dix.

There were small children everywhere; a sea of bobbing heads rushed passed me through Zac and Kate’s living room, loud laughing and shouting echoing against the slate colored walls.  I found my way to the backyard where Zac was standing talking to some adults I assumed were parents of Shepherd’s friends.   I saw Kate float out of the sliding glass doors, linking her arm with Zac’s as she came up to his side.  There was a happy and content smile on her face; Zac’s only reaction to her was to glance at her and offer what seemed like a forced smile before he returned to his conversation.

I lifted my cup to my lips and swallowed the remaining vodka and Coke in one gulp before setting my plastic cup down on the patio table.  I watched Zac and Kate talk to the other parents for a few minutes, lifting my camera and taking photos of them.  Reviewing the pictures, you never would know he wasn’t happy with her.  The façade seemed so real; I began to wonder if perhaps he was playing me the way he was playing Kate.

Forcing my feet to move, I found Shepherd and a group of his friends playing in the sandbox, shoes off and toes buried.  I focused my camera on the kids, hoping that, despite being a favor to Kate, it would keep my mind off Zac.

 

I was able to keep myself occupied with photos of everything and everyone at the party for the better part of three hours.  I got pictures of Shepherd blowing out his candles, opening his presents, and playing with his friends.  I also got photos of the family and friends hanging out, candid as well as posed.  For the time I spent snapping these happy moments, I felt a semblance of normalcy.  I wasn’t hiding anything from anyone; I wasn’t obsessing over the next time I’d be able to get Zac alone or brooding over the fact that I couldn’t get him alone.  Even if I could and did, I was then so racked with guilt I could hardly enjoy myself.

Lost in thought, and the composition of a photo, I heard the sound of my name, rolling rather poisonously off the tongue of one of Zac and Kate’s friends, which drew me back to reality.  I continued to focus on the photograph, pretending to be absorbed with some mechanical aspect of my camera.  Either I was really good at feigning engrossment or the woman didn’t care whether or not I could hear her.  Whichever it was—and I had a strong feeling it was the latter—she continued to gossip about me.

“She’s a so-called friend of Jessica, the oldest sister.  They go to college together or something,” one woman said.

“Yeah, but what is she doing here?” the other inquired.

“Looks like taking pictures, with that fancy camera of hers,” the first said, matter-of-factly.

The second woman sighed.  “I mean, why is she hanging around at Shepherd’s birthday party?  None of the children are hers, which means she’s got to have a strong family connection—be someone that Shepherd would know and care about.”

“So, being Jessica’s best friend, it is only obvious that she’s spent time with the family,” the first sounded a bit frustrated at her friend.

“All I’m saying,” the second began.  “is she’d had to have cozied up to one of the guys pretty well to get invites to such exclusive family functions.  I mean, Kate told me they didn’t even invite some of Zac’s cousins, but this girl walks in like she owns the place?” the woman scoffed.  “She’s in bed with one of them, for sure.”

I felt my face grow red, burning with guilt.  It was one thing to know and acknowledge what we were doing behind closed doors, but to hear someone else say it made me regret drinking so much earlier.

Her companion snorted, clearly in disbelief.  “That’s some theory you’ve got working there, Camille.”

“Well, how else do you explain her sudden appearance at all of the important Hanson events?”  Camille dared.

“I don’t know—maybe because she’s friends with their sister?” I darted my eyes quickly to my side in time to see Camille flare her nostrils, obviously annoyed that her friend didn’t seem to agree with her theory.

“Or,” continued Camille’s rational counterpart, “perhaps it isn’t one of the guys she’s in bed with.”

I couldn’t tell if her last response was sarcastic or not, and I couldn’t decide which I had wanted it to be.  If it had been, she was pretty much my new best friend.  If she hadn’t said it to mock her friend, then if I could follow my temptation to stomp over there and slap both of the women across their mouths, and it might be justified.  I briefly contemplated doing it anyway, but thought better of it.  Having a violent outburst would not only cause issues with my hosts, but also add fuel to the fire.  While it would be an intended self-defense mechanism, it would have surely been interpreted as an admission of guilt.

Guilty as I was, no one else needed to know about it, least of all Kate’s nosy friends.

Instead, I finished my pretend camera adjustment, and got up as casually as I could and walked away, raising the camera to my eye.  I noticed the viewer clouded up from my tears; I squeezed my eyes shut tightly for twenty full seconds, then reopened them, wiping my eyes and going back about my photo-taking business.  Luckily, I didn’t hear any other gossip about me, or my connection with the Hanson family, for the rest of the day.

Toward the end of the evening, I was reviewing some of the moments captured throughout the party, looking at an especially hilarious shot of Taylor with a cowboy hat on, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I turned to see Zac standing behind me, a smile on his face.  His cheeks were flushed and he had a bit of a glassy look to his eyes.  “Hey,” he said slowly.

“Hi,” I replied.

“You’ve been…avoiding me.”  It wasn’t a question, but an accusation.

“Are you drunk?” I narrowed my eyes at him, observing the way he slightly swayed before me.

“Maybe juss’ a li’l bit,” he shrugged.  “Is the only way I can deal with her these days.”

“Maybe you should go drink some water and sit down for awhile,” I suggested.

“Maybe you should come upstairs with me,” he winked, reaching out for me.

I backed away, looking around.  There was a group of people about five feet away, but they were engrossed in their own conversation and hadn’t noticed.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  I took him by the arm and turned him, guiding him toward the patio in what I hoped was a friendly fashion.  “Sit down, I need to pee but then I’ll bring you some water.”

A few minutes later, I was making my way from the bathroom to the kitchen when I heard the screen door slide shut with more force than necessary and hushed voices that got louder as the conversation continued.  “You’re drunk, Zac!”

“Very assute osservassion,” Zac slurred in response.

I paused in the doorway to the dining room, seeing Kate cross her arms over her chest, glaring at Zac.  “You’re making a fool of yourself in front of all your son’s friends and their parents,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Only ‘cause they don’ underssand my humor!”

Kate noticed I was standing there, and looked over at me, an exasperated and helpless look on her face.  “What’s…going on?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“He’s drunk,” she replied, throwing her arms in the air.  “AND he couldn’t care less about it.  He’s embarrassing himself out there.”

“Is not me tha’s gettin’ embarrass’,” Zac countered, pointing his finger at Kate.  “Is you!”

“I’m not embarrassed, Zac!” Kate tossed.  “I’m infuriated.  Every time you’re home lately, all you do is drink.  You’re loud, you’re belligerent, and you’re just…not yourself.  I’m getting tired of it!”

“An’ I’m gettin’ tire’ of you always bein’ so controllin’ and up-tight!” Zac shouted back, wobbling.  I rushed to steady him, Kate’s face clearly indicating she would rather he fell than touch him at that moment.  “At leas’ Ryland underssands me!”

Kate’s nostril’s flared; I could see her lip begin to quiver.  “I can’t talk to you while you’re like this,” she squeaked.

“Good, ‘cause I don’ wanna talk to you,” Zac snapped back.

“Hey! You don’t mean that,” I scolded.

“Yes. I. Do.”

Sighing, I turned a sympathetic eye to Kate.  “Go out and get some air.  I’ll take him upstairs; maybe slap some sense in to the pea he calls a brain.”

“Thanks,” Kate whispered, then turned and walked outside.

Once in his bedroom, I pushed Zac on the bed, standing above him with my hands on my hips.  “What the fucking hell was that?” I demanded.  “Are you insane?  Have you lost your higher reasoning capabilities?  Did you have some kind of brain trauma I don’t know about in the last hour and a half?”

“What?  Isn’ this what you want?  You’re not happy Kate and I are fighting?”

“You…” I bit back what I really wanted to say, not wanting it to be lost on drunken ears, or, worse, remembered in the morning.  “Just…don’t,” I warned.  “Go to bed.  I’ll tell Shepherd you went to the store if he asks.”  I turned and walked to the door.

“Wait,” Zac called after me.  I paused, keeping my back to him.  “Tell Katie I’m sorry.”

Fighting back tears, I walked out of the room, digging in my pocket for the baggie holding my Seroquel pills.

**

We were on the road again, taking a flight to the next tour location.  Given that Kate had elected to stay behind with the kids, it left Zac and I to fill seats next to each other at the back of the plane.  Everyone else was scattered in groups of twos or threes throughout the rest of the plane, a solid five rows of strangers separating us.  It gave us privacy, in case we wanted to have a conversation, but I doubted that would happen:  Zac and I sat awkwardly, side by side, my eyes glued out the window, listening to my iPod while he wrote ferociously in his notebook.  I hadn’t spoken a word to him since I left him on his bed the night before, despite him trying to pull me aside before we boarded the plane.  So, we were silent now, save for the occasional murmur from him as he worked, or when I began to sing along quietly to a sad mix of love and breakup songs.

The plane was somewhere near the New Mexico-Arizona border when I felt Zac place his hand on my knee.  I looked over at him questioningly, taking one of my ear buds out.  “What?” the word came out harshly; while I wanted to convey frustration, I didn’t have anger or hatred on my mind.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice wavering.  He cleared his throat before continuing;  “I was a jerk yesterday.  I mean, I am a jerk, all the time, but I had no right to transfer any of my hostilities toward Kate to you.”

I just nodded, unsure of what to say.  I couldn’t tell him it was OK, because it wasn’t.  I couldn’t tell him I hated him, because I didn’t.  I could tell him that there’s an easy resolution to it all:  choose.  I had a feeling, unless he was forced, he never would, and I should have told him he had to.  While it wouldn’t be an easy decision, and someone would wind up getting hurt, it was the right thing to do.

I opened my mouth to speak and caught Zac’s eye.  He had that look again, and it gave me pause.  It was the look that drew me to him initially; he wore a smile on his lips but his eyes were so sad and forlorn, betraying his emotions.  There was more under the surface he wasn’t telling me, and I was almost positive if I asked, he’d tell me, but I didn’t feel like hearing an emotional offloading of all his issues with Kate.  It would make me nauseous and resentful, and nothing I could or would say to him would help his situation.

Forcing an ultimatum on him would only push him away and make the situation worse than it already was, anyway, I rationalized.

Against my better judgment, I smiled at him, placing my hand over his on my knee.  “It’s OK,” I told him.  “Just don’t do it again,” I warned playfully.

Damn it. I thought to myself.

“Are you sure it’s OK?” his voice gave away his unease about my forgiveness.

A sad smile formed on my lips.  “No…but if I don’t say it’s OK it means we’ll have to talk about things I’m not ready to talk about,” I confessed.

“Ok.  Just so you know, I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about them,” he smiled, squeezing my knee.

My stomach twisted again.  “I know,” I said softly, putting my earbud back in my ear.

Zac caught my wrist before I could turn my iPod on again.  “What do you say we do something in LA.  I know this great spot we can go for a picnic; it’s really beautiful.”

I forced the smile on my lips to stay.  “Sure, that sounds nice,”

“Good,” he let go of my wrist, leaned in and pressing his lips to my temple with the gentleness of lovers.  My body burned from the sensation and I scolded myself for letting him do this to me.

Again.

 

 

 

 

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