Chapter 8
It wasn’t long before Zack fell asleep. I took off his shoes and put his legs up on the couch and then found a thin blanket in the hallway closet to cover him up with.
Soon after that, my mother arrived home—and I realized I’d forgotten to hide the vodka.
There was likely some evidence on my breath as well, but I was almost legal and figured my mother wouldn’t lecture me.
When I entered the kitchen, she asked, “Is that Zack’s car out there?”
I spoke softly. “Yeah. His grandpa died yesterday.”
“Oh, no. How old was he?”
“I don’t know. But I think he was having some heart problems.”
“How’s his mom holding up?”
“Zack said his house is full of relatives. That’s why he came over here. He fell asleep on the couch.”
“Well, I can make dinner for all of us.”
“I don’t know if he’ll be up for that.”
“That’s okay too.”
In between helping my mother make spaghetti and watching Zack, I hid the bottle of vodka in my room.
I’d seen him this way before and knew the best thing to do would be to let him sleep it off.
So I sent him a text message before I went to bed, letting him know there was food in the kitchen but he could get me up if he needed to.
I slept undisturbed.
When I awoke early the next morning, my mom was making breakfast and Zack was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Oh. His face looked younger somehow, vulnerable and soft, despite the redness of his eyes—and I had no way of knowing if the rawness had happened from crying or drinking.
“Hey, doing okay?” I asked, immediately regretting it.
“As good as can be expected, I guess.”
I felt relieved that he wasn’t asking about his vodka.
Yet.
But, of course, my mother was there and he might ask me later when she wasn’t around.
While I poured myself a cup of coffee, I asked, “Can I do anything?”
“Thanks, kiddo. You can go ahead and toast and butter the bread if you want.”
I took a loaf of bread off the shelf where we kept it and dropped two slices into the toaster before pulling a stick of butter out of the fridge. Zack said, “I can do something too, if you want.”
Mom said, “That’s okay.” Then, “Actually, if you want, there’s some orange juice in the fridge if you want to get that out. Oh, and go ahead and get the jelly. There should be two or three jars in the door.”
While we all worked, my mother broke the silence. “Dani said you’re starting to work on your next album.” With that, I realized my mother must have already given Zack her condolences long before I’d entered the kitchen.
And she was so wise, because asking him that question managed to lift his spirits, even though just a little. He spent several minutes telling her about the songs and the bluesy spin he’d given them, along with initial reactions of the band members. I even talked a little bit about the songs.
As my mother placed a plate with an omelet and sausage patties in front of Zack, she said, “I’ve heard Dani practicing. I could tell some of the drumbeats felt a little different from the ones she was doing a couple of years ago, but I couldn’t tell why without the music.”
Looking at me, he asked, “You’re practicing without the music?”
I smiled as mom placed an identical plate in front of me. While I grabbed a piece of toast from the platter I’d set in the middle of the table, I said, “No, I am, but I’m not cranking it. The drums are noisy enough.”
When my mother sat down with her own plate, she said, “Dani’s trying to be a good daughter. She knows I mostly listen to country music.”
Zack grinned for the first time in a long time. Had I seen this expression when we’d met at the diner—or at his birthday dinner? Even if he had, it hadn’t looked like this…like the Zachary Ryan of old, the boy I’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
Don’t go there, Dani.
As he smeared grape jelly on his toast, he spoke softly—and, if I wasn’t mistaken, even my mother was a little bit susceptible to his charms, based on how her eyes lit up.
“I caught the word mostly. What else do you listen to when no one else is around?” he asked as if inviting her to share a naughty secret.
My mother all but giggled—but she confessed. “If you must know, I like a good pop song.”
“Really?”
“I blame it on Taylor Swift.”
“You know,” Zack said, cutting his omelet with his fork, “we’re kinda doin’ what she did. She wrote country music for a while and then switched—and we’re not completely changing genres but we’re definitely doing something different, something our fanbase might not be ready for.”
“Then I’d say it’s good that you’re doing that for your second album. They won’t fall into a rut of expecting the same thing over and over.”
“Good point.”
While we ate and continued talking, I marveled at how easygoing and relaxed Zack had grown, despite the anguish I could see in his eyes once in a while. The conversation with my mom was doing him a lot of good.
Meanwhile, I tried not to feel like an asshole about last night’s kiss—and, witnessing him this morning, I wondered if he even remembered it. When Drunk Zack was sad, he liked kissing me, even when Sober Zack couldn’t care less.
After my mom left to spend the day with her boyfriend, the cloud slowly moved back over Zack’s head. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
Maybe that was why: he was returning to the full house. I wondered if his mother had even sent him a text asking where he was or what he was doing.
I knew it was for the best—especially as his ex—but as his friend who was worried about him, I said, “Will you be okay going back?”
“Yeah. And, uh…sorry for unloading all that shit on you yesterday.”
“Don’t even say that. That’s what friends are for.”
“And you are a great friend, Dani.”
Before he left, we hugged a little too long—but he never did ask for the vodka bottle, and then I wondered if he thought he’d finished it. After he was gone, I unceremoniously poured it down the bathroom sink, feeling a huge weight lift off my shoulders as it slipped down the drain.
And then I thought about Braden. God, I felt so damned guilty. Why had I not been able to resist Zack’s kiss?
But…I had resisted a second and a third. I’d actively told him no. That was something, wasn’t it? Maybe I needed to quit beating myself up so much.
I was making progress. Zack was my past and Braden was my future, and I made a commitment in my heart to him that day.
The next two months were a bit of a blur. Although it was evident that the label really wanted us to get on it, they understood that we might need extra time for Zack. The three of us—Braden, Cy, and I—attended the funeral and constantly reassured Zack and his mother that we were there for them.
As distraught as Zack had been, his mother was far worse.
After the funeral, Zack got a tattoo on his upper arm—a grayscale heart with G&G in the center, a way to memorialize his grandparents—and, although I was positive he was drinking, we didn’t see any of his over-the-top behavior. Still, we hadn’t yet come back together to practice.
And that was prolonged by Zack moving into his grandpa’s house.
When we finally had our first practice in his grandpa’s garage in late May, Zack said, “My mom and her brothers weren’t ready to go through all his and grandma’s stuff…
and nobody wanted the house. So I told ‘em I’d move in and box everything up so they could look through it when they were ready. ”
“Do you have to pay rent?” Cy asked.
“Nah. The house is paid for. I just have to pay utilities and stuff.”
Braden asked, “Do you get to keep it?”
“I don’t think so—not unless I buy it.”
I’d been looking around the garage at all the tools Zack hadn’t yet boxed up. “Are you okay living here?”
“It’s the strangest thing. At first, I wanted to try it to feel close to my grandpa and grandma.
I lived here when I was a little kid and made that my bedroom again.
But after a couple of days, it did feel like they were still in here somehow, keeping watch over me.
” Then he started laughing. “I know that’s some weird-ass shit. ”
“No, I get it,” I said, wanting to validate his feelings. This seemed like the healthiest thing he’d done in ages, and I didn’t want him to feel bad about it.
“But I haven’t gone in my grandpa’s bedroom yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to tackle that. It was hard enough making coffee the first time.”
“But you’re doing okay?”
“Yeah. I mean…it still fuckin’ hurts. But packing stuff up has helped me focus.”
I exchanged glances with Braden and he seemed to be feeling the same way I did.
No, this wasn’t what Zack had needed, but maybe it was keeping him sober, maybe as a tribute to his grandparents.
Whatever the case, I knew his grandpa would have been proud of him now—but I wasn’t about to say that, because I didn’t want to remind my friend of the guilt he’d felt.
Cy said, “Don’t take this wrong…but could you use a roommate?”
Zack’s expression was one of mild but pleasant surprise. “Yeah, actually. I think I could. That way I wouldn’t have to cough up all the money for expenses on my own.”
“Would your mom be okay with it?”
“I don’t think she’d even notice. But I’ll tell her so she doesn’t freak out if she sees your car here when I’m not.” Then he shifted his focus to Braden, then me. “What about you guys—like old times in Denver?”
It would have most definitely been easier to practice if I were in Dalton instead of Nopal, but I wasn’t going to put myself that close to Zack.
Going on tour and being in his orbit again would happen soon enough.
My relationship with Braden was still fresh and new, and I didn’t want to jeopardize it.
So I said, “I kind of like being in my old bedroom and spending time with my mom.”
It was slight, but I could see what I thought was a touch of relief in Braden’s eyes. “Me too.”
“You like being around your dad?”
“I like being around my mom and sisters—and they need me.”