TAT Box Set

by Emjay Soren

  I watched as Carrie used a tissue to dry her eyes, but she still looked at me, not wavering and she was squeezing Chad’s hand so tight his skin had gone white around her fingers.

  “I don’t know if anything I have said made sense to any of you, other than my sister and my band, but they speak Noah fluently.” Laughter again, but I just continued because I wasn’t trying to be funny. “I can’t find words to tell any of you what her presence in my life meant to me. I know that since she left this world, I can’t eat, and I can’t sleep and not a second goes by that I am not angry. I am angry, and I am lost. I will never understand this, and no amount of consoling words or belief in an afterlife makes the anger ease up. I have heard the saying as well as the song, what if God was one of us.

  “He isn’t. If he was all the good people would be here and the shitty ones would get hit by drunk drivers crossing the medium. God, if he exists, is sitting and watching and doing as he pleases and calling it the big picture. The only picture that I see, that I will ever see, are the ones of her. Standing at a Christmas tree, holding my niece who shares her name…” I look to the picture on my lapel and shudder with sadness so heavy that tears fall, and I don’t care anymore. “Or of our first kiss in a photo booth, to our last kiss on a dancefloor just before she died.”

  Oh fuck, I have spiraled into my pain. I am sobbing, and I can’t shut the fuck up. “All I will ever see are flashes of perfect eyes, her voice telling me she will always love me, her lips on the only place on my neck not tattooed. I want her here. With me.”

  I want you here! With me! God damn it!

  I am starting to lose the control I have fought to keep when I feel Carrie pull me from the podium and the microphone. I fall into her embrace and hold her, desperate to hide my pain from the world. This moment is not for them, it isn’t for anyone.

  As if they could read my mind, I feel their presence though I don’t look at any of them. I am holding on to my baby sister, and they are all there holding us up. “Get me out of here Sissy...” I beg and want to fall to the ground, but they won’t let me fall.

  I feel her crying and the sob she lets free at my words. “I have you Bubba.” She says and pulls back from me. Her hands are on my face and she is forcing me to look at her. “I have you Bubba, trust me?” She says, and I calm almost instantly at her words, they are my balm and my only balm. I feel Shamus scoop his arm around me and Cal do the same on the other side. Chad is blocking me from the back and Mike is in the front, and like a well-organized swat team, the move in step together and before I know it I am in the limo.

  Carrie backed in first, followed by me, then Shame, Cal, Chad then Mike. I didn’t know where Tayla and Cassa were and all I cared about then was the squat glass of Vodka that Carrie was handing me.

  I leaned back against the seat and ripped the glasses from my face chucking them across the back of the limo. “Breathe Noah.” Carrie says, and the calm of her voice does nothing to help.

  “I fucked that up so bad.” I groan and cover my eyes with my hand as I cry in a limo full of men, bad ass men and my sister. “I wanted to honor her and be proud, but my head is so fucking foggy.”

  They knew it was half the pain killers, half the booze and half the fact this was killing me. “I humiliated her.” I say, and those words suck. “I am not logical, most definitely not rational. I’m dark and drab and if I am lucky, I’m sarcastic from time to time. I tried being something I’m not today and it backfired.”

  “Noah, what you said was perfect.” Cal said, and I was taken back by it. Cal hadn’t really spoken in this whole thing. The fucker had a way of reminding you he was always paying attention though. “You let it come out exactly like you saw it. That is, you. You’re logical and rational Noah, just not in the typical sense and it works, for all of us. What you said, every word was the Candey I love and the stories, they were you guys and the way you had a sync about you. Don’t shred that Noah, you nailed it bro. It was perfect.”

  I wanted to say something, anything but a tap on the window had us all, collectively looking at the window with curious expressions. And none of us bothered to roll the window down.

  Just looked at the window.

  Silently.

  Then I started laughing and slapped Chads leg since he was closest. “Are placing bets on who’s out there or are you gonna look sometime soon?” I ask, and the tension and the emotion dissipate and for a brief fleeting moment we are just us.

  *

  I sit at the table and look around the room, seeing for the first time what sober and alone feels like. I feel it now, that alone feeling. I look at my fridge, there are so many pictures of Noelle; Candy holding Noelle, me holding her with Candy beside me. Everywhere I look I see her face, in every aspect of my life.

  The drawer in my kitchen holds what I need, and I remove it without thought. This was the ugly side of me. This spoon now in my hand is the only solace I can have.

  Do I want to fall again, no. I accept that this is all I have left though? I miss her and frankly, I am tired of being strong. I do not want to feel. I do not want to face the changes. I do not want to look at these pictures and… feel.

  I want you here. With me.

  I hear the tune of Alice in Chains, Black gives way to blue and I crumple under the pressure, the weight of this pain.

  I don’t think it’s possible to recover from this. I have had crisis counselors calling and begging for me to seek help. I wonder if I had killed my father instead of leaving, I wonder if I would have turned out differently. Would I have gone to the needle? Would I have destroyed Carrie with this gravely addiction?

  I feel the leather against my arm as I tighten the noose to my vein. The resounding sound of the tap, tap, tap as I prepare my vein is a strange comfort. It tells me I soon will forget.

  I will forget the smell of her skin, the feel of her kiss… the happiness of what I had finally found. I will soon forget what it feels like to be free.

  I can now smell the drug, the hope of forgetting has a distinct smell and I am comforted by it. The! There it is the prick of skin; the adrenaline has spiked, and I pull back slightly and watch as blood splashes back in my syringe and I confirm that I have a good vein.

  I press my thumb down as the heroin races in to take over.

  It is instantaneous, the relief I feel as my entire system shuts down.

  I continue to stare at her picture, I stare until I cannot recall her name, or my own. I remember the last second before we were hit, and I am still blinded with pain. I will always be blinded with pain but now I don’t care.

  I don’t want to feel this sadness, so I take it away and fall to my old imitation of Noah. I can only survive this way. I will forever be haunted by her, and all I have left I can only give to them. To her, my sissy and the small chubby arms of a child I worship. They will receive all the good I have left. They don’t see, see what I see. I am no more.

  Dust.

  Gone.

  Flew away on a broken dream.

  I stumble.

  I crumble.

  I fall away…

  I am no more, it is all gone, taken like her last breath. I stand and sway. I am so high I giggle through hazy tears and laugh at her image on my fridge. I trace her cheek with my thumb. “Hi baby.” I slur and then turn swearing I hear her gasp my name.

  As delusions go, I never want this to end. “Say my name again baby.” I am talking to nothing, no one and deep down I know this but the haze over my brain lets me believe.

  But all I hear is music and I feel tears splash my cheeks. It is in that moment that I die along with her. I will walk and talk and play music…

  But Noah Becket is dead and gone.

  Six weeks later…

  Chad

  The room was a wreck… empty beer cans lined the floor. Needles and black spoons covered in nasty brown syrupy shit that reeked to high hell. We all knew it would be like this. Six weeks and we hadn’t heard a word from him. By the time Carri
e was climbing the walls in an anger and anguish cocktail of crazy, that I said enough was enough.

  Pays to be the lead singer in a kick ass band, even locksmiths are at my disposal. One autograph and a hash-tag of #OMFGchadblakeyesssssssss and I was in.

  Carrie stormed back to the room and I could hear her screaming and crying and could do nothing. Eight weeks and five days we were married, and it was fucking hell.

  Shame and Sass were here now too, and Sass was in her crack-head cleaning mode the minute she saw the house. Shame was on the phone getting carpet cleaners and dumpsters lined up. Everything had to go… not a stitch of fabric in this house that didn’t have the awful retching scent of heroin on it.

  That stench killed everything and no Febreze, glade candles or Clorox clean up would do it.

  Shit destroyed everything in its path…including my best friend and brother-in-law.

  I stood in awe looking at the drawings on the walls… the platinum records… the painting Candey gave him… but I kept going back to his art. His true gift. Fucker could play the bass and I would argue there was no one greater… but his niche was in art. It was in his blood and bones and sweat and tears. I tattooed beside him for years and never once did I see the same gleam in his eye on a stage as I did in his 10X10 booth at Slave to the Needle.

  Cal and Tay get there separately and there is no denying the minute Tayla sees him just minutes after arriving herself, that he has once again pissed her the fuck off. They need to sever the tension with a bottle of Jim Beam and a box of condoms. The secret is out. We all know what went down between them whether they denied it or not.

  We all have our designated jobs in the “operation clean up Noah Beckett” project, but as my beautiful bride slams the door behind her, a filthy bucket full of God knows what in her hands storming down the hallway…I know right now it’s all a lost cause.

  Before I can get to her the usual happens. Cal and Shame and Tay and Sass all crowd in…we have become this staple of strength since the accident. And today with my girl wrecked over her brothers’ obvious relapse, they were right there ready to show support. If that ain’t family I don’t know what is.

  Before I can ask what was doing back in his room a loud knock on his front door makes us all pause.

  WTF? We are all here?

  I watch Carrie gather her composure assuming like me that its Seth or Lilly, their aunt and Uncle, here to check up on his latest attempt to forget.

  He could try for a lifetime and it would never matter. She was gone and never coming back. I understood not wanting to face it, but he had to face it and soon…or he was dead alongside her.

  Chills rushed my neck at the thought…knowing he would welcome it.

  All thoughts fade when I hear my girl scream in delight and happiness… and wrap her teeny tiny frame around some dude.

  A dude covered from head to toe, fucking literally, in tattoos. Lips pierced on both sides of his mouth and big ass gauges in his ears. Dressed in a pair of dickies, black Chuck Taylors and a white T-shirt that said Hustlers United across the front.

  And he was looking at my wife like he had waited years to see her smile.

  “What the fuck?” I say to myself, but Shame and Cal are watching just as confused when Carrie starts crying and holds him closer.

  “How…why… Who told you to come?” Carrie asks through sobs of happiness. All my instincts are on alert … but something tells me this guy means business and whoever the fuck he is, he matters to the Becketts.

  “TMZ… five o’clock news…world wide web.” He smiles and winks at her before stepping back and dropping two insanely large duffle’s at his feet. “He refused to answer my calls and texts…so if Mohamed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain comes to kick the fuck out of Mohamed.”

  She smiled and looked over to me, before grabbing his inked arm. The artist in me wanted a look at the ink but the husband in me wanted his fucking name more. “Sam, this is my husband Chad. Chad this is Sam ‘Sully’ Sullivan. He’s been Noah’s only friend since before we moved to Gig.”

  I know the guys were just as shocked as me at learning Noah knew anyone good enough to call him friend, outside of the people in this house. I had heard stories of Sully from him over the years and a few times from Carrie, but nothing would have prepared me for the reaction at seeing her face when she opened the door. It wasn’t how she looked at me, it was exactly how she looked at Noah. This guy was family to my girl and Noah and that made him family to me.

  “Nice to meet you.” He said as Carrie introduced us all. “I sent a gift for the wedding but felt like shit not being there…considering.” He dropped his eyes as he said the last words, the tone of voice and his posture told me all I needed to know.

  “Nice to meet you too.” I say and feel like a four-year-old being schooled in manners. “We were just about to head out. It’s pretty gnarly back there but we took everything….” I stop to look at Carrie not sure if he knew what he just walked into.

  He laughs and grips my shoulder in a show of kindness. “Bro been here done this, don’t sweat. It’s why I’m here.” He doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the hall like he’s been here a million times before. We all hear a loud crash and then a roar of laughter from Sully. “Time to wake the fuck up fucker.”

  Carrie grabbed my arm as I went to stop whatever was about to go down. “Baby I’ll explain everything I swear…. But Sam is here to stay unless Noah sends him packing, and he is our best hope.”

  “How did we never know this guy?” I ask kind of pissed at the Beckett secret tree.

  “That’s their story to tell, but I’m telling you to trust him implicitly… trust me yeah?” She says with a wink. It’s the first time I have seen her look hopeful in weeks.

  So yeah…I didn’t hate the guy.

  “He’s smokin’ hot…Jesus.” Tayla says and fans her face and you can hear Cal grinding his teeth.

  “He has as many fucking tats as you.” Shamus says and bumps her shoulder.

  Tay nods and flutters her lashes forcing Cal to storm out and slam the door behind him. Tayla rolls her eyes and looks at Carrie. “Hiding that for years was a total fail Carrie. If there are more of him hiding back home send them my way.”

  “I’ll be here a while.” Sam…Sully Whatever says from the hall. “Don’t worry pet.” He says and winks causing Tayla to sigh…

  Oh Christ.

  Whoever the fuck this guy is... He was now referred to by me as the Noah Whisperer… because Noah came walking down the hall, high but standing and looking like his long lost pal just pulled him from the coffin… and he had a slight smile at Sam’s joke.

  I looked at my best friend and knew then and there that it didn’t matter who or why or what brought Sam here, all that mattered was that he was key in bringing Noah back.

  For whatever reason, he just proved that what he did in five minutes, we as a whole couldn’t do in six weeks.

  Welcome to the mother fuckin’ family Sam.

  I woke from a hangover that was from everything but alcohol. My mind was so jaded by last night, hell the last eight weeks events had taken their toll and I was restless all night.

  I had been delaying the inevitable long enough. I knew I had to go see Noah and at least get a feel for where his head was at. I’m not an asshole, don’t get this twisted, I care more for him and his wellbeing than I could ever care for our success…but the musician in me was anxious to test the waters and feel out where we were headed. Whatever he chose though…Noah was more than my band mate…more than a bad ass Bassist. Noah is my brother; my friend and I support whatever he needs.

  We had all sat around and talked last night after we got his place cleaned up. Sam had filled in a lot of cracks about his relationship with the Beckets.

  Sam Sullivan was the only son of Lieutenant Sullivan with the Seattle Sheriff’s department. He had been the only friend they had been allowed to be around as kids. Sam was thirty, three years older tha
n us guys and Noah had looked up to Sam’s defiance.

  He was enamored that Sam would fight back against his father and fight for his own image and lifestyle. Where the Beckets home was a house of horrors, Sam’s was a home of equal measures in disappointment and misguided love.

  Carrie had confided in Sam during the four years Noah had used when they first moved to Gig Harbor. It was also Sam that told Noah, Carrie was good as gone if he didn’t clean his act up.

  He wasn’t a magician or anything psychological to them, he was a friend with a low tolerance for bullshit and a high understanding of pain. For whatever reason he was always able to reach Noah on a level none of us, Carrie included, could never reach him.

  I liked the guy and what he stood for. He was our kind of people, but I hated the way he looked at Tay all night. When I pulled her aside to talk business with her, it was the attitude she threw at me that provoked my dislike of Sam. He flirted with her the entire time, openly, unaware I was fighting the urge to drop him.

  Strange to be so thankful of him and at the same time be disgusted.

  “I need to know where we are at with the band Cal.” Tayla had said in exasperation when I asked her why she was hanging on this dude’s every word.