Installment Twelve

A week passed quickly; Taylor had gone back to see Dr. Peterson and managed to talk his way out of the intensive treatment until the next round.  He said it was because he wanted to be able to see me in my prom dress, but I think it was because he was scared.  He was put on a higher dosage though, and there was a nurse who had to come and stay with us to take care of him when he needed it, and maintain and manage his treatment; her name was Sarah.  She was fairly tall, average size, and had really dark hair; you could tell she was Italian by more than her last name – which was Gianni.  She was actually from Italy; she came here when she was ten, and even though she spent the majority of her life here she still had an accent; it wasn’t thick, but it was present.

When they came home I, of course, followed them upstairs and watched her settle him in; he was sentenced to as much bed rest as possible.  They chemo hadn’t started getting to him yet, but it was bad the first time and with a higher dosage I was sure it would be worse when it did get to him this time.  He still had the small portable unit – you know, now that I think about it, the first time I ever heard of that was when I saw the movie Step Mom for the first time, and was old enough to understand it.  Although, Taylor didn’t have breast cancer and his doctor didn’t prescribe him marijuana for his upset stomach.

“What’s in it?” I asked quietly.

“Hey Avie,” Taylor said smiling a little.  “I didn’t know you were home from school.” I nodded at him and looked to Ms. Gianni.

“His medicine,” she answered with a small polite smile.

“No, I know that; I meant what kinds of medicine?”

“Well, it’s a combination of therapeutic drugs; he’s on three: Neosar, Cytosar-U, and Paraplatin.  All of those are used to try and wipe out the cancer cells in his system.”

“Why do they make people sick though?”

“It’s just a side affect,” she answered, still polite.  “They’re given in such high doses that it’s almost toxic – that’s why we have a recovery period, and with leukemia patients they usually need to have a bone marrow transplant done.”

“You promise you’ll take care of my brother?” I looked at Taylor and he smiled a little at me.

“Cross my heart,” she replied smiling at me, making an “x” across her chest.

“Good,” I replied, getting ready to head out of his room and let him rest.  “Take it easy, okay?” I said softly to him.

“Yes Mommy,” he said quietly, giving me a small smile.  I smiled back at him and left the room, giving him some peace and quiet.

He was on the chemo treatment for about three days before it started to really get to him.  He started looking run down – dead tired – and his hair was falling out more rapidly and in larger clumps – he started wearing a baseball cap to cover it up.  On the fourth day, well really it was the fifth day of his treatment, it was just incredibly early in the morning, I witnessed something that was quiet heartbreaking.  I knew Taylor had been getting sick since the day before, as in vomiting almost violently.  I got up to go to the bathroom at about quarter to three in the morning, but when I got to the bathroom it was already occupied.  I had opened the door some already and just peered inside.  Taylor was curled up on the floor, his head in our mother’s lap, crying.  She was gently stroking his head, covered by a blue bandana this time.

“I hate this, Mommy,” he said faintly; his eyes were closed, but it didn’t stop the tears from trickling from the corners.

“Shh, baby; I know.” She whispered soothingly, keeping him semi-calm.  I assumed Sarah – or Miss Gianni was in her room, asleep.

“I feel like just dying,” he whispered.

“It’s just the treatment, baby; it’ll go away.”

“It hurts all over, Mommy…” Hearing Taylor talk like a child was something I couldn’t really explain; I guess it hurt, seeing him come apart so much that he was talking like Mac or Zoë would.  If it had been me in his place, I don’t know what I would have done; I don’t think I would have been able to handle it all, and I think I might have given up.  But Taylor wouldn’t do that; Taylor was a fighter; Taylor could beat this; Taylor could win.  I told myself those things over and over, making sure I believed them more each time I said them.

“Excited?” JR asked, sitting beside me in the booth at Denny’s.  I pushed my brownie sundae around, making it into mush.

“Yeah,” I said, not sounding convincing.

“Gee, don’t sound too happy or anything.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.  “I am, I’m excited, it’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about my brother; with him being so sick and all…” I shrugged a little hoping he didn’t need any more explanation than that.

“You can’t let it control your life,” he said, and for a moment I wondered how he could be so insensitive, but I bit my tongue.  He just didn’t understand, and I really didn’t think there was a point in trying to make him; he didn’t have an older brother, so how could I expect him to know how I felt, right?

“Just… forget it,” I said quietly.  “I’ll be in a better mood the night of the dance.  Um, right now, I’m just not in the mood for this; would you mind bringing me home early?”

He seemed almost annoyed, but I dismissed it as me taking it the wrong way.  “Fine,” he sighed.  “I hope this isn’t how you’re going to be when we go to prom.”

“I won’t,” I said, “I promise; I just have a lot on my mind tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, sighing again.  “Come on, let’s take you home.” He slid out and offered me his hand and I slid out as well.  I just wasn’t in the mood to be on a date; I had too much on my mind.  I thought for a moment though, putting thoughts of Taylor to the side, how exactly did I feel for JR.  I mean I know I liked him a lot.  I almost wondered if I was in love with him…

When I got home everyone was still up.  Jessica was doing some homework on the coffee table; Mackenzie was reading, and Zoë was playing with her Barbies in the middle of the floor.  I could hear Zac and Rachel in the den arguing over who was better at pinball, and here I was straggling in my thoughts of my brother.  Why couldn’t I turn it on and off like they seemed to?  I was a lot like Taylor was at my age, and I wasn’t very good at hiding my emotions, and they were starting to actually get to me physically.  I’m not sure what emotion it was in particular, but the oh so clichéd “worried sick” phrase seemed applicable; I was actually getting physically ill with al of the things going on inside my head, my heart, and I think mostly my soul.  I mean, how does a person deal with the fact someone they care about is suffering from a horrible disease?

“Hi there, Avery.” Sarah’s voice surprised me when I walked into the kitchen; mom was in there, and I wasn’t too sure where my father was.

“Oh, hi,” I said, lacking some vocabulary for the moment because of being caught off guard.  “I’m sorry Miss Gianni, I’m a little spaced.” I gave a quick smile and a nervous laugh.

“Call me Sarah,” she said, smiling at me.

“You’re home early,” mom said, bending to put a pot in one of the lower cupboards.

“I wasn’t in the mood for a date tonight,” I said honestly, sitting down in the chair beside Sarah.  They both laughed quietly.

“I hope you didn’t tell your date that,” mom said, still chuckling a little.

“Yeah I did,” I replied.

She shook her head slightly, smiling a little at me.  “You always were one to give someone the straight truth.”

“Is Taylor awake?” I asked, looking between them.

“Oh, no honey; he went to sleep a while ago,” Sarah answered.  “He wasn’t feeling well.”

“He might be up a little later,” mom added softly.

“To be sick,” I supplied, sighing deeply.  “Sarah, isn’t there anything you can do so he won’t get sick so much?”

“His doctor prescribed him something for nausea,” she said.  “It only can do so much…”

“I’m gonna go up and see if he’s awake yet; don’t worry, I won’t wake him up if he’s still asleep.”

His door was closed, as usual.  I didn’t knock, in case he was asleep, and just opened the door quietly.  I peered inside, and tangled in his sheets, almost as white as they were, he lay sleeping; his closed eyelids were darker than the rest of his skin, like the semi-circles beneath his eyes, and his lips were pale.  In just a matter of weeks he’d come to look so deathly ill…  He breathed in and out so softly it was almost inaudible, and for the first time in a while I saw him without a hat or bandana, and I found myself staring; he was almost completely bald.  He moved a little, his too-thin limbs tangling more in his bedding.  He coughed dryly, and winced in his sleep.  I carefully backed out of the doorway, closing the door softly, making extra sure not to make any unnecessary noise.  I knew I needed to let him sleep; I could visit with him later.

Taylor didn’t leave his room for a few days, unless it was to use the bathroom, and he was always accompanied by Sarah, and it made me wonder if there was maybe more to their relationship than they were letting on, but that was none of my business; for once I didn’t want it to be my business; for all I knew she could have been his new best friend, and either way it wouldn’t have mattered.  I liked her no matter what; she was helping my brother therefore she was worth my liking.  She asked me to come up with her to get Taylor, to bring him downstairs and sit out on the back deck.  She was saying how she wanted him to get out of the house for a while, even if it was just sitting out on the back deck watching the kids play.  And by kids I mean, Mackenzie, Zoë and Chris.  In case you’re wondering who Chris is, I’ll explain.  Isaac, over the period of time Taylor’s been home and all this drama had been going on, had met this great girl that we were just meeting for the first time.  Her name was May, and it suited her well.  She had natural blonde, shiny hair, and bright hazel eyes.  Chris was her two-year-old son.  She had been in a bad marriage for three years, and Chris was the product, and a beautiful one – he looked just like May.  She was the same age as Isaac, in fact their birthdays were only four days apart, and she had gotten officially divorced earlier that year.  It would be good for Taylor to see that life was still going on, maybe even give him a little extra hope, a little extra strength.

We climbed the stairs together, talking quietly to each other about my brother.  She liked him, she said so, but their relationship was care-taker/patient at that moment, and if it never turned out to be more than friendship she’d be happy with that.  She told me that she had spent a few nights comforting him while he was sick, or while he couldn’t sleep, or while he cried over the unfairness of this.  She was there for him, and that made her earn my respect even more.

When we reached his room she knocked gently a few times, and opened the door.  Taylor’s bed was right by the window on the far right hand side of the room, and you could clearly see outside from his bed.  He was laying there, eyes open, looking sicker than he had the day before, and the day before that; I briefly wondered if he could look any sicker…

“Hi Taylor,” Sarah said softly.  He turned his dulled eyes to us; the blue bandana on his head was a sharp contrast to the paleness of his skin.  He was rarely seen without it now, or a baseball cap, since his hair was gone for the most part; there was a little left, but nothing even worth considering.

“Hi,” he said quietly.  “How come you two aren’t outside with everyone else?” He looked longingly outside.

“Because, the whole family is outside; last time I checked you were still family.” I smiled a little at him, and he gave a weak one in return.

“Sorry, Avie, but I really don’t have any energy to horse around out there.”

“So don’t.  Just come and sit outside; it might do you some good to get out.” Sarah said softly.

“I don’t know…” He looked outside.  “Hey, who’s that?  And who’s the little one?”

“That’s the woman Ike’s seeing, May, and her son Chris.” I answered.  “You can meet them.”

“I… I don’t know,” he said.  “I don’t really wanna go out looking like this.” It wasn’t hard to pick up on the sadness in his voice.

“Tay, she isn’t gonna care,” I said reasonably.

“I don’t wanna scare her little one,” he said, looking down longingly at the child with tears in his eyes.  I knew he was thinking about that girl, Shanna, and what he had told mom.

“You don’t look that bad, Taylor,” Sarah said softly.  “I promise.” She looked at me, and I knew that it was only the half truth, because I had eyes of my own and saw the same thing she did.

“You shouldn’t make promises that aren’t true,” he said quietly.

“Come on, Taylor,” she said softly, going over to his bed.  “I want you to get some fresh air, and some sun; it won’t hurt you.” He turned his head toward us, looking right at me with sad blue eyes.

“Just for a little while,” I said quietly.  Sarah reached out, taking his skinny arms, and carefully helped him out of bed; I was a little surprised at how much he leaned on her for support.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” he said quietly, slipping his bare feet into a pair of sandals.  I handed him his sunglasses.

“You need to get out of this room,” Sarah said.  “Maybe later we’ll go out for a drive, just for a change of scenery if nothing else.”

“Can I come?” I asked without hesitation.

“Yes,” Taylor answered for her.

“There,” she said.  “Now, let’s go sit outside for a while.”

It took us a few minutes to get Taylor down the stairs; I guess it wasn’t until that moment I realized just how weak he’d been lately.  This round of chemo had really been kicking his ass, and it wasn’t hard to see he was getting discouraged.  Just as we neared the back patio doors, Taylor carefully broke away from Sarah’s supportive hold on him, and made his way slowly outside on his own.  The dark blue bandana and dark sunglasses looked even darker when the sun hit his skin; he looked almost pure white.  Mom and dad watched him carefully as he gingerly sat down in the wooden deck chair.  It looked like he was in pain…  When he turned his head toward mom she smiled a little to cover up the fact she had been staring at him.

“Hi baby,” she said softly.

“Hi Mom.”

“How’re you feeling, son?” Dad asked him quietly.

He gave a small but sarcastic laugh.  “Not the best in the world right now, but I’m alive.”

“Hang in there,” dad said reassuringly.

“I’m hanging,” Taylor said, giving him a small smile.

“Hey bro,” Zac said quietly.  “It’s good to see you come out of your room.” He cracked a smile at our sick brother, and it was impossible to resist a Zac smile, and Taylor had to return a small genuine one himself.

“It’s nice to see something beside four walls and bed sheets.” He took notice of Ike standing off to the side with May.  “Hey Ike.”

“Hi Tay,” he said.  “Um, I want you to meet someone.” He guided May by the small of her back over to Taylor.  “This is May; May, this is my brother, Taylor.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Ah,” he grinned a little.  “I don’t know if I like that…”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, laughing a little.  I had to give her credit; she did a good job not staring.  My brother was quite a site, and I don’t think I caught her staring once.

“Same here,” he said, smiling a little.  He looked off into the yard, watching Mac, Zoë, and Chris playing.  Zoë was paying particular attention to rolling around in the grass with the two-year-old, and it was amusing to the rest of us.

“How old is he?” Taylor asked quietly of May.

“Two,” she answered with a small smile, Isaac’s arm around her back.

“He’s beautiful,” he said quietly.  She looked at my brother then, almost in awe.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as well, looking down at him.  I knew his mind was working overtime again about what he could have had, too, but didn’t.

“Baby, are you hungry?” Mom asked him.  “We have some salad and stuff inside.”

“No thanks,” he replied.  “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something?”  Sarah asked.

“I don’t think my stomach can handle anything right now,” he said, averting his gaze back to the yard as he said so.  He had a point; he was sick much too often, and I could only imagine how much worse it must be for him when he has food in his stomach, and then again… in the same breath it bothered me that he didn’t want anything.  He hadn’t eaten much of anything in a while, and he was getting much too skinny; it was a side affect of the chemo, but it was in its extreme with Taylor lately.  I don’t think I had seen him eat anything for three days, but it wasn’t like he was purposely starving himself or anything like that.  But still, the whole side affect thing wasn’t good for him; he was almost looking bony from eating so little because of the chemotherapy.  But I assumed it would get better; the doctor wouldn’t let him starve because the chemo made him sick; I was sure Sarah would make him eat something that wouldn’t upset his stomach too much.  It was good enough to just see him outside for a reason other than making a trip to the doctor.  And watching him watch the other kids, specifically little Christopher, I knew he would have been an amazing daddy; he must have been thinking that too by the expression on his face.

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