Page 29 of Shame Me
Not really—I’d begun following the happenings of my favorite bands just a few years ago when Zack and I discoveredthe world of music, and Kyle had been already well established on her own. Still, I nodded as if I knew exactly what she was talking about.
CJ said, “Babe, if we don’t get our asses out there, we’re gonna miss ST.”
“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, I try to promote bands that have a woman in them—so I’ll be talking to my manager and label about you. They need to see you. Do you have a business card or anything so she can contact you?”
Zack and I exchanged the briefest glance that I was certain Kyle and CJ wouldn’t have registered—but Zack was thinking exactly what I was:here we go again.We’d heard this before, and so, even though meeting these two was incredible and maybe word of mouth might get out about us, I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. Still, Zack, as professional as could be, dug out of his backpack a sheet he’d filled with information—not just the links to our music, socials, and email address but also his phone number. That paper was one of the first things he’d had professionally printed using money we’d earned playing, and he’d used it to book bigger and bigger gigs for us.
Before they left, I let my giddy fangirl come out to play, asking them both for their autographs. They kindly obliged, but Kyle said, “I should be asking foryours, because I know this won’t be the last time I see you guys.”
I hoped she was right…even though I thought she probably wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
In early January,we had a surprise visitor: Zack’s mom. We all knew her quite well because, even though she’d usually been at work when we’d practiced at their house, she was around whenshe didn’t. In some ways, she reminded me of my mom—strong and independent. But his mother was taller and skinny, much like Zack had been when I’d first met him.
Her hair was turning gray, too, and she didn’t seem to care that it was. She had it pulled back in a snug bun and brought with her a box of items she called a “care package.” In that box were paper bags of homemade cookies (I hadn’t even realized she baked until that moment), bottles of multivitamins (“I know how kids eat, so I want to make sure you get something healthy in you”), a first-aid kit, and a giant box of Goldfish crackers. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d eaten those things.
At first, I’d thought her visit was just to spend time with her son whom she hadn’t seen much; we’d gone home for Thanksgiving and Christmas butonlythose days and she’d had her siblings and dad over for those days as well. I figured she just wanted Zack all to herself now—but she’d actually had an ulterior motive we didn’t learn about until later. The night she was there, she took Zack out to dinner, leaving the three of us behind. We didn’t take issue with it, knowing how much his mom loved him—but the way she asked made it quite obvious that she didn’t want us tagging along, even if we’d agreed to pay for our own meals.
Braden even mentioned it after they’d left. “Did you guys get a strange feeling from all that?”
Cy shook his head. “No.”
“Idid,” I said. “What was up with that?”
“I dunno. Me and his mom have always gotten along, and I was hoping to spend more time with her.”
Cy said, “She told us she was making breakfast tomorrow.”
“That’s not the same. There’s something weird going on.”
I said, “Do you think maybe she’s sick? Maybe she—”
“Don’t say that shit, Dani.” It wasn’t until Braden blurted out his admonition that I realized just how much he cared aboutZack’s mom—that she was like a mother to him. I didn’t know much about Braden’s family, just that he preferred Zack’s to his, but I suspected it was more than that. I got the feeling he felt like he loved Zack’s mom more than his own.
“Sorry.” I didn’t say another word about it, but something didn’t feel quite right.
And that sensation continued throughout the evening. Because Zack’s mom brought Monopoly, we played until the early hours of the morning without anyone winning—although Cy was clearly ahead. And breakfast was enjoyable…but I still felt like something was off.
So as soon as his mother left, I waited for the opportunity to talk with Zack alone. I figured it could take days to find the right moment, but I decided to sit my ass down at the kitchen table with my journal so I’d have a chance. I was tired of writing, but I started doodling in the journal, finally scrolling through social media on my phone. Both Braden and Cy had come and gone and were in the tiny living room playing a video game together. Since Braden had started working at the electronics store, he’d been spending his paycheck on the merchandise they sold because he got an employee discount.
Zack and his mom had gone to lunch before she left the city and it wasn’t too late in the afternoon when he wandered in the house.
That was when I got full confirmation that something was wrong. Ordinarily, he would have talked with the guys while watching them play, even if only for a minute or two. And then he might have sat at the kitchen table to chat with me. Instead, he walked straight for the cabinet where we kept most of our food and pulled out several boxes of cereal.
Behind those boxes was a big bottle of vodka I hadn’t known was there. After pulling it out, he grabbed a glass from another cabinet and poured the clear liquid to the rim—withoutreplacing the cereal or closing the cabinet doors. As if in a daze, he drank a big gulp and then leaned back against the counter as if he wasn’t sure what he’d come in here for.
At first, I thought about asking,Is everything okay?But I knew it wasn’t, and that would have been the most insipid question I could have asked. So instead, keeping my voice soft, I asked, “What’s wrong, Zack?”
Scoffing, he blinked before taking another large gulp of vodka. I expected him to walk away but he surprised me. Sitting at the table, he said, “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. I got the feeling your mom was delivering some bad news.”
He was quiet for a bit, but I knew there were words aching to come out of him. Fortunately, Braden and Cy were in their own little worlds, not paying attention to us; otherwise, Zack might not have opened up to me like he did. “It wasn’t reallybadnews—but she finally told me about my dad.”
The timbre of his voice reflected the emotional intensity of his words—but I still didn’t realize just how hard it was for him. “I thought you…” I stopped mid-thought, realizing what I was about to say was stupid at best and heartless at worst. His mother might have told him something in passing about his father over the years, but nothing of merit. Nothing that he could take to the bank. So I changed my direction. “What did she say?”
“Remember how she told me he was a rock star? And that made me think he was famous? Well, that was bullshit.”
My mind traveled back a few years to when Zack got his first guitar, one that had supposedly belonged to his father—and what Zack’s theory was about him. My voice came out as a whisper. “Was he an inmate like you thought?”
