Certain moments have a way of changing everything. Suddenly, there is a clearly defined “before” and “after.” Personally, my life has been divided into many sections, each separated by moments that irrevocably changed my in some way. Before the car wreck with my mother, after. Before moving in with my dad, after. Before leaving my home to travel with a man I’d met days previously, after. Before learning that man was dead, after.
Zach was a man who changed my life in more ways than I can conceive of. He was witness to one of the most formative years of my life. At 18 years old, I didn’t know myself, let alone the world. I thought life was pretty simple then. Meeting Zach put a wrench into every single belief I had held, for multiple reasons. One thing was that Zach had a philosophical mind. He constantly posed questions that made me reconsider my own life. Secondly, Zach was homeless. He quite literally introduced me to a world that I, before then, was unaware of. Any time you date someone new, you are liable to change in some way. Some people may influence you more than others. There are a variety of factors that play into how any person may change you. I wonder how I may have changed him.
If you want to read the story of Zach & my meeting, I wrote about it previously on this blog. It’s titled “A Story from Another Life.” The short of it is that one day, I swiped left with Zach on Tinder. We matched. The next day, I met him in person, and two days later, I left everything behind to travel the country with him. I had no idea who Zach was before leaving with him. We had talked, but nowhere near enough to know each other. In the year to come, I would find out exactly who Zachary Teela was.
Zach was an intelligent person. He excelled in school, graduating an entire year early. He scored a perfect 36 on his ACT. All signs pointed in the direction of success. He had a loving family, though he wasn’t born into them. His biological mother was only 15 when she fell pregnant with Zach. She knew she could not give him a life he deserved, and thus she sacrificed knowing her son so that he may have a better chance. The family she chose was one that couldn’t have deserved it more. Kathy and Jim love Zach with every fiber of who they are. They raised him in a stable, loving home. They provided for him all that he needed and then some. Zach lived quite a privileged life. He was put in a position to thrive.
While in college, Zach began experimenting with drugs. I believe he experienced a bit of culture shock. His childhood had been a bit of a sheltered one. It wasn’t long before he was dropping out of college and doing drugs. He did a few stints in rehab and half-way houses, sometimes living on the streets or in homeless camps, before ultimately deciding that being homeless in one place was for squares. And so, he hit the road with Ty, a homeless man living with schizophrenia, heading south with no real destination. They caught a ride with a couple of people, entering Indianapolis in the early morning hours one day. They fell asleep beneath some pavilions at White River State Park and woke, startled, when it began pouring down rain. Days passed and Zach learned the ropes of the new city. Ty and Zach met a fellow named Syd, who’d been homeless in Indy for years. Syd had fashioned himself a cabin in the woods, just next to the Indianapolis Zoo. He eagerly invited the men to stay in his camp. Zach fell more in love with the life he was pursuing. It was romantic to him, the idea that he could be boundless. He never felt as if he fit in with society. In a lot of ways, he thought society itself had failed him. He wanted more than this world had to offer, and he wasn’t silent about it.
Before meeting Zach, I could be found on almost any given day, ranting to my friends at the park. I talked fervently of how there had to be more to life than what was being sold to us. Before graduating high school , I faced an existential crisis of sorts. I’d spent my entire life until that point, preparing for college. It was simply expected that I would go on to continue my education and do something good with my life. Then, I realized, that I didn’t want to choose a job to work for the rest of my life. I was terrified at the aspect of going to school until I could work, then working until I could retire, and then MAYBE I’d get the chance to see the world I so ached to see. I told my group of friends of my dreams to travel. I had no idea how I would achieve it, and it felt more daunting every day. So, when I stumbled upon a self-proclaimed Rambling Man on that fateful Sunday evening, it truly felt divine. Everything suddenly clicked into place. Before meeting Zach in the flesh, I knew my answer was yes. The question didn’t matter.
His vigor and zest for life was part of what drew me to Zach. He articulated thoughts I’d only held privately. He strummed his guitar with a passion that I wished I had. Sure, he was a bit strange, a bit pushy in his sexual advances, but those were all inconsequential in the grand scheme. Zach was a man who understood me. Perhaps he was the first man who had ever understood me. Perhaps he was the first man I ever loved. Even from the beginning, I was in too deep. I couldn’t see past my infatuation. “When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”
The first night I spent with Zach, he asked me to drive him to a Walgreens so he could grab a handle of liquor. Happy to be of any kind of service, I was overly eager to do anything he asked me. I also saw him as if he were a bit disadvantaged. I felt bad that he usually had to walk miles to get the things he wanted or needed. Unbeknownst to me, Zach didn’t have the money to pay for the liquor. This was of no consequence. He did not ask me for money. Instead, he waltzed right in, grabbed the first bottle that caught his eye, and walked right out. The alarm system blared. A man yelled out. Zach jumped into my car, and all I could do was drive.
Zach told me he probably had a warrant for his arrest in Michigan on account of him absconding his probation. This was off putting, but then he told me about how it even came to be that he hit the road. See, in the homeless camp Ty and Zach were staying in, there was a group of guys who were up to no good. One night, they had Ty digging what Ty believed was a trench to use for waste. “Shitters,” they were called. However, once it was complete, Ty overheard the men speaking. Allegedly, the men had plans to kill Zach and another fellow. Ty had dug a grave. Immediately, he went to Zach and told him. Zach didn’t think twice before packing up his frame backpack, and following Ty to the nearest interstate. They poked their thumbs out, hoping someone would offer them a ride. To me, running for your life seemed a reasonable justification for absconding probation. From that point on, I was able to reasonably justify almost anything about Zach to myself.
Before even leaving Indianapolis, we stayed in Syd’s camp for about 5 days. We weren’t particularly in a rush to leave, though Ty, Zach and I had discussed our plans to move onward to Nashville. The music scene there was of particular interest. Ty had been there before, and he was going to show us the ropes. Our departure was hastened when on my 5th morning of being homeless with Zach, we walked to the Speedway gas station down the road. It was about a mile away, and we’d been in the habit of walking there every morning to refill our water jugs. Sometimes, Ty would use the points he’d accrued on his Speedy Rewards card to buy us a plate of nachos the three of us could share. It was about 10 AM, the sun was already warming the day. As Ty and I walked out of Speedway, Zach decided to use the bathroom. When he came out, he had a 40 ounce bottle of King Cobra beer. He laughed about how sly he was in stealing it. Ty and I shrugged, and we all walked back to camp. As we walked, a car passed us. In the car, a lady yelled, “They’re gonna get you!” Confused yet amused, we trudged on. Only a few seconds later, a patrol car pulled up behind us. Ty had hold of the 40 by now, and the cops put Ty and Zach in handcuffs.
My heart sank. I knew if they ran Zach’s name that they surely would find his Michigan warrant and haul him back. I didn’t know what would happen to Ty, but the guy was too weird for me. Just as swiftly as it began, I was sure my travels were coming to an end. I was more than disheartened. I felt ashamed. As if I had somehow failed. I knew my dad would use it against me somehow. He would ridicule me for being so naïve and immature. Not only that, but the idea of returning to that smoke-filled apartment after a brief taste of freedom felt torturous. Imagine my surprise then, when the cops let Ty and Zach go. Apparently, the warrant hadn’t been issued yet. It was too soon. I heaved a sigh of relief. This feeling, I’m sure, is what helped me continue on even when the red flags kept piling up. The idea of returning home was unbearable. I thought Zach was the only way forward. If I had to be with Zach to avoid ever going back to my dad, it was always worth it. That same day, we left Indy, heading towards Nashville.
Despite the rockiness, Zach and I got along well. We were similar in many ways. We both were Sagittarius. We agreed that there seemed to be some truth to the Zodiac’s definition of who we were. We also hypothesized that we were likely to meet many travelers who were also Sagittarius. One of the defining traits of Sagittarius is restless wanderlust. The ache for travel. The fiery passion that fueled our never-ending adventures. We did end up meeting a fair amount of folk who were born around the same time of year as us. Zach’s birthday was 13 days after mine. 13 would become an oddly important number for us.
July 13 was the day that I left home to travel with Zach. We adopted it as our anniversary, since there was never an official, “will you date me?” moment. Later that year, on September 13, we found a puppy on Craigslist. September 13 of this year was the day I got the news of Zach’s death. It may seem meaningless, but to me it is yet another circle that has become full.
Anyway, Zach and I shared a lot of sentiments about the world. We both wanted more than the world had to offer. We both dreamed of a different kind of life. One where the trivialities didn’t matter. One where life had a deeper meaning, a more important one. I don’t think I realized back then how much Zach was hurting. Sometimes, he was such a difficult person to be around, that it was hard to understand what pushed him to be that way to begin with. Ultimately, Zach gave little thought to those who he may hurt in his own Pursuit of Happiness.
I think the best way to describe the way that he lived is hedonistic. He couldn’t say no, not to anything that sounded even remotely pleasurable. I remember one time, we walked around an Arizona park in search of someone to sell us some marijuana. We found a man who looked like he fit the bill. We asked if he had any weed. He told us that he didn’t, but he did have some cocaine. Zach accepted immediately. I’d been with him long enough at that point, that I can’t say I was too surprised, but it did miff me a bit that he spent our weed money on cocaine instead.
When you are a houseless traveler, every connection you make feels more meaningful than most connections made in the “real world.” Even so, the most important connection I had was with Zach. Never had I ever been so intimate with anyone, not even my best of friends. There are not many ways to be more intimate with someone than when you live in a car with them. Every single moment of every single day of my time on the road was spent with Zach. He was always there, even when his mind wasn’t. Sometimes, he would get so drunk that I literally had to take care of him. I would have to keep him out of trouble. Sometimes, I couldn’t stop the trouble. I drove us all across the country. We flitted from place to place. We never could grow roots, but some places had their roots in us. We spent the most time in Colorado and Arizona. I think if things had gone differently for us, Zach and I could’ve settled down in one of those two states and lived a good life. We were always eager to reach the next destination, naïve in believing that it would really be any different anywhere else. We were both running, chasing ideals that didn’t exist.
The year I spent with Zach held some of the most unforgettable moments of my life. It was a time jam-packed with transformative lessons and brand new experiences. Together, we met many people, saw incredible places. Together, we got high on the highest point in Colorado. Together, we learned about Rainbow Gatherings and even attended a few. Together, we dumpster dived for food, raised a puppy, walked miles a day, and put our feet in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Together, we learned the ropes of being a dirty kid. We put dread locks in our hair, ran through the pouring rain to get to the shelter in time for dinner, dropped acid with a bunch of hippies from San Francisco, got caught by a cop while we were having sex in a Colorado meadow, saw UFOs in the desert of Southern California, got attacked by a lady who said someone in her phone told her to, and even jumped onto a train while it was moving.
Together, Zach and I met his biological mother for the first time. The morning before meeting her, I’d met Zach’s parents for the first time as well. It was so difficult to understand how Zach could have been their son. He was so different, not just in looks, but also in the way he saw the world. After meeting Kelli, everything instantly clicked into place. Zach’s parents raised him, and they raised him well. But it was clear that Zach was Kelli’s son. They were so similar it was spooky. I was alongside Zach on his journey of self discovery. I feel like meeting his biological mother was such an important part of his life. Sometimes, it’s still hard for me to grasp that I was apart of a story so impactful. Because of Zach, I was thrown into paths that I never otherwise would have crossed. It felt profound, even as it happened, which cannot always be said.
Zach was a big fan of Conor Oberst’s music project called Bright Eyes. The first night I spent with Zach, he sang “First Day of my Life” to me as if it were written by him for me. Zach liked to joke that his singing wasn’t all that good, and it wasn’t. But he sang with a passion that you could feel as he performed for you. He was really good at tapping into that emotion, you could tell which lines affected him the most. Listening to these songs now, I can see just how relevant they were to Zach. Zach’s musical repertoire was vast and ever-changing. Some of his favorites to busk were: All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, Acid Song by Johnny Hobo and The Freight Trains, most anything by Bob Dylan, Piano Man by Billy Joel, and the list could go on.
Each song Zach hand-picked and collected contains a piece of him, even still. If you listen closely, you can hear exactly what drew him to each particular piece of music. At least I think I can.
Things didn’t end exactly amicably for Zach and I. I’ve spent plenty of time trying to understand myself and how things came to be the way that they did. It’s hard to say why I didn’t keep going, but I think I just couldn’t keep denying the truth. All along the way, there were signs I shouldn’t have stayed. Zach wasn’t interested in being “chained down” by a girl. He made out with multiple women we met throughout our travels. Zach’s drinking posed problems as well. Many a morning, I would wake to a puddle of pee because he was so drunk his bladder wouldn’t wake him. He was impulsive when he drank as well, and would often steal things. In another blog post, I detail the time Zach got arrested in Utah for stealing a “No Dogs Allowed” sign. As many sweet moments that I shared with him, there were equally shitty ones that followed. I was afraid of going home, and I think that’s what kept me from leaving him for so long. Finally, I couldn’t keep going. That night, I told Zach I think I needed to go back to Indiana. I cried for hours because I didn’t want that to be the answer, and yet I knew it was. At first, Zach was invited. I figured we could go stay at my dad’s until my mind settled a bit, and I could decide what to do from there. By this point, Zach did indeed have a warrant for his arrest in Michigan. He thought he might as well go turn himself in to give me some time and space, as well as take a little responsibility. This really sealed the deal for the end of our relationship.
At first I thought once Zach got out of jail we would keep on truckin’. But my time away from him was what it took for me to open my eyes and see the reality. It wasn’t until we were apart that I could see just how toxic my relationship was with him. I had neglected myself in that year. Everything I had done, I had done because it was what everyone around me had asked of me. I didn’t make an income as we traveled. I didn’t do a single thing for myself. Zach would wake up and say, “Let’s go north!” and we would go north. Anything that I wanted to do, if it did not hold value in Zach’s eyes, we would not do it. I was mere miles away from the Grand Canyon. I wanted so badly to go see what the fuss was about, but Zach did not feel like paying the entrance fees. The exit signs passed in a blur as we sped onward. When I finally had time to process all of this, I realized I could not keep being with Zach. Still, I was codependently attached to him. I did not know how to live without him. He had become so inextricably tied to me, that the idea of removing him was as painful as removing a limb. So, when he got out of jail, I made the 4 hour trip to Michigan to pick him up. We spent the night in his parent’s empty house before returning to Indiana the next day.
For a couple weeks, things were okay. I didn’t tell Zach about my newfound revelations. I was happy he was out of jail, and he certainly was as well. His brother graduated high school the next week, and his family invited us to see the Michigan Symphony to celebrate. It was a beautiful time, and I got to meet Zach’s extended family. It was then that I realized what unconditional love was, and it was then that I felt envious that Zach had something so precious yet he turned his back on it time and time again. All I had ever wanted was a family that cared about me, and he actively shunned his. I see now that this was in part a result of his feelings of not deserving that love. His family accepted me fully, despite my haggard appearance. We listened to beautiful music, shared stories and food. We all loved on Pancake, our puppy.
We returned once again to Indiana. We smoked entirely too much weed, and it was getting to me. I was getting increasingly anxious about not wanting to be with Zach anymore. Each time we smoked, our conversation would turn to hitting the road again. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but I knew Zach would never be satisfied to settle. I encouraged him to keep going. He insisted he didn’t want to, that he would help create a life there with me. I decided that despite his objections, I knew what he wanted more than he did. It was around this time that I met another man, too. A man who was opening my eyes to how relationships could be. I mentioned the new man briefly to Zach, but he gave the impression that he wouldn’t care if we had some sort of open relationship. Still, I pressed. I told Zach he had to leave. I gave him a few days to decide where he would go and to pack his things. Then, we loaded up into my car, I drove him to a nearby city so that he could hitch a ride out. He got out of my car and we hugged and kissed as he departed.
That could very well have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. I was not stable in this point of my life. I kept second guessing myself. I was so clueless about who I was that I didn’t even know what it was that I wanted. Maybe I really did want to keep traveling. I knew I was miserable in the small town I lived in, in the apartment I shared with my dad. I didn’t have anything to live for except for my dog, and a few good friends. One moment I was absolutely sure I had done the best thing and the next I was calling Zach, telling him how much I missed him. We still chatted quite frequently for the first little while. I could not let him go. We had hours long conversations about anything and everything, and since I didn’t actually have to deal with any of the negative things that led me to leave him, thoughts began creeping in my mind. I told Zach he could come back. His dad even bought him a bus ticket from somewhere in Illinois to Indianapolis. Just as quickly, I changed my mind again. I wish I could have let it be, but I was lost. I was confused. I was hopeless, and I really thought I would never do better than what I had with Zach. Zach was understandably very upset. He told me he wrote a song about how much of a bitch I was. It wasn’t funny to me then, but it was later. I was honored to have a song being sung to strangers about me.
Because of my fickleness, things ended badly. The only way to get over Zach was to rid myself of him completely. I blocked him and his entire family on all social medias. I blocked his phone number and erased it from my phone. I removed any evidence that he had ever been in my life. I drank whiskey every night, and woke every day to a miserable existence. It took a long time, but I eventually came out of the fog. I remembered who I was. Ever since then, my main goal has been to process that year of my life spent with Zach. As it was happening to me, I was definitely not fully present mentally. There are still times I find myself looking back and wondering how in the hell I ever allowed myself to be in some of the situations Zach and I found ourselves in. It was one hell of a ride, to say the least.
It’s been about 3 years since I last saw Zach. Occasionally, I would google his name to see any recent arrests reported. I could catalog his travels through his most recent public intoxication charges. I also occasionally searched his Reddit account to see any recent posts. I knew I could no longer have Zach in my life, or be in his, but I still cared. I still worried. I still wondered.
Just about a week ago, Zach’s biological mother messaged me on Facebook and informed me of his untimely death. It was news I had been bracing myself for since I kicked him out of my dad’s apartment, and yet it still felt like a punch to the gut. I reached out to his dad and he sent me a few pictures of Zach and I. I sent him the pictures I had of Zach.
I’m sad that Zach’s days were cut short. But there is no question that he lived his life to the fullest in the time he did have. He lived with a reckless abandon, tearing through each new city as if it were the last. I think Zach really did find exactly where he belonged. He loved the dirty kid lifestyle. He dove right in to their culture, dreading his hair, train hopping, getting schwaggy, and I heard he even got a face tattoo. I have no doubt that Zach was enjoying himself, up until the very end, even despite the pain this world brings.
It’s really difficult to articulate just how I feel. On the one hand, you can see my relationship with Zach was in no way a very good one. It took a while to heal from all of the wrongdoings and misgivings. Yet, I am so unbelievably sad that he no longer exists in this world. I feel responsible in some ways, guilty in some ways. Then, of course, there are the what ifs? What if I had kept traveling with him? What if I hadn’t forced him away from me? What if? What if? Also, what now? How do you grieve for someone you had already forcibly removed from your life? How do you grieve when you feel like you don’t deserve to grieve?
I don’t know, but I am at least trying to figure it out.
Thank you for reading. Rest in Peace Lucky.
Zach and I, somewhere in Arkansas, taken by a man we drove to Denver