Thick and Thin (New Version)

Chapter Six: Brian

Zach's house is sprawling - not necessarily a mansion per se, but the largest and most grand out of everyone's. It's rustic in a sense, but still very much homey and rockstar-esque. The mahogany double doors open up into a family room with 12-foot high ceilings trimmed in a warm, dark oak and massive beams to match. An oversized dark brown sectional made of Italian leather allows for plenty of space for friends and family to hang out, complete with matching armchairs that accentuate the stone fireplace. The t.v. is hidden behind a panel on the wall, specifically designed that way to make the room more about conversation and less about mindless entertainment.

Zach loves to entertain, or at least he used to before everything changed. Behind his black eyeliner, lip piercing, and colorful tattoos encasing his arms, he's also one hell of a cook. Through the family room, his kitchen boasts a double built-in oven, a six burner gas cooktop, a nearly industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerator and custom black quartz countertops. His house was always the place to be, and you'd find us all here at least three times a week for good food, good company, and good music. It's eerie now, standing in the quiet kitchen alone, lit only by the soft glow from the range hood lighting. If I close my eyes I can almost see Jimmy sitting at the massive island, trying to catch grapes in his mouth that Matt throws from the fridge while Zach cooks over the stove and Johnny pesters him about the latest and greatest whisky.

I let my fingers trail across the cold countertop as I walk towards the dining room, its massive oak table gleaming from the patio lights beyond the wall of windows overlooking the backyard. The wall across from that boasts a museum quality replica of Death on a Pale Horse by John Hamilton Mortimer, a housewarming gift from Val and Matt that far outdid the set of stainless steel cookware I got him. Many dinners were had in this room, full of love and laughter and the clinking of glasses. Now it sits silent, save for the click, click, click of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Off to the left of the dining room is a set of stairs leading to the fully-finished basement, equipped with a pool table, arcade games, home theater, and even a small booth where Zach and I have spent countless hours recording guitar tracks together as we itched to get into the actual studio. I don't go down there though. Instead I head back into the kitchen and go out the sliding glass door, taking in a deep breath of the salty air as I lay back in one of the chaise lounges overlooking the pool. It's 5 in the morning and I've yet to sleep, despite being awake for nearly 24 hours and jet lagged from the 9 hour time difference between here and Europe.

I dig my phone out of my pocket and see that I have two missed calls - one from Johnny and the other from my wife Michelle. I pull up the world clock, too tired to do the math in my head, and find that it's 2 p.m. in Spain and 8 a.m. in Florida. Assuming he actually got some sleep, I doubt Johnny is awake yet so I opt to call Michelle back first.

She picks up on the second ring, chipper as ever.

"Hellooo!" She sing-songs into the phone. "You're up bright and early!"

"Hey babe," I smile, happy to just hear her voice. Michelle and I have known one another for ages, since her twin sister Valary was Matt's high school sweetheart and one of our best friends. Val even managed our band for a few years, and I found myself falling for one of my best friend's girlfriend's twin. It might have been a bit awkward at first, but lots of good jokes have come from it.

"Hey! How was the flight home?"

"It was fine," I lie, feeling guilty right away. It's not that I don't want to talk with Michelle about it - we talk to each other about everything - it's just that I don't have the emotional bandwidth to go through it all again. I sent her a quick text yesterday morning to let her know we arrived safely, but it's the first time we've talked since I made it home.