Pure
Taylor shifted from foot to foot. This was the part of his day he hated the most, waiting at Richard’s back door for him to let him in. Most of Richard’s clientele just went in the front door, but Taylor couldn’t afford to be seen coming here. This need to not be seen had resulted in him dressing in black from head to toe, with a baseball cap pulled down low over his telltale blond hair. He had parked in the parking lot of the shopping center on the other side of the block. He had gone into the trendy little shop pretending to look at jewelry. He had flirted harmlessly with the hot girl in the tight red top and criminally short mini-skirt. While she was helping another customer he had slipped out the back door and vaulted the fence. After winding through random backyards, he found himself standing on the back porch of Richie’s run down house. His right hand slid into the pocket of his jeans and wrapped around the chunk of bills in his pocket. He called it grocery shopping. Most people would consider it a felony.
And really, he knew he shouldn’t be here, but… It’s just that his life had gotten so insane so fast. When his voice had started to change in the middle of making Middle of Nowhere everyone had gotten so tense. He had gotten scared. His life had started to spiral out of control. He had come home medicated beyond belief. The doctors pumped him full of painkillers and anti-depressants. His throat coated with something that numbed it and made it impossible for him to swallow, kept his voice from changing too fast. And it was in those moments, those low moments, he had met Richie. Or more appropriately, he had become reacquainted with him. Richie was the older brother of one of his oldest friends. But he was the bad kid of the neighborhood, the kid that parents told their children not to play with. He was a bad seed. But he became Taylor’s savior. He had introduced Taylor to the wonderful world of instant courage, of a blissful stress free life and an existence without pain.
When the rumors began to fly that he was anorexic, he had just laughed. His brothers always defended him, saying he ate, he just had a fast, fast, fast metabolism. But that wasn’t the total truth. He did eat, but not much. And of course, he always looked good, cause he had a stylist and someone who took care of his hair and his skin. When the rumors began to fly that he wasn’t sleeping, well, he couldn’t defend that. He didn’t sleep much. But instead of his parents feeling too worried about him, they thought he was just feeling the pressure of being so young and having so much expected of him. But to tell the truth, that wasn’t it. He was skinny cause he had found a wonderful food substitute. And he didn’t sleep cause he didn’t need to sleep as much. And all because he had found Crystal Meth.
He knocked again, this time a little more insistent. Suddenly the door flew open and standing in front of him was a barefoot, bare-chested man. Richie was as skinny as Taylor, but he didn’t look healthy at all. His eyes were bruises and his hair was greasy and standing up at odd angles. Richie’s jeans were barely clinging to his hips. “Dude, you need to learn some patience.”
“Rich, I can’t afford to be seen here.” Taylor said slipping into the filthy kitchen. Richie house always had the smell of melting Tupperware.
“Well, I had some clients in here. If you called before just showing up...” Richie said sitting down and picking up the smoking cigarette. He grabbed the pack off the table and chucked it at Taylor. Taylor popped the top open and pulled out a cigarette and dug in his pocket for his Zippo. “And really, I didn’t think you’d want me to let you in with Emma standing in my kitchen.”
“Emma? Emma Harrison?” Taylor asked as he slumped into the chair facing Richie. “She’s into Meth?”
“Oh yeah!” Richie said leaning back and pulling out two cans of beer.
“Does her husband do it too?” Taylor asked accepting the beer.
“Are you kidding? Minister Harrison? I think not!” Richie said taking a huge swig of the Pabst Blue Ribbon he’d just opened. “She had come to me cause Trey had made a comment about how she was getting fat and she freaked. So, now, she just snorts a little of my baby girl Crystal to curb her hunger.”
“Cool.” Taylor said. They just sat at the table smoking and finishing off their beers. After a few minutes, Taylor stubbed out his smoke. “Dude, as much fun as it is sitting here shooting the shit, it’s almost 9:00 and well, I have somewhere to be…”
“Cool, how many you want?” Richie said standing up and opening a drawer. After it was open, he pulled out the bottom of the drawer. He turned back towards Taylor holding a huge Ziploc bag filled with little folds of paper.
“Umm… I’m going to LA for about a couple weeks, so I need a bunch.” Taylor said reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash. “How about 150 folds?”
“150?” Richie asked counting the little folded pieces of magazine into piles of 10. “Okay… that’ll be $4500 dollars.”
“4500?” Taylor protested. “You’re charging me 30 bucks a fold?”
“Yeah,” Richie said gathering up the 150 folds and putting them into another Ziploc baggie. “Hey, the normal price may be 25 for the regular customer, but you require me to remain silent and very, very discreet. So, for you it’s 30 a fold.”
“Whatever.” Taylor said as he counted out forty-five 100-dollar bills.
“Hey, don’t get surly on me,” Richie said smiling affably. “Let’s smoke some before you go, out of my private stash.”
“Okay fine.” Taylor said sitting back in the chair and shoving the remaining money into his pocket. He watched as Richie piled some meth into a piece of broken light bulb. He then handed it to Taylor by the clothespin he used to keep their fingers from getting burned. He pulled out his Zippo and a hollowed out pen. He then passed the flame beneath the glass. Watching as the white chunks melted and began to smoke. He then leaned over the smoke, sucking it up through the pen. When his lungs were filled, he gently blew out onto the melted puddle of crystal, watching as it hardened again and stopped smoking. He felt the effects almost immediately. He felt strength rush into his limbs. He handed the meth back to Richie and leaned back a smile on his face. Taylor now knew he could do anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“No, mom, really, I’m okay... I just have to lock the door and drop the deposit and then I’m out of here...” Trinette said as she closed the jewelry display she had spent most of the night working on. She looked over at the clock, it was 9:03 pm, time to close. “I sent Monica home about an hour ago, we were so slow tonight.”
"Okay, well, when will you be home?”
“Not till late,” she said as she zipped the deposit bag. “I’m meeting some friends to go dancing... I should be home by midnight, I don’t feel like staying out late. Didn’t I tell you this morning?”
“Oh, I suppose you did.” Her mother said sighing. “Don’t forget to come kiss me goodnight. And remember who you are...”
“Don’t I always?” She asked laughing.
“Anyway, goodbye.” Her mother said laughing back. Trinette always was a very good girl, she was the one child she never, ever worried about. If she said she was going to call, she called. If she said she would be home by midnight, the clock didn’t strike twelve without her standing in the door of her mother’s bedroom. “I love you.”
“Bye Mommy, I love you too.” She said as she set the phone on its cradle. She quickly turned out the lights, grabbed her purse, the deposit and her keys, when the bell over the door jangled cutting into the silence. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.” She said not even looking up.
“That’s okay, I don’t want to buy anything.” She heard a voice say from near the door.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but we’re closed....” She said her voice trailing off as she heard the tumbler for the deadbolt turn. If the security guard did happen to come by, he’d pull on the door and find it locked. He would assume that she had made it out alright. “Sir?” She cautiously began to step around the counter when he came around the clothing rack in front of her. “Sir, we’re closed.”
“Are you alone in here?” He asked. He was dressed all in black with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. With only the light from the jewelry display, his face was a mask of shadows, but she noticed that he had blue eyes, but most of all she noticed the gun in his hand.
“Yes, I’m alone....” She stammered. “Here, here’s the money... Just take it, please, don’t hurt me...”
“Fuck your money!” He said as he continued forward, he was now so close she could smell his laundry detergent and the beer on his breath. “I got money...” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “Trinette, I want you.”
“How do you know my name?” She asked, trying not to be intimidated.
“I know a lot about you.” He said reaching out grabbing a lock of her long, honey blonde hair. “I know that you are the manager here. I know that you only close alone on Monday and Tuesday. I know that you have a boyfriend named Eric... And I know that no one will miss you for hours...” He said giving the lock of hair an extra tug.
“Please...” She said stepping back until her back was against the wall. She was trapped, behind the counter, there was no way out. “Please don’t hurt me...”
“I’m not gonna hurt you bitch...” He said grabbing her arm. “You’re gonna love it... You’ll beg for more.”
“Please...”
“See, you’re begging already.” He said as he quickly stepped towards her. She tried to sidestep him, but he was too quick. His hand grabbed her upper arm as she tried to flee. “Where’d you think you’re going?” He asked breathing his reeking breath on her face.
“Please, don’t hurt me...” She repeated.
A hand, quick and brutal, slammed into the side of her face, she tasted the blood in her mouth immediately. “Look at what you made me do?”
“Oh please, what do you want?” She cried. Why had she told the security guard she’d walk to her car alone? Why had she told Monica she would close the store alone? Why hadn’t she invited Eric to go dancing? She watched in horror as he tucked the gun into his pants. What was he going to do now that he had two free hands?
“You are very slow on the uptake, aren’t you Trinette?” He said his hands sliding over her favorite red silk shirt. Sure, it was a little too tight, but that is why she liked it. It showed off the body she worked so hard on. “I’m here to give you what you want...”
His hands grabbed at the shirt and literally ripped it from her body. “What...what I want?”
“Yes, Trinette, I saw the way you smiled at me...” He roughly grabbed at her breasts, hurting her. “A red bra, very nice... Do your panties match?” He said his hand running up under her short black skirt.
“Ouch, please, stop...” She said trying to fight back. “You’re hurting me... please...”
This time when he hit her, it wasn’t with an open hand. His fist connected squarely with the side of her face. She saw stars and felt her body begin to slump forward into his arms. “There you go, now that’s a good girl...” He said taking her and very unceremoniously throwing her now slack body over the counter face down. As she looked at the jewelry she had so carefully arranged only an hour before, she wondered when she was going to lose consciousness. She hoped it was soon.
But, she didn’t.
She felt his rough hands grab at both her wrists. She felt something cold and metal clamped onto her right wrist and her arm pulled away from her body. She moved her eyes away from the jewelry and over to where he had just handcuffed her to one of the poles holding the sunglass display off the counter. She also noticed the feared gun was sitting a tantalizing few inches from her fingers, but there was no way she would ever be able to grab it. As her wits began to gather, she realized he had handcuffed her left arm to another of the steel poles suspending the very heavy display above her head. She was trapped. And that is when she began to scream.
“Okay, Trinette, if that’s the way you want to play this, go ahead and scream, but I may forget to be nice...” He said as he cocked the hammer on the gun that was now resting against the back of her skull. Her screaming stopped immediately. “I may forget to be nice anyway...” She felt her short skirt hiked up over her hips and his hands on her bottom, her thighs, between her legs.
“Please, don’t do this, please...” She whimpered. She felt both his hands wrap themselves into her hair and pull her head back. She barely had time to close her eyes before her face smashed through the glass display. Now, nestled in with her jewelry display were chunks of teeth and blood. So much blood. The pain in her face was searing.
“Look what you made me do?” He said sounding as if he were talking to a 3 year old. “Now, no one else will ever want you... You made me ruin your beautiful face...” His hands reached in between her legs and ripped out the crotch of her nylons. “Now, I’ll be the only one who ever wanted you.” He said as he kicked both her legs out from under her, she was now completely spread eagled. He pushed her face even farther down into the now destroyed display as he ripped her panties from her body. “Red lace panties, very nice... Must have known I was coming.” He laughed at his double entendre. She thought nothing could hurt worse than her face... Nothing... Until he forced himself into her. She shrieked as he ripped her in two.
“Oh please, please stop...” She muttered, her breath blowing bubbles in the blood, tears and snot running down her face. “Oh God, please....”
“God, can’t help you now...” He said. She could feel the stray jagged edges of glass grinding into her stomach. And that was when her mind went blank. She could feel him and hear him, but really, was it her? She laid there, no thoughts coming and going, she was just aware that he was there and the passage of time. She heard her cell phone ring inside her purse and then beep every five minutes to let her know that a message was waiting. Yes, someone was waiting for her. Soon, the pain became a part of her and she couldn’t remember what it was like not to hurt. She held the pain to her, because, it was her own. Her body was no longer hers, but her pain... It belonged solely to her. She could feel him manipulating what used to be her body. She could hear him talking to the shell that used to contain her. Bit by bit erasing who she used to be.
He was there.
And then he wasn’t. “Here, bitch,” he said right in her ear. “Let me pay you for your trouble... Never would have pegged you for a virgin, but hey... I love cherry flavored things... ” He whispered in her ear as he pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket and let the money float down on her back. “See you again, soon... Cause, I know where you live and you...” He slapped her bare bottom and chuckled evilly to himself. “...are a tight whore.”
She heard the bell over the door jangle. And then, he was gone.
Taylor
The phone rang shrilly, cutting into the mayhem that is a Hanson family breakfast.
The only spot of calm was Mom, but then again she is always calm. I could practically hear her thoughts of the coming day as she washed the breakfast dishes. She always had so much to do, that really, once she was done with the dishes, she would probably not stop until she climbed into bed tonight. I find it amazing that in this room full of children, dishes and dogs, she could be so placid. She had endless quantities of energy and I didn’t know exactly where it came from. Of course, I was sitting and reading, or at least I was trying to plow through my latest assigned reading; I was trying to channel Mom’s calm, cause as usual, I was feeling anything but calm. She looked over to where we all sat at the kitchen table and then her gaze shifted up to where the phone hung on the wall. We were all sitting within an arms reach of the phone, but none of us moved. With an exasperated sigh, she dried her hands and grabbed the phone. But really, we had changed our phone number so many times none of us really wanted to know who was on the other end of the line... In fact, it had gotten so bad, I often didn’t answer the phone unless I was expecting a call, could easily check the caller ID or it was my cell phone which was totally unlisted.
“Hello?” She said in a little too cross voice. My eyes shifted from the page to her face. I smiled at her and shrugged. She pushed on my shoulder and I slid down the bench surrounding the table in the breakfast nook. As I slid down, I had to push Mac out of my way, which caused him to knock over a glass of milk. Which made Zac jump up as the milk slopped over the edge of the table directly into his lap. His chair knocked into Avery, which caused her to drop the dishes she was carrying to the sink. Which caused the dog to start barking, making Jessica spill her glass of juice down the front of her shirt. All of which caused Zoë to howl with laughter. Dad was trying to calm everyone down, so Mom could hear who was on the phone. Her hand rested gently on my shoulder and then slid down my arm until we were holding hands. Her hot, moist hand felt good in my perpetually cold hands, her grip was undeniable. She smiled at the chaos around her. “Hello?” She asked again as the noise abated. “Sarah, how....” Mom said a smile spreading across her face. I knew how much she loved talking with her sister. At Sarah’s name, I noticed how everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and paid attention to my mother. She was our favorite aunt and well, Trinette was pretty much my all time favorite person, let alone cousin.
Mom’s grip tightened to the point it was becoming painful. I looked up at her face; it had a pained looked. Her perpetually tanned face blanching at what she heard. “Sarah, what’s wrong?” The silence that descended on the kitchen was eerie and unnatural for our family, especially during a meal when all 9 of us were in the same room. “Sarah, slow down... Start over... What happened to Trinette?” Mom said standing and walking to the window overlooking our backyard. At the mention of Trinette’s name, I felt my heart drop to the floor. I looked at Zac and Isaac and noticed both of them had the same look of shock on their face. Trip (as she was known to all of us) was everyone’s favorite. Trip is a beautiful, vivacious blonde with huge bright eyes and a shape that turned heads. Whenever we were out in public, it was so obvious that not everyone was staring at us. Trinette is simply gorgeous. If the truth be told, she and I looked more than a little alike, except she had clear gray eyes. This doesn’t mean that I think I’m gorgeous... There is just something about her. She loves to laugh and tell jokes, no dare is too outrageous for her. She is funny and happy, the kind of person that people seek out, just to hear what they have to say. Trip is situated between Zac and I in age, which makes her almost 17. And while we may look alike, her and Zac act a lot alike. Honestly, if I were pressed to describe Trip in one word, it would be: Alive. No one was as alive as her. At least, no one I knew.
Last summer, she had joined us on tour for a few weeks and quite honestly, those were the best weeks of the tour. From where I sat, I could easily look into the living room. If I concentrated hard enough, I could practically see her standing on the hearth of the fireplace doing a very bad version of “Santa Baby” for our annual friends and family Christmas party. Everyone was laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. I barely could play the piano I was laughing so hard. She flawlessly moved along to the music, wearing an amazing red silk shirt with a pair of baggy, black slacks. My best friend, Wart (his real name was Arthur, but a youthful obsession with the King Arthur legend had earned him the nickname Wart) had declared her the single most beautiful creature he had ever seen and had confessed his undying love for her, which he did every time he saw her. He had knelt in front of her and had begged for her favor... At that, she pulled a face, distorting her features into a horror mask for a moment. Wart had laughed and taken it back, cause anyone who could make that face was actually pretty scary. She had thrown her head back and laughed. Laughed with the pure joy of the season and the moment. She had literally glowed.
“Hurt? How? A car accident? An accident at school? What?” Mom reached out with her free hand and steadied herself against the windowsill. I watched as all the blood drained from her face. Isaac rushed over and put his hand on our swaying mother’s shoulder. She grabbed roughly at his hand. I could almost see the empty swimming pool just beyond the deck reflected in their eyes. I remembered the summer we first moved from Jenks to Hectorville. Not an enormous move, but a move nonetheless... I remember her laughing when she heard the name of the town and telling me that now we weren’t just her Okie cousins, but that we now were Okie hicks from Hectorville. This, of course, coming from someone who was born in St. John Medical Center in Tulsa, OK. I closed my eyes and thought of Trip standing in the shallow end of the pool trying to teach Zoë how to float on her back. Her golden skin soaking in the strong summer sun, transforming her into a golden goddess. Her smile was a major reward for anyone lucky enough to be granted one. She talked softly and gently to Zoë until my little sister who was so afraid of the water relaxed. By the end of that day, Trip had taught her how to swim, not to fear the water. She had given her a victory. “Oh my Lord.” Mom said. Suddenly, I could see Isaac wasn’t just comforting her, but holding her up. He gently guided her back toward the table, to the comfort of a chair. She sat for several minutes in stunned silence just listening to whatever the horrible news was, until Dad took the phone and walked out of the room and away from the 7 sets of curious eyes.
“Mom...” Zac said as she lowered her head to the table and began to cry silent tears. “Is she... did she...” Zac moved off the bench and onto the floor. Right now, I could tell Zac needed to be near her. He needed her to hold him; he knelt in front of Mom and put his head in her lap, his large hands wrapping themselves into her baggy t-shirt. And to be perfectly honest, I was jealous, I wanted to be the one with my head in her lap. I wanted to be the one crying on her knee. I wanted to run up to my room and smoke an entire fold of crystal in one sitting. But most of all, I wanted to ask if Trinette were dead, but was afraid of the answer. Trip couldn’t be dead. She had talked to Zac and I yesterday. She had called because she had read on the Internet Zac was depressed. I had answered the phone and she had teased me. She had told me in the latest picture she had seen on the web, I was looking particularly feminine... In fact, one of her friends had asked if it was her. I had laughed and told her she just wished she were as beautiful as me. She had called because she needed to know it was all just gossip, needed to know Zac was alright, needed to just hear his voice. I had noticed her voice was losing some of its Tulsa twang, she was starting to sound foreign to me, but still her voice was warm. So, I had gotten Zac on the phone and she had made him laugh. Later Zac told me she was telling him stories about how crazy some of the customers in her shop were, telling him stories about how crazy public high school was, just telling him stories... One of my strongest memories of Trip has to be all the late nights spent lying on the floor in the family room in our old house trying to tell each other the most outrageous stories. Somehow, she always won.
“He broke her face...” Mom said, her hand instinctively going to Zac’s head smoothing his hair back. “He put her face through a glass display case...”
“Who?” Isaac demanded. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Mom, what’s going on?” Mac asked his fingers going into his mouth. Mac hadn’t been broken of the terrible habit we all have, we all chew on our fingers when we get nervous.
Her head came up as if she was just now remembering her children were in the room with her. “Jessica, will you take Mac and Zoë upstairs and throw them in the tub. Then get them dressed and ready to go. Avery, you go with her and help.”
“Okay.” Jessica said grabbing Zoë’s sticky hand. “But Mom, where are we going?”
“To Utah honey...” Mom said as they began to file out of the room. Usually the specter of a bath sent Mac into fits, but he could sense that now wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum. “We’re going to visit Aunt Sarah...”
Now, when Mom said that, I felt a panic rising up my spine. She had only said Aunt Sarah, not Trinette... I had known at that moment she was dead. I was sure of it. I could see my idea reflected in Isaac eyes. Once the kids were around the corner and we could hear them tromping up the stairs, Isaac let out a huge breath. “Is Trinette dead?”
“No, someone hurt her...” Mom said as my father walked back into the room. His eyes were red; he was fighting tears with all he had. He walked behind my mom and put both his hands on her shoulders. Zac had yet to raise his head from her lap, but I could see by the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying. She put her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Mom, Dad, what happened?” I asked. I could feel my own tears oiling my eyes.
“Okay,” Dad began, his voice catching slightly in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and put one of his hands against Mom’s cheek, she grabbed at it compulsively. “It appears that last night after the store was closed, someone came in and raped Trinette. He pushed her face through a glass display and her nose is broken, her jaw is broken and her cheekbone and ocular sockets are fractured. Most of her teeth have been broken out as well. She is in very, very bad shape...”
“No, that isn’t possible...” Isaac said slumping against the wall. I leaned forward and rested my hands on my knees. It felt as if someone had slugged me hard in the stomach, the toast and coffee I’d just had for breakfast were suddenly anxious to make a return appearance.
“Sarah says that the worst part is that he terrorized her...” My mother said. “She is terrified of everything...” Zac suddenly jumped up and ran out of the room. He ran into the bathroom. Again I was jealous of Zac... I wanted to run from the room and throw up. Maybe this is like when you eat too many green apples, once you throw up the pain goes away. “Walk, did you tell her we were on our way?”
Dad nodded his head as Mom stood up; he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all set up. Marian was able to book all nine of us on a flight to Salt Lake. It leaves in 3 hours, the only problem is that we’re booked in coach...”
“Fine, okay... We can do coach.” Zac said without hesitation and without thinking about what he was saying as he walked back into the kitchen.
“Okay, I just want you to be aware that we have to change planes in Dallas...” Dad said his words muffled against Mom’s forehead. “We need to be prepared for anything.”
“We will.” Ike said. “Mom, you go upstairs and jump in the shower, me, Tay and Zac can finish the dishes for you.”
“Yeah, go get ready...” Zac repeated. Once Dad had guided her out of the room, the three of us just sat in stunned silence. Slowly, we all began to clean up the mess. I leaned down to pick up the sticky pieces of the plate Avery had broken. “Who could have done this to her?” Zac asked no one in particular, it was a rhetorical question, but his voice cutting through the silence made me jump.
“Oh man...” Isaac said leaning his head against the cupboard over the sink. “He broke her face...”
“You know what? When I find out who did this, I’m gonna kill them.” Zac said finishing mopping milk up off the floor. “I mean it, I’m going to just kill him... After I torture him...”
“Zac, we all feel that way...” Isaac began.
“Well, I mean it.” Zac said, angrily wiping the table. “I mean, how dare someone do this to anyone, let alone Trip? I mean, Trip... She’s just so perfect...”
“I know...” I said swiping my hair back from my face. “Who would want to hurt her?”
“Tay, you’re bleeding.” Jessica said from where she stood in the doorway. I looked down and it was true. I had cut my finger on the plate. I absently stuck my fingers in my mouth as she walked in the room. “Guys, Mom and Dad won’t tell me what happened...”
“Jess, I don’t know...” Isaac began.
“Hey, I think I’m old enough to hear the truth.” She said indignantly.
“You’re probably right.” Ike said moving over to the table and sitting down. He took both her hands in his. “You know what it means to be raped, right? Well, last night, Trinette was raped.”
“Oh my gosh.” Jess said her eyes getting huge. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Probably.” I said picking up more tiny pieces of porcelain. “She is just really, really hurt right now.”
“Mom said someone broke her face...” Jessica said quietly helping me pick up the broken dish. “Will she still look like you?”
“Honestly, I don’t know...” I said looking into her face. I was surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Jess... I’m sure she’s going to be okay.” I said pulling her into my arms as she dissolved into growing sobs. I held her not knowing why she was crying or how to respond.
“Baby?” Dad said from the doorway. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He said leaning down and picking up Jess. “Baby, why are you crying?”
“Daddy...” Jess sobbed into his shoulder. “Will she be okay? Will she be the same?”
“I hope so, sweetie...” Dad said smoothing her hair and sitting at the table. “Guys, go up and get ready... Hurry and pack, we need to be the airport as soon as possible...”
I rushed up the stairs 2 at a time, easily lapping both Zac and Ike. I rushed into my bathroom afraid that I was going to throw up before I got to the bathroom. I turned on the shower. As I stepped into the stream of too hot water, it hit me. It hit me hard. Trinette’s life would never be the same. Trinette would probably never sit on the back deck with me, spitting watermelon seeds for distance. She would probably never again laugh so hard that she lost all the strength in her legs. She might not even have the same smile... I felt my legs give way I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor of the shower. As the hot water washed over my back, I wished more than anything that I could go back to yesterday afternoon. I wish I could tell her not to go to work. I wish she had never left Tulsa. I could feel my hot tears sliding down my cheeks.
Trinette
If I lay perfectly still with my eyes closed, if I don’t move a muscle, no one will know I’m awake. And if no one knows I’m awake, no one asks me the hard questions. The questions I don’t want to answer. To be perfectly honest, my eyes are closed because they are mostly swollen shut. And lying perfectly still is not much of a stretch either. Every muscle in my body aches. I can’t figure out how I managed to pull the muscles in my calves, but they hurt nonetheless.
So, in my momentarily blinded state, I did a quick mental inventory of my injuries. My wrists were both in temporary casts. A very cold sounding doctor had explained that these soft casts would be replaced with fiberglass casts once the swelling went down from the surgery to put the pins in both my wrists. I have about 300 stitches in my stomach, chest and shoulders. Apparently, the display cases at Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves weren’t made of tempered glass. So, the process of pulling the glass out of me had been long and apparently kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack. And had effectively ended my bikini wearing days.
This morning early, I had been wheeled into emergency surgery to repair my broken nose, jaw and ocular orbit. I had never known that there was such a thing as emergency plastic surgery, but apparently there is. My face now had enough metal in it to make me wonder if I’d be able to go through the metal detectors in the airport.
Of all the things wrong with my face, my mouth hurt the absolute worst. When I ran my tongue over what was left of my teeth, tears immediately sprang to my eyes. All those years of braces to make my smile perfect. And now? My teeth were broken jagged nubs. Sure, my orthodontist was already making caps for my teeth from a plaster mold he had made just months before... But, I still wanted to cry to think of all that wasted time and money.
And the stitches in my face? The number was somewhere around 500. My left eyelid basically had to be stitched back together and my eyebrow was mostly gone. I guess there is some question about whether or not I’d be able to see out of my left eye once the swelling goes down.
Still, all of this is secondary.
Secondary to the searing pain in my stomach. Or more exactly, in my uterus. Within moments of being brought into the emergency room, they put an IV in my arm and had me swallow some pills. They explained to me that the pills were some pills called RU-486. And they would make my uterus a hostile place, on the off chance that I had become pregnant. Soon after, I had begun to feel like I was floating. And the emergency room personnel began to work on my body. And for the second time in less than 24 hours, my body had become someone else’s possession. I could faintly hear them discuss me and my injuries, but to be honest, I didn’t care. I heard the words “brutal” and “worst shape I’ve ever seen.” Every once in a while, a soft voice would get very close to my ear and whisper something to me. But none of it made sense. The voice was so soft and in my mind it flowed across my consciousness like honey. I felt myself slowly getting farther and farther away, until even the pain was gone.
When I woke, the pain was back. The pain was so huge that it was all that I was. I panicked because I couldn’t open my eyes. I panicked because my teeth were gone. I panicked because I couldn’t remember who I was. My identity seamlessly erased by the man and the painkillers. As I began to thrash in bed, the same soft voice came and pressed something in my hand. She directed my thumb to a button. “Push this when the pain becomes unbearable.” The honey voice whispered into my ear. And I discovered that I could erase my own identity with ease.
“Trinette? Honey, are you awake?” My mother whispered, her cool hands on my upper arm.
“Mmm…” I moaned. I found without my teeth, I couldn’t even form the word Mom.
“Don’t try to talk, just rest.” She soothed quietly, her hands moving from my arm to my hair.
“How does my face look?” I mumbled, although what came out didn’t sound even remotely like that.
“Your face?” I nodded. “Well, we won’t know about that until they take the bandages off, but the doctor says you’ll look as good as new.”
“I don’t want to look new…” I moaned.
“Oh, honey, I wish this hadn’t happened to you.” My mother whispered kissing the back of my hand. “But you’re going to be alright, everything is gonna be alright.”
“No.” I said, the first clear words out of my mouth. “No…”
She didn’t reassure me again, she just held my hand with one hand and smoothed back my hair with the other. “Trinette, Diana’s family is coming to see us.” I shook my head as the hot tears slid from my eyes and down into the bandages on my face. “Don’t you want to see Ike, Zac and Tay?”
“No.” I answered, getting the knack of the speaking thing. “I don’t want them to see me like this. I don’t think I can look them in the eye knowing they know what happened.”
“They know it wasn’t your fault.” My mother cooed into my ear.
“I can’t see them.” I answered. In my minds eye I was picturing them, the nine of them. The perfect all-American family with tall handsome sons and pretty young daughters, it was just coincidental that the oldest boys were famous. But what I was dreading most was seeing Taylor. Taylor who was described by Grandma Jane as my other half, she said we were twins born 10 months apart. He and I looked so much alike that even we saw it. When we were younger, it had really bothered him that he was constantly compared to a girl. He had told my father he hated everyone who called him Trip, which happened all the time at extended family gatherings. And when his hair had been below his shoulders it had only gotten worse. Still, as much as it bothered him, we had always been close. I suppose he knew that I couldn’t help that we looked so much alike. But then again, those days were over. I felt a panic rising in my chest as I thought of seeing him. I pressed on the button hooked to the morphine drip. I would just stay drugged up as long as they were here, that was all I could do.
Zac
I hate airports. They are the bane to my existence for so many reasons. One, airports are a public place and anyone is allowed in them, even the teenies. Two, the acoustics are such that they amplify and echo all the shrieks of the teenies. Three, no matter how quiet we keep our travel plans the teenies always found out. Four, the Paramus mall incident. ‘Nough said.
I know the perils of airports. I put my hair in a ponytail, my baseball cap pulled down low over my face. Ike had done the same. But Taylor? Taylor loved the attention, basked in it. Although most of the time he acted like he couldn’t see the girls around them, I knew he was disappointed when they weren’t there or when they didn’t notice. But today, Taylor had pulled on a baseball cap and had put on his sunglasses. Since we’d found out what was wrong with Trip, he had gotten quieter and quieter. Spending more than the normal amount of time in the bathroom. I had gone in to see if he was ready and I could hear him sobbing in his bathroom. When I asked if he was almost ready he’d told me to fuck off. Next I heard him sniffing a lot and a lot of slamming of things around in his bathroom. When he finally came out he was composed and polished as usual, he’d picked up his backpack and had just given me a look. A look that said that nothing was ever to be said about what I’d heard. I’d followed him out to the van watching him cling to his backpack and bottle of water as though they were his only links to reality. He was acting so strange… again.
“Zac, will you carry Zoë for me?” My mom asked behind me breaking into my thoughts, grunting with the effort of carrying a sleeping Zoë. Dad had left all of us waiting in the VIP lounge, trying to find a golf cart to hurry our process or maybe even some security to accompany us. He had been gone a long, long time.
“Sure Mom,” I answered hooking my backpack over both my shoulders and lifting her out of my mom’s arms. Zoë was so lanky, long arms and legs, but skinny. She was built a lot like Taylor and Trip. But damn, she was heavy.
“Zac, you want me to take your backpack?” Isaac asked quietly coming up behind him.
“Naw, it isn’t all that heavy anyway.” I said. Zoë snuffled into my neck her arms wrapping loosely around my shoulders. I watched as Taylor twitched next to Avery, his hands compulsively pulling her hair back off her shoulders.
“Isn’t Zoë getting a little big to be carried everywhere?” Taylor asked yanking his backpack off his shoulders.
“Yes, but she is so tired from the Dramamine, I just can’t see making her walk through the airport.” Mom said gently smoothing down some of her insane curls. She looked like Taylor but she had my motion sickness.
“Fine.” Taylor said rooting around in his backpack convulsively. He was looking for something and whatever it was he wasn’t finding it. “Damn it!” He muttered as he continued to dig through all the stuff in his bag.
“Taylor, language!” Dad said as he came up behind Taylor. “Okay, guys, we are gonna have to make a run for the gate to our connecting flight. I couldn’t find a cart anywhere and as far as extra security goes… Well, the kind gentleman at the counter didn’t think we needed it. So, we’ll just batten down the hatches and make a run for it. Tay, grab Mac’s hand make sure he doesn’t get lost and Ike, grab Avie.”
“I don’t need to be babysat.” Avery said reluctantly grabbing hold of Isaac’s hand.
“Mac, I’ll make you a deal.” Taylor said kneeling down in front of him. “If you carry my backpack, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”
“No way, your backpack is heavy.” Mac said shaking his head no.
“No it’s not.” Taylor said trying to get Mac to hold out his arms.
“I want to walk.” Mac said. “What if the girls recognize you? I don’t want them grabbing at me.”
“No one will recognize us.” Taylor said insisting.
“Tay, give it up.” I said watching as he reluctantly slid his backpack onto his shoulders. “Man, what’s wrong with you?”
“Other than the obvious?” Taylor snapped back.
“Geez, Tay, mellow out.” Isaac said as he casually laid his arm across Avery’s shoulders.
“Shut up Ike.” Taylor said grabbing Mac’s hand and following Dad out into the airport.
I followed my family lagging behind under the weight of Zoë. Watching as Taylor dragged Mac behind him. Taylor was so out of his head, so beyond the pale. I was finding it hard to believe that the only thing bothering him was Trip. And his strange insistence that Mac carry his backpack? What was that all about? When we’d left Tulsa, he’d given his backpack to Zoë. And really, that had been happening a lot lately. Taylor had always offered to help carry everything, he was always taking on more than he could handle, but lately, he had been insisting that Zoë or Mac carry his backpack through security.
I caught up with my family as they massed around security. Taylor was again desperately digging around in his backpack with Mac patiently holding his water bottle. Somehow, we had made it through the airport without anyone recognizing us, but as I waited. I noticed a group of girls in cheerleader uniforms watching us very, very closely. During the last 5 years, I’d developed a sixth sense, I knew when there was about to be squealing.
“Hurry, hurry.” I muttered under my breath. Zoë shifted in my arms, momentarily blocking my view of Taylor. When she settled back down, I noticed Taylor tucking something into the front of his pants. But before I could ask what he was doing. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up as the group of girls starting shrieking.
“Mr. Hanson,” a security guard called. “Please step this way.”
Soon, we were ushered into a private room again with the head of security falling all over himself, apologizing over and over again for the mix-up. There was supposed to be security at the gate to meet us and somehow it had not happened. Now, Taylor was sitting in the corner clutching his bag and watching the security guy with such enormous eyes… Taylor looked a lot like he had the morning of our first live performance. Scared shitless.
“Tay, you okay?” I asked as I plopped down in the chair next to him.
“Huh?” Taylor asked his head whipping around.
“Throttle down twitchy.” I said as his hand went automatically to whatever he’d stuck down the front of pants. “Are you okay?”
“I need a bathroom.” Taylor said his eyes moving quickly from the security guard to the door. Almost as if he were looking for the nearest escape route. “Where do you think the closest bathroom is?”
“Tay, the scream squad is out there.” I said adjusting the heavily sleeping Zoë in my arms.
“I need a bathroom and some water…” He said jumping up. “What are you the potty police? I think I can find a bathroom by myself.”
“Fine. Jesus, don’t overreact or anything.” I said as Zoë squirmed in my lap.
“Zac said a bad word.” Zoë snuffled into my neck her wet thumb sliming my neck. “I’m gonna tell Momma.”
“No, I didn’t say a bad word.” I said watching Tay glide up to where the security guy was still kissing my dad’s ass. The security guy shook his head affirmatively. He started waving his arms as if he were giving directions and Tay smiled. Then he was gone.
Something was up with Taylor and it was more than just about Trip.
Taylor
The flight had been a nightmare. Avery and Jessica’s constant bickering had just about sent me screaming into the cockpit to fly the plane directly into the ground. It’s not that I’m suicidal, but damn, I’m feeling more than a little homicidal. So, after 90 minutes of their in depth analysis of which guy was hotter, Elijah Wood or Tobey Maguire, I was ready to do some real harm to not only my sisters, but to everyone on the plane. Really, if I ever meet either of them, I’m gonna have to throttle him. Finally, we landed and there wasn’t any security anywhere. Although Dad had been assured that someone would meet our plane. With no security, that means we have to go through security… I’d gotten Zoë to carry my backpack in Tulsa, but here? Mac the ungrateful little snot wouldn’t even accept my offer of a piggyback ride.
And what the hell was wrong with Zac? When did he become his brother’s keeper? As if I needed my scrub little brother watching me. I just needed to go to the bathroom for my own reasons and none of them had anything to do with Zac. I stepped into the bathroom, listening carefully for any noises inside the stalls. I went into a stall and locked the door tight. I then hung my backpack on the back of the door before dropping to my knees to see if I could see any feet. Once I was sure that there was no one in the bathroom, I reached down into my boxers and fished out one of the many folds. I hated to snort Meth, but this was an unavoidable situation. There was no way I could fire up some Meth without getting caught.
I carefully crushed the rocks between my fingers without unfolding the slick magazine pages. I pinched them until I could tell they were pulverized, perfect for snorting. The only problem was that now I’d have to stick this fold in my pocket. Or snort all of it. But that was not an option since I would have no way to burn any of my energy since we were getting on another plane in a few minutes. As I laid the piece of paper out flat, the white, slightly translucent powder glowed in front of me. I was always amazed that something that looked so much like simple sugar held the secret to my success.
And it’s not like I can’t do it without the Meth, but the Meth just made it so much easier, so much more pleasant. Being a rock star is a lot of really, really excruciatingly boring work. I mean, recording is a lot of doing and redoing the same 30 seconds of a song. Photo sessions that went on and on and on. And the interminable meet and greets. Having to hug and shake hands with hysterical girls, their adrenaline giving them a basic smell that no amount of perfume could cover… And the screaming was often more than I could take. But with some of Rick’s baby girl crystal flowing through my veins all of it seemed so much easier to take.
The only thing that I truly hated was how badly the Meth made my nose burn. I sat on the toilet sniffing, my eyes watering. I quickly opened my bottle of water, dipping my finger in the water, dripping the cool liquid into my nostrils. I sniffed again pulling as much of the water up into my burning sinuses as possible. As the Meth began to drip down my throat, I pulled a face. Meth tastes like hell. That is why I prefer to smoke it. I fished in my pocket until I found the Listerine breath strips and stuck one on my tongue. My mouth was the Sahara. I hurriedly gathered all my stuff together and stepped out of the bathroom, still empty. I stepped over to the sink and washed my hands, splashing the cool water on my face. My pupils were contracting, the whites already shockingly bloodshot. The door squeaked open. My eyes moved over to see my dad standing in the open door. “Come on son, it’s time to get on the connecting flight.”
“I’m coming.” I answered. My voice sounded harsh and choked. A look of sincere concern crossed his face. “I just needed a few minutes to myself.”
"Tay, I know how close you and Trinette are.” Dad said as he walked towards me. “But, we have to be strong for her. She’s been through a sort of hell that we can’t understand.”
“I know.” I said as he stepped up next to me.
“Still, it’s okay to cry about it.” He said putting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little tapped out… Do you need some of your pills? You know, Mom has some of your Xanax in her bag…”
“No, I’ll be okay.” I said smiling sadly. “No panic attack coming on. I’m just… I’m kind of… Wow, this is the hardest thing ever. I was just thinking about what I wish I could do to the guy who hurt her and it scares me.”
“Why does it scare you?” Dad asked.
“Because, I never thought I’d be capable of murderous feelings and yet, I want to kill this guy.” I said. I watched as a look of understanding slid onto my father’s face. Once again, I had found the perfect words to explain my mood, explain why I was tenser than I probably should be. I had become the world’s best liar since I started using Meth as more than just a recreational drug. “I mean, if he had hurt Jess or Avie or Zo… I don’t think there is any one thing in this world that could persuade me not to kill. Even the threat of eternal damnation wouldn’t be enough.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” My dad said as he hugged me. “Tay,” he said placing his hand on my forehead. “You are really, really moist. Are you feeling okay?"
“Yeah, I’m just a little stressed out…” I said trying to smile. “I just don’t know what to think.”
“I know son.” My dad said guiding me back towards where my family stood waiting for me. “I think maybe we should have a quick prayer of thanks for our health and to ask for God’s blessing on Trinette and for understanding…”
I rolled my eyes as my family all bowed their head and my father led them in prayer. Prayer wasn’t what we needed. What we needed was to just move forward, to get to Salt Lake. I looked around at the bowed blonde heads. Zac’s eyes weren’t closed like the rest of my family. He was closely watching me, watching my every move. I raised an eyebrow at him. He raised his eyebrows back at me. He then narrowed his eyes at me, seeming to size me up. As I watched him, Zac reached up and rubbed at the end of his nose and then nodded towards me. I rubbed my nose and sniffed, feeling the familiar burn of crystal in my sinuses. I pulled my hand away and noticed a smudge of white there. I rubbed my nose again, sniffling deeply. The burn made my eyes water, so I sniffled again. Zac watched me so closely I could literally feel the weight of his stare on me. My dad closed his prayer and everyone started milling around.
“Tay…” Zac said as he walked over to where I stood. “What is going on?”
“I don’t want to hear it and I don’t want to talk to you about anything right now.” I said knowing exactly what he was going to say.
“Tay, I just want to know what is wrong.” Zac continued.
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” I snapped. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me… Oh wait, let me think. My best friend in the entire world is lying in a hospital bed, her face demolished, her innocence stolen… What in the hell could be wrong with me?” I turned and stalked off. Again, I had come up with the perfect lie, the perfect cover up for my hateful and irrational behavior. I mean, I was worried about Trinette. I was actually sick with the idea of what had happened to her…
“What is your problem?” Zac said jogging to keep up with me. Zac may be bigger than me, but I still have longer legs.
“I have no problem, do you have a problem?” I asked stopping at the gate. I could feel my tenuous grip on my anger slipping through my fingers. “Why have you been watching me so closely all day? What? What do you want from me?”
“I just want to know that you’re okay.” Zac said watching me closely. “I just need to know that you aren’t doing something that could hurt…”
“Hurt what? Your career?” I asked angrily. The hurt in Zac’s eyes was real and immediate. I regretted what I said before it was even out of my mouth, if that were possible.
“You know what?” Zac asked anger quickly replacing his hurt. “Forget I said a thing… You just keep on visiting Richie…”
“What do you know about Richie?” I demanded.
“Tay, I’m not dumb.” He said running his fingers through his wavy hair. “I know what Richie sells out of his kitchen. And I know that you used to go there fairly often. You seem to forget that Tulsa is a small town. And the talk of the town will be the talk of the town…”
“Whatever, you don’t know anything.” I said turning away from him, watching as the rest of our family caught up with us.
“Fine,” Zac said slumping into a chair. “But when you get busted… And it will happen… Don’t ever say that I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t get busted.” I said under my breath. At this moment, if I could have gotten my hands on Richie, I would have beaten him down. How else did Zac know if Richie hadn’t been talking? I paid Richie well for his silence and damn, if he had sold me out. I was going to have to find another dealer.
Zac
I had only suspected that Taylor had started visiting Richie Garwood. But, now, I was pretty sure that he was one of Richie’s regular customers. So, how do I let mom and dad know what is going on Taylor’s life without totally ratting him out? I wanted to walk up to my mom and tell her to check out what is down the front of Tay’s briefs, but…
When I walked onto the plane, Taylor had strategically sat on the very back row of our possible seats. Jamming his long, long legs into the window seat with Zoë and Mac in the seats next to him. I laughed when I noticed how crammed in he was. When I slid into my seat, I realized that it had been a long time since any of us had ridden in coach. And the last time I had been in a coach seat, I had been a scrub 11 year old. Now I was 16 and much too tall to be crammed in like this. I leaned my seat back and peeked at Taylor sitting and reading to Zoë. He was so pale with a light sheen of sweat on his skin.
As the flight attendant passed him, he stopped her. I watched how he smiled at her, giving her the “I’m-really-shy” look. She stood listening to whatever he was saying. At first, her posture was rigid and unforgiving. She shook her head no. I’m pretty sure if I could see her face, she’d have a look of annoyance pasted across her features. A small crooked smile played across his face and he brought his eyebrows together and started talking with hands, obviously explaining something. Zoë was watching him very, very closely. He reached out and grabbed her arm, squeezing. The fight attendant’s posture began to soften. Soon, she had her elbow on the row in front of Taylor. She threw her head back and I could hear her soft bell like laughter. She turned and headed back towards the front of the plane a beautiful smile on her lips.
I watched as she stepped into the galley and came back out with three bottles of water. She stopped in front of Taylor’s row again and handed each of my siblings a bottle of ice-cold water. She turned and headed in my direction again.
"Excuse me?” I said reaching out to stop the flight attendant. She turned to me, her smile still shining on her beautiful face from her recent “Taylor encounter.” I read her nametag, Breezy… What a fitting name for such a gorgeous woman. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining, why, oh why, did Taylor have this effect on all women? “Breezy, would it possible for me to get a drink?”
“No drinks before take off.” She said the smile faltering.
“I know, but I’m used to flying in first class and we can get drinks…” I said smiling, trying to get the patented Taylor Hanson half smile to cooperate with my lips.
“Well, you’re not in first class are you?” She asked. “I’ll be around with drinks right after takeoff.”
“But, you just…”
“Well, he and his companions aren’t feeling well.” She said smiling and looking over her shoulder. “They have pretty extreme motion sickness and they need to take something for it. I’ll be around with drinks in a few minutes.”
What the hell? Taylor stealing my illnesses?
Trinette
The human mind is an amazing thing. I know that I can’t open my eyes. But every time I wake up or more appropriately surface slightly from my medicated hazes, I try to force my eyes open. I can feel that most of the truly restrictive bandages have been removed. The doctor had explained yesterday, the thick bandages would be removed so that my skin can breathe. I found that I loved the feeling of free flowing air on my skin. And the ice packs were so much more effective against bare skin. “Momma.” I mumbled.
“Your mother went home to change her clothing and take a shower and hopefully get a little sleep.” The soft honey voice said close to my ear. “Can I get something for you?”
“I want to open my eyes.” I said around my new teeth.
“Well, sweetie, let me see what we can do about your eyes.” She said. I could hear her moving around the room. Then I felt her hands on my face smoothing something cool over my eyes. “Now let me know if this hurts, okay?”
"Okay.” I said loving the feeling of actual fingers on my flesh. I was so sick of the feel of latex gloves. “What day is it?”
“Why, it’s Sunday, baby. Very early Sunday morning.” The soft voice said again. As she leaned across me, I breathed deeply loving the clean smell of her flesh. Loving the absolute contrast of the hospital smell emanating from this woman. She smelled like home cooked meals and apple shampoo and something more. She smelled like comfort. “Your eyes are practically sealed with the tears oozing out. But, I think we can at least get your right eye unsealed enough…”
“Aunt Diana?”
"Yes baby?” The voice breathed again.
“What time is it?” I asked quietly, my fingers fumbling for my Morphine button. Suddenly the button was pressed into my hand by cool, moist fingers.
“It’s 3:30 in the morning.” Diana said.
“Did everyone come with you?” I asked. I could feel the hot tears collecting behind my sealed eyelids, but they seemed to be stuck, unable to go anywhere.
"Yes, they are all at your house.” She said as she continued to clean my eye. “I came to the hospital last night when we got in and your mother was practically falling out of her chair with exhaustion. So, I sat with her a while and then I sent her home. I’ve sat up with you since. The boys’ll be here sometime tomorrow morning.” Suddenly, the level of light changed in my right eye. When I realized I could open my eye, I looked up at the face of my angel. My beautiful Aunt Diana. When my eye rested on her, a huge smile crossed her face. I started to cry. “Oh Trinette, honey, don’t cry.”
“I love you so much.” I said as she gathered me as gently as she could into her arms. I leaned my head on her shoulder and just cried. Her hands were gentle in my hair and on my shoulders. Her soft, soothing, non-sounds were musical to my ears. She was calm and loving, not tight and scared like my mother. I knew my mother loved me, but I think this was all so overwhelming for her. As my tears tapered off, she gently laid me back against the pillows. As I pulled away, I noticed that there were small spots of blood where I had rested against her. “I bled on you.”
She looked down and laughed. “So you did. Well, that’s okay baby. Clothes wash.” She said smoothing back my hair off my forehead.
“Aunt Diana, if I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth.”
“Of course I will. I would never lie to you.” She said picking up the cotton balls and purified water again. She began to work on my other eye, being even gentler, avoiding the stitches that were holding my eyebrow together.
“How do I look?” I asked watching her move in and out of my field of vision as she cleaned my eye.
“You look a little beat up, but all in all…” she said smiling.
“That isn’t true, I’m not just a little beat up. Or all the kids would be coming to see me.” I said noticing that her face sagged almost imperceptibly at my comment.
“Well, your face is very swollen and bruised.” Diana said sitting on the side of the bed next to me. “I want to give you a couple more days to heal before…”
“Do you have a mirror?” I asked.
“No, I don’t.” She said smiling.
“Is it so bad that I can’t see myself?” I asked. “I mean, my caps are in place, I shouldn’t look too bad…”
“Do you want to go into the bathroom and see yourself?” She asked. I nodded my head mutely. I had been up and about, being led like the blind around the hospital. She very, very gently placed her arm across my back and helped me upright. “Just move slowly, there’s no hurry.” She said as she pulled the IV along behind her. “Now, don’t panic… Remember your face is quite swollen still.” She said as we stepped into the bathroom.
My eyes moved reluctantly up to the mirror over the sink. When I realized what I was seeing was my face, I felt my knees collapse beneath me. Diana’s arm was strong and sure behind me. “Oh God, is that really me?”
Taylor
Our whole family in Aunt Sarah’s small house is just a level of insanity that no one should ever have to go through. Sarah and Trinette live in a tiny two-bedroom house with only one bathroom. Finding any sort of privacy is totally out of the question. And having a new growth on my ass the exact size and shape of Zac hasn’t helped at all. Every time I turned around, Zac was either watching me closely or about 2 steps behind me. His constant dogging was more annoying than Zoë when she was throwing a colossal tantrum. Finally, when Zac went into the bathroom to take a shower, I managed to slip out the back door to go on a walk. I was just barely clinging to any sort of sanity; I needed something, anything to take the edge off. I walked down the block until I came upon an elementary school. I slowly walked around to the back of the school and sat on a swing. I pulled out my small glass pipe, poured some crystal into the bowl and pulled out my lighter. After a quick look around me, I fired up. I smoked the entire bowl myself, but hey, I had no clue when I would get to smoke again. So…
The return trip to Sarah’s house was much quicker. I could feel my heart beating too fast and loved the feeling. I only really felt alive when my heart was racing along. The world was so sharp and clean through my new eyes. I had so much energy. Each time I smoked, I felt like I was standing onstage in front of thousands of adoring girls. I could do or be whatever I wanted. Maybe later, Ike, Zac and I could take the kids out for a quick hike. When I walked back in the kitchen, Zac practically climbed down my throat questioning where I’d been, what I’d been doing. He needed to chill out or I was going to kill him.
By the time we climbed into Aunt Sarah’s car to go to the hospital, Dad had pretty much given up the idea of getting the little ones dressed and ready for the day. I predicted that when we came home from the hospital, the house was going to be a disaster area, the kids would still be in their pajamas and the only food served would be cereal. The kids were totally wound up, excited to be in Utah, excited to see Aunt Sarah and Trinette, excited by the change of scenery. I think unless we sent Mom home, Dad would be a total mess. He would need a vacation.
Walking into the hospital with my brothers, I was acutely aware of the various stares we were garnering. None of us had had the presence of mind to put baseball caps on. So, now we were walking into a hospital lobby filled with young girls. Why would there be so many young girls just standing around in the front lobby of a hospital?
“Dang, did this get leaked to the Internet already?” Zac asked lowering his head. Trying to be unobtrusive and shrink into himself. But with all of his long hair, it was hard to hide.
“I hope not.” Isaac said watching the girls very, very closely. “That’s all trip needs, a scene with some random teenies while she’s in the hospital.”
Aunt Sarah looked over to the girls standing in a loose group, her eyes began to shine unnaturally and a sadness fell over her features so much like my mothers. “Those aren’t just random girls, they’re Trinette’s friends from work.” Slowly, one by one, they moved forward, hugging Sarah. None of them would make any sort of eye contact. As the girls stepped into her arms, Sarah began to smile, a soft, sad smile. “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh Mrs. Wallace…” A girl with enormous green eyes started and stopped, overcome with emotions.
As I watched each of the girls struggle with overwhelming emotion, I felt a sudden rush of… something. It wasn’t really adrenaline, but the precursor to adrenaline. That certain, indefinable lift I feel just before a show. I really do love the fans… If for no other reason than this feeling, this feeling that I am a God. And really, this being surrounded by so many raw and exposed emotions was really like a drug to me. I know that Zac and Ike don’t like the screaming girls. I know that the hysterical and crying girls really do bother them. But I love it. I love the reaction. I love the primal, basic smell these women give off. And, even though these girls weren’t here to see me, their effect on me was the same.
“Monica, honey, she’s going to be alright.” Sarah said enveloping her in an enormous hug. “Are you going to come upstairs with us? Coming up to see Trinette?
“No, we just want to give her these.” Another girl said holding an enormous vase of gorgeous, long-stemmed, red roses.
“I think she’d be happy to see you.” Aunt Sarah said accepting the offered vase.
“I just… I feel so much like it’s my fault.” Monica said tears making her eyes glint an emerald green. “If I hadn’t been so eager to leave early…”
“Monica, no one could have predicted what was going to happen.” Sarah said as the girl dissolved into sobs.
I was standing closest to her, so I put my arms around her shoulders. “Shh… Really, it’s going to be alright.” I said in my most reassuring voice. I was the best at calming the hysterical girls. I was the one that knew what to say to stop the most hysterical girls. As her sniffles tapered off, I tipped her face up towards mine and wiped the tears off of her cheeks. While Sarah, Isaac and Zac chatted with the other 7 girls, I stood holding the sobbing girl. “Monica… It’s Monica, right?” She nodded mutely, clinging to me. “She’s alive and that is the most important thing. I mean, it sucks that it happened, but horrible random things happen all the time.”
“I know, but… I just feel so guilty.” She said her sobs tapering off.
“Well, so do I.” I said smoothing her hair. “I feel like I should have been here.”
"Th..thanks.” She stuttered. “You know, Trip talked about you all the time, but it never seemed like you were real.”
“What? Why not?” I asked.
“Because, you were just the cousins… The boys she talked about all the time.” Monica said her voice catching. “And one day, when your video came on the television. I sat and watched it and I just couldn’t make the boys singing on the screen match the boys in the stories she told. I mean, some of the things you guys did…”
“I know.” I said smiling softly. I was totally enjoying the feeling of her soft skin under my hands. “All of our friends laugh when they see us in interviews, trying to act all slick, cause they know it is all a lie.”
“And you know what?” Monica said looking into my eyes. She was so beautiful; her lips were the most perfect heart shape and a color red that didn’t need lipstick to beg for kissing. “I’m sure you’ve heard this before… But you and Trinette look astoundingly alike.”
“I know and really, no one in our family will let me forget it.” I said rolling my eyes.
“How long are you going to be in Salt Lake?” She asked, her eyes dropping.
“I really don’t know.” I said shrugging.
“Well, if you’re here for a while, you ought to call me and we can go do something.” She said looking up at me through her eyelashes. “I mean all of us could go out…”
“I’d really like that.” I said shaking my head. “Why don’t you come up to the room with us?”
“No, I’m actually going to Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves to finish cleaning up.” Monica said new tears flooding her eyes. “I just don’t know if I can work there anymore.”
Trinette
Aunt Diana sat next to me and read quietly from the Bible. I think she was reading from the book of Job. Her soft voice reading this story of a man who was ultimately tested and persevered was probably supposed to make me feel better, help me see that my current situation was not as bad as all that. But to be honest, it wasn’t comforting in the least… At least for me.
But, I think it was very comforting to her. Since she had arrived yesterday evening to sit with me, allowing my mother to go home to shower and sleep, she had been talking to me softly, singing sweet songs of faith, asking me constantly if she could do anything for me. But since the surgery on my mouth the day before to fix my teeth, all I really wanted was the morphine running into my vein and a reassuring touch.
What was comforting was her. Her existence and presence filling me with a sense that everything would be all right. I discovered what I loved most about her was the way she smelled. She smelled like I imagined clean smelled. And she smelled like home. And not my home here in Utah, but like my real home. She smelled like the wide, blue Oklahoma sky. I imagined that instead of using a blow dryer on her hair, she just wandered the wind-swept prairies… Her hair blowing wild… In my mind’s eye, I could see her standing on the crest of a hill in her overall with a tie-dyed t-shirt underneath, a baby on her hip and her long, blonde hair whipping in the wind, blowing behind her, wrapping itself around her, creating a halo…
Her rough hand was gently rubbing my arm above the soft cast, reassuring me that she was still there for me. Suddenly, I realized she has stopped reading. A silence had descended on the room that was total and unsettling. I found that I missed the ebb and flow of her words, the gentle rise and fall of her voice. I turned my head towards where she was sitting and opened my one good eye. Diana was watching me closely, unshed tears standing in her eyes. I swam up through the haze of the Morphine. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Diana
Trinette asking me what was wrong totally caught me off guard. How do I answer that? Do I tell her that her face that was once so beautiful now looks like a badly assembled puzzle? She looks like one of those bizarre collages the fans make of Taylors face out of different pictures, only with chunks lost or missing. Do I tell her that right now she looks like my worst nightmare? Do I tell her that she looks like the visions I have of Taylor after a car crash? Can I tell her that by looking at her face I see the face of my son destroyed? Is it fair to tell her that no matter how expert or amazing her plastic surgeon was, she will never look like her cousin again? I wish I could take my hands and pass them over the mutilated flesh and bone and have all of it just magically meld back together. Perfect. Flawless. Without blemish. She is a rose, plucked too soon, then pulled apart leaf by leaf, then someone decided to piece it back together, but it is never the same. But mostly I see the beauty and innocence of the lives my sister and I created destroyed.
When I look at Taylor, I see the limitless possibility of his enormous talent. But I also see he is a young man poised on the edge. But not just any edge. I see him balancing perilously on the edge of a drop that could destroy him. And I know the reason he is precipitously walking this razor’s edge has a lot to do with me and what I expect from him. But actually, I think the pressure he feels is much more about what he expects from himself. I think I’ve told him a million times if it’s too much he can just stop. From the beginning, whenever I thought he was about to collapse, he somehow found the reserves to go on. It was phenomenal the way he would be a zombie one moment and the next be so on, he had 20,000 girls in the palm of his hand.
But at what cost?
I had watched him give and give and give until I thought he had gone to the very end of everything. In the past he had given so much, on more than one occasion that when we retreated back to the bus, he was just a shell. I had seen him literally lay on the couch in front of a movie, his body a mass of twitching muscles, a slick sheen of sweat standing out on his forehead. will never forget the day he handed me his soaked through t-shirt after a concert and I noticed that there was a distinctly pink tint to it. He was so committed to giving his all; he had literally sweat blood.
I think one of the worst things about all of this was when I read a bad review of a show. How could anyone watch these three boys and not see how huge all of this was? How could they not see how totally my sons loved to perform? How much they wanted to give to the audience? Really, all of this seemed so important just 48 hours ago, but now…
Well, now I was faced with a mother’s darkest fear. And even if Trinette weren’t my own child, she was possessed of so many of my second born child’s’ traits. I know it drives Taylor crazy to be compared to Trinette, but really, it was a natural comparison. They had the exact same color hair and eyes. They both had the most perfectly pert noses. The sweetest heart shaped lips. A jaw that was strong with a dimple in the center of their chin. They both smiled shyly and looked through their eyelashes in the most charming way. And they both had the best laughs. The biggest difference would probably be that Trinette couldn’t carry a tune to save her soul. But that never mattered, she didn’t need to sing. Taylor, on the other hand, had to sing. He could never live without it.
“Aunt Diana?” Trinette said her voice worried. “Is something wrong?”
“No baby, everything’s fine.” I soothed. It was killing me to see Taylor’s eyes through such swollen and battered eyelids.
“My mouth really hurts.” She said quietly.
“I know. I wish I could do something to make you feel better.” I said smiling softly at her.
“Can you sing to me?” She asked.
“What would you like me to sing?” I asked watching as her face contorted in pain. “Where do you hurt baby?”
“All over.” She said her eyes squinching shut. “I hurt everywhere…”
“I’m so sorry this had to happen to you.” I said smoothing my hand over her forehead. The stitches on her forehead were tiny and tight, set into her skin in such a way that they would leave barely any scar. But the scar would be there nonetheless. The scars of this experience were set for life. “What can I sing for you?”
“Can you sing Amazing Grace?” She said quietly, so quietly. “That song will forever remind me of home…”
“Of course.” I smiled at her, even though her eyes were closed. I cleared my throat once and began to sing. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound/ That saved a wretch like me/ I once was lost but now am found/ Was blind but now I see.”
Taylor
"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear/ And grace my fears relieved/ How precious did that grace appear/ The hour I first believed." I could hear my mother singing the familiar words of Trinette's favorite hymn. I stopped in front of the closed door, not sure if I could step into that room, not sure how this was going to change me, change everything...
Aunt Sarah slowly opened the door, so as not to disturb my mom and Trinette. My mother's eyes lifted as she started the second verse, moving from my aunt to Ike to Zac to me. When her eyes locked with mine, the tears pooled around along her eyelashes shimmered before sliding down her cheeks. I watched as her mouth formed the familiar words.
I have probably heard that song 10,000 times in my life. My mother sang it everyday. She sang it when she was joyful, she sang it when she was sad, she sang it to put us to sleep, to wake us up. It was a song that meant home. Her eyes were locked on mine, boring into mine. As her tears continued to flow, I realized that she was singing to me, not to Trinette. All the hope and sorrow of the song poured into my very soul. And in her eyes I could see the absolute and total love I knew she felt for me. I could physically feel her love wrapping around me with the words. As she sang the last words, I was close to crying myself.
"Thank you." Trinette sighed. My mother's eyes dropped from me to Trinette. I followed her eyes down. Looking at Trinette for the first time was shocking and heartbreaking. She lay on the bed broken. The pain etched on her face, a strange symphony of bruises and stitches. Both of her arms had wire cages around them. The portion of her legs I could see below her gown appeared to be the only part of her body that wasn’t bruised or scratched or broken.
We stood in stunned silence, Ike, Zac and I. We just stood there with our mouths hanging open. There was nothing to be done or said to make this moment better. I closed my eyes and said a quick silent prayer that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. When I opened my eyes, I noticed that my mother and aunt were watching the three of us closely, very closely. I think they were gauging how long they should wait before telling Trinette we were there. I don’t think it would have done her morale any good to wake up and see her three cousins standing over her, their mouths hanging open. Ike had tears streaming down his cheeks, Zac had a look of thunder in his eyes and I just felt lost. How did this happen? Who could do something this horrible to her?
“Hey honey,” Aunt Sarah said stepping up to Trip’s bedside. “I ran into the girls from the shop in the lobby, look what they brought you.”
Trinette painfully turned her head toward the sound of her mother’s voice. I almost gasped when I saw how truly ripped up her face was. But I could see that one eye was partially opened and she didn’t need to know how truly horrible she looked. “Hi Mommy.” She said her voice soft and quiet and horribly muted by the wires and such holding her new teeth in and her jaw in place. “Those are gorgeous.”
“And, look who else I ran into.” Sarah said moving just enough that she was no longer blocking Trip’s limited sightline. “The boys are here to see you.”
I watched as her eyes moved slowly over Isaac. “Hey Ike, what’s the up?” She said trying to smile with her eyes since her lips were to swollen.
"Trip.” He said the tears choking him. He leaned down and gave her a hug. “I am so sorry this happened.”
“Me too.” She said wincing as he lay her back against the pillows.
“I love you so much.” Ike said gripping her fingers in his hand.
“I love you too.” She said her eyes falling on Zac as he walked around the end of the bed. He stopped next to my mom who grabbed his hand. “Aw Scrub, don’t cry.”
“Trippy…” Zac said as sat on the bed next to my mom, gripping the fingers of her other hand. “I promise you this, I will kill whoever did this to you.”
“Zac, don’t say that…” Trinette started.
“No, I mean it. I’ll kill him.” Zac said.
“Well, I’d rather not come and visit you in jail.” Trinette said wresting her fingers from his grip and smoothing the back of her fingers along his cheek. It was such a simple gesture, but so pure in it’s love. “Scrub, I truly love you.”
“I love you too.” Zac said kissing her fingers. “And I always will.”
There was silence in the room as her she moved her head slowly over to where I stood. Suddenly, her eyes caught mine. They were the exact color and shape of mine, but they were so haunted. She had always been so there. She had always been right on the surface, an open book. But she seemed so wary, so hidden. But I could see somewhere just below the surface, she was still there.
As our eyes locked, tears that hadn’t been there while she was talking to Isaac and Zac formed. I opened my mouth to say something, to tell her I loved her, to tell her I was sorry she had to go through this. But I had the distinct feeling she was looking inside of me. She could see everything. She could see straight into my soul, see the hatred and ugliness there. I felt my heartbeat speed up even more than it had been just moments before. I blinked my eyes knowing how dilated and bloodshot they must be. “I… Tr…” I stammered. I felt the unwanted heat from a blush moving up my cheeks.
I reached up and moved my hands over my sweaty forehead. I stepped forward, just one step closer to her bed. She cringed back away. Her enormous eyes never leaving my eyes, in fact, I don’t think she had blinked since she had turned her head towards me. I opened my mouth again to say something and watched as the very last little bit of Trinette retreated.
She closed her eyes and turned her head away from me. “I can’t…” She mumbled.
“Trinette, what’s wrong?” My mom asked leaning in close.
“It’s his eyes, I can’t look at them.” She wailed. “They are just like… Just like…”
“Trinette, it’s just Taylor.” Aunt Sarah said pressing the button on the top of a remote resting on Trinette’s chest.
“I can’t look at him.” She said again putting her hands up over her eyes. Both my mother and my aunt lunged for her hands wanting to stop them before they dug into the stitches in her eyelids. “Mommy, make him leave.”
“Sweetheart, he came a long way to see you.” Aunt Sarah said stroking her hair.
“No…” Trinette moaned opening her eyes and looking at me again.
“Honey, he’s not the man who hurt you.”
“Get out!” Trip yelled as much as she could with her mouth wired shut. “Get away from me, you bastard.”
“I’m sorry.” I said not knowing what I was sorry about.
“Fuck you!” Trinette yelled sitting up in bed and striking out, knocking the vase full of flowers to the floor with a tremendous crash.
“I’m so sorry…” I said as I grabbed the handle to the door. “I’m sorry.” I said one last time as I bolted from the room.
Trinette
I watched Diana run out of the room, following Taylor and felt intense guilt wash over me. But really, it isn’t my fault. When I first looked into Taylor’s eyes, I saw someone as scared and lost as me. But, as I continued to look at him there was something else. He was someone standing on the edge of darkness. A darkness so complete and total, it allowed people to become the man who attacked me. In my heart of hearts, I knew Taylor could never hurt anyone.
And yet…
Taylor’s new darkness scared me. I knew it wasn’t Taylor who hurt me. I knew that man wasn’t Tay. But the longer I looked into his eyes, I couldn’t stop thinking how eerily similar their eyes were. And not just the color. His eyes were so blood shot and red-rimmed. Even as he stared at me, his eyes were jumpy and vacant. Suddenly, I realized Taylor may be capable of the things done to me or other things equally as bad.
I wanted to jump out of the bed and scratch Taylor’s eyes out. Or just go and hide somewhere. If the truth be told, all I really wanted to do was to go home and lay in my bed in the basement and not think about anything. But as I lay there with my eyes closed, it occurred to me that not only did all my friends and family know I was here, but so did my attacker.
“Trip? Are you okay?” Isaac asked. When his hand landed on my leg, I almost jumped out of my skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you? Can I get anything for you?”
“I don’t know.” I said. I began to sob as the words he had hissed into my ears as he hurt me came back to me. He had promised he would come back to get me again. He had laughed that there was nowhere for me to hide. And he had to know I was in the hospital, he had to know it…
Suddenly, I needed to be gone. I wanted to be as far away as possible. I needed to get out of the bed. I needed out the room. I needed to get away, far away. I sat up and started pulling out my IV’s. I had to get out, away. As I tried to get out of the bed, Zac, Ike and my mother tried to hold me down. “No, let me go…” I said pushing against them. “I have to get out…”
“Trinette, you’re going to hurt yourself.” My mother said trying to stop me from pulling the IV out. She was unsuccessful. As the tube slid out of my arm, blood began to run down my arm. “You’re bleeding… Stop honey.”
“No, let me up.” I said pushing off of Zac. “He knows where I am. I have to get out…”
“Of course Taylor knows where you are.” My mother said trying to pull me back onto the bed.
“No, Mom, not Taylor.” I said as I finally got free from my mother. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shoved Zac with all my might. He fell off the side of the bed.
“Trinette, what is wrong with you?” My mother asked angrily. “How could you treat him like that?”
“He looks so much like… Like him.” I sobbed out. “There’s something wrong with Taylor.”
“No, there isn’t anything wrong with Taylor.” Isaac said quietly.
“No, he isn’t right.” I said stepping back another step as Isaac stepped towards me.
“Trip, you are really bleeding.” Zac said. “Why don’t you come and lay back down?”
I looked to where I had pulled out my IV and saw the blood streaming down my hand and dripping off my fingers. The blood was splashing onto my feet and pooling in my open hand. But there was so much blood… Where was it coming from?
Isaac
I stood there with my mouth open. Watching as blood flowed out of where Trip had just ripped her IV out. But what was even more alarming was the blood running down her legs and dripping onto the floor with a distinct plopping sound. It almost sounded like the blood was raining out of her. As she moved, her hospital gown began to stick to her legs and stomach.
"I… I don't feel well." Trinette said putting her hand to her forehead, smearing blood across her face. "I think I'm going to pass…"
As her knees began to buckle under her, Zac grabbed her around the waist. "Trip, let's get you back in bed…"
"Zac, I don't want to stay here." She said putting her arm across Zac's shoulder. "I don't think I can stay here at all anymore."
"We'll get you a new room." Aunt Sarah said rushing around to a heavily bleeding Trinette. “Baby, you need to sit down.”
“Mama?” She moaned as Zac eased her onto the bed. “Why?”
“Why what?” Aunt Sarah said a tight look in her eyes as the blood rushed out of Trinette. The blood was dark red and thick coating her legs. “I’m going to get the nurse, you stay in bed. Isaac, watch that she stays in bed…”
I watched as Aunt Sarah rushed out the door, tears just beginning to fall. I sat on the edge of the bed and helped Zac get Trinette’s legs onto the bed. I covered her bloody legs, trying not to notice that the blood had a very substantive look to it. I was beginning to worry that she was bleeding too heavily, cause her whole body began to quake as though she were freezing. “Trinette, just relax.” I said tucking the thin hospital blanket around her. “Shh…”
“Ike?” She asked. I was sure her teeth would be chattering if they weren’t wired shut.
“What?” I asked softly pushing her hair off her face. She was literally quaking all over and yet, she had a slick sheen of sweat covering her face.
“Why?” That single word was just such a loaded question. I didn’t know what she wanted from me. Did she want me to tell her that there really was a deeper meaning to the random and horrible violence that had been done to her? Did she want me to tell her it didn’t happen?
“Why, what?” Zac asked. He had a look of such huge heartbreak on his face and blood on his cheek and t-shirt from where she had settled her arm over his shoulder.
“Why me?” She sobbed.
Diana
"Taylor, come back!" I called as his back disappeared around the corner. "Taylor?" I called as I hurried down the hall. As I rounded the corner, I practically slammed into him. "Tay, baby, what's wrong?"
"Other than the obvious?" He snorted derisively. "I wish you people would quit asking me that?"
"What?" I asked unsure of where all of his anger was coming from.
"You and Dad and Ike and Zac have all asked me what's wrong." He spat.
"Taylor we're your family, not "you people"." I said reaching out to pull him into a hug.
"Mom, please, don't touch me." Taylor said backing away. His jumpiness and unwillingness to be touched was so bizarre to me. But it also appeared to be becoming the norm. I again found myself wondering what was going wrong? When had he veered off course?
"If I have to tell you three to stop running through the house again…" I threatened. It had been a very, very long day. All of my children had been truly awful all day. Not the least of which was Taylor. My angel had been a non-stop pain all day long. He was so wound up and just obnoxious above and beyond the call of normal. If he screamed one more time I was going to have to… I didn’t know what exactly, but I was past the point of annoyance.
“Sorry Mom,” Taylor panted as he skidded to a stop in front of me. Isaac had to pull up short to avoid knocking him down. Unfortunately, Zac’s stopping power wasn’t what Ike’s was. He slammed into the back of Ike’s legs, causing Ike to smash into Taylor, who in turn fell into me.
“My hell!” I yelled as I staggered back under the weight of Taylor and the heavily sleeping Mackenzie. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I watched as the eyes of my 3 oldest grew wider than I thought possible.
“Mom, you said a bad word.” Zac breathed an almost reverent tone to his voice.
“That’s it! All of you outside, now!” I said rubbing my eyes.
“But, Mom…” Isaac began his petulant whine just grating on my last nerve.
“No, but’s,” I said marching them towards the backdoor. “I want the three of you to play outside until I call you in for dinner.”
I shooed them out and laid my chubby sleeping baby in the playpen to start that evening’s meal. As I stood at the sink peeling potatoes, I watched as they played 3-goal soccer. Soon, the distinct sounds of laughter came wafting through the open window, carried on the early evening breeze.
I heard the garage door open as Jessica put the finishing touches on the table. Walker stepped into the kitchen, first kissing Jessica on the forehead before kissing me. “How was your day?” He asked stealing a slice of raw potato off the plate. I slapped at his hand.
“Your sons…” I answered shaking my head as he headed up the stairs to our room.
“How come they’re my sons when they’re bad?” He called down the stairs laughing.
I smiled as I mixed up a new gallon of cherry Kool-Aid, knowing that would just make Taylor’s day. Taylor and Zac were playing keep away from Isaac. Tossing the soccer ball back and forth over Ike’s head, Taylor’s infectious giggle filtering in through the open window.
I watched as the older and taller Isaac fruitlessly chased his younger, smaller, faster brother around and around flowing yet again a pattern established fairly early. Isaac would excitedly start some new project and he would work at, study it, practice it endlessly. It would become his main focus. And he would get good at it. Then Taylor would decide that whatever Ike was doing looked fun. He would try it once and immediately be good at it. Not that Isaac wasn’t, Taylor was just better, more natural.
Their singing was a perfect example. I found myself lost in memories from 5 years earlier. Isaac had always loved to sing. He sang pretty much constantly. When the opportunity to sing a solo during the Easter services came up, Isaac came home from Bible class excited. He sat at the piano and painstakingly learned the song, singing it over and over in his clear soprano. The afternoon of the audition, he was ready. He knew the song. He knew that the solo was his.
I sat in the back pew watching the auditions. I crossed my fingers and whispered a silent prayer, but as each child sang, I heaved a sigh of relief. The other kids were good, but I knew that Isaac was better, more than just better, superior. Isaac stepped up to the podium and sang. He sang like an angel, the words pouring out of him effortlessly. As he began to sing the chorus, a second voice joined him. A voice so pure and clear it raised goosebumps on my arms. The choir director turned to where Taylor stood. He was jumping up and down on a pew, his blonde hair all over the place, his mouth smudged with Oreo cookies and grape Kool-Aid, singing in perfect harmony with Isaac.
“Isaac, stop for a second,” Fran said. “Taylor, go up and sing with your brother.”
“But he doesn’t know the words…” Isaac protested. “He hasn’t even practiced.” He whined.
“I know the words.” Taylor mumbled as he climbed next to Isaac, his blue eyes barely peaking over the top of the wall around the choir stall. I met the blue eyes of my then 6-year-old angel and smiled. Fran motioned for the pianist to begin again. This time, Isaacs’s smooth voice was joined with the bell-clear voice of Taylor. Fran came back and sat next to me.
“Oh Diana, your son is so precious.” She gushed.
“Yes, Isaac is special. I said smiling reassuringly at my boys.
“Well, yes, he is. But Taylor is so, so… scrumptious.” She enthused. “I just want to eat him up.”
As they finished, Ike came running back to where we sat. The look of expectation almost more than I could bear, if he didn’t get this solo, it was going to break my heart.
He smiled at Fran, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “So?” He asked rocking back on his heels.
“Oh Isaac, you were wonderful.” She said giving him a quick hug.
“Does that mean I get to do the solo?” He asked a look of pure joy on his face.
"Well, yes and no,” she said smiling. I watched as my son literally deflated. She had said both what he wanted to hear and what he feared most in the same breath. “I think what I’d like to do is have you and Taylor sing a duet. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“Boys! Come in for dinner!” I called out the open window. Five years may have passed since that fateful solo, but Taylor was still the best at almost everything. His feet were almost flying over the too long grass. When I called to them, his sudden change in direction caused both Isaac and Zac to back peddle.
“That’s it!” Isaac called after Taylor. “I’m so going to get you!”
“Bet me!” Taylor called over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the house. He ran with abandon, taking joy in the freedom of speed. He was fast and getting faster as he came down the slight incline leading to the steps onto the back porch. He jumped onto the second step and then onto the deck. With a moment of perfect clarity, I saw he was hurtling towards me, towards the still closed sliding glass door.
“Taylor! Stop!” I yelled, but it was too late. I watched as he burst through the solid plate glass window. A look of surprise crossed his features before the blood obscured his face. “Taylor!”
He stopped short, “Mommy?”
“Oh baby!” I said as I hurried towards him and placed the towel in my hand over the cuts on his face.
“What happened…” He asked quietly as his knees when out from under him.
“Oh God.” Taylor moaned his hands flying up to his face.
I knelt beside Taylor taking my hand and gently applying pressure on what looked to be the worst of 4 or 5 cuts. “Can I get some help?” I called over my shoulder towards the nurse’s station. “Taylor, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Mommy, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what baby?” I asked watching enormous tears stand on his lashes.
“This,” Taylor said simply. “The highs are too high and the lows are below rock bottom… I can’t take this anymore.”
“I know,” I said hugging him to me. He left a bloody print on the chest of my light blue shirt.
“Mom, the things I do to get through the day are no longer helping.” He said tiredly. "I don’t know if they ever will again.”
“Taylor, you’ve always found the strength you needed.” I said stroking his hair, noticing a fairly long cut running up into his hair.
“Mom, Richie can’t fix everything.” He mumbled. Or at least I think that is what he mumbled.
“Maybe I can talk to your father. See if maybe there isn’t some way to take some time off.”
Taylor
I sighed deeply. Was she deliberately misunderstanding me? “Mom, it’s not that easy…”
“Son, if you need to stop… We’ll figure out a way for you to stop.” My mother said moving her hand from my face. “Oh Lord, you are really bleeding… Can I get some help?”
“I’m okay.” I said trying to push her hand away.
“Taylor, don’t be ridiculous, you are really, really bleeding.” My mom said pressing her hand over my eye again. “Well, at least the scar will be on the other side…”
“Somehow the symmetry of my scars doesn’t comfort me much.” I grumbled. Here I was pouring my heart out to her, confessing my sins and all she cared about was that I probably needed stitches. I watched as a nurse came around the corner and stopped.
“Can I help you?” She asked.
“Yes, my son slipped and hit his head.” My mother said moving her hand. “I think he may need stitches.”
“You aren’t wearing any gloves.” The nurse said rushing over to us. “Here, let me take over.” The nurse knelt in front of me, she reached into her pocket and quickly pulled on some latex gloves. “Wow, you are really bleeding…”
“It doesn’t feel that bad.” I said trying to move away from this new intrusion into my personal space.
“Well, you definitely need some stitches, cause seeing skull is not normal.” The young nurse said a smile on her face. She squinted as she looked closely at me. I watched as she quickly moved through all of the people she knew trying to put my face together with a name. Finally, realization seemed to dawn, but I could see by the way her eyes clouded over that she didn’t believe the name she connected with my face. “Do I know you? Or, I mean, should I know you?”
“No,” I said trying to look away from her. My eyes locked on my mother, begging her to save me. I was shocked to see how much blood was on her hands and clothing. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay, but dang, you look familiar.” The nurse said smiling at me. “Can you hold this to your head?