Page 7 of Wish We Were There

Something in him had changed in the twenty-four hours they’d been apart—Parker didn’t know what, but it was clearly something positive.

He’d been staring at Taylor on his doorstep in silence for way too long. With an unintelligible stammer, he opened the door wider and stepped aside.

“Sorry,” he laughed, scrubbing a hand through his short dark hair self-consciously. “Sorry, I—you look good today. Not saying you didn’t look good before. Shit. I just…”

Taylor laughed, a faint blush rising in his face as he stepped inside—that, surely, Parker was only imagining.

“No worries,” Taylor replied, shaking his head. “I, uh… I really needed to shower. Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t realize I looked like such a hot mess until I got home.”

“Don’t apologize,” Parker said quickly. “Seriously. I understand. Do you want anything to eat or drink before we start?”

Taylor grinned and held up a travel mug in his good hand. “No, I’m set.”

Parker smiled weakly. “Then let’s get started.”

They shuffled into his office-turned-recording-studio, which was just the second bedroom in his apartment. Parker sat down in his chair and made sure everything was set to record; Taylor took up the same spot on the small sofa across from him.

“Alright, we’re good,” he said, nervously glancing up at Taylor. He really needed to get over this stupid crush before he made himself look like even more of an idiot. “Ready whenever you are. And like I said yesterday, I’ll let you take the lead. Whatever you wanna talk about. Okay?”

“Okay,” Taylor said with a nod. He gave Parker a small smile, one that reached his blue eyes today. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s just pick up where we left off,” Parker said. “I’ll edit it together, so it should be fine. Test, test... And we’re recording.”

“You were asking me about the tour, I think,” Taylor said. “And... how everything happened.”

“Right,” Parker replied, gesturing for Taylor to continue.

“I know the autopsy was reported on, so everyone probably already knows,” Taylor said, eyes flickering down to the mic on the table in front of him. “God, it was so... stupid, you know? He barely got scratched up at all. But when the bus fell over, he just... Hit his head at the exact right angle for it to...”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It was just terrible luck,” Parker offered softly, and Taylor nodded.

“It just made me realize how fragile everything is,” he said. “How easily everything changes. One guy decided to drive drunk, and now... Here we are.”

“I know a lot of people are wondering about the other driver,” Parker said, and Taylor shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he said quickly, frowning. “It’s done. You can’t change the past. He’s in jail. He’s probably going to stay there for a long time. I hate that people even know his name.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Parker replied. “If it wasn’t for this one terrible thing he did, no one would have any idea who he is. Why give him the attention?”

“Other than to tell people to not fucking drink and drive,” Taylor added. “It’s really wild to think about how one other person’s decision has completely changed the trajectory of my life, the life of everyone in the band. Zach was achieving his dream, and now the band is...”

He trailed off, looking pained. Parker hesitated, unsure of how much to push—Taylor was his friend, but this was an interview, still. He prided himself on his job as a journalist, but couldn’t bring himself to ask his friend anything too hard-hitting.

“I’m sure the fans are wondering about the band, too,” he said in as gentle a tone as he could manage. “There haven’t really been any announcements, and all the socials have been quiet. I think that’s one drawback of being indie in your situation. There’s no management team that could handle some of this messaging for you, instead of the band having to worry about it yourselves. Can you share anything about the band, and what you guys are thinking of doing now?”

Taylor paused for a long moment, then finally shook his head. “Nothing has been discussed, really. I think everyone is still just reeling and sorting out how they feel about it all. To be honest, I haven’t really talked to them about the future much. I guess I’m… Well, I don’t know.”

Parker waited. Taylor stared down at the mic in front of him, his expression frozen; clearly he was considering something, but Parker didn’t know what. This time, he didn’t press.

“Anyway,” Taylor continued, glancing away again. Whatever he’d been thinking of saying, he must have decided against it. “I think I was in shock after the accident, to be honest. It didn’t really hit me until I realized I would have to... to plan a funeral for him. And all the paperwork. I had no idea there was so much paperwork when someone dies. Insurance, bank stuff, our house... They really don’t make it easy. So that sucked. But I think I’m doing alright now... All things considered.” He held up his arm in the cast with a wry smile. “Aside from this. My arm, I mean. Guess that doesn’t translate well over audio.”

“When are you getting the cast off?” Parker asked, and Taylor winced, putting his arm down.

“I, uh... Missed the appointment to have it taken off and I just haven’t rescheduled,” he admitted, looking uncomfortable. “The doctor said it was healed by now, but... I don’t know. It still hurts sometimes, so I’m nervous to have the cast off. Figure some extra time couldn’t hurt, right?”

“I mean, I’m no doctor, but sure,” Parker replied, laughing nervously. After a beat, Taylor chuckled, too, sounding much less uncomfortable. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. I know you said that there’s no update about the future of the band just yet, but Get Well Soon is one of my favorites, so I’d like to talk about the band a little more if that’s alright.”

---