Having a fight when you're at least five-hundred miles away from them isn't an easy task. Especially whenever that number jumps up to be at least a thousand at certain points. But somehow we managed, this last foul coming from my estranged other half, "For your yummy romps. Could make ass taste better," said the note attached to the top of a white box, all of which was wrapped in brown cardboard packaging. Bitch, was my first thought, but even I couldn't help but laugh as I pulled out flavored massage lotion and a set of candy-necklace styled edible underwear. The exchange wasn't completely ruthless, though we did get in our jabs.
It made our eventual decision to not live together something we could live with. We hated eachother by the time our third child had come. She was constantly at my brother's, with his wife, while my brother was here doing whatever needed done, keeping me company. Constant fighting, bickering, throwing things into walls. It was a drain on both my bank account and energy. Nothing stopped it, so we stopped seeing eachother at all. She moved back to her hometown in Georgia, a far cry from Tulsa, Oklahoma to be sure.
This system worked well. We never took much to heart anymore, a year and some odd months since our separation. At first it was spiteful phone calls, and long, angry letters back and forth, especially whenever I asked if our children would be coming to see me and my own family. That was a big issue that I rarely brought up anymore. I had learned my lesson once I found out she knew about . . . my "alternative" to what she was supposed to be to me.
But, we'll not dwell on that right now. Now it was the night of December 30th. I'd received the ever amusing package that day, and it seemed she was taking a risque direction in this week's "gifts". So I would follow, I mused as I stepped into the adult entertainment store, trying to hide my smirk the entire time.
The Ultimate Guide To Anal Sex For Women popped out at me as I browsed the aisles of books. I wanted something I knew she'd gape at in horror. That could be a good possibility, but I kept looking further. I outright cackled as I saw The Complete Idiot's Guide to Pleasing Your Man sitting at eye level as I moved down the aisle, "Perfect," I whispered below the crowing laughter. But it wasn't enough. Yes, I know, I'm a sad, sad man, but the thought of the look on her face kept me going, even after the odd looks given to me from the cashier. The Adventurist's Sexual Aid Kit, popped out at me. I read the contents, giggling more and more as it went over fuzzy cuffs, anal beads, a butt plug and a finger vibrator with a variety of interchangeable heads. Scented oils and lubricants, a whip and tassels were also included, but the first few really had me laughing as I went to the check out. The cashier seemed amused by my laughter but said nothing.
I figured she'd seen much more odd occurrences in this store than a tall, lanky and quite greasy figure laughing manically at his purchases, so I held my tongue as she pulled up the total, I pulled out my plastic, and was on my merry little way. It was hard to contain my smirk as I pulled into the driveway, especially after spying my brothers' cars as I wound up the pavement. My brother Ike wouldn't understand. He didn't know the half of it, the exchanges between my estranged and soon-to-be ex-wife. Even Zac might not get it wholly, and he was the one that was always around me.
They were there making sure that I would get myself cleaned up and proper for the New Year's Eve party the next day. I rolled my eyes no less than seven times in the fifteen minutes they were there. Most of those were aimed at my brother Ike, the older, more responsible one. Yeah right. Well, he was but it only mattered about how he looked, and how people around him looked. He was probably the biggest partier of us all. But like I'd mentioned not so long ago, I was pretty greasy. Going out was not a plan of mine until the next day as it was, but I was also not expecting my "gift".
But I nodded and smiled, making it look like I was actually paying attention. Once in a while I'd veer my eyes to Zac and make little faces, winking or blowing kisses that would break up Ike's attempt at reforming me into a proper man. I didn't want lectured. I just wanted to have fun damnit, but Ike kept a slight damper on it because apparently when I wanted, I would get "too" wild. Right.
Once they were out the door, Zac laughing as I did my best to give him a humorously seductive look, putting my hand up to my ear and mouthing, "Call me," In my best fuck-me face. He just shook his head, put his index finger and thumb together in a pinch and put it to his lips, his way of silently saying I either need to lay off the drugs, or that we would get together later to smoke. I was hoping for the latter, but that would set in stone the idea of the former. Either way, he couldn't deny how amazingly hilarious I could be. For far too many nights we stayed up until sunrise in the past year, just laughing idiotically at what would appear to be nothing to the untrained eye. But it made sense to us, well, unless one of us would actually remember a snippet of conversation the next morning after we'd sobered up.
I put the book and kit, along with a hastily scribbled note saying "I'm sure you could use these. Quite sure actually" in a cardboard box, one that had come from some unknown giver of gifts at some point. During the heat of the battle between myself and my soon-to-be ex-wife, over the past summer to be specific, I'd learned to save boxes and stock up on packing tape. So once the package was sealed and addressed, I put it under my office desk for safe keeping until after the New Year, What a great present to get for a new year, I thought with a chuckle.
Once I'd taken my shower, I found it to be decently late, so I sent Zac a text message asking if he was going to come over that night. Apparently not, I'd learned by looking on the television to see a news channel brandishing high winds and somewhere around six inches of snow on the ground and what looked like double of it coming down. That hadn't been there when I was out. It irked me, but I took out a whiskey glass and poured myself a burning glass of Yukon Jack before calling it a night as I lounged across my couch, watching basic cable into the depths of the night.
I woke up the next morning with a crick in my neck and drool running into my hair. Not a surprise after the half a fifth of Yukon, but still gross enough. It was also well after noon by the time I noticed a clock. So, with nothing to do for a few hours the time went slowly until I had to get ready for the party. By five that evening I was bored out of my skull, already weary of both listening to music and watching tv, so I was forever glad to hear the security system beeping to let me know someone was coming. I tried to clean up at least a bit before this mystery person showed up, but I was only able to whip on a clean white t-shirt and some stained khaki pants (that I think belonged to Zac to be honest) before the doorbell rang.
To my surprise, there stood Zac in a leather jacket, brown Doors vintage tee and deconstructed jeans. He looked like he was quite ready for the party, his shaggy hair fixed around his face, while I stood there with a good chunk of my hair matted with drool and looking like I was ready for spring cleaning.
"Late night?" Zac quipped with a hand discreetly covering the smile that I knew was hiding behind it, laughing silently.
"Try a boring one," I muttered as I turned back into the house, away from the cold of the outside world, and waved him into my home. I pawed at my pack of cigarettes on the coffee table from my seat on the couch, hungrily lighting it by the time Zac entered the room and took a seat beside me.
"So that's why you're being a lazy ass instead of being out on the town?"
I glared his way, "Have you seen what its like out??" I asked incredulously, "I'm not going outside until I have to!"
A hearty laugh rang through the house, echoing now that there wasn't as much property in it. I was in the middle of renovating the furniture, in other words completely erasing my ex-wife's presence that lorded over the house, "Its not that bad out. Sure, there's tons of snow, but its actually pretty warm out," Zac spoke with a warm smile, "I wouldn't be surprised if most of the snow was gone by tonight to be honest"
I pointed with a blank face at the television, "That's not what the weatherman says!" I cried, but couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Well, we've got two hours," Zac said after we laughed a moment, "Do you think that's enough time to clean up your ugly mug so that its presentable to company?"
With a pointed sniffle, I nodded, "Need a bump first," I grinned, heading my way back to my room, retrieving a baggie from the pockets of jeans from the day before. Cutting out a line on the coffee table, I looked to Zac to see if he wanted in. With a shake of the head, he declined, "I'm good"
I shrugged and continued on my task, quickly taking in the drug. The line was thicker than my body was expecting and I gagged a little, trying to rush out to the bathroom but not making it. The closest thing around when I felt bile rising was an empty clothes hamper and I quickly threw up in it. Zac rushed over as soon as he realized that I didn't make it fast enough, placing a gentle hand on my back, rubbing up and down. He watched the entire time, meeting my eyes with a frown and sad eyes as he said, "There's nothing solid in there Tay," With not even an attempt at hiding his disappointment in the mix.
I shrugged, wiping my mouth, picking up the hamper and making my way into the bathroom. This wasn't the first time where I'd thrown up in something not meant for throwing up in. The last time had actually been a Wendy's take out bag and it was mostly liquor and a piece of gum. That was pretty gross. But I made my way into the bathroom and used the shower head to rinse out the hamper, then rinse the tub basin as well before I started getting undressed.
There to startle me as I lifted the t-shirt from my shoulders was Zac, "You haven't been eating again, haven't you?" He asked in a soft voice with hard, but melancholy eyes.
"You watched me eat a sub yesterday didn't you?" I asked as I turned around and threw the shirt to the floor, "And I've been sleeping almost all day," I lied, "Now will you please excuse me so I can wash my ass?"
Zac let out a huff, but he did and I made quick work of cleaning myself, mostly the liquor-sweat and matted hair, before climbing back out and making my way into my bedroom. I stopped just outside the bathroom though, seeing Zac crouched with his back against the doorway to the living room, "What . . . ," I trailed off, not even knowing what to make of it, "Are you doing?" I finally forced out the rest.
"Wondering why you still have mistletoe up," He pointed, his eyes gazing far above himself.
I simply shrugged, "I think that's been up for years to be truthful," Was my answer as I secured the loop in my towel with one hand and offered the other to him to help him stand. He took the offer and at once was just inches from being flush to my own body. We stood there in silence for a moment, just feeling, breathing. He smelled like Axe Phoenix but that smell was almost completely swallowed by the heady scents of my shampoo and my own body wash.
After a slightly odd moment, we broke apart. He was the first to move and as he walked back into the living room, my eyes lifted to the mistletoe hanging just inches above me. Never once had I really noticed it until then, and at that moment I had the incredible urge to just rip it down.
But that wouldn't be fair to the mistletoe. It didn't do it. It didn't make me feel what I did. So instead I sighed and made my way down the hall and up the stairs, making speedy work of it. My arms flew up spraying out loads of clothing as I rummaged through my closet and drawers, and it seemed like nothing would be right. So I tried for simplicity, choosing finally a white tank, black cotton over-shirt and a pair of faded, slightly torn blue jeans. I found socks, sprayed myself with a splash of Aspen and ran my fingers through my hair before letting myself look in a mirror. Not too bad for how I originally looked when I woke up. That was bad.
But before I could go back out, I needed another bump. My head was starting to feel like it was caving in by the time I'd finally gotten a line run out and did it. Finally I was ready to be seen by anyone but my own self, sniffing once and looking in a mirror to be sure there was no blow left indiscreetly under my nose before going out to see my brother again.
My mind was boggled as I looked around the living room. He wasn't there. I could see the headlight of his car from the front window, so he was still on the property, but he wasn't where I had left him. Shuffling down the hall, in the kitchen actually, piqued my interest and I found Zac bumbling around with a skillet and a few things here and there. He was cooking something with chicken, I could smell that much, and basil.
It took a few moments of me standing there with my jaw hanging off of my face before he turned around and noticed me, "Don't give me that look, you're eating before we go anywhere"
I glared but knew that fighting him was useless, especially after I was reminded mentally of the time he physically held me down and force-fed me. That was a very, very long time ago. Nowadays I just didn't eat because I didn't remember, or just plain didn't feel like it. So I sat at the bar, teetering the stool on two pegs as I cupped my face in my hand and watched as he cooked. I could refuse his cooking about as much as I could refuse my mother's, and that just simply never happened. On the other hand, I couldn't cook to save my life. It was definitely good that he liked to give me company or else I'd eat nothing but pasta and t.v. dinners.
"Eat," Zac commanded as he put down a plate of pasta and chicken. I rolled my eyes but picked up the fork and began to dig at my food. Zac joined me a few minutes later, sitting at my left side with his own fill of eats.
Once that was finished and the dishes loaded into the washer it was past six and we made our way out, heading towards Ike's house, where the party was being hosted that year. The year before it had been at my house, and it was surely something. I refuse to think about it, especially because of the fact that it took the three of us an entire day just to get the place clean enough that I could once again sleep in it. Mind you that doesn't mean that it was actually clean.
Regardless, once we arrived, there were only about seven people there other than us and our brother, as well as his wife. We mingled a few minutes, talking with those that we hadn't seen in a while because of the extensive touring we'd done the summer before. The party didn't really start kicking until after eight, but once it did, it got pretty crazy.
Aside from the group of unnamed idiots dancing around with generic hand-knit holiday sweaters and reindeer headbands . . . On second thought: no not aside from it. I ended up wearing a set myself after completing a keg-stand. I don't even know why Ike had bothered with a keg until that point, but my shoes left scuff marks on his ceiling.
But, back to the point, I ended up getting beer all down my front, and after stumbling my way to put my shirts in the washer, some kind (and incredibly drunk) soul gave me the sweater he wore. Now, aside from the fact that it was garish with bright reds and yellows and greens and even some silver, and that it was itchy wool, the idea itself was very kind. Needless to say, I tried to stay incognito, mostly waiting around the laundry room doorway, until my things were done.
That didn't stop me from being completely humiliated by Zac first though. As soon as I heard his bellowing laughter, I knew it was directed at me and looked down at my shoes, trying to keep my eyes veered from the ugly piece of clothing I was wearing, "How much did someone pay you to wear that?" He asked, a cackle still left in his voice as he did.
"None, someone let me wear it while my clothes got washed," I muttered, my eyes still on my feet.
More laughter came from him, "I'd have just run around shirtless! Damn!"
"Shut up," I growled, making myself look up to glare at him.
He patted me on the back, "Its all right, you'll be in your clothes here soon I'm sure," He kept chuckling as he went on down the hall to the bathroom. Unfortunately for him, he opened the door only to hear a piercing scream and, "Get the fuck out!"
Zac jumped, closing the door with flustered, shaking hands. It was my turn to chuckle. He simply glared my way before making his way up the stairs. By my calculations, it was just moments before my garments were dried that Ike summoned me into the living room. Someone had apparently broken a leg off of his coffee table, and he was rather perturbed. Enough so that he had ushered onlookers out of the room before bellowing for me.
To be blunt, I was not happy, especially considering the fact that I had to go through a swarm of people in other rooms to get to the room he was in. The look on my face was less than happy, but he wasn't having any of it, "Help me get this onto the porch so that its not busted any more than it already is," He grumbled. To give you an idea of his plan, it meant that we had to get it from one side of the living room to the other, then through a doorway and onto the inclosed side-porch. That meant more ridicule coming in my direction and my having to be coordinated enough to do such a task.
"What the fuck, can't you get someone else to do it?" I asked in a less than pleasant tone.
Ike rose slowly, absolutely no trace of even mild amusement gracing his features, "Just get the pole out of your ass and help me move this table, okay?!" With a sigh I obliged, and made sure it took no more than three minutes to accomplish. Then I was back at my post, but luckily by then the dryer had stopped. So, 'quick like bunny' became my motto as I basically flew back into my tank top and black shirt before heading into the kitchen to retrieve something to drink. By that point I was certain I'd had my fill of beer.
A girl, Cami I think her name was, was busy making herself some sort of drink with quite a varied amount of liquor, "Want some?" She asked with a giggle once she noticed my onlooking.
"What is it?" I asked with a curious disposition.
"Long Island Iced Tea," She smiled as she picked up the shaker, shook it for a minute and poured herself some.
"Oh no, no," I shook my head, eyebrows raised, "My last experience with that was less than lovely"
"Its not that bad," She laughed, "What happened? It can't be too awful if you're still willing to drink"
"Well," I sighed, too buzzed to care and figuring this girl wouldn't remember a thing in the morning if she planned on drinking that cocktail, "The last time I drank that stuff I ended up duck taped to my parents bed completely naked," I paused as she giggled a little, "That's not the worst part," She gave me a cocked brow on the pause, "My parents came home early that night," I admitted.
Her brows hid in her bangs and her mouth dropped, "Oh my gosh! That's terrible!" She was clearly trying to not laugh, "That's too bad," She sipped a bit of her drink, "Well, its best to keep yourself in check then," She winked on her way out.
I shook my head and decided on a good screwdriver before making my way out. Before I reached the living room, center of the festivities now that the broken furniture was removed, I was run into by someone turning, most likely to get a refill. But that didn't stop the last half-inch or so of his beverage to land directly in the middle of my crotch, "Great," I muttered once the nameless person apologized profusely before continuing into the kitchen. My hands were half in the air as I looked down at the relatively small, but embarrassing mess on my jeans. I refused stripping myself to that level just to dry out a spot, so I let it stay.
My journey was to be disrupted yet again as Ike's friend Ross came running in from the inclosed porch, his hands waving and eyes wide with excitement as he ran up, grabbing my collar as he said, "Oh my god! There's a dolphin in the jacuzzi!!" I gave him a blank look as he looked me over, not comprehending why I wasn't as excited about it as he was, "You know . . . you have a wet spot," He added much more calmly.
My expression fell as he mentioned that, "Yeah, beer spill," I muttered as I moved past him to see if he was for real, or if Ross was hallucinating or just-too-drunk. But he was telling the truth. Now, granted it was a blown up dolphin, a pool toy that I believe I'd seen before at my parents' house, but there actually was a dolphin floating about in the hot tub. The shock that I got from it led me to believe that I needed more to drink. My need for drink led me to my need for more coke as the speakers pounded noise that the voices around it overtook to be heard.
I found time to enter a bathroom and do my drug without any interruption. On my way out, I ran head on into Zac. My eyes were wide at the glare I received. He was never too happy about me doing coke, but tolerated it until the point where I started doing something else, like drinking. Or whenever I'd do far too much of it, line after line after line, day in and day out. But again, that's another tale for another day.
"What were you doing in there?" He asked, and habit told me to lie.
"Taking a piss, what's it to you?" Usually I loved him to death, but whenever he'd try to play the big brother, it pissed me off. To be honest though, he was usually right.
"Well, unless you started pissing coke and it was coming out your nose, you're lying," His brow raised with his sneer. I never did check my nose, and that was my fall, "You can't put that," His face lowered to my crotch, "In there," He poked my nose roughly and I felt like everything around grew red, "Anyway. Didn't I ask you not to do this?? To slow down on the coke and the drinking, and don't do both at the same time?"
Now it was my turn for a good, hard glare, "Haven't I asked you for things in the past?"
Zac's face softened as he let out a breath. He seemed to shrink half his size in that breath and for a moment I felt bad, "That's different and you know it"
"How?" I asked, challenging him with, "Hmm?! Tell me how its different. Tell me that me doing coke to get me through seeing you is any different than the bullshit you put yourself through!" I cried out, my head dizzying as I spoke with deep breaths, "Why do you lay in bed with that bitch every night, why do you fly at her request to jump and change who you really are just to make her happy whenever there's someone right fucking here that loves you just the way you are?!"
"Tay, quiet down . . . ," Zac's voice shook as he looked around, hands up in surrender. He was nervous, scared of the light I was shedding on our "situation", "You're drunk, can't we talk about this some other time?"
I rose up to stand straight instead of leaning on the door-frame, "You know what?" I asked, pointing at him, "Fuck you. Fuck your fucking answer to this "problem" that we have. Why don't you stop your God damn preaching for twenty seconds and actually look at shit. Why don't you just stop trying to damn hard and just kiss me already," I leaned just a little bit, my head feeling heavy and spinning, my eyes drooping with the alcohol, "I know you've wanted it since that we've stopped. I see your looks, the way your lips point downward whenever you look at me and you think I'm not "there enough" to know you are. I see you," I told him, my voice breaking with a desperation I hadn't felt since Natalie had seen us together, "I know you"
His mouth was fixed, lips drawn together so tight that it wrinkled his chin as he tried to fight back the tears, "Stop it. We can't and you know it," He got out in a broken, but hushed, voice.
"Fuck knowing things about what's right and wrong. Why don't you just kiss me?!" I shouted, throwing my hands in the air, my face just a breath away from his, "Do it and tell me it feels wrong!"
And he did, and I felt hot all over. A great hot like a lazy summer spent on a tropical beach, feeling my skin redden and sizzle in the radiance that was Zac. But that heat fizzled quickly as he pulled away, gasping and looking around with wide, scared eyes, "We really shouldn't be doing this here," Were his breathy words. We moved down the hallway, hearing voices downstairs from the television. The tv being on told Zac and I that the countdown was going to start within the next ten or so minutes. Ike was always careful about being able to watch the ball drop. What a waste of the turning into a new year.
Our hands clasped, we bolted down to the end of the hall, lips melded together and my back painfully hitting a door. I didn't care though, the pain was meagre. The countdown was beginning downstairs and doors were opening as "Three . . . two . . . one!" were hollered throughout the house. We didn't care much, lost in our own embrace as people rushed past to catch a glimpse of the ball falling from Times Square. That New Year's kiss is one that we wouldn't forget so long as we lived.
The commotion downstairs dwindled as "Auld Lang Syne" pierced through the entire house. The party was normal once again, after the shouts and hoots and hollers, as well as probably some sort of popping, noisy, stringy party favors going into the crowd and air. Footsteps coming up the stairs brought us back to where and who we were and what we were doing, and caused our hands to jumble together as we both fought to open the door. Just as a shadowed body appeared I felt myself fall into the room, my head hitting the thinly carpeted floor with a loud, dull thud.
Zac barreled in after, almost tumbling as well but catching himself quick enough to kick my feet away from the door so that he could close and lock it. Heavy, heaving breaths escaped both our lips as he bent over, hands on his knees, and I sat up, roping my arms around my shins, "That could have been bad," He breathed out, peering through his choppy shag to look at me.
That look had me up on my feet once again, lips colliding together in a sloppy mesh, barely a thread of knowing where one set stopped and anothers' started. We hit boxes as we rolled around on the floor, discovering during a breather that we'd landed ourselves in the spare room. It wasn't long before our clothes were discarded, creating a haphazard pillow, with zippers and buttons that pressed into my back and scratched my skin as Zac entered me. We rocked together as the party continued in the rest of the house, our lips barely leaving eachothers' and bodies flush together, his on mine, with mine. I felt his tears, cool compared to the temperature of our skin, dripping onto my cheeks. But he was not alone, nor were his tears which fell into the rivers of my own, mixing together into one, This is how it should be, I wanted to say as we gripped eachother in climax, slowly letting up on the strength used as we came down.
The next morning, we lay together, naked but comfortable on top of soiled clothes from the happenings that ended just hours before. We slept there, my head on his chest, fingers curled around the hairs from the base of his neck that just barely fell on to his shoulders as he pulled his own hand through my hair, the other wrapped securely around my waist. It was more of a nap, only four hours worth of sleep before we were awake again, give or take a bit. We figured it that long during our half-asleep conversation with hints that it was long after midnight when we'd ended our tryst, and it was still dark in the outside world.
"So, do you have a New Year's resolution?" Zac asked in a whisper with an amused, childlike smile. I mirrored his smile, but put serious thought into his question. Did I? I usually made ones that were easy to keep, a number of songs per year, getting one demo of vocals finished on one take, things like that.
"Yeah . . . ," I muttered out slowly, the smile wilted but still sticking to my lips as I found my tank top and slipped it over my shoulders, then my pants, "Get something on," I told him with a bit more of a smile, watching as his face etched confusion over itself, but he listened. When he was dressed, I cleared my throat.
"My resolution is," I said standing, "To get clean, to stop faking life," I told him as I pulled out a quarter ounce of coke from my jeans pocket. I gave a pointed look his way, nodding for him to follow. We snuck down the hall into the bathroom that started all the commotion the night before. Once the door was closed and locked, I let my fist relax to show again the little baggie with the white powder, "I want to stop this, but I need you," I told him, my voice grave, "No matter how much I drank last night, I meant what I said. I do this to cope with you," After a breath, I started again, "You know what that means right?" I asked in a meek whisper, hiding my eyes with my bangs so that it was hard for him to see me, though I could see him clearly.
He nodded, clasping his right hand with my free left, "We'll figure something out," He kept nodding, his gaze set on our hands.
"Promise me you won't try to erase this," I almost begged, my voice teetering on desperation, looking as well to my hands and then to his face.
His eyes were what I saw there, bright with their flecks of gold and green in a bed of caramel, "I promise," He whispered, his stare not faltering a bit as I clasped his hand tighter and felt the weight of the bag in my right slip as I dumped its contents down into the toilet as our lips met and I couldn't help but actually have hope for the new year, No more regrets, no more drifting, no more substitutes for the real thing . . .