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Precious
Precious and fragile things Need special handling My God what have we done to You? We always try to share Lots are the risks of care Now look what we have put You through... Angels with silver wings Shouldn't know suffering I wish I could take the pain for you If God has a master plan That only He understands I hope it's your eyes He's seeing through Things get damaged Things get broken I thought we managed But words left unspoken Left us so brittle There was so little left to give I pray you learn to trust Have faith in both of us And keep room in your hearts for two |
The next morning, I awoke knowing the end was near.
My head was throbbing, my throat was raw, my husband was pissed. Seriously, in the three weeks since Zac had moved in, things had been a little tense. I think mostly because Zac wasn’t talking to his mother and of course, Taylor was. Also, there was the underlying tension of keeping this secret from Isaac and Emory. It was like walking a tightrope. Isaac always asked what’s new when he called and really, how do I broach this subject? He did make the comment to me that Zac was at mine and Taylor’s house an awful lot. I just didn’t have the heart to break his when it was so clear that he was happier than he’d been in years. I know it was beginning to really wear on Taylor. He hated the idea of keeping secrets. He felt like secrets were the only thing that could destroy the band. And yet, here he was keeping a huge secret.
So, for the last couple weeks, he’d been in a short mood, not really bad, but really gruff. And to add to that, I guess there is something about waking up to your wife vomiting copious amounts of tequila-scented vomit that pushes a person over the edge. There were lots of reasons for him to be tense right now. Maybe it was something as simple as it was the holiday season. Maybe it was because Taylor felt like he was precisely in the middle of his parents and Zac. Maybe it was because the song he had been working on for two weeks was still missing something essential. But I couldn't help feeling like it all had to do with him waking up that cold morning to find me kneeling on the bathroom floor.
"Was it worth it?" Taylor asked as I leaned back against the wall.
"What?" I moaned as I sort of slumped over. The marble tile was a small slice of heaven. So cool, so comforting.
"You heard me." Taylor snapped as he stepped over me. He flushed the toilet with a disgusted look on his face before relieving himself. I could see in the tense way he held his back that he was angry.
"I think I'm dying." I moaned as stepped back over me. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he began brushing his teeth.
"Probably," he said around a mouthful of toothpaste. He leaned forward and spat into the sink and for some reason, I felt like he could have just as easily spat on me.
“Where is Belle?” I asked hoping she was still asleep. My head was hurting so badly I was pretty sure her delighted squealing would split it in two.
“She’s in her own personal heaven.” Taylor said as he brushed his teeth. “I called you dad early and he came and picked her up. He is at her complete disposal all day long. She’ll most likely be unbearable tomorrow, but really, that will be your problem.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked confused.
“Because, I have reservations down at the Shiloh…” Taylor began.
“In Ardmore?” I asked surprised to hear that Taylor had made reservations there. It was where we actually ended up spending our honeymoon. It is this hotel that has these most romantic and secluded cottages. It is the perfect place to go if you want to escape prying eyes and just want to spend all day in bed.
“Actually, yes.” Taylor said stopping brushing his teeth and catching my eyes in the mirror. “I made the reservations a couple weeks ago as a surprise for you. But after last night, I think I may just go and decompress. Alone.”
"Don't you even want to know what's wrong?" I asked hating the silence between us. I could feel my chin quivering. I wanted love and sympathy. Not this. Not anger and recrimination.
"Cleo, I don't need to ask." Taylor snapped after he rinsed his mouth. He turned and leaned against the vanity. His arms folded tightly over his chest. Honestly, if body language speaks louder than words, Taylor was telling me in no uncertain terms that I was not welcome in his space. "Because at about three, you came stumbling into our room, falling full-length over the rug.”
"I did?" I asked dropping my head back against the wall. That simple movement cleaved my head in half. "Really? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you."
“And that’s not the best part.” He sneered. I felt worse and worse with every word he said. “You see, I was awake before you came in our room, you went into Belle’s room to check on her. I’m not exactly sure what you did, but you woke her up. Her crying is actually what woke me up.”
“Oh man, was she okay?” I asked truly concerned that I’d actually hurt her or something equally as distressing.
“Yes, she’s okay.” Taylor snapped back. “Luckily, I was able to calm her relatively quickly.”
“I’m sorry.” I said lamely. I was sorry, but it just sounded so flat and uninspired. So, insincere.
“I came back into our room to find you passed out face down on the floor.” Taylor continued. “It was a lot of work waking you enough to get you on the bed. Then, you spent thirty tear filled minutes telling me over and over again how much you loved me and appreciated that I was such a great and honorable man. You told me over and over again how much you loved me."
“Well, it’s true.” I mumbled.
“Perhaps it is true.” Taylor said thoughtfully. “But really, I resented your half assed attempts to seduce me… It was insulting the way you were trying to get me to have sex with you. What were you thinking?”
“I just wanted you to know how much I truly loved you.” I said my voice barely above a whisper. I closed my eyes against the image of me stumbling up the stairs with the idea of seducing Taylor. I honestly had no memory of much after that.
"Well, that definitely wasn’t it." He said rolling his eyes. "All of this was right before you threw up over the side of the bed."
"Oh shit...” I groaned.
"Yeah, cleaning puke at 3:30 isn't my idea of fun." Taylor said as he stomped out of the room. "In fact, I don't think it's ever anyone's idea of fun."
"Tay, I’m so sorry.” I called after him.
“So you’ve said.” Taylor mumbled. "Oh and if this is the sort of behavior I can begin to expect from you and Zac. Well, Zac will have to leave."
"No, Tay..." I protested. I struggled to get upright. Every movement caused new and exciting pains to shoot through my head. He stood in our bedroom digging through his drawers, obviously looking for that one perfect t-shirt. "Taylor, please..."
"Please what?" He asked facing me.
"Please don't do that." I said struggling to stay upright, struggling not to throw up, struggling with my tears.
"Please don't do what?" He snapped.
"Don't kick Zac out." I said knowing that this conversation was going to end with me in serious tears.
"Why not?" Taylor asked. “Give me one solid reason why I shouldn’t.”
"Because, I love him... And he's so all alone." I stuttered. "I know that it’s his fault. But he is so hurt and so alone. He's lost everything. I think it would really hurt him if he lost us as well. And I know that all of the drama is his creation, no one else's. But really, it's what he has to do to get everything straight in his head. Think about what has happened. His life has changed irrevocably. He needs us. Tay, when I think about what happened to him... It breaks my heart..."
“Your concern for Zac is admirable,” Taylor began rolling his eyes. “Don’t you think that in a lot of ways, your concern is a little misplaced?”
“Misplaced?” I asked confused.
“Yes, misplaced.” Taylor snapped. “Get over it, move on… None of this has anything to do with you. This is his thing; even you admit that. There is nothing any of us can do. Zac has to live with his shitty decision.”
“Well, we all have to live with the decisions we make.” I said tiredly.
“Yes, we do.” Taylor said giving me a strange look. “I’m just so disappointed.”
“Taylor, don’t do that.” I said leaning against the doorjamb.
“Don’t do what?” He asked.
“Don’t play the guilt card.” I said tiredly.
“I’m not playing the “guilt card.” I’m telling you that your behavior last night was truly disappointing.” Taylor said as he started fixing the blankets on the bed. “I think it was an all-time low.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never left you in an emergency room by yourself.” I said watching his activity and finding myself amused despite the situation. He had no clue how to make a bed.
“What?” Taylor asked stopping.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember.” I said rolling my eyes and instantly regretting it. “It was in Mobile the night before the hurricane… You and Zac had managed to break my wrist and cut my leg so that I needed 16 stitches and none of you could be bothered to come in and sit with me…”
“Oh my God!” Taylor snapped. “You know why I couldn’t go in with you. I had obligations. If you remember, I had an interview to do and some promo calls and bumpers for radio stations to make. It wasn’t like I left you on purpose. I had things that needed to be handled. You of all people should know and understand that there are aspects of my life I don’t have control over.”
“Still, one of you could have begged off, could have just sat with me.” I retorted.
“Jesus Cleo!” Taylor said his voice climbing dangerously close to a yell. “That was years ago!”
“What is your problem?” I asked feeling attacked.
“What is my problem?” Taylor asked back. His face was a mask of incredulity. “You are seriously asking me what my problem is?”
“Yes, I am!” I said finally getting angry.
“Fine.” Taylor said his voice dropping from just a step under a scream to a very controlled, stern tone. “My problem is this: last night you got so drunk that you put yourself in danger and you want to talk about something that happened years ago. How dare you? How dare you stumble back upstairs so fucking drunk you can hardly walk? You could have gotten alcohol poisoning. You put your daughter in danger… And what if you’re pregnant?”
“Oh my God.” I said my hands clutching at my belly. “What if I’m pregnant?”
“I guess we’ll get to find out just how hard the decision to abort a baby is to make.” Taylor said his voice so angry, so vicious. “What a great mother you are!”
Before I even thought my actions all the way through, I had picked up the vase with the two dozen roses Taylor had brought me the day before and I threw it with all my might at Taylor’s head. I watched as it spun in slow motion towards him. End over end, roses and water spilling across the floor. Taylor caught the vase effortlessly. He then launched it at the wall over our bed as hard as he could.
The shattered glass rained down on our unmade bed.
We stood across our room just looking at the broken glass, the vase mingling with the glass that had been over the family portrait above our bed, our quickly shattering lives. Each piece of broken glass mocked me. They each seemed to shimmer maliciously, sending out bad feelings, breaking my heart over and over. Taylor had never been violent. Ever. And yet, there all over our bed were the shattered remains of a very expensive crystal vase. I wanted to rush forward and grab up the pieces, make them all fit back together. I felt a huge panic growing in me… Too many things had already been broken.
“Too many broken things.” I mumbled feeling everything around me crumbling. I felt my heart drop. Really, Zac's story from the night before was something that would haunt me forever. I had witnessed him fracturing, breaking before my very eyes. And I felt myself breaking when I thought of him lying on the floor in the living room, feeling his life just run out of him… I imagined that was the worst I would ever feel. The fact that as he died, all he could think about was "I should have left a note," no sadness for the life he was leaving behind, no regret for the things he had done. He had told me the idea of being dead was welcome. I truly believed that was the worst I would ever feel. But I was wrong. “It’s all falling apart.”
In fact, I was as wrong as anyone could be. This moment felt worse; it surpassed heartbreak. It felt almost as if the world I had so carefully constructed was in pieces as small as the La Lique crystal vase that was spread unceremoniously across the bed I’d created with the man I loved. After several seconds, I realized I wasn’t breathing. I leaned forward and tried to take a deep breath, but I felt something deep inside my chest pull back, fight against my urging to breathe.
“I’m sorry.” Taylor said his eyes wide.
At his words, I felt myself crumple. I landed heavily on my hands and knees. I leaned forward across my thighs, trying desperately to force my lungs to accept air. I reached forward, grabbing onto the leg of the dresser, my fingers white with the pressure of my grip. As I tried to get air, I started seeing white spots in front of my eyes. I could feel my eyes rolling up in my head. As the world went black, I wondered if it were possible for panic to cause a seizure.
“Cleo, you need to breathe.” Thad said urgently.
“I want to…” I panted out.
“No, Cleo, you have to start breathing.” Thad said as he knelt over me. “Dad isn’t here to save you.”
“It’s all broken.” I moaned. “It’s all breaking down.”
“No, no it’s not…” Thad insisted. “Nothing is broken. Just say you’re sorry…”
“It’s true, I am so sorry.” I mumbled feeling my fingers beginning to tingle. “I’m just so sorry.”
“Cleo? Cleo?” Taylor was calling frantically from somewhere on the outside of my consciousness. I could feel his fingers biting into my shoulders. My head moved back and forth limply as he shook my shoulders.
“Stop.” I rasped still unable to open my eyes, to take a breath.
“Oh God.” Taylor said pulling me to him. His breath felt harsh against my cheek. “Oh God, you’re awake. When you collapsed…”
I forced my eyes open and looked into Taylor’s pale face. He was so white he seemed translucent. He seemed insubstantial before my eyes, I was sure if I reached up to touch his cheek, my hand would move through him like so much smoke. I opened my mouth to speak and discovered that I still wasn’t breathing. I reached up and grabbed Taylor’s upper arms. He was substantial, but fingers sank deeply into his skin. “Cleo?”
Suddenly, my lungs were flooded with oxygen. I felt like my lungs would explode with too much air. I flexed my diaphragm and was shocked to hear a keening wail come with it. Followed by another and another. The sound coming out of me was frightening, but I was powerless to stop it. Soon, the keening shortened to sobs. If my problem before was that I couldn’t breathe, my problem now was that I couldn’t stop. I began to hyperventilate. Taylor somehow wrested my hands off his arms and wrapped his arms tightly around me. His hands moving up and down my back, tangling in my hair. He was humming softly, hushing me between his teeth.
I clung to him like the enormous wisteria growing up and over our front porch. It was so strong and so fully entwined with the wooden banister and arbor that it was beginning to break it up. I wrapped my arms around him as fully and tightly as I could. Soon, I was wrapped around him. My legs hooked behind his back. Every possible surface of my body was pressed against his. He held me, rocking gently.
“Tay, I think I need to throw up again.” I choked out around my sobs feeling my stomach heave as he rocked me back and forth. Without a word of recrimination, Taylor gathered me in his arms and carried me into the bathroom. He held my hair back as I wretched with sobs. When I had stopped heaving, he handed me a cool wet washcloth for my face, placing another one on the back of my neck. “Thank you.”
“Are you done?” He asked patiently, leaning against the vanity. His voice was so gentle as he smiled at me.
“I think so.” I mumbled each word a festival in pain, my head hurt, my throat hurt, my stomach hurt, my heart hurt. I leaned forward and rested my cheek against the tile. “God Tay, I’m a mess.”
“Yes, you are.” Taylor said leaning forward gently pulling the hairs stuck to the sweat on my face. His fingers moved softly over my hot face, so cool, so comforting. It was as he comforted me, I felt myself get sleepier and sleepier. I hadn’t slept nearly enough the night before. And in all my hangover, I was ready to sleep wherever. The bathroom floor would do just fine. “You’re my beautiful disaster.”
“You aren’t going to leave me are you?” I mumbled not really wanting to hear the answer. It was my dearest fear that one day he’d get tired of me and just leave.
Then, he didn’t answer and I felt a real fear grip me. Soon, his silence began to chill me. My mind began to weave scenarios that involved me kneeling in front of him begging him to forgive me, telling him I’d forsake my whole family, his family, everyone, if he’d just stay. I finally gathered enough courage to look up at him. But instead of a glowering look of disapproval, I found his eyes full of love and amusement. Then he slowly began to chuckle. “Come on pukey, let’s get you in a shower.”
“Thanks,” I said as I hooked my arms around his neck and allowed him to pull me up off the floor. “I feel horrible.”
“You should,” Taylor said as he helped me undress. “You and Zac killed two full bottles of tequila.”
“Ah man, that can’t be good.” I moaned as Taylor began to undress me.
“Not good at all.” Taylor said softly as he dropped my dirty t-shirt on the floor. He stood before me regarding me carefully, minutely. I felt so exposed. I started to fold my arms over my chest, but Taylor’s hands stopped me. He just stood there in front of me, holding my hands out and away from my body. His eyes silently appraised me. Suddenly, he pulled me into a close hug, his fingers digging into my flesh. I felt overwhelmed by his passion and ardor. I hung limply in his embrace, wishing I could find the energy to hug him back, to hold him the way I wanted to, to make him feel how grateful I was that he wasn't mad at me. "Oh Cleo, what am I going to do with you?"
I wanted to answer, but I also just wanted him to hold me forever. He rocked me gently back and forth humming softly, his hands smoothing softly over my back. “You’re still shaking, baby. Do you need something?”
“I don’t know…” I began realizing that all of my muscles were shaking just under the surface. “I don’t think so. I just want to take a shower and get dressed in something comfortable.”
“Okay love.” Taylor said hugging me tightly one last time before releasing me. “Let me get a shower started for you and then I’ll go make some food for you. Does that sound okay?”
“It does.” I said sinking down onto the toilet and watching him move with purpose. He hurried and picked up my discarded clothes and dropped them into the hamper. He grabbed my toothbrush and loaded it with toothpaste. He checked the shampoo and conditioner making sure I had enough. Soon the warm sound of rushing water filled the room, he was leaning forward making sure the water was a comfortable temperature. “Tay, are you still going to go to Shiloh without me?”
“Hmm?” He asked. My voice lost in the steam billowing up from the faucet. He turned towards me, still leaning forward, his hair falling into his eyes. I again found myself shocked by the blue of his eyes and the openness of his face. I had never meant to, but somehow I’d gotten careless with something so valuable and precious.
“Never mind,” I said feeling the tears threatening again. The panic was still there just under the surface.
“What?” Taylor asked again standing up and facing me.
“I just…” I stopped not sure I wanted him to say no, but wanting so badly to hear yes. “Can I come with you to Shiloh?”
“Why don’t you take a shower and we’ll see how things look then, okay?” Taylor said standing and walking over to me.
“I don’t want to see…” I said tears. “I want to go.”
“I know.” Taylor said smoothing his hand over his hair. “Cleo, I love you. No, I adore you with all that I am… But maybe we need some time to think, separately.”
“No, I don’t need to think.” I said my breath getting shorter and shorter. I was about to start hyperventilating again.
“I know.” Taylor said leaning forward across the sink, his forehead almost resting on the mirror, before he turned back towards me. “But, I think I do.”