//13// An Ominous Landscape of Never Ending Calamity

Tulsa didn’t look the same from the backseat of Nikki’s car.  I watched the skyline roll by on our ride from the airport to Isaac and Nikki’s place, wedged between my nephew’s car seats, wondering when the vibrancy of the city lost its color.  Nikki and Isaac were in a discussion over his travels, how the boys had been while he was away, and what was for dinner.  In the backseat, Monroe and Everett, ever enjoying my company, were both trying to show me their new action figures and coloring books Nikki had bought while they waited for us at the airport.

When Nikki parked the car in the driveway, I helped get the boys out of their seats, and then assisted in hauling luggage out of the trunk.  I placed mine neatly by the Tacoma, still safely tucked in the corner of the driveway where I’d left it, and then grabbed a few of Ike’s bags and headed up the walk.  As I deposited the last of his bags at the door, Nikki appeared in front of me, a smile on her face.  “Stay for dinner.  It’s lasagna!”

“Thanks, Nik, but honestly, I just want to go home.  I’ve had a rough few days and I think I just need to go to sleep,” I forced an apologetic smile.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to—Nikki was actually a really good cook—I just couldn’t stand the thought of spending any more time with Isaac.  I’d wanted to punch him in the face for weeks after finding out he’d been the one to tell Kate that I had cheated.  Instead, I had wound up punching Taylor for trying to help.

I was a horrible person.

“Next time, then,” she smiled back before calling to the boys.  “Monroe! Everett!  Come say goodbye to Uncle Zac!”

Two blonde heads came tearing through the front hallway, four arms wrapping around me at once.  I ruffled their hair, said goodbye, and got on my way.  It was a warm afternoon, the breeze calm and welcome against the dry heat of summer, and I drove with the windows down back to the apartment.  I hauled the luggage to the elevator and down the hall, swinging the door open to my silent, empty apartment.

I left my suitcases by the door and walked directly to the kitchen, flicking on lights as I went.   The refrigerator was unsurprisingly empty, save for a few bottles of beer.  I cracked one open, then turned the television on as loud as I could stand it before going about unpacking and starting laundry.  In doing so, I spilled detergent on the floor, nearly knocked over a jar of change that sat on top of the dryer, and bumped my head on the shelf above the machines.

This was why I never did laundry when Kate and I lived together.

When I finally had the laundry room floor cleaned and a load going, I walked around the apartment, an overwhelming sense of boredom settling over me.  My mind began a Ping-Pong match of possible activities, but I shot myself down each time.  Finally, I resigned myself to slumping on the couch watching whatever the television had to offer—which wasn’t much.  Eventually, I just flipped to the music channels, allowing the classic rock station to rattle my brain with the likes of AC/DC, Queen, and Aerosmith.   This became my loud soundtrack as I switched over my laundry, and, out of sheer boredom, began to clean.

I wasn’t an especially messy person; when the kids were around, toys littered the floor, food was stuck to the table, and occasionally the bathroom looked like the breeding ground for a nasty, untreatable form of the plague, but when I was by myself, the apartment remained relatively clean.  Having been gone for a few weeks, however, had left a thick layer of dust over all surfaces, and there was a stale stench to the air I just couldn’t stand.  With nothing better to do, I walked through the house with Pledge in one hand and a rag in the other, opening some windows to air it out as I went.

I finally carried my empty suitcase in to the bedroom, depositing it on the bed as I fished out the non-clothing items:  toiletries, belts, a couple of books, and a few video games.  I reached in to the last pocket of the suitcase, making sure I hadn’t missed anything, when my fingers felt a bit of plastic.  I circled them around the balled up baggie, pulling it out and inspecting its contents.  Inside were two smaller baggies, one containing a forgotten stash of pot, the other holding a small amount of white powder.

Sitting on the bed, I unraveled the baggies, holding one in each hand and considering my options.  I could easily smoke a bowl and get absorbed in a video game, but I wouldn’t get anything else done.  My eyes kept flicking back to the other baggie, though, and so I set the pot down to open the other baggie, dipping my finger in and bringing it to my nose.

Inhaling it stung a little, but I squeezed my eyes shut as the burning sensation passed, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes until I started to feel the high settle in.  Before I knew it, I had jumped off the bed and was almost running around the apartment cleaning.  In the span of twenty minutes, I had been able to finish dusting, vacuum, and put away the items from my suitcase.  When the dryer buzzed, indicating the end of the cycle, I ran from the bedroom and nearly collided with the wall, laughing hysterically as I emptied the clothes in to basket.

The cocaine was starting to wear off—I could feel myself starting to get antsy.  This pile of clothes in front of me needed to be folded, but I just wasn’t sure I was ready to do it.  All I could think of was that if I just had a few more snorts, I could get through it with no problem.  Testing my theory, I pulled the baggie out, this time emptying a bit of it out on to the on the nightstand and cutting it in to a line with the edge of an old birthday card I found in the drawer.  I rolled the card in to a small straw and snorted the line.

Minutes later, I was flying through folding all the clothes, humming a song I had never heard before.  I dropped the clothes and raced in to my office and sat down at my keyboard, messing around until I got the melody of what I was humming.  It took me thirty minutes, three pieces of notebook paper, and a Dr. Pepper but I had written what I thought was a pretty decent song, and I was quite proud of myself.

It had been ages since I had come up with something I felt this good about, and I couldn’t wait to call my brothers and let them know.  The phone was already ringing for Taylor when I remembered what had happened in the hotel the day before.  Already committed, I let the phone ring in hopes it would go to voicemail and I could just hang up without leaving a message.  Much to my dismay, he answered on the third ring.

“What?”

I was silent for a second, before starting to speak, my voice shaky.  “I wrote a song.  I want you to hear it,”

Taylor sighed on the other end of the phone.  “Can it wait until tomorrow?  I haven’t seen the kids in weeks.”

“It’s really good, Tay.  Please?”  I practically whined the word ‘please’; I was going crazy in this apartment by myself and writing a song was a huge deal for me right now.  As of late, writing had been a cruel and elusive mistress, her cold heart only paling in comparison to performing songs I’d written at the height of being in love.

“I’ll call Ike and we’ll come over.”

“Thanks, Tay.  I’ll see you in a bit.”  I hung up the phone and looked back down at the lyrics scrawled across the paper on my music stand, and suddenly panic set in.  Ike and Tay were on their way over.  This wasn’t the first time I’d one of us had called up and said it was imperative the others came over and hear a song, but it was the first thing I had written since the record was finished, and that was months ago.  It was also the first time the three of us had legitimately been alone together in awhile.  I was afraid of what might happen, considering the strained relationship I was having with them both recently.

By the time Taylor texted to let me know they were on their way, I was in complete panic-mode.  My heart was racing and I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin; it was not a feeling I was used to and I didn’t like it.  In an attempt to quell the anxiety that was building, I found my feet walking me in to my bedroom and reaching for that little baggie one more time.  I just took a bit on my finger, sniffing it, and waiting until finally my breathing returned to normal.

It was then that there was a knock on my door.  I bolted to the front hall and swung it open, smiling.  “Good, you’re here.  Follow me,” I pulled Isaac in by his arm, Taylor following behind, and led them in to the office.  I sat down at the keyboard and played what I had written.  When I finished, I turned to them to see what their reactions were.  After a few moments of silence, Taylor pressing the heel of his hand gently over the black eye I gave him, I began to get antsy again.  “Well?

“It’s good, Zac,” Tay said.  “I think you’ve got a great start.  We can fill in harmonies and such with it at the studio in a few days,”

Isaac nodded his agreement.  “Yeah.  We can definitely do something with that.

“Can we…can we maybe work on it a little now?” I asked, hopefully.  The thought of working with my brothers right now made my stomach turn, but in all honesty I didn’t know what I would do with myself once they left.

“I don’t really think that’s a good idea, Zac,” Isaac said, slowly.  “I really think we ought to take a few days, get ourselves together, and then try to do some work.”

One look at Taylor indicated he was in full agreement with Isaac.  “Seriously, you guys?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Zac, you decided that you didn’t need me around,” Taylor snapped, pointing toward his eye.  “So I’m sorry if I really don’t want to spend any time with you right now.  The song is good, we’ll work on it in a few days.  Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly.  “Whatever, go and leave me alone here, I don’t really care.” I felt anger bubbling in my chest, my hands balling in to fists as my brothers got up and walked to the door.  Taylor paused, turning like he was going to say something, but then just shook his head and walked out the door, leaving me alone once again.

 

 

 

 

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