Installment Nine

It was about two in the morning, and at the time I didn’t think of whom it could be, I just knew someone was in the bathroom, and it was annoying the crap out of me – it was keeping me awake.  I lay there for a while, tossing and turning, and finally decided to go tell whoever it was to get back to bed before I had to resort to physical violence.  I got out of bed and made my way a little ways down the hall to the bathroom door, I didn’t even bother to knock; I opened up the door and felt terrible almost immediately.  Poor Taylor was kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet, puking.

“Oh… Tay, I’m sorry…” I said a little unsurely; I didn’t really know what to do.  I didn’t want to leave him alone so I came in, quietly closing the door behind me.  I knew what mom always did for me when I was sick so I did the same for him.  I got a wash cloth from the linen closet by the sink, and wet it with cool water, wrung it out, and gently placed it on the back of his neck, wishing there was something more than just that that I could do for him.

“Thanks,” he managed to sputter.  I leaned back against the counter, trying not to look, waiting for him to be finished.  The sound of him throwing-up was enough to make me want to do the same, but I stuck it out for his sake – he shouldn’t have to be alone.  When he was finally finished, he leaned back against the wall, still sitting on the cold tiled floor.  He reached up, closing the lid on the toilet, and flushing it.

“Are you ok?” I asked timidly.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I’ll be ok.”

“How come you didn’t tell anyone you were in here?”

“Come on, Avie, I’m a big boy; besides, what would I have said to anyone?  Gee, I just thought I’d let you know that I’m going to the bathroom to puke my brains out for a while.”  He had a point, and I felt really bad for him because there really wasn’t anything any of us could do to make it any better or easier for him.  I think seeing Taylor go through what he was sparked an interest in me, and from that very first moment I found out he was sick on, I had thought about medicine – practicing it, I mean, like being a doctor.  I didn’t say anything to anyone, but the thought was definitely there, and it had good reason to be.  I watched him struggle to stand up on his own and offered an arm for him to grab onto, which he did gratefully albeit reluctantly.  “I hate not being able to do things on my own,” he said quietly.  “This damn chemo makes me so sick…”

“It’s ok,” I replied, quietly as well.  “I don’t mind helping you out, and I doubt anyone else minds.”

“Well, I still hate it – I feel helpless.” I was listening to his words, but I was looking at the hair stuck to the shoulder of his black tee shirt.  It wasn’t a huge clump or anything like that, but there was still a lot of it.  “Avie?  What?”

I forced my eyes back to his, feeling embarrassed for staring – I mean, he’s my brother; I didn’t have a reason to be staring.  “I… n-nothing.” I reached out, and gently brushed the shoulder of his tee-shirt, and we both watched several strands of hair fall to the bathroom floor.  We made eye contact for a brief moment, and then he looked away, and I felt horrible.

“I’m gonna get back to bed,” he said quietly.  He wouldn’t look at me, and I felt like I had done something terribly wrong.

“Taylor, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you, I just – “

“It’s ok,” he said quietly.  “I know.”

“Do you need any help?” He shook his head and made his way slowly from the bathroom to his bedroom.  As I stepped out and back into my own room, I could only help but wonder – how was this family going to deal if… if something… happened to Taylor?  The thought itself made me shiver; I didn’t want to even think it could happen.  I slipped back into bed, and did my best to fall asleep quickly.

I walked down the familiar hallway, the carpet worn from years of children’s feet making their passage.  I had walked this way so many times before, but… something was different this time.  Something felt like it was… missing.  The air held a certain chill I never remembered, and everything was eerily silent.  There was no sign of mom or dad, no sign of Jess or Zac, or Mackenzie or Zoë, or even Ike, Zac, or Taylor.  Everything just felt empty, abandoned.  Where pictures once hung on the walls, were bare spots lighter than the rest of the paint colour on the wall.

“Hello?” I called out but got no answer; the bedroom doors were all open, and each room was still furnished with beds, but nothing else and empty of persons.  One by one, I passed the rooms and each was empty – nothing but the beds and bare carpets were left.  I began to hurry along down the hallway.

“Jessica?” No answer, and empty room.  “Mac?” It was exactly the same.  Someone had to be there.  “Taylor?” I stopped outside his room.  There was still everything of his in it – but… boxes.  Boxes were out, and some of his things were packed inside them.  Was he moving away again?  “Tay, are you here?”

I stepped into his room and touched some of the clothes inside one of the large boxes.  If his stuff was here… where was he?  Where was everyone else?  And why was I the only one there?  I sat down on his bed, looking around the room.  Something had changed… other than the obvious, it felt very different…  Something on his desk caught my attention.  It was a baggie; inside, there were all the chokers and necklaces he used to wear, along with the HANSON ring he always wore on his right ring finger.  Why would he go somewhere and leave them behind and looking like he wanted them to be preserved.  I set the baggie back down and saw another; inside that one was a cut hospital wristband, and a few sheets of paper with Taylor’s handwriting, although it seemed strained, like he was struggling to write.  That, in particular, I found peculiar.  I picked up the baggie and examined it; the hospital wristband had his name on it, and a date which was too blurred to read except for the year: 2006.  I didn’t want to open the bag, so I examined the lettered pages through the clear plastic.  I had only read a few lines when I finally started to understand.  His things being packed up in boxes, these preserved mementos…  He had to be dead…  I suddenly replaced the baggie to the desk surface, and stood up quickly.  What was going on…?

“Taylor!” I called out for him.  I began to cry, realizing what this was.  He was gone… “Taylor!”

“Avery – “ the touch of someone’s hand on my arm caused me to start in surprise, my heart beating wildly and my breathing erratic.  I was staring up at Taylor’s concerned face.  “What’s wrong?  You were calling my name…” I sat up suddenly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I just held on tightly.  “Avie?”

“I just had a bad dream,” I whispered.  “A really… really bad dream.”

“Shh…” he whispered, gently rubbing my back.  “It’s ok.”

“Promise me something?” I whispered to him.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.” I was sure he wasn’t going to promise, and I had felt the tears begin in earnest, but his response stilled my tears instead.

“I promise you,” he said quietly.  “I’ll never leave you again, Avie.” I just held him tightly, thankful to hear those words from his mouth – more than thankful.   “Scoot over,” he said quietly.  I did as told, and scooted over toward the wall.  It was a welcome sense of deja-vu for a change as he stretched out beside me.  I nestled myself comfortably in his arms, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you when you came home,” I said quietly.

“It’s ok.” He said, gently stroking my hair.  “I deserved everything I got from you.  I was a real asshole, Avie, I realize that now, and I’m really sorry for it.”

“We’ll get passed it all,” I replied.

“How can I make it up to everyone, Ave?  Especially Zoë?  She was so little and I was so mean to her when I left…”

“Not a pleasant trip down memory lane, huh?”

“Not at all.  And I just ditched Ike and Zac, and all they ever were was there for me, and my best friends.” He sighed quietly.  “It doesn’t feel like sorry is enough.”

“It isn’t,” I said honestly.  “Just spend time with them; you can’t get back what you lost, Tay, but you can at least make up for it.”

“Why are you so smart?” He asked; without even looking at his face I could see the little smile that resided there.

“I took after someone I used to know,” I replied softly.  We were both quiet for sometime, and by the calm expression on his face I knew he had taken the compliment – his eyes were what really gave it away.

“I love you, Ave,” he said quietly, kissing the top of my head.

“I love you too, Tay,” I whispered, finally starting to doze off again.  Things that happened could be overlooked, I suppose, but I don’t think ever forgotten.  But he’s doing the best he can, and that has to count for something.

When I woke I could hear the phone ringing over and over – about twelve times, actually, before someone picked it up.  It didn’t take me long to realize Taylor had gotten up; there was still a depression on the surface of the bed next to me where he had lain, and the other reminder he left behind brought tears to my eyes.  I bit my lip as I reached out, taking nearly a handful of blond hair from my pillow case.  I truly felt sad for him, for lack of a better way to put it.  He did some shitty things, but nobody deserved something like this.  I didn’t understand why God chose to work the way He did; why bring a family together through something as tragic as this?  Why punish someone so young with a disease like Taylor’s?  I took the thin handful of his hair and got up, striding across the room slowly, and dropping it in the wastebasket next to my desk.  He was acting so strong, but something was telling me that he wasn’t as strong as he was making himself out to be; that was one thing that never changed about him – he always hid it whenever he was hurting.  It was just him to put up this front that he was ok; he said once that he didn’t like to be a burden on other people, so maybe that’s why he hides it.  If I were him I’d be crumbling, terrified; I’d seen him cry, but I hadn’t seen him breakdown, and I don’t know how he didn’t.  He was twenty-three years old and fighting for his life, for which we still didn’t know how long the battle would be, or how tough, or if he would even win – though the last part we chose not to think about or talk about.  Death was a topic of avoidance.

I made my way downstairs and had to smile a little, even if it only lasted for a moment, as I laid eyes on Taylor sleeping on the couch.  If he didn’t look so ill it would have been a Kodak moment.  My smile faded as I stood there at the bottom of the stairs just watching him.  My train of though was lost to me when I felt a tap on my arm.  I looked down and was greeted with my little sister’s big blue eyes.

“Hey Zoë,” I said quietly, giving a small smile.  She smiled at me, and then looked at Taylor.

“Is Tay getting old?” She asked, keeping her voice down, and I realized it was still fairly early in the morning.

“He’s getting older, but no, he’s not getting old.” I told her.  “Why do you ask?”

“I thought maybe he was getting old, because dad said once he was getting old because his hair was thinning.  That means it starts to fall out, even if it’s just a little, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… Tay’s hair is falling out…”

“Honey,” I said quietly, squatting down to her level.  “Taylor’s not getting old; he’s really sick remember?” She nodded.

“But why does his hair fall out?  I thought it only happened to old people.” It was hard for her to understand, but I had patience.

“Remember when Tay told us he was sick?” She nodded.  “And they told us his medicine makes him sicker?” She nodded again.  “Well, his medicine makes his hair fall out.”

“Is he gonna go bald?” She asked quietly, looking at the floor.  I felt a swell of emotion.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.  “Probably.”

“Will he have to wear a wig?”

“Probably.” I answered, able to give a little bit of a reassuring smile.  But it faded immediately with her next question.

“Is he gonna die?” Her voice was small and quiet, and I could tell the prospect of that question scared her, as well it should.

“No,” I said firmly.  “We have to pray, and ask God to watch over Taylor, and help him.  Okay?” She looked at him, then at me, her big blue eyes slightly glassy.

“Okay,” she said quietly.  “I’ll pray every night.”

“Good girl,” I said, kissing the top of her head.  “Now go play.” She smiled up at me, and bounced up the stairs calling for Mac.  I smiled a little and shook my head, heading for the kitchen.  Ike was there, and mom and dad.

“Morning,” I said, kissing dad’s cheek, and then Ike’s, and then going over and putting my arms around our mother.

“Hi baby,” she said quietly.  “Is Tay still sleeping?”

I nodded.  “Out on the couch.” She nodded once, and I took my place next to her.  “Let’s get out of the house today,” I said to her.

“Oh, Avery, I would love to, but I can’t.”

“Mom, please?”

“Honey, I need to stay with Taylor.”

“Di, sweetheart,” dad said softly, reasonably.  “I’ll be home all day; go on – you haven’t been out since Tay got home.  I think I can hold the fort down while you’re gone.”

“Are you sure?” She asked him.  When he nodded she looked back at me.  “All right; let me go shower, and then we’ll go out shopping and get some lunch.  That okay?”

I smiled and nodded.  “That’s great.” She smiled back at me and kissed my head.  I just sat there with her while she drank her coffee, dad and Isaac reading their respective sections of the newspaper.  When she got up to go shower and get dress I took her spot – it was still warm.  I looked at the weather forecast and it was supposed to be warm and sunny; at least it was hopeful we would have a good day out.

“I wish I was a painter,” Isaac said quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.  I creased my brow, looking at him like he was nuts.

“Why?  You have enough talents.”

“Because, when I got here this morning, I went up to see if Tay was awake, and I found you two together; it reminded me of a long time ago, that’s all, and I guess I kind of wanted to freeze the moment.” For whatever reason, what he said was incredibly touching.

“That was a beautiful thing to say,” dad said quietly, almost reverently, looking admiringly at my oldest brother and his oldest son.

“It was just the truth,” he said.

“Thanks, Ike,” I said even though I knew it wasn’t necessary, and found myself suddenly wishing Ike still lived home, that way all the family would be there, just like it used to be.  He must’ve read my sentiments through the expression on my face because he reached out and gently touched my cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, giving me a gentle smile.  “Everything’ll be ok.” I managed a small smile in return, and turn my attention back to the newspaper in front of me that my mother had abandoned.

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