Everything Changes

shit Norm really was, rebounding from every forgotten visit and broken promise to enthusiastically believe the next one. When he finally figured it out, he took it pretty hard. So where I contented myself, at least outwardly, with writing Norm off and cultivating a quiet, simmering bitterness over the long term, Matt went straight to an unmitigated hatred that never seemed to wane, just like, as a child, he’d continue to cry passionately, long after he’d forgotten why he was crying to begin with. Whenever he had downtime, he exacted minor vengeance with malicious little plots, tracking my father through means never fully revealed, taking out credit cards in his name and running up huge debts, calling up and canceling Norm’s phone service, ordering expensive deliveries to his apartment, subscribing him to twenty magazines at a shot. Norm no doubt logged many hours on the phone with various customer service representatives, trying to untangle the web of consumerism Matt was constantly spinning around him.
    Matt looks at me. “What, so are you two now, like, hanging out?”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I say, heading back toward the dressing room.
    “Well, why’s he here?”
    “I don’t know. I guess he wants to see us.”
    “Is he dying or something?”
    “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”
    Sam and Otto are waiting for us in the dressing room. “Everything copacetic?” Otto asks concernedly.
    “Yo, man,” Sam says. “We’re on in ten and we have to go over the set list. I’ve made some changes.”
    “Fuck that,” Matt says. “We’re not going on. I can’t play.”
    “What are you talking about?” Sam says. “Of course we’re playing.”
    “I can’t, man.” He looks at me. “Not with him out there.”
    “Who?” Otto says. “Not with who out there?”
    Matt shakes his head and collapses on the couch. The girl, now off her cell phone, puts her hand on his lap and looks at him inquisitively, but he keeps his eyes trained on me. He’s been launching his stealthy offensives at Norm for years, and while he’s surely envisioned an actual confrontation in some form, scripting and editing his invective just as I did for so many years, it’s apparent to me that he never really believed it would happen, and now his eyes reflect the fear and vulnerability of a scared little boy.
    “You want me to see if I can get him to go?” I say.
    He nods.
    “Get who to go?” Sam yells. “Who the fuck is here?”
    “Chill out, Sam,” the girl says.
    “Shut your piehole, Yoko!” Sam snaps at her. “You don’t belong here.”
    “Sam,” Matt says, pained. “Just calm the fuck down.”
    “I’ll see what I can do,” I say, and leave the room.

    “Hey, Zack,” my father says, acting all nonchalant, like it was no trick at all to have tracked us down like this. He motions to the chair next to him. “Join me.”
    “No, thanks,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
    “I came to hear Matt play,” he says, as if I should have expected no less. “And to tell you the truth, I didn’t expect to like it as much as I do. It’s a lot more melodic than I’d imagined, and the harmonies are actually quite sophisticated.”
    “I’m glad you approve,” I say. “Now you have to leave.”
    “He was always so musical,” Norm says, ignoring my entreaties completely. “I would play Sinatra on the stereo, and you and Pete would go about your business, but Matt, he would sit down on the floor, right by the speaker, eyes closed, and tap out the rhythm on his lap. He was so intense about it, so focused. I told your mother, more than once, that she should give the boy piano lessons. He could have been one of the greats. I don’t know why she never gave him piano lessons.”
    “Money was tight.”
    He looks up at me and nods. “Point taken,” he says with an affected gravity, clearly convinced that the concession itself is part of his absolution. I can see why he was drawn to AA. It’s just too perfect for him. He can go through the motions of contrition, wearing his manufactured humility like a badge of armor, and even if we don’t buy it, he ultimately gets to forgive himself and pat himself on the back for working the program and having the serenity to accept the things he can’t change and the courage to change the things he can. And at the AA meetings, they’ll probably shower him with congratulations and praise, and maybe even give him one of those commemorative chips for his