//1// When You’re Gone

I’ve tried to describe the way I feel when I get stoned, but have always struggled to put it in to words, other than to say that I was, well, stoned.  You see, everybody experiences being “stoned” in different ways.  My brother, for example, gets extremely paranoid.  It doesn’t matter what type of pot we smoke, or how much.  He always gets paranoid.  When we were younger, he would hide in the corner of the room, under a blanket, terrified that one of our parents would find us, high as shit, and give us a bruising so bad we’d have to stand for a year.  To this day, if I smoke with Ike, it always has to be at his house, in his favorite chair; apparently his house made him a super hero, impervious to discovery.

For all the paranoid episodes Isaac has had, he could never once actually describe how he felt.

But, after years of careful contemplation, I have uncovered an understanding of self that perhaps most people aren’t even aware exists.  Through careful meditation I’ve realized that I feel on fire when I’m stoned.  The first few hits of some really good bud are smooth, and I start to feel my ears and nose get a warm buzzing sensation.  It kind of makes me feel constricted, but I don’t really mind much.  I get wrapped up in nothing; I can’t hear much of anything except what’s in my own head.  Most of the time, I’m so zoned out, my head is blissfully clear.  Sometimes, though, as I’m sitting in my silence, a random note or line of insight will strike.

It were these random notes and insights that cultivated some of my best work.  My brothers and I would joke that my inspirations were so few and far between, that’s why it took us so long to release new music.  It wasn’t the fact that we were always busy promoting other music, touring, taking care of families, or mowing our lawn.

It was during one of these precious few “insights” which the revelation of how I felt occurred to me.  Emotionally, I felt something akin to comforted and loved, despite all that was going in my little world.  The weed put me in a safe bubble, separate from all the bullshit.  I smiled to myself at the thoughts, realizing that I was, for the first time in weeks, happy.

My reverie was interrupted by the buzzing of my phone.  I set the guitar aside, slower than I wanted, and, rolling my eyes at Taylor’s name, answered the phone.  “Yeeaass?” I asked, stifling a giggle.

“Are you high?”

“Are you the police?”

“Damnit, Zac, did you forget we have a livestream in an hour?”  Taylor’s voice was sharp, although I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“As a matter of fact, I did.  I’ve been working,” I confessed.  “I think I’ve got something really good, man.”

He sighed on the other end of the phone, and when he spoke his tone was a little softer, despite the laughter being gone.  “Just…get over to the studio as soon as you can, OK?  I’ll order some pizza; maybe you can eat off your high.”

“Ok, man.  I’ll be there in like ten.”

“Alright.  And Zac?  Be fucking careful, OK?”

I grunted an affirmative response as I hung up the phone and got up from the floor.  I walked in to the bedroom, which wasn’t really much except for a dresser and a double bed, and lifted the first shirt I saw from the floor.  It didn’t smell, so I slipped it on and worked my way out the door.

The studio wasn’t far from the apartment I was renting, so I decided to walk.  Taylor would probably be pissed because it would take me at least fifteen minutes longer than I told him to get there, but I didn’t much care.   I meandered down the street until I arrived at the studio, and pulled the door open, trying to force a smile.  Taylor and Isaac were in the engineer’s booth, both bent over the mixing board.  I snuck by them and sat down at the computer in my office, checking my hanson.net private messages.  I knew there would be a flood of questions for our livestream that night to sort through, and it gave me an excuse to not interact with anyone straight away.

I had picked about five questions that I wouldn’t mind answering when I felt a presence standing over me.  I looked up to find Taylor, holding a box of pizza, looking down at me.  “Can I help you?”

“We’ve been calling for you for like ten minutes—pizza’s here, but we’re about to go live.”  He nodded toward the recording area, indicating he wanted me to follow him.  I complied, closing my laptop and trudging behind him.  “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” I managed through a plastic smile.  I got the right buttons pushed so we could go live, and scooted in front of the camera.  I tried to keep the smile on my face, tried to stay engaged in the conversation about the second leg of the tour, how the album was doing, and answering the questions from the fans, but my heart genuinely wasn’t in it.  Afterward, I ran back to the office, grabbed my stuff and a slice of pizza, then headed back out the door before either of my brothers could say anything to me.

My phone chirped, indicating a new text message.  Knowing it was either Taylor or Isaac, I slid the phone out of my pocket and checked the message, rolling my eyes when I read it.

“We have work to do.”

“I’ll be back later, Tay.” I replied quickly, and then continued on my way back to the apartment.

When I finally closed the door, I took two deep breaths before walking to the bedroom.  I grabbed my bowl from the nightstand and, inspecting its contents, took a harsh hit of ash and resin.  I let the smoke burn my lungs before a fit of coughs expelled it from my body.  The soft buzzing started behind my ears and I lay down on the bed, my body relaxing for the first time in forever.

**

A mess of blonde hair swished through the air, and there were light giggles somewhere in the distance.  I could smell the sea to my right, a gentle breeze grazing my cheeks, and felt soft fabric around me.  The giggles echoed off the rocks on shore, coming back to surround me in an angelic chorus.  I was just able to place the owner of the laughter, her green eyes sparkling, smile bright.  She extended her hand, reaching for me.  “Zac…” my name rolled off her lips, light and wanting, her voice lingering between us.  I stretched my arm out in front of me, trying desperately to touch her skin. 

Just as my fingers were about to interlock with hers, a sired began going off; a loud, sound that reminded me of the alarm clock my parents used to have.  The sound got louder, and she disappeared, leaving me alone in a dark room.  Panic built in my chest as I spun around, grasping for anything to help identify where I was.  There was nothing.  The siren was getting louder; I spun in circles trying to place the direction it was coming from.  North.  No, West. No, East.  Every time I took a step toward it, it seemed to fade in to another direction.  I screamed in frustration, falling to my knees.

“Zac…”

There was my name again, soft as a whisper floating through the thick air. 

“Zac.”  The voice was distorted; it no longer sounded like hers, but a mesh of female and male.  Suddenly, there was an Earth quake beneath me, and someone saying my name over and over…

I sat up quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and looked around the dim room.  It was either dusk or dawn; I couldn’t tell and I didn’t much care either way.  After a few seconds, I caught my bearings and looked up at Taylor, who was sitting on the edge of my bed.  “What the hell?” My voice was thick with sleep; I wasn’t even sure I’d managed the entire sentence audibly, but Taylor responded so I assumed he got the gist of it.

“I was worried about you.  You said you’d be back in a little bit, but…you never came back.  Wasted almost an entire pizza,” he frowned as he said the last statement; as if the pizza was some kind of peace offering I had refused.  I pushed myself in to a sitting position, rubbing sleep from my eyes and yawning.  The clock on the nightstand read 7:30PM, meaning I had been asleep for perhaps two hours.  I sighed, crisscrossing my legs beneath me.  “You are OK, aren’t you?”

The sound of Taylor’s voice startled me, pulling my eyes to meet his.  I was always envious of his blue eyes; they seemed to be the reason he was the center of attention at all times.  There was a sparkle to them that made him seem so charismatic, even though he really was just a big oaf.  Now, the sparkle was replaced by something else; something akin to concern but showing more frustration.

Frustration seemed to be a common emotion around me lately.  I was receiving impatient and frustrated glances during rehearsals and writing session, frustrated cries from my kids because dinner was not ready on time, and frustrated sighs from my parents as I asked them, yet again, to watch Shepherd and Junia so I could just be alone.  I could hear frustration in the voices of those around me as they spoke to me, and it only served to fuel my own frustration.  When before, I used to revel in being with family and friends, enjoyed being on stage and interacting with fans, now I could hardly force myself out of bed.  I did not want to be surrounded by so much outside negativity being focused my way when I was already dealing with an exorbitant amount of inner turmoil.

Taylor had been the worst at the start, even before the ground started crumbling beneath me, I had tried his patience and he was all but fed-up with me.  When everything came crashing down around me, it was Taylor who was there to catch me before I hit bedrock.  His motives were still a mystery to me; for as open of a book as he was, when he wanted to be, Taylor was not easy to read.

“You know the answer to that,” I bit, reaching for my bowl.

Taylor’s hand caught mine before I had a chance to pick up the glass pipe.  “Ike and I have been talking, and we think you should go see someone about all this.”

“All what?” I asked.

“Everything…the separation, the drugs, the depression…” his voice trailed off and he avoided my eyes.

Anger began to rise within me; I felt my cheeks begin to burn and my stomach knot.  In one swift motion I got off the bed and grabbed my keys from the nightstand, storming through the apartment to the front door.  I heard Taylor’s footsteps behind me, shuffling clumsily along the wood floors as he tried to catch up.  “Zac, I didn’t mean to upset you…”

I ignored him, swinging the front door open.  Much to my dismay, he caught the door before it slammed in his face and he raced after me down the stairs to the parking lot.  “Zac, come on, man,” he called, finally catching up to me and grabbing my arm.  “We’re just worried about you.”

“Well don’t be,” I spat.  “My whole entire world is falling apart around me—I’m not going to be OK for a really long time, maybe ever.  So just…stop wasting your time worrying about me and just…leave me alone.”

Taylor dropped his hand from my arm, his face turning steely.  “Is that what you really want, Zac?  For us to leave you alone?”

“Yes, it is!”  My voice was louder than it needed to be, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to lower it.

My brother licked his lips, an action I had seen him perform at interviews; it was a clear indication that he was carefully choosing his next words.  Finally, he spoke, slowly and steadily.  “If that’s what you really want, Zac, then you can have it your way, but I doubt you’re going to like it when you realize what that really entails.”

I knew he was right, but in my anger and self-righteousness, I refused to bend.  “I don’t care, Taylor.  Unless it has to do with work, don’t fucking talk to me.”  I turned on my heel and stormed back to my apartment, leaving Taylor alone in the parking lot.  When I got back in to the apartment, I dug out a Seroquel pill from somewhere at the back of the medicine cabinet and swallowed it.  A few minutes later, I stumbled in to the bedroom and collapsed on to the bed, fading to a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

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