. It feels old and familiar, like something I’ve played a million times before, even though I haven’t touched a real piano in months. Without a thought, I start to sing, “’I don’t wanna let you go, and I don’t wanna lose you slowly…”
“That’s not part of the song,” Taylor remarks, scooting away from me and crossing his arms.
“Yes it is. I know it is.”
Taylor frowns at me, and I can tell his impatience is only growing, but I’m on the verge of something big here. I know I am. I just don’t quite know what. He finally shrugs and grabs the notebook back from under my arm. “I guess it sort of fits the song… maybe I’ll use it.”
“It’s in the song already. Aren’t you listening to me?”
“I’m listening to you, Zac. You just aren’t making sense.”
“I wrote it.”
He stares at me incredulously, both as though he has no clue what I mean and as though it should be obvious that I wrote it, since I did just sing it for him. But that’s not what I mean. I wrote it, but not in this life. As soon as that thought passes through my mind, everything I’ve been feeling seems to both make sense and not make sense at the same time. Could my coma dreams have actually been real? Are all these strange thoughts and memories actually, somewhere, somehow, real?
There’s one way to prove to him that I’m not crazy, and to prove to myself that what’s happening in my mind really did happen.
The wedding invitation. In my mind, I can see myself writing those lyrics on it. I’m positive of this. I don’t really remember the circumstances, but I know it happened, and I know I tucked the invitation into my wallet – but why? It’s still just out of my reach, not quite in my memory. I know I had a very important reason, though.
I pull my wallet out and start pouring its contents onto the piano. Taylor is still frowning so hard he looks like his face has gotten stuck that way. He’s practically a caricature of a actual angry person. I’d laugh if his anger wasn’t directed at me. Finally, from the pile of rubble in my wallet, I find what I’m looking for and I shove it in Taylor’s face.
“Look. Read this.”
He snatches it from my hand and I watch his eyes scan the paper. There’s a glimmer of recognition and realization, but then his frown only deepens. “You stole this from my desk. And so what? You stole it and you wrote those lyrics. What’s that supposed to prove?”
Perhaps I didn’t think this through. What does it prove? In my mind, I know what it’s proof of, but with Taylor already this angry at me, I don’t dare explain to him that I wrote those lyrics in an alternate reality. But isn’t that what happened? Somewhere, somehow, while my body lay in a coma, the rest of me was off in an alternate world, writing lyrics to the song my brother was playing to me while he waited for me to wake up.
And he claims the song is about Natalie? No. That’s what this proves, and I’m going to call his bluff. “Yeah, I stole it. Whatever. It’s my wedding invitation, so why are there lyrics about your wife on it?”
“Because – just stop going through my stuff, okay? You had no business. No fucking business.”
He storms out of the room. I’ve definitely hit a nerve, and I’ve proven one thing. He did not write that song about Natalie. He wrote that song about me, and just as I remember, it was the key to bringing me back. Now if only it could somehow help me get him back and never lose him again.