I stepped off the stage that night and immediately threw my drumsticks on the ground and walked quickly back to the bus. The show was, in a nutshell, great. I didn't know what the hell we did right but there was something that went right because we didn't perform that well since our early days. I knew people back then really enjoyed our show and people were going to be walking away saying this was good again.
When I got onto the bus everybody just pretty much disappeared. I was alone on the back of the bus. I didn't get it. How could I go from being on stage, ten thousand people screaming out for me, to being completely alone? It just didn't seem right. I didn't like it. Why was it at the end of the day I always seemed to be alone? I was Zachary Hanson of the band Hanson, I just spent three hours entertaining girls that would do anything to be with me, to get rid of this loneliness that I was feeling, but at that moment I was alone, even with Isaac and Taylor roaming around. My brothers didn't know me. They would never know me because I was so afraid to tell them. It was like they weren't even my brothers anymore.
Sighing, I stretched out on the couch and looked at the ceiling to the bus. That would be the time when I'd normally hide myself somewhere and do some coke, but I was so drained that I didn't even want to keep my eyes open any longer. I pulled my arm up so I could see it. The cuts on my wrists were so eerie, it was weird to see them there but I didn't feel right without them. Although I just started recently, whenever they were healing I ran the razor over them and cut the skin open again. I allowed them to heal enough so I wasn't bleeding everywhere all the time, but I cut them every day in the same place. I wasn't doing a lot of damage.
Isaac told me we were postponing the next few shows so we had time to do publicity. I hated publicity. Publicity means being in public. Everyone saw what happened when I was just informed about being in front of a few more people than usual. I had a panic attack. While doing publicity, I didn't know if I'd be able to keep myself from hitting the people that followed us around. When we were in the limelight the first time I was fine with it because for one, it was new, and I was a little kid and didn't know any better. I enjoyed it. This time I hated it and I was afraid I was going to hurt someone--like myself.
Taylor lived for the whole fame and fortune part of the job. He was a camera person. He always had been. He could play with the camera and work with it so it looked as though he was put on earth just to be in front of it. He was the natural star. He was born for fame and I often thought Ike and I were holding him back but he insisted he could never do music without the two of us with him. I always thought he could be the biggest star if he was by himself, but he refused to listen to me when I complimented him like that. He didn't take compliments well. He was always very down on himself. I was always just as bad but Taylor actually had something to work with and he was like that. It was so hard to see the perfect ones always think they were so ugly. I hated it when the perfect ones were the ones with the self-image problems.
My mother came to the back of the bus and sat down across from me. I looked over and quickly but nonchalantly covered my wrists with my sleeves. She gave me a gentle smile that my mother was known for and spoke. "You boys did a wonderful show tonight. I was worried you weren't going to do so well, what with so many people and all..."
"No, I was fine once I got out there," I said, looking back at my arms again, covered with my long sleeves. "It's just getting out there that's a problem."
"Are you really having trouble with that? There are things we can do to help that..."
"No, it's okay, I just need a little coaxing now and then," I lied. I didn't lie to my mother much; it started when I started having problems.
"Are you sure, sweetie? I don't want you to have any problems with anything knowing I can fix them."
"I'm okay, Mom. You don't have to worry about me. I'm just a little unsure of a few things. It'll take me a while to get through them, but once I do I'll be just fine." I gave her the most genuine smile I could give her while lying, and she seemed to buy it. She got up and sat by me. I moved up and put my head in her lap. She stroked my hair, lovingly, which was something only a mother would do when I was still sweaty from performing.
"What's this I hear about you smoking?" she asked. I glanced at my pack of cigarettes on the table. "Is that true?"
"Yeah, it's true." I motioned to my pack on the table. "That's them right there." She looked over and I saw the disappointment in her eyes.
"Why are you smoking?"
"Because it's the only thing that'll help me calm down." She shook her head in disbelief that I would start something like this, but didn't say anything about it. "I'm sorry, Mom..."
"Don't be, sweetie. It's better than some things you could have started." I almost started crying again there in her lap. Smoking was a lot better than some of the things I could have started but I was doing those other things and Taylor was the only one who had any idea.
"I guess so...but I shouldn't have started anyway."
"It'll be okay, honey." I sighed and looked away from her.
Lying in my mother's lap, my mind began to wander. I met a girl before the show. I've met a lot of girls, but normally when I met someone it consisted of "Can I have your autograph?" and maybe a picture. This one wasn't like that. I'd ventured out of the arena on my own well before the show and started walking around, not going far because I didn't want to get lost. I ended up on a bench in a nearby park. She had been running and sat down next to me to catch her breath. For a while we just sat there. I didn't acknowledge her and she didn't acknowledge me, and then suddenly I started talking. She listened and I ended up telling her all of my problems. I showed her the cuts on my wrists and I told her about the coke and my smoking. It felt good to have someone listen.
I didn't even know she was a fan until she mentioned at some point in the conversation that she had tickets to the show. If it had been any other show, I would have pulled her backstage and let her watch it from there or given her the best seats in the house, but it was sold out. Once I returned to the arena I began regretting telling her everything I told her because she was a fan and it could spark rumors, but I'd been through a lot of rumors that were worse than the things I told her.
When I had realized what time it was, I told her I had to go and she seemed a little upset about it, but I gave her a kiss and thanked her for her kindness. She told me where her seats were and I said I'd look for her. I did look for her but I couldn't find her in the sea of all the screaming faces, and I was rather upset by that. She was a nice girl, very kind and she knew that I needed someone to listen to me. I never caught her name and I wished I had because it would have been nice to talk to her again. I didn't want to start a relationship or anything...I didn't have any time for myself, how was I supposed to have a relationship? I only thought it would be nice to have someone I could turn to when I felt down. However, that's typical of my behavior. I'd receive the perfect chance to meet someone who could help me out and I blew it.
We arrived at the hotel not long after I zoned out, and I guess I realized what was going on when the bus stopped. What really received my attention were the screams. It had been a really long time since people cared enough to show up at the hotel. I almost missed it, but really I just wished they would go away and leave me the hell alone so I could go into my hotel in peace.
I glanced out the window. They were out there with cameras and video cameras and I hated it. Taylor noticed how I was once again biting on my nails, carefully keeping my sleeve on my hand so he couldn't see my wrist. "You okay, Zac?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
"You look like you're ready to pass out."
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine."
The interrogation stopped there. A security guard knocked on the door to the bus, notifying us that we were good to go. Taylor, out of habit from our younger years, stepped behind me so I was in between him and Ike. I was about to comment that I wasn't a child anymore and he didn't need to protect me, but by the time I'd thought of exactly what to yell at him, the doors opened and Ike had walked out already. The screams reached nearly deafening as the three of us headed quickly the few feet from the door of the tour bus to the doors to the hotel. I bit my lip and kept my wrists covered with my sleeves. They had cameras, which could very well mean exposure of my secrets that I tried my hardest to hide.
Luckily we made it into the lobby of the hotel without any problems. All the fans were outside and I felt a lot safer. Fans could be really crazy sometimes, and crazy could be dangerous. Once we got into the elevators and were by ourselves, I let out a breath I'd been holding since I'd stepped off the bus. Taylor gave me another look and I was really starting to get paranoid from it. He was hiding something.
Once in the room, Ike went into the bathroom first. I plopped onto the bed, ready to crash. We did so well at the show and performed our hearts out; I was surprised Ike was even taking the time to wash up. I was so exhausted I could just fall asleep without another word but Taylor had other ideas in mind.
"Zac, can I ask you something?"
"No," I said, turning away from him. I pulled the covers up to my chin and waited for him to give up. He didn't. "Every time you say those words I end up getting pinned down on something. No. I don't want to hear it."
"This isn't like that. I'm not going to yell at you or scold you or whatever the hell you get pissed about me doing to you. It's not going to be that way this time." I turned back to him, waiting for him to ask. I had no idea what this was about and I was scared out of mind at what he'd discovered. "Last night while you were asleep I checked your arms because I thought you were hiding your tracks from drugs." I groaned. "I saw the scars on your wrist."
"I'm not the only one with scars, Taylor," I said, pointedly.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, trying me out. He wanted to see if I knew something. I did.
"Well, I'll admit I have cuts on my wrists, yeah, but you've got scars too." He didn't say anything. "Those things on your knuckles didn't appear out of nowhere, but then again if I was shoving my finger down my throat I'd have scars on my knuckles too," I said, turning onto my back and very nonchalantly folding my arms over my chest.
"What are you talking about?"
"Taylor, I know your secret. Now you know mine. If you tell people about mine, I'll tell people about yours."
"I don't--"
"I know you've got a problem with eating, Taylor. I've seen it. I know you go to the bathroom to throw up after every meal we have and I know you skip dinner when we're at the arena. I know you're trying to do this to lose weight, and frankly I think you look like shit you're so skinny, but if you don't see yourself the way I do, I guess you understand that I don't see myself the way you do." Taylor bit his lip. He looked like he was ready to cry.
"You can't prove anything."
"I've got as much evidence as you do, Taylor."
"Well you can't tell me not to say anything to anybody because I've already told Ike." My eyes grew wide.
"Then I think Ike would be very interested to know about your eating habits. Hey Ike--�" In an instant Taylor covered my mouth with his hand.
"Don't you dare say anything," he growled at me. I waited for him to move his hand from my mouth. He didn't and continued to talk. "Okay, I'll keep your secret, and I'll even tell Ike to keep it secret, but you don't say anything to anybody about me. You do and although you're trying to kill yourself already, I'll do it myself. You got that?" I nodded. "Good." He moved his hand from my mouth.
"And I'm not trying to kill myself."
"Then what the hell are you doing?" Before I could answer his question, Ike walked out of the bathroom. I smiled to Taylor, not about to respond with Ike in earshot. I got up and walked into the bathroom before Taylor could get in there, then locked the door and sunk to the floor. Oh no... I thought, sinking into my comfort position. He knew. I had no idea how I could continue with my personal therapy if Taylor knew about it. I had no idea, but having no idea wasn't going to stop me.
Once Zac disappeared into the bathroom I felt for the first time how badly I was shaking. He knew. He knew and he was worried. He didn't mention to me when he found out and I wanted to know. Knowing Zac, he'd go out to the balcony for a smoke before going to bed. When he was out there I'd ask him.
"Are you okay, Taylor?" Ike asked.
"I'm fine," I said, for a moment reminding myself of Zac by the tone of my voice. I shuddered at the thought. I didn't want to be like Zac. He was so messed up. "I'm okay," I corrected myself, in a slightly more pleasant tone. I didn't need Ike on my case.
We were so edgy around each other these past few weeks. Throughout our entire lives the three of us were extremely close, we always told each other everything, but all of a sudden we had so many secrets from each other. We used to be best friends. Lately we absolutely hated each other.
"Ike?" I asked.
"What?"
"When did we stop being friends?" I asked bluntly, looking over at him.
"Who? You and me?"
"All three of us. When did we stop being friends? It seems like we're starting to hate each other. I mean just a year ago we were as tight as we could be and now...now I don't know what the hell we are." Isaac shrugged, not really answering. "I just have this big fear that in a couple of years we won't even be talking when just a few years ago you couldn't pull us away from each other for a day."
"I guess it just happens with age, Tay."
"I don't like it." Ike looked at his watch.
"Oh, I might be able to catch Rose before she goes to sleep," he said. I sighed; I knew I couldn't compete with that. It wasn't like I ever had anything important to say...not like what I had to tell him might actually affect something.
When Zac came out of the bathroom, he walked out onto the balcony and almost immediately lit up a cigarette. Ike was chatting away with Rose on the phone. The three of us were confined in the small space of the hotel room but were really in three different worlds. It was something I knew I'd never get used to.
I walked out onto the balcony. Zac had his feet up on the table, leaning back in the chair with his cigarette hanging between his lips. He looked deep in thought and as much as I didn't want to disturb that, we still needed to talk. I knew he didn't want to discuss it any further; I didn't want to discuss it further either but something had to be done.
"You need help, Zac."
"Excuse me?" he said, removing the cigarette from his lips. "I need what?"
"You need help."
"So do you!"
"Zac, I'm not trying to kill myself."
"Yes you are," he said, giving me a pointed look. "You may not be doing it deliberately but you're wasting yourself away, fucking up your heart as well as your throat. If you fuck up your throat it's going to affect your voice and we can't lose your voice, Taylor." He paused. "And I'm not trying to kill myself."
"Then what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm giving myself an outlet from my problems, just like you, except I'm getting my pain another way. I'm not trying to kill myself at all. I know I could very easily kill myself, but I'm not going to do that because I don't want to. I just want to feel something because everything's been so fucked up lately that I want an emotion that I can finally control and pain is that. I'm not losing very much blood, whatever I'm losing my body is putting in, and I'm doing it in the same place so I don't have scars everywhere. I'm just trying to take control of something and this is the only way I know how."
It actually made sense. It actually made a lot of sense. Zac was feeling so off lately that he was trying to harness some kind of emotion so he felt in control of something when everything else was out of control. It was so familiar.
"Are you on drugs?"
"Where did that come from?" he asked.
"I want to know."
"No, Taylor, I'm not on drugs," he said, and for the first time since I started suspecting him, he had a smile on his face while he said it. As he took a puff from his cigarette and released the smoke into the air, I got up and walked back inside. I didn't believe him and we both knew it.