.:The Other Side:. Part 7

          Z A K slumped over to the couch; it had been another heavy day in Las Vegas. The heat was unforgiving, the cars were lined up for miles, waiting to enter the city of sin; it seems the day was bright and beaming. Everyone had a fair shot of luck today, except for Zak. He was tired of everything; the everyday toll of Las Vegas life wasn't as luxurious as it used to be.
          Zak was making a living off of casino money: dirty money. It was enough to impress the tourists and enough to shame the locals; he was making just enough to eat, breathe, and pay rent, but not enough to satisfy him or really anyone else. In fact, nothing seemed to satisfy him anymore; that's why his girlfriend shied away and left him, and why he never showed up for work unless it was pay day; but on this day things were a little different.
          Maybe it was the phone call he had received from Nick last night, whatever the case, Zak came into work with a little more swagger in his step. He took time to do his job right before he clocked out, came home, and collapsed into the comfort of his couch.
He lay there staring up at his ceiling fan, thinking about Nick and his final questions. Could Zak go on an investigation with him? The question seemed harmless enough, but what if something bad happened again. He had already hurt Aaron, and he didn't want to risk hurting Nick; then again, he thought, this could be a therapeutic experience. If Zak could get out into the paranormal world again, he could shrug off his worries and continue to pursue ghosts again: his dream.
          Zak frowned and sat up on the couch; he didn't even know if he believed in ghosts anymore. In a way, a ghost couldn't justify his reasons for hurting Aaron; according to the outside world, Zak had done this on his own. Possessions, Zak thought, only happened in horror films; and sure, it made for an interesting, plot thickening movie, but it wasn't real: it was Hollywood.
          So then, Zak came to a conclusion, he was a liar to his ex-fans, his old friends, and to himself. He pushed himself off of the couch and walked into his kitchen; maybe he could just call Nick and resolve this issue once and for all. Zak would just tell him he wasn't a believer anymore; he was a skeptic.
          He picked up the phone, released the receiver from his fingertips, and paused; he squinted at the numbers on his message machine. It had been so long since anyone had called, but according to the machine he had a voice message. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and checked it; no missed calls. He sighed and shrugged, and knowing it couldn't hurt, he hit the play button.
          "Zachary Bagans, this is Christina!"
          His mind whirled and raced off into a whole other world; everything was dark and hypnotic, and as the message played further, Zak's mind tried to rebuild her face and focus on her features. He could almost see her talking to him through the speakers;Christina… it had been weeks since he even thought of that name.
          "Why haven't you called, are you crazy? Ha, no don't tell me, I already know the answer to that. You. Are. Crazy. Zak—why do you have to be such a hermit? Can't you come out and meet your girlfriend at least once? Jeez, I'm tired of being cooped up in your shitty apartment every time we hang out; and why the hell haven't you called!? It's been two weeks! Two, Zak, two!" The machine yammered on.
          Zak rolled his eyes; this girl was insane. He could've sworn he had broken it off with her, that's why he never bothered calling. He couldn't find it in him to confront her and break her heart again.
          His mind was still reeling aged films of the two hanging out at clubs, drinking together, and sitting up in his apartment. Before his mind could get any more intimate, he cut the message off. Now Zak had one of two choices; he could call Christina back and attempt to work things out with her, and though the relationship felt hopeless to Zak, he always felt people deserved a second chance. Or, he could call and break it off with her; both choices were obvious. However, Zak's mind continued to plunge him further into the depths of their relationship, and as he smelled the sweet scent of her perfume, and remember the way her lips pursed when she kissed him, he couldn't help but feel that Christina was holding him back.
          He was beginning to see that Christina was a depiction of his inept lifestyle; and as he thought more about it, Christina started to become the meaning of his fears, uncertainty and unwillingness to let go and move on; and if Zak wanted to let go and even have a shot of seeing Nick or Aaron again, he had to release everything, including his dead end job, his unwillingness to socialize, his awkwardness, and even Christina.  
He glared at the phone; time froze, and he was stuck in his own mind, contemplating and rationalizing this decision. The cogs were churning, faster and faster, meshing together into a heap of sparks, befuddlement, and uncertainty. He couldn't rush this decision, or really any decision, without hurting someone unknowingly. He dribbled his fingers across the counter one-by-one, his lower lip pursed in deliberation; he couldn't help but feel like he was condemning her, and he didn't have the right to, at least he thought so.
          Zak took a step back and leaned his back against the wall; there was a disastrous thought percolating in his head, and at first he wanted to contain it, but, as he folded his arms and released a heavy sigh, he thought to himself why? He allowed his mind to trail once more, and this time he found a decent answer to his problems. He had to get rid of Christina; she was the epitome of his shitty life, and he had to dispose of her and everything else. He decided he would toss her in the trash, and leave the phone were it was.
          Zak walked away from the phone, and in doing so, he felt like he was walking away from all his fears, his uselessness, and his problems.

          T H E casino was thriving, and it was only Monday afternoon; the place was packed with hopeful tourists and mischievous dealers.
          It must be a holiday of some sort.
          It was Memorial Day, and Zak was assuming that people were flocking in to the casinos after clocking out for the day. The day drug on relentlessly; Zak did his job quite thoroughly that day, clocked out before the drunks arrived, and swung by the cafeteria to get food. Everything seemed to be going well since Nick had called; he was a bit more optimistic and often felt himself picking up his feet as the day droned. It seemed as though nothing could bring him down, and although thinking about Nick's next call terrified him, the recognition of knowing that his past was coming up to meet him once more was enough to set him straight, for now.
          When Zak came home, he threw his keys on the couch and headed straight for the refrigerator. He didn't have much, but a nice cold beer would be enough to tie him over. He reached in, grabbed a beer, and set it on the counter. He was just going to drink to his heart's content, turn on the TV, and watch his reruns: this was what Mondays were always like. But as he passed the counter and saw the phone hanging from the wall of his underlet apartment, he wondered, and the inquiry was enough to push him toward the phone jack.
          He checked; no new messages: in fact, no missed calls at all. He sighed. He was almost hoping that Nick had called, but at the same time, was anxious of what he had to tell Nick: he could not, for the life of him, do the investigation. It would only bring back horrid memories, and if ghosts were real, Zak knew they could use his emotions and feed of off him. He didn't want to risk hurting Nick, and he knew he couldn't.
          Oh well, maybe its best Nick doesn't call.
          Telling Nick would only give his hopes up, and that's something Zak couldn't bear to do to an old friend; not only that, but talking to Nick would just get him thinking about Aaron, and the subject of Aaron was just too much for him to handle. Aaron always got him thinking; is he okay? Where does he work now? I wonder…
          Zak's mind trailed; his eyes scanned the room for any information that would leap out at him. He squinted in contemplation; he looked on past the lamp shades, through the curtains, beyond the counter, and stopped on a small shelf. His eyes trailed down; the shelves were full of books and God-knows-what, but one book in particular leapt out at him: The Yellow Pages.
          I wonder if he still lives in Vegas…

          T H E thick, yellow book slammed against the counter; Zak was eager and skimming through the pages as though they had a secret message contained within them. His finger trailed over names, identities, businesses, and finally he came to an abrupt stop. He arrived at his destination: Aaron Goodwin.
The number was there, but all he could do was stare at the print.
          I should call him; yeah, what the hell do I have to lose? It's probably blown over… no… no. I just have to tell him; I have to get this off of my chest! I'll just call and say I'm sorry and it'll be over, and whether he forgives me or not, I'll be oka—I… I hope he forgives me.
          He lurched at the phone and quickly dialed the number without thinking; he was no longer in control of his actions, and, at this point, Zak was so desperate to let everything out. He felt he had to confront Aaron; he didn't know what he would say or how he would say it, but he knew he had to confess and apologize. Zak only hoped Aaron could find it in his heart to forgive him.
          The phone rang; it was an incessant shrill that seemed to last forever, and the pause felt even longer. Zak waited anxiously, tapping his foot in perfect sync with the rhythm of the phone ring; and then everything fell silent for a beat or two.
          Zak paused; his eyes grew wide and he squeezed the phone closer to his right ear. He bit his lower lip and hung on a single moment of silence that seemed to last forever until…
          He heard Aaron's voice; and it was just as dorky as ever. It was the same jolly voice that he remembered from four years back; he pictured Aaron as the other line picked up and greeted, "hello." Zak could see his face, his bright, dorky smile, and his camera hanging over his shoulder. He could see the gleam in Aaron's eye that said, "Dude, let's prank Nick," followed by the single nod of, "Do you follow me?" And he could see the anguish in the stalky man's face when Zak told him during lockdown, "You're going in there by yourself, man." He could see everything, and it all happened so fast, too fast. The Aaron Zak once knew flashed before him in strewn segments of memories, photos, actions, words, Vlogs, and investigations. It was all too overwhelming, but Zak held on for the ride, enjoying every memory, every moment were he got to see Aaron's face light up; and he only hoped that he could see that face again. He would never let go.
Zak smiled; he hadn't smiled in a long time. He felt at home upon hearing Aaron's voice. He knew that he could confront Aaron and Nick now; he was eager to apologize for everything, to just come outright and say it, but just as Zak was about to respond to Aaron's hello, the voice continued.
          "You have reached Aaron Goodwin, and unfortunately for you I'm not in; but it's okay, just be sure to leave your information and I'll be sure to tag ya back. If you have any questions concerning Aaron Goodwin's Collections, you can call me on my cell; that's (976) 555-6813 or leave a message on my website, or email me… you know, whatever you're most comfortable with. Thanks for calling and be sure to have an awesome day." –BEEP—
          Zak frowned, and his heart sunk down into the pit of his stomach. The butterflies were starting to flutter and he felt his stomach churn and flip. He wanted to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, no words would come out.