I was with Braden now.
Why did I have to keep reminding myself?
On his left hand, Zack had had tattooed the lettersA,K,Q, andJ, and I figured it was due to our obsession with playing cards on the road. I wouldn’t learn until much later that those letters had a much deeper meaning.
But apparently that wasn’t the work his mother was referring to, because Zack instead began unbuttoning the red flannel shirt. After Zack pulled it apart, we tried to see the design still covered with what looked like plastic wrap over red, angry flesh. It broke my heart to see how Zack’s ribs looked so visible underneath his skin, and I forced my eyes upward again. In a black Gothic script font, the wordsOnce Upon A Riotextended above his pecs from shoulder toshoulder—and in the very middle was an upside down heart outline. Zack said, “It’s not done yet. We need to color the heart and fill in the blood drips.”
Zack’s grandpa was feeling much better. “I don’t know why you kids do that shit to yourselves.”
“It’s art, gramps.”
The older man simply shook his head. Lacey said, “Let’s eat before everything gets cold. Um—Braden and Dani, could you bring in the pitchers of iced tea and lemonade from the fridge? Cy, why don’t you put a steak on everyone’s plate?”
While Braden and I obeyed orders, she pulled a big bowl out of the oven with mitts. Inside were half a dozen baked potatoes wrapped in foil. All the food smelled and looked good, but I had no appetite, knowing what was coming.
After we were seated and we were just starting to dig in, Zack said, “You guys should think about getting some ink too. We won’t look like little kids up there anymore.”
Zack’s grandpa said, “You need to eat more, kiddo. That’ll go a long way to making you look more like a grownup.”
Zack laughed, taking his grandfather’s words lightly. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
It did my heart good to see it—and Braden’s too. When he squeezed my knee under the table, I glanced at him and he gave me a soft smile. I couldn’t help but smile back, even though I knew the shit that was likely coming later.
When I shifted my eyes back to the center of the table, I glanced up at Zack—and found him all but boring his eyes through me.
What the hell?
My eyes quizzed him back but then I focused on my plate. Was it possible that he’d been so drunk during the last part of the tour that he’d forgotten about Braden and me? Or had he thought it had been a one-time thing—that maybe Iwas just getting revenge and would come running right back to him?
If so, he had no right. But, more than that, we needed him sober for whatever lay ahead. For the rest of the meal, I didn’t look up again—but I just picked at my food. It all tasted good, but I had no appetite.
When we cleared out plates and Zack’s mother brought out cake and ice cream, I started wondering if she was going to blow off what we’d planned to do afterward. When Zack declared he was stuffed and pushed his plate away, he said, “This has been fun but I gotta run.” I figured that was it. We’d missed our chance.
But his mother stayed true to her word. “Not so fast, Zachary.”
Shivers charged down my spine. I’d never heard her voice sound so commanding and, all of a sudden, I understood how she could be good at her job in corrections. There was an air of authority in her tone, one a person wouldn’t dare counter without expecting consequences. It was a bit shocking, though, because I’d only ever seen her be indulgent with Zack. This was a new side to her.
“What the hell, mom?”
Pushing her plate aside much like Zack had seconds earlier, she placed her hands on the table, folded and looking serene—but her expression said business. “We need to talk. It’s been brought to my attention that you might be struggling with a problem.”
Although his words were full of sass, his tone communicated that he felt like he might be on shaky ground. “My only problem is whatever the hell’s going on here right now.”
“Listen to your mother” came his grandpa’s voice from the other side of the table. Again, this was a first—I’d never heard his grandfatheractuallysounding gruff about anything ofimport. And, although the atmosphere was tense, my internals relaxed ever so slightly, knowing that we were all united in our desires to stop Zack from killing himself.
It wasn’t until then that Zack’s eyes grazed each one of us before freezing on his mother. And freeze they did—not only did he lock on her, but his expression was ice cold—but his mother’s voice changed to soft and caring, probably exactly what her son needed at that very moment. “Are you struggling with addiction?”
“What does that even mean, struggling?”
“Come on, Zack,” his grandpa said, “we’re not here to mince words. We want to help you.”
“And I can tell you exactly what I mean,” his mother said. “Is it hard to get through the day without a drink? Do you find yourself obsessing over when you’re going to get your next one? And are you experiencing those feelings with more than just alcohol?”
Zack leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling, almost like he was back in high school hoping to communicate his teenage disdain to the teacher at the front of the room.
But his mother was not to be stopped. Instead, she reached a hand across the table—and, even though she couldn’t touch Zack, the message was received. “I’ve had my own struggles with drinking, son…and I—actually,we, all of us—want to help you through it. I haven’t been with you on tour and I only visited once when you lived in Denver, so I don’t know what you’re going through—but if you need a drink to make it through the day…well, that’s something I can talk about.”
“You?”
