- Chapter 2 -
It's been about three months since I've last seen or even heard from Maddie. She sends letters to London, who apparently got into Harvard with her daddy's influence and financial support. She's the daughter of the owner of the entire Tipton Suites, a multimillionaire, but she doesn't have her father's insights. I didn't know London liked law, but she manages. Maddie also sent a few letters to Mom and the odd present for Cody and me. She still sends candy, chocolate, fruit, and other small stuff. I don't touch a crumb of food she sends, and I don't wear any of the clothes she thinks is "cute". Sometimes, late at night, I go outside of the Tipton just to get away, even if it's only for a few minutes. I never want to read the letters she sends to London, even though it's hard not to listen when London proclaims it out onto the lobby for the rest of the employers and unfortunate residents to hear. She can stay at any place she wants in the person, but she prefers her suite in some ditzy hotel in Boston. I don't really get that.
"Dear London," London would read and then clap her hands excitedly at the mention of her name. "Princeton is so awesome! The academics programs are challenging, but I've made a ton of friends here. They're really nice. We're all going Christmas shopping in a month. See you soon! P.S. the college boys here are to die for!" I'd absentmindedly shake my head every time the subject got to other guys. I wasn't jealous. I wasn't angry. I felt nothing. I was emotionally drained. I never felt happiness or joy or excitement anymore. I was listless, barely existing. But there was pain underneath all those layers of ice... all those layers of anger, there might be... love.
But that was a long time ago.
So I wake up in the morning, no fights with Cody, trudge to school, grow quickly uninterested, trudge home, and sleep. Lately, ever since I entered high school, I've been sleeping more than my body can take. I don't bother wasting my time trying to do homework or pay attention in class or even come up with get-rich-quick schemes with my brother. He and I are different people now. People who used to think it was impossible to separate us now wonder what was so interesting about us in the first place. We have different friends, different lifestyles, different feelings. Maybe I'm the one who has changed though. He still hangs out with the friends we knew when we were young, but me?
I usually wander aimlessly around Boston. Sometimes I stop by London's university and help out with whatever they need to do, be it a concert or a play. London sees me differently and treats me differently. She tells me how much I have "nurtured". She means matured. No, I don't think so. It's not maturity. It's this depression. It's killing me. Lately, I've gotten into the habit of not taking the bus back to the hotel. Though Tipton is like five miles off, the cold winter air makes me stay out there. London constantly worries, and I suspect that she's sent a few letters to Maddie about her concerns. I guess it doesn't really matter to me anymore.
Life isn't any harder; I've just grown softer.
When I sleep, I can't dream anymore. And if I do, they're tragic ones, dreams I cannot even bear to recall because they were so horribly depressing, I can't bring myself to remember them. Mom came in one morning after several of those mornings and said to me, "Zack, what's wrong?" I told her, simply, "Nothing." She sat down next to me on my bed and patted me on the shoulder. "Is this about Maddie? Because she's in Princeton now. She's eighteen, and she needs to live her own life. You need to let her go." Mom stood up to leave. As she was about to open the door, I stared at the ground and said hoarsely, "But what if... what if I'm not over her?"
Maybe I do still feel the same way.
I folded my hands and stared at the ground. I found my voice. "What if... I love her?" Mom looked suddenly disheartened as she said, "Oh Zack, you love her? I should've known." She wrapped her arms around me as she sat back down on the bed. She advised, "You can't, dear. She's eighteen, and she's well on her way of becoming a beautiful young lady and not to mention an adult. Zack, you're only fifteen. Three years may not make so much of a difference when you're twenty and she's twenty-three, but it does when you're still in high school and she's going to college. The age difference is just too much." I rubbed my hands together and found myself arguing in my defense, "Age isn't anything but a number, Mom. I learned that a long time ago."
Mom shook her head slowly and replied, "To you, maybe. You may think that three years is nothing now, but you'll soon realize how much time that really is. Just wait it out, honey. You know good things come to those who wait." I sighed, realizing my defeat. I said glumly, "I've been waiting since I was twelve, Mom. It's been three years already. But who I am kidding? She has a whole life ahead of her. And I'm just going to get in the way, just like I always did."
I stood up. As I reached for my jacket, she called out to me, "Zack, this conversation is not finished." I turned back to her and said distantly, "This conversation is finished, Mom. I don't have anything to say about this. But my life, my story, it's still here. And sometimes I just want to know how it ends, but I can't. I can't ever know how it ends." I was almost on the verge of tears. But Zack Martin never cries, get it? Cody will. Mom maybe. Pa... okay, well I'll leave him out. But Zack? Never.
I headed for the door. Mom stood up and said firmly, "Zack Martin! You get back here this instant!" She was peeved, I could tell. I whirled around, slowly. Mom's hands were on her hips. She said a little angrily, "Since when did you learn how to sass me like that? You may have been a little troublemaker, but you were never a bad person. Since when did you become like this?" I didn't dare shrug. I replied softly, "I'm not the same kid I was three years ago. People change, Mom."
Just then, Cody walked in. Talk about unexpected events. Mom grabbed Cody in mid-air and said, "Cody didn't change. How do you explain that?" I replied hesitantly, "Some people change, and some people don't. I've changed on the outside, but I'm still the same Zack on the inside. He just… can't get out right now." Why don't I know the answer to this? Cody looked bewildered as he asked, "What's happening? Why is Zack getting into trouble?" Mom shoved Cody away. She was furious now. Maybe because she suspects me of stalling.
"Zack Martin, you will answer the questions I'm asking! I'm just trying to save you!" She must've been desperate to admit that. But that's when I exploded, totally unintentionally. I yelled, "How can I tell you why I've changed when I don't even know? How can I tell you about my life when I can't even define myself? And how can you save me, how can you possibly even think of saving me, when I can't even save myself?" There was a stunned, awkward silence. I'm not prone to arguing back with Mom, but these days have been so lonely. I yelled out in anger, "I don't even know who I am anymore! I've lost my identity, and I can't find my way back into this world! Can't you see how scarred I am? Can't you see I want to be the old me, but the old me can't get out because of me?" I almost broke down right there and then. But Cody was there, and I just can't break down with my little brother there, even if we are twins. Then I left the room, the whole while thinking to myself, How I wish you knew how I felt inside. How I wish you could understand.