Installment Four

One person can think of a lot when she’s left alone; she can think back on memories that made her happy, promises made that were broken, lies that were told.  Am I talking about myself here?  You better believe it.    I sat in my room, on the edge of my bed, with Maggie in my lap for quite some time, just staring down at her and wondering when she became a painful reminder of the past.  I like to dwell on the past; although, I don’t know why, really.  I guess I just want things to be that simple again.  Now days nothing is ever simple.  But this little rag doll… she held so much that I never wanted to let go of and wanted to forget all at the same time, and yet always found myself thinking about it when I let myself go.

“Hey Taylor?” I said, chewing on a piece of my hair.

“Hmm?” He looked up from the book he was reading, and scrunched his nose up.  “Yuck, Avie; don’t chew your hair.” He reached out and pushed the lock of blonde away from my mouth and off of my face.

“Why do people grow-up?” I asked him.  He tilted his head to the side, seemingly in thought.

“I don’t know,” he replied, genuinely perplexed.  “Because time passes, I guess.”

“Do I have to grow-up?”

“Someday,” he answered.  I looked down at the doll in my lap, and he followed my gaze, a soft smile touching his lips.

“Can Maggie grow-up with me?” I asked him, hoping he wouldn’t say no, and somehow knowing he would.

“No, but… you can keep her anyway.” He said.  “A lot of grown-ups keep things they had when they were kids.” I looked down at my doll again, feeling tears in my eyes.

“I don’t wanna grow-up, Tay,” I said quietly, digging my knuckle into my eye, trying to force the tears away.

“Why not?” He asked softly.  “Don’t you wanna do grown-up things?  Like get married?” I looked at him, and he smiled softly, but seeing that I was still upset he scooted closer and slipped an arm around my shoulders.  He hugged me close, and I rested my head on his shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna grow-up.”

“Why?”

“Because… people move away when they grow-up…” I felt tears slide down my cheeks.  Then his slipped his fingers under my chin, tipping my head up to look at him.  “You’ll move away…”

“Oh Ave,” he said softly.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Sure, I’ll grow-up and move out someday, but… Tulsa’s home.  I’ll never go far.”

“Promise you’ll never leave me?” He smiled and wiped my tears.

“Avery, I’ll never leave you.”

He lied to me, you know.  He left me before he even left Tulsa.  I felt my eyes burning with tears.

“Hey,” Jessica said, poking her head inside my door.  I quickly shoved my doll under my pillow, and turned my head the other way.

“Hey,” I said back, trying to sound normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I wiped at my eyes, trying to be discreet.  She came in and closed the door behind her.  She came across the room and sat down on the bed beside me.

“Wanna talk about what’s going on?” She said, tucking my hair behind my ear so I couldn’t hide my face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, laughing a little uncomfortably.

“Zac told me about how you’ve been acting since Tay came home.”

“And how is that?” I asked, letting my annoyance show.

“Just how you are now.” I quieted for a moment staring at some invisible spot on the wall so I wouldn’t have to look her in the face.  “Honey… what’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said angrily.

“Look, Avery, I know you’re angry with Taylor, and I don’t blame you.  I’m still angry with him, too, but you have to let things go.  How are you going to deal with him being home?  I mean, he’s going to be living here – “

“Living here?  Wait, when did this happen?” I asked incredulously.  “I thought he was coming home and then going back to New York.”

She shook her head.  “He’s here to stay,” she said quietly.

“Why?” I was getting mad, and to be honest, I wasn’t completely sure why.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.  “Something’s going on, but… I don’t know what.”

I snorted.  “He probably got an STD from a whore in New York.”

“Come on, Ave, stop.” She said seriously.  “You need to get along with him, for everyone else’s sake.”

“Easy for you to say,” I replied.

“No.  I’m still mad at him, Avie.  The things he did were wrong; he lied to people, and broke a lot of promises.  He hurt all of us, but you can’t stay mad forever.  I’m not sure I’ve really forgiven him, but I have to look beyond that.  Come on, Avery, you’re better than this.”

“Whatever,” I replied.

“Just be civil, okay?” She hugged me for a moment, but I refused to look at her.  Yeah, he did hurt all of us, but he hurt me a lot.  How was I supposed to just get over it because he came to live back home again?  “Please, just try?”

“Fine,” I mumbled.  I wasn’t going to promise anything, but I guess, for everyone else’s sake, I could try… a little.

Unfortunately I had to try a lot sooner than I had expected.  I went down to the kitchen for a snack and Taylor was in there already, eating some homemade soup mom had made earlier.  I figured I could handle it; if I didn’t talk to him I couldn’t lose my temper.

“I haven’t seen much of you,” he said.  I looked at him, snorted, and rolled my eyes, opening the refrigerator with every intention of ignoring him.  I searched the shelves for some Jell-O.  I knew Mom made some a few days ago, but I couldn’t find it, and I was getting frustrated because I just wanted to get it and get away from my brother.  “What’re you doing anyway?”

“Looking for a snack; is that okay with you?” I snapped, pushing aside the gallon of milk to check the back of the top shelf.

“Well what the hell are you looking for?” He asked.

“Jell-O,” I said angrily.

“Try the bottom shelf; I think I saw it behind the left over casserole.” He’s been here, what, a day or two and he already knows where things are?  I don’t know why but it really made me mad.  I felt like he was intruding; he hadn’t been here for three years and he thinks he can walk back in and act like he never left and I was just supposed to accept that?  No, I don’t think so.  I muttered “asshole” under my breath.

“Excuse me?” He said.  I knew he’d heard me, he just wanted to hear me repeat myself so he could act like the big brother he hadn’t been for six years.

“Piss off, Taylor.  You heard what I said.” I replied, yanking the Jell-O out of the fridge and slamming the door closed.

“What the hell is your problem, Avery?” He asked, staring at me, looking at me like I had done something to insult him.

“In short?  You.” I said looking at him.  I turned away and went to the cupboard to get a bowl.

“What did I do to you?  I haven’t even talked to you – “

“You did a lot.” Oh crap…  I knew I’d lost control.  “Let’s see, oh about six years ago you stopped being my brother, turned into a male slut and the biggest jerk-off I ever met in my life.  You lied to me, and you broke a ton of promises.  Then, you moved to New York and treated this family like we had the plague.  Think those are enough and good reasons to be really pissed at you?” I slammed the cupboard closed, and yanked a drawer open pulling out a spoon.

“You know – “

“I don’t care,” I interrupted.  “I don’t want to hear a million and one excuses.  None of them are good enough.  There’s too much about you that changed, Jordan,” I spat angrily.  “There a million things about you I have a problem with.” He got up from his chair and put his bowl in the sink, only half eaten.  “And why are you wearing a long sleeved shirt,” I looked at him, scrutinizing, “and a freaking purse?  I think there are two things you forgot: one, it’s about eighty degrees out and two, you’re a boy.”

“You know what?” He said, angry now as well.  “I don’t have time for this shit, Avery.  If you have so many problems with me make a goddamn list and email me.  I’ll make sure to go over it carefully and change just for you,” he said sarcastically.

“Sure thing, Taylor.  Who should I send it to?  Gaylor@mystupidpenis.com?” I said smugly, knowing I threw in a good one.

“Oh that was mature, Avery.” He said, rolling his eyes and starting away.

I slammed my spoon down on the counter and he turned back around to stare at me.  “You don’t know the first thing about being mature,” I seethed.  “You’re such an asshole.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be using language like that?” He asked through gritted teeth.  I knew I had struck a nerve.  Taylor hated to be confronted with the fact he made mistakes; he just couldn’t admit to them; he hated being wrong.

“Screw you, Taylor.” I said scowling, and going back to my red Jell-O.  I heard him turn around and walk away, and heard my mother’s voice shortly after.  They were talking to one another, and then one of them went upstairs.  Probably Taylor so he could lick his wounds in peace and quiet.

“Avery?” Mom’s voice was quiet.  “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing,” I snapped, regretting it immediately.

“Turn around,” she said, surprisingly not angry.  I did as told and faced her.  “What’s going on with you and Taylor?”

“Nothing, Mom.” I said, shaking my head, not wanting to explain.  I’d managed to keep from her for six years how I felt about him; she didn’t need to know now.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a chair.

“Mom – “

“Sit,” she said again, a little more commandingly.  Whether I wanted to or not, whether I liked it or not, we were going to have a talk.  I huffed and sat in a chair across from her, purposely not looking at her.  “Look at me.” I sighed and did as told.  “What was that all about in here?  What’s going on with you?”

“Mom… I just…  He makes me so… mad.  He left three years ago, moved to New York, treated us like garbage, and expects to come back and just be… accepted?”

“Yes,” she said.  “Family does that.”

"Not this one,” I said.

“Yes, this one does, and this family includes you.  I don’t want you treating him like – “

“What?!  Do you have any idea how much Taylor hurt me?” I felt tears burning my eyes.  Why did it hurt so much to talk about this?  “Mom, he made me so many promises, and he broke them.  He lied to me.  That hurts.”

“I know, honey,” she said softly.  “But… he’s changed.”

“No, he hasn’t,” I argued.

“Baby he has,” she said softly.  “Things are…” she seemed to think, and I watched the sadness creep into her eyes.  “…different now.”

“How?  He’s still the same as when he left for New York.”

She shook her head slightly and looked down at the tabletop.  “He’s sorry for what he did,” she told me softly.  “He’s really sorry, Avie, he just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“I knew you’d defend him,” I said quietly, looking away.  “You always have.  Even when it was right in front of you, you never wanted to believe he was the way he was, or that he did the things he did.”

“I know about the things he did, Avery, and I know he was wrong.  But I’m his mother, I’m supposed to look passed those things, and I do.  I love him just the same.  He’s my son.  He’s you’re brother.”

“It doesn’t feel like he’s my brother,” I said quietly, fighting tears.  “Sometimes… sometimes I feel like… like I want to say that I hate him.”

“Avery…” she said softly, taking my hand.  “You don’t hate him.”

“I know I don’t,” I said quietly.  “But sometimes… sometimes it really feels like I do.”

She was quiet for a moment.  She sighed quietly.  “Avery, he’s not the same.  Just give him a chance and you’ll see.”

“Does Taylor have something to do with why you seem so sad all the time?” I asked quietly, and I watched the tears form in her eyes.  She looked away.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.  “I’ll be fine.”

“He does then,” I said quietly, trying to think of what he could have done to make her so sad.  She hid it well though, I had to give her that, but that didn’t change that I still knew something was bothering her, and he had something to do with it.  “Mom what did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” she said quietly, still looking off somewhere, her whole tone had taken on a certain subtle melancholy air.

“Then what does he have to do with you being upset?” I waited for her to answer me, and she drew in a slow, deep breath, letting it out shakily.

“Honey, I wish I could tell you,” she said softly.  “But I can’t.” I was a little surprised; my mother and I did not keep secrets from one another – we never had.  Taylor was back in the picture and suddenly my mother and father had a secret.  If the conversation we had just had did anything to soften me to him, I was immediately hardened again; this made me want to grab him and shake him for all I was worth, made me want to slap him as hard as I could.

“I see,” I said quietly, pushing my chair back.

“Avery, please, it isn’t that I don’t want to tell you.” She said pleadingly, causing me to look at her again.  “It’s Taylor’s business and he doesn’t want anyone to know; it isn’t my place to tell you if he doesn’t want me to.”

“That’s fine,” I said quietly, feeling somewhat defeated.  “I’m not angry with you, Mom.  I’m angry with Taylor, and this does nothing to make me not angry with him.  I’m sorry.” I turned to go to my room, and she gently took hold of my wrist.  I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes, ready to brim over at any moment, and my heart was breaking for her – she was my mother, and when she hurt I hurt.

“Please,” she almost whispered, “just talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I said honestly, quietly.

“Avery…” she closed her eyes, trying to hold back her tears.  She looked up at me, and I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her eyes.  Hurt?  Sadness? It was something that moved me, deeply.  “Please?”

“I’ll try,” I said softly, “but only when I’m ready.” She nodded.

“That’s fine.” We just looked at one another.  “I think… he needs to know that you still love him.  Please tell him that you do.” I didn’t say anything, unsure of what I would say if I spoke, unsure of what to say.

When I finally made it up to my room, I started to think hard about the things she had said to me.  What was going on with Taylor?  I wasn’t concerned, I wasn’t sure I even really cared, but I was curious.  It was something I wasn’t included in and it bothered me; I wanted to know, even if it was for the sheer sake of just knowing.  It had felt good to throw things in his face today, about his past, about him in general, but the way my mother had been talking almost made me feel guilty for doing so.  I mean, Taylor has always been a little… flamboyant.  He’s not gay, I can promise you that.  I don’t know why, but I thought about the “purse” he was carrying around.  He’d been carrying it around with him since he got home, and I was beginning to wonder what was in it.  He’d carried a “purse” before, though he refused to call it such, but never around the house, constantly.  And what was up with the long sleeves?  Taylor had always been one to show off as much skin as possible for attention, in his tight muscle tank-tops, even if it wasn’t really warm enough to be wearing them.  And now he was wearing long sleeves in eighty-five degree weather?  That was a little strange.  I thought about taking mom’s advice and talking to him, even if it was solely for my own purposes.

<

Comment

>