Nothing on TV. Big surprise. Was there ever anything on TV anymore? Answer: No. And he was stuck home, doing nothing. He had one older brother who moved out, who’d most likely be dropping by around 10:30 like he does every night, and one older brother out driving his car around town. There were kids all over the house, the youngest, Zoë, already in bed asleep. The second youngest, and the sibling older than him, Mackenzie and Avery, in the aforementioned order, were playing Chutes and Ladders again. Jessica, the next youngest after him, was sitting at the other end of the couch. Right on cue, older brother number one waltzed in the front door, and even better, the phone rang. No one moved.
“Zac, are you gonna get off your lazy butt and answer that?” Jessica asked. His lazy butt? He shook his head, reached over the couch, and answered the phone.
“Speak to me,” he said into the receiver.
“Zac!” He said with relief. “Listen, tell Mom I’ll be home around twelve-thirty, one. Okay?”
“What do you think I am, Taylor? Your personal messenger?"
“Just tell her, Okay?”
“What chick did you con an address out of this time?”
“Ha ha, Zac.” He said; Zac could practically hear his smile. “Just tell her.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, isn’t it illegal for you to be driving and talking on the phone?”
“Yes, it is. So I’m hanging up now.” Zac smiled too as Taylor spoke. He could practically see his brother grinning.
“I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.”
“Yup. Drive safe.”
“Will do, Zacman.” With that, Taylor hung up. Zac turned toward the brother who showed up. “What do you want?” He joked.
“Nothing really. Just dropped by to see how badly I could torture you before you started screaming for mercy.” Isaac grinned back. “That was Tay?”
“No, I just called him Taylor because it isn’t his name.” Isaac rolled his eyes at his younger brother. “You staying over tonight?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I promised Taylor I’d work with him on some stuff tonight and tomorrow.”
“What, those cheesy love songs he’s been working on?” Isaac had to laugh at that.
“Something like that.” He replied.
“Well, he must’ve forgotten because he just asked me to tell Mom that he won’t be home ‘til twelve-thirty, one.” Isaac sighed and sat down on the couch.
“When I get a hold of him –“
“Give him a swirly.” Mac said from where he sat on the floor, playing his board game with his sister.
“Yeah, Mac. Ike’s gonna pick up Tay and tip him upside down to put his head in the toilet.” Jessica said. “Tay is, like, six inches taller than Ike.”
“Thanks Jess,” he replied sarcastically, being reminded Taylor was, indeed, six inches taller than him.
“I’m hungry.” Zac piped up. “Ike, wanna go in the kitchen and get some food with me? It’s no fun to eat alone.”
“Yeah, sure; why not?” They got up from their respective places and headed into the kitchen.
"What are your brother and sisters up to?” Their mother asked, sitting at the kitchen table. She was eating a Ho-Ho.
“TV and board games. Hey! Hostess!” Zac said suddenly. “Got any more?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, pointing to the box. “You are a bottomless pit, Zachary. Who was on the phone?”
“Oh,” he said, picking up the box of snack cakes. “It was Tay. He said he’d be home around twelve-thirty, one.”
“Excuse me? One?” She repeated.
“Y’know, I still had a curfew when I was eighteen.” Isaac said.
“Your brother does too,” she replied, eating the last bite of her Ho-Ho.
“Oh-ho. Dodging curfew. Nice. How long is he grounded for?” Isaac asked her, while Zac was shoving a Ho-Ho in his mouth.
“Ground him? Why would I do that?”
“What?” Isaac and Zac said simultaneously.
“He’ll just be Mac, Avie, and Jessie’s chauffer for two weeks.” She grinned.
“Ouch.” Zac said, his mouth full of the cake.
“Zachary, close your mouth.” She said with a grin. She looked at the clock. “I have to go get Mac ready for bed. It’s almost eleven.” She looked pointedly at Zac, “Clean up whatever mess you make.” She got up and kissed his cheek.
“Night Mom.” Isaac said.
“If you’re staying you can sleep in the room with your brothers, or you can sleep on the pull out bed from the couch.” He nodded, and he and Zac proceeded to make turkey sandwiches.
It was about ten after eleven when they came out of the kitchen. They settled themselves on the couch to watch TV, and their father came out.
“Hey guys, put news on, will ya?” He said. “I just heard on the scanner that there was an accident not too far from here.” They didn’t protest as they changed the station to the news. There was a picture on the screen, a live report, of a large commercial truck and a small black car that looked like it had been through a trash-compactor. The car was reduced to a smashed hunk of metal.
“Wow… that looks pretty bad.” Isaac said.
“…It appears the car was struck head on by the truck. The driver of the car has yet to be identified and is being rushed to Tulsa General Hospital with severe, life threatening injuries. The driver of the truck is Malcolm Greene, an Oklahoma truck driver of twenty-three years. He is currently being taken to Tulsa General as well…” Zac was staring intently at the black car. “…sustained minor injuries – a concussion and some broken bones. Mr. Greene had been driving over sixteen hours and was a sleep at the wheel – “
“Oh my God…” Zac said. All eyes turned to him, including his mother’s – she’d just come back downstairs. The reporter’s words were ignored.
“What?” His father asked him.
“That…” he said quietly, and then shouted suddenly, “That’s Taylor’s car!”
“Oh God…” their mother said, coming over quickly.
“Zac, you don’t know that.” Isaac said.
“Yes I do!”
“Zac, that car is totaled! You can’t tell!” He shouted. Walker had put his arm around Diana’s shoulders; his heart was pounding. It did sort of look like the kind of car Taylor drove…
“Look at the goddamn license plate!” He shouted back; no one reprimanded him for cursing.
“Oh shit…” Isaac said quietly. “Mom, call his cell phone.” She immediately left her husband’s side to do so. She picked up the phone and dialed.
“Daddy?” Avery questioned from her spot on the floor.
“It’s ok, Honey.” He said to her.
“Oh God,” they heard Diana say. “Walker… it’s out of service.” His knees suddenly felt weak.
“Mom, is Taylor ok?” Jessica asked, worry present in her young voice. Diana almost started crying.
“I don’t know, Baby. I don’t know…”
“I’ll call the news station and see if they can tell me the exact license plate number.” He went to the phone. He spoke to who ever answered at the news station, told them who he was and that he suspected it could be his son’s car. They put him on hold. They watched him turn white as the person on the other end of the phone read the license plate number. He took the phone into the kitchen for a few minutes; they heard him say ‘thank you’ and hang up. He came back into the living room, the colour drained from his face, and his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“God no,” was the first thing out of Diana’s mouth.
“It’s, uh… it’s his car,” he said, barely keeping his composure. “They put me through to the hospital; they said to get down there as soon as we can.”
“Oh my God, this isn’t happening,” Diana said. “Tell me; tell me, Walker. Tell me this isn’t happening.” She was in tears.
“I’m sorry, Di,” he said quietly to her. “We have to go, now. Go get dressed.” She nodded and went to their room to change.
“You want us to get the kids?” Zac offered weakly.
“No-“
“We’re not staying here.” Isaac interjected quickly. “And the little kids can’t stay here by themselves.” Walker was quiet a moment, thinking.
“Zac, go get Zoë dressed.” He said quietly. “Ike, go get Mac and Avie.” Both boys stood up and went to do as told as quickly as possible. Walker finally looked to Jessica.
“Daddy…” she looked and sounded like she was going to cry.
“It’s ok, Sweetheart.” He opened his arms to her and she ran to him.
Zac tried as hard as could not to cry as he woke Zoë up to dress her. She was barely awake and ready to cry herself. “I’m tired, Zacky,” she said to him, whimpering.
“I know, Honey. But Tay got hurt and we gotta make sure he’s ok,” he told her. She nodded, rubbing her eyes, and let him dress her.
They all met back in the living room, the news still on. …The driver of the car was just recently identified as Taylor Hanson, lead singer of teen pop sensation Hanson…” Walker turned the TV off.
“Let’s go.” He said quietly.
Tulsa General Hospital
The ambulance pulled up to its entrance at the hospital, where two emergency room doctors waited for its arrival. The back doors of the ambulance swung open quickly, and the two EMT’s inside helped to hurriedly unload the gurney.
“What’ve we got?” Dr. Brown asked.
“Eighteen year old male; his car was hit head on by a tractor trailer. Multiple head injuries; lacerations; shallow breath sounds. Pulse, fifty.” The doctors rushed him into the emergency room; there was blood all over him. “B.P. is sixty over forty; he’s losing a lot of blood.”
“He’s probably bleeding internally,” the other doctor said. “His breath sounds are terrible,” she said. Taylor’s hair was matted down with blood; they were cutting apart his clothes, which were soaked in blood. He had a large plastic neck brace on. Above his left eye, near his hairline, there was a deep gash. His ribcage was already becoming discoloured with large purple bruises. His left arm was broken in two places, sharp ends of bone sticking out in both places, and his right leg was broken, jagged bone puncturing the flesh there as well. His entire body was covered with deep cuts and bruises. The metal from his car had cut right through him, right below his left lung. There were pieces of glass that needed to be removed, still embedded in some of his cuts. The damage he suffered was extremely serious, and they needed to rush him to the operating room as soon as possible.
“Did anybody call his parents?” Dr. Brown asked.
“They’re on their way,” someone answered.
Dr. Brown shook his head, “He needs to go to Oklahoma City. We’ll do what we can here; we need to get a chopper here and send him to the critical care unit there.”
“You think he’s gonna live?”
“It’ll take a miracle,” he replied. “This kid can’t breathe; we need to intubate, now.”
“His blood pressure’s dropping,” one of the nurses informed.
“We need to get him up to the OR, now.” Dr. Brown said. “Let’s move people.”
Diana sat looking out the window of the passenger side of the van, every now and again reaching up to wipe away her tears. This was one of her babies; how could this be happening?
“Zac…” Mackenzie whispered. He looked at his little brother. “Is Tay dead?” He asked timidly.
“No!” He answered in a harsh whisper. “Don’t say that again.”
“How come Ike didn’t ride with us?” Avery asked.
“He’s following us in his own car, in case we need another one.” He looked at Jessica, who’d recently stopped crying. Zoë was asleep in her car seat. The only thing he could do was pray; that’s all he did – the entire way there.
The two surgeons working on Taylor were working as fast as they could; they knew as much as anybody that his life depended on getting to the critical care unit in Oklahoma City as fast as possible. At that hospital they could take care of his head injuries much more efficiently.
“Holy shit,” Dr. Klein said suddenly, as blood spilled onto the floor.
“Blood pressure’s dropping,” a nurse informed.
“I need some help with this,” said Dr. Klein.
“I thought it was just a ruptured spleen,” Dr. Kerrigan replied.
“Well he’s bleeding everywhere!” He snapped at her. “His head injuries don’t help matters either.”
“Blood pressure is fifty-six over thirty-five.”
“Shit,” Dr. Kerrigan cursed quietly. “Somebody page Dr. Carey.”
Walker held Diana’s hand tightly as they hurried into the hospital, their children trailing less than two feet behind them, Zac carrying Zoë. It was passed midnight. The younger children were getting too tired to stay awake much longer. They finally made it to the front desk.
“I’m Walker Hanson; my son Taylor was brought in. He was in a car accident,” he told her, sounding a mixture of tired, frantic, and horrified.
“All right. Wait right over there. I’ll page his doctor,” the man said. “Take these,” he said, handing them a clipboard of papers. “I need you to fill these out.” Walker nodded to the man and headed with his family to sit down. Already, people in the waiting room were noticing who they were, but none of them dared ask for an autograph – they knew better. Twenty minutes went by.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?” They both looked and stood up immediately. “I’m Dr. Brown.” He shook each of their hands.
“How’s Taylor?” Diana asked him. “When can we see him?”
“Well, to be perfectly honest with you, he’s in pretty bad shape,” he said quietly, trying not to just throw things at them. “He’s in surgery right now.”
“How long will he be in surgery?” Walker asked.
“I don’t know for sure. But we’re having a helicopter sent over; Taylor needs to be taken to the hospital in Oklahoma City.”
“Why?” Walker asked.
“He has some very serious injuries. His head injuries in particular, are severe. They can take better care of him there than we can here.”
“When will he be moved there?” Diana asked; meanwhile, their children sat listening intently.
“As soon as he’s out of surgery here. But… you need to understand: his injuries were very bad, and there’s a chance he may not make it out of surgery.” He watched Diana’s tears fall. “Last I knew, he wasn’t doing well.” He gave them a few moments to let that sink in. “If he makes it through surgery, only one of you can go with him on the helicopter to Oklahoma City.” They looked at each other.
“You go, Di,” Walker said softly to her after a few moments. “I think you need to be the one.” She nodded once.
“The rest of you should probably go home and rest; there’s nothing you can do for him, and it won’t do you any good to exhaust yourselves.”
“No,” Zac said immediately. “I want to go, too.”
“Zac, only one of us can go with him.” Isaac said. “Dad’s right, Mom should go.”
“I’m not going home,” Walker said. “I’ll drive to Oklahoma City.”
“Are you sure?” Diana asked, turning to him. He nodded.
“I’ll take Jess and Avie in my car,” Isaac offered. He turned to the two girls. “You two wanna come with me? You can sleep in the backseat.” They both nodded.
“I’ll stay with you, Mac, and Zoë,” Zac said.
“Okay then.”
“If you’re driving you should probably go now. The helicopter will be here shortly. They’ll still probably get there before you, even if you leave now.” Mr. Hanson just nodded. He looked to his wife; he took her face gently in his hands.
“I love you.” He said to her, and kissed her softly.
“I love you, too,” she said quietly and tearfully. “Pray for him,” she whispered.
“We will,” he assured her. He kissed her once more before turning to leave with their other children.
Diana sat in the OR waiting room; she’d heard nothing, and it had been half an hour. She was becoming restless and more scared than she already was. What would happen if he didn’t live? The thought alone nearly made her sob out loud. Fight like hell, Baby, was the only other thought that ran through her mind.
“Mrs. Hanson?” She stood up immediately. Dr. Brown had come out of nowhere.
“Is he out of surgery?” He nodded.
“The helicopter’s waiting.” She let herself be led to an elevator which they took to the highest level of the hospital, where they then took the stairs to the roof. She hurried over as they were loading the gurney that Taylor was strapped to into the helicopter. “This is his mother,” he informed those in the helicopter. He helped her into it and made eye contact. “I wish you both luck.” She nodded her ‘thank you’. He closed the door, and banged twice on the outside of it to let the pilot know it was safe to take off.
She turned to look at her son and swore she felt her heart stop. Somewhere inside she was glad none of the other children got to see him. He was bruised, bloody, cut-up, and broken. There was a temporary bandage around his head, which he was already beginning to bleed through, and a tube down his throat. She gently put her hand on his; he remained still. She stayed silent the whole ride. They were only a few minutes away from the city when Taylor went rigid, and his whole body started to shake.
“He’s convulsing!”
“What’s wrong with him?” His mother asked.
“He’s having a seizure,” one of them answered as the helicopter was landing. They ushered her out quickly, and started rushing Taylor off with the doctors that had met them there.
“Where are you taking him?” She shouted.
“The operating room!”
Oklahoma City Medical Center
It was already after four a.m. and Walker was just pulling into the hospital parking lot, Isaac still trailing behind him. Zac carried Zoë in, and Isaac came to pick up Mackenzie. Jessica and Avery were barely awake. They went in to the Patient Information Desk. Walker was exhausted, worried, and scared as hell.
“My son, Taylor Hanson, was brought in by helicopter. He was in a car accident.” He said, his voice and eyes weary.
“Hold on just a moment; let me check.” She stepped away from the desk. After a minute she returned. “Mr. Hanson, he’s still in surgery. But your wife is waiting in the OR waiting room if you want to join her.”
“Thank you,” he said, stepping away. He looked at his children. “Come on; let’s go sit with your Mom.”
“Diana…” She turned around to see her husband and their children. She got up and went right into his waiting arms. He held her tightly as their younger children found chairs to sit in.
“He looked so bad…” she cried into his neck.
“He’s strong, Di. He’ll fight.” He said, holding her to him. Zac found a chair to sit in, Zoë still asleep in his arms. He maneuvered her legs to rest on either sides of his lap, letting her head still rest on his shoulder. Isaac sat in the middle chair of a group of three, with no armrests separating them. He set Mackenzie down on one side of him and Avery sat on the other side; he put an arm around each of them. Jessica sat beside Zachary.
"Will you stay with the kids? I want to go to the chapel.” Diana said quietly. Her eyes, bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep, pleaded with him.
“Yeah. Go on,” he said softly. He kissed her softly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Isaac sat in the chair, his head tipped back, asleep. Mackenzie and Avery had their heads in his lap, also asleep, his hands rested on their backs. Zac sat in his chair much like his older brother: his head tipped back, asleep. Zoë sat on his lap, facing him, her head on his shoulder, asleep as well. Jessica was asleep with her head rested on Zac’s arm. Walker was up, standing by one of the windows; the sky had turned grey with the first rays of dawn. He had heard nothing about his son; as far as he knew Taylor was still in surgery.
“How’re we doing?” Dr. Morgan asked, glancing up for a moment from Taylor’s head.
“Blood pressure is one-hundred over eighty.”
“He’s still losing blood…” she said more to herself. And without any warning, a steady stream of blood started to flow. “Shit…”
“B.P.’s dropping; ninety-three over seventy.” Alarms on the machines he was hooked up to began going off. “Heart rate is falling.”
“Damn it,” she muttered, growing frustrated quickly. “I need some \suction in here!” She snapped.
“Pulse is forty-seven…”
“Son of a bitch,” she said harshly. “Come on; come on…” The alarms were still going off.
“He’s in B-fib; blood pressure’s still dropping…”
“Goddamn it!”
“A-systole.” The beeping of his heart monitor became one flat whine.
“Shit!” Dr. Morgan shouted. “Charge the defibrillator!” She barked. “Charge to three-hundred.” The second doctor took the paddles from the machine and placed them in their proper spots on Taylor’s chest.
“Clear.” Anyone touching him backed away, and Dr. Benson shocked him. The heart monitor continued to whine.
“Charge.” The machine was charged up. “Clear.” He was shocked again.
“Come on…” Dr. Morgan urged quietly. The defibrillator was charged again and Taylor was shocked again.
“Mr. Hanson?” He spun around, hearing his name. The first thought that raced through his head was Oh God, he’s dead… The woman who stood there had dark hair pulled back into a messy bun; her hair looked disheveled and her features let him know it had been a hard night.
“Yes?” He finally replied, coming over to her.
“I’m Dr. Morgan.” She extended her hand and he shook it. “You’re Taylor’s father?” He nodded. “I have some news for you.”
“Can you hold on, just for a moment? Please?” He asked her. “My wife – his mother is in the chapel…”
“Go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll wait here.”
Walker stepped into the chapel. Diana was alone, in the front row, head bowed, and rosary in hand. He approached her. “Diana…?” She turned to face him, her eyes red-rimmed. “The doctor’s waiting. She has news.” She rose immediately, and nodded to him. He took her hand and led her out of the chapel, back to the waiting room.
By the time both of them came back Zac and Isaac hadn’t woken, which they were glad for. If there was going to be bad news, they wanted to hear it first and then be the ones to break it to their children.
“Dr. Morgan?” Walker said.
“I know you’re both anxious to hear about your son.”
“Dr. Morgan, please…” Diana pleaded.
“Surgery was rough. He almost didn’t make it. We lost him for a little while, but we got him back.”
“And?” Diana questioned.
“We should sit and talk.” Their hearts sank. She gestured to the seats, and they all sat down. “Taylor’s injuries are serious, and the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical,” she said simply and seriously. “There’s a good chance he may not make it through the next twenty-four hours. If he does, the question we’re left with is if he’s ever going to regain consciousness.”
“He… He may never wake-up again?” Diana asked, the tears welling quickly.
“His head injuries were very severe. As of right now, he’s intubated – we’ve got a tube down his throat hooked up to a machine that’s helping him breathe – “
“How long will that be?” Walker asked.
“That depends on Taylor. Right now, our biggest concern is the damage that may have been done to your son’s brain. He has severe swelling of his brain right now, and we need to concentrate on reducing that swelling before it causes any more damage.”
“What kind of damage?” Diana asked.
“We can’t do much more until the swelling is down. But what I can tell you now is the areas of Taylor’s brain that were damaged… there’s a very good chance it’s going to affect the way he thinks… for the rest of his life.”
“Affect how?” Walker questioned, his wife squeezing his hand.
“I won’t be able to tell you more until we can run more tests. We’re going to continually monitor his brain activity. Right now, our focus is Taylor surviving the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” She looked at both of them seriously, cautiously, and with sorrow. “Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, at this point… we’re giving Taylor about a ten percent chance of survival.”
“Oh my God,” Diana said quietly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth.
“When can we see him?” Walker asked.
“He’s in the critical care unit. He can only have one visitor for ten minutes, every hour.” Walker looked to his wife, prepared to give up the chance to see his son again so she could.
“You go,” she said softly.
“But I thought – “
“I rode here in the helicopter with him.” She wiped her tears. “You should get to see him too.”
“I’ll tell him you love him,” he said softly, and she started to cry again. He pulled her to him, and kissed her hair, and then held her out to kiss her lips. “I love you,” he whispered. She nodded, tearfully.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back. He kissed her once more, and stood to go see his son.
The room Dr. Morgan led him into was dark, and the figure in the bed was illuminated by a single, very dim light. When he was finally close enough to see his son, it took all of his strength not to breakdown beside his bed. Taylor was pale and bruised. Just like Dr. Morgan had said, there was a tube down his throat helping him breathe; his left arm was in a cast, as was his right leg. He couldn’t see that his ribs were wrapped and badly bruised and scored; many of them were broken in the accident. His head was bandaged all the way around. His left eye was black and blue; his right hand was scratched up and bruised, and he had something clipped to his index finger to monitor his pulse. He quietly pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down. He gently put his hand over Taylor’s. He looked back at Dr. Morgan.
“If I talk to him, can he hear me?” He asked in a hushed voice.
“I really don’t know,” she answered quietly. He nodded slightly.
“Could… could you, um, give me a minute with him?”
“I can give you ten,” she replied quietly. He waited until he heard the door close quietly. He turned back to his son.
“Jordan… I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he said, his voice near breaking. “Don’t give up, you hear me? You fight…” He wasn’t sure if he could continue speaking. He was already dangerously too close to tears. “God I’d give anything to trade places with you.” He was quiet for a long time. The next time he spoke the tears rolled down his cheeks. “Your Mom wishes she could be here too. She loves you, ok?” He took a breath to steady himself, but it didn’t stop the tears. “I love you, Jordan. Your brothers and sisters love you, too, and we’re all praying for you.” He spent the rest of his visit in silence, until the doctor came in to tell him his time was up. “Hold on,” he whispered to him, and gently kissed his forehead.
When he came out Diana stood up, wanting him to tell her how their son was. He wasn’t sure he had the heart to tell her how terrible he’s looked. When she took his hands and looked up at him, her eyes begged him Just tell me he’s ok…
“He’s not doing so good,” he said quietly, and gently hugged her to his chest; their children slept on. The next hard part would come when they woke-up, and they had to explain to them that their brother had a ten percent chance of living, and that if he lived he may never wake-up again; not to mention, he could have brain damage. Walker wasn’t as worried about Isaac; he was older, he could handle it, at least he would be able to handle it better than Zac. Zac was very close with Taylor – their father wouldn’t have been surprised if the two brothers were best friends; although, since their music had been put out for the world, the three of them had gotten so close, and developed a camaraderie. Maybe it was always there, and being famous had just strengthened it. So maybe Isaac wouldn’t take it so well… And then there were Avery and Zoë. Those little girls were attached to Taylor’s hip, and never once did he just brush them off. He’d let them tag along with him; if he was leaving, and they wanted to go, and he could take them, he would without question. It went that way with the other children most of the time as well, but most with those two. They were going to be devastated. Walker sat down with his wife; they were exhausted, but there was no sleep for them. There was too much to pray to God for.
Zac woke-up in the same position he fell asleep in. His neck was sore, and for a few moments he couldn’t really move. He slowly lifted his head, rubbing his neck, and still holding onto Zoë with one hand. Isaac was already awake, both Mackenzie and Avery still asleep in his lap.
“Hey,” he said quietly, noticing Zac was awake.
“Have they heard anything?” He asked; they were the first words out of his mouth. Zac was always thinking about someone else. Isaac nodded.
“He was out of surgery a couple hours ago, but they didn’t want to wake us up.”
“So how is he?”
“They wouldn’t tell me anything until you were awake. Mom’s not here right now – she’s in with Tay. Only one person gets ten minutes every hour; that’s what Dad told me.”
“So where’s Dad now if Mom’s in with Taylor?”
“I think he went to go get her and walk back with her. Her time with Taylor is just about up,” Isaac answered.
They waited less than patiently for their parents to come back, and when they did, they knew it was time they had to tell their children. There would be no easy way to do this.
“Well, how is he?” Zac asked first. Their parents exchanged glances.
“We need to talk, guys.” Walker said quietly. Immediately fear filled up to the boys throats.
“Is he ok?” Zac croaked, his throat suddenly dry.
“He has some really serious injuries, especially to his head.” Walker told them. He knew he was going to have to do most of the explaining; he was stronger than his wife at this point.
“So… so what happens? What did the doctor say?” Isaac asked.
“He’s pretty bad off. His injuries are so serious that… that they’re only giving him…” he paused to make sure he could say it. “They’re giving him a ten percent chance of survival.”
“Oh God…” Isaac whispered.
“The next couple of days are really important. If he makes it through… he may never wake-up again.” He watched the looks of horror on his sons faces, watched their eyes fill with tears. Once the initial shock wore off it was going to hurt a hundred times worse.
“What if he wakes-up?” Isaac asked quietly.
“He could have brain damage.” Their mother finally spoke up quietly. This just seemed so wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen, not to them. This happened in movies, not to them.
“When can we see him?” Zac asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Walker said. “He looks bad, Zac –“
“I don’t care how he looks,” Zac said, keeping his voice down for the sleeping children around him.
“He’s right. I wanna see him, too.” Isaac nearly whispered. “Mom, Dad… we need to see him.” Their parents looked at each other, obviously fighting with all of their own emotions.
“Please,” Zac begged quietly. Diana nodded at her husband, and Walker nodded to the boys.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “The next ten minutes of the next hour, one of you can go.” He’d let them decide who would see him first.
Zac decided he’d let Isaac see him first seeing as he didn’t live home anymore, and didn’t get to see Taylor as often as he did. Isaac almost wished he hadn’t gone to Taylor at all; he wasn’t even close to the lively eighteen-year-old brother he knew. He lay perfectly still in the hospital bed, probably unaware of Isaac's presence. He was cut and stitched up, and black and blue, and broken. It almost frightened him to see his brother this way, and if that was the case it was certainly going to frighten Zac. When his ten minutes was up he kissed his brother’s forehead gently, and left the room. When he returned to the waiting room he sat down and cried.
Zoë woke on her big brother’s lap; she was uncomfortable and still tired. Her blue eyes made contact with Zac’s.
“Hi Zacky,” she said quietly.
“Hi Honey,” he replied, quietly as well.
“Are we home?” She asked him, and he shook his head.
“We’re at the hospital.” He said, keeping his voice quiet.
“Why are we at the hostable?”
“Remember? I told you, Tay got hurt.”
“Oh.” She looked around at the sad faces around her, and saw her mother was crying. “Is he ok? ‘Cause Mommy’s crying,” she whispered. When she looked back at her brother he looked like he was going to cry too.
“No, Honey, he’s not ok. Tay got hurt really bad.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Can I kiss his boo-boo and maked him all better?” He started to cry then.
“You can’t, baby. Not yet. You’re not big enough to go see him.” He told her quietly. “But when he’s a little better, Mommy or Daddy can take you to see him, and you can give him a kiss.” He knew they wouldn’t, but it was better to tell her they would then tell her she may never get to see her brother again.” He cried quietly.
“Will it maked him all better?” The three-year-old asked.
“No, baby, not this time.” He said quietly, wishing that one of her little kisses really could make him better.
News Interlude –
Taylor Hanson, lead singer of pop group, Hanson, remains in critical condition at Oklahoma City’s Medical Center. He remains unconscious in the critical care unit, suffering from life threatening injuries sustained during the crash on March twenty-fourth.
The chairs outside Taylor’s room were still filled with his family. Isaac had driven himself, Zac, and the other children home in the van to bathe; their parents had told them to go and take care of themselves, get cleaned-up, sleep, eat a good meal, and then they could come back. They all bathed – Zac gave Zoë her bath; they all slept – Isaac and Zachary slept for only a little while; they had too much on their minds to sleep. All of them ate, or at least ate what they could, which wasn’t much; they were all too worried about their brother to eat much, even the younger children. And when they returned to the hospital nothing had changed. Taylor had lived through the passed two days, but that was beginning to look like it didn’t matter. He showed no signs of waking up.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?” It was Dr. Morgan who had interrupted their quiet thoughts. “Could I speak to you for a few minutes?” The got up immediately, and moved out of hearing distance of their children.
“What is it? Has anything changed?” Diana asked.
“Not in a sense you were hoping,” she replied regretfully. “I do have some good news, and some bad news. The good news is we may be taking Taylor off the respirator. He received an injury to his left lung, which seems to be healing well. If we think he’s strong enough at the end of the week, we’ll take him off.”
“Then what’s the bad news?” Walker asked quietly.
“As I told you before, he suffered damage to area’s of his brain that would affect the way he thinks.” She looked at both of them sadly. “That damage is permanent.” She watched Walker put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pull her close. She wasn’t sure if he was her support, or if she was his.
“What kind of damage?” Diana asked, her voice choked.
“If Taylor ever regains consciousness,” she looked from one to the other, “he’ll only have the mentality of about a five-year-old, maybe, if he’s lucky, an eight-year-old. He may also suffer from some partial memory loss.”
“Oh God,” Diana started to cry.
Isaac and Zachary watched the shocked expressions on their parents’ faces, watched their father hug their mother tightly as she began to cry. It was time for them to start praying again…
“I know this changes everything for you, and the rest of your family. And I’m truly sorry.” Dr. Morgan said. She really was sorry; there wasn’t much more for her to say. What more could she do or say? She’d just told them news that changed their entire lives, ruined their sons’ career, and broke their hearts.
Diana sat down in the empty chair beside Zachary. Without even a second thought he put a comforting hand over hers, and squeezed gently. She looked at him, her eyes thanking him, but she didn’t even pretend that she could smile.
“What happened?” He asked her quietly. Zoë was standing behind him on his chair, trying to braid his hair and not succeeding.
“I’ll tell you when the other kids aren’t around,” she said quietly.
“Is it that bad?” He watched her eyes fill with tears again.
“Yeah, it is.” She whispered, wiping the two stubborn tears that had escaped.
“Where’d Dad go?” He asked, knowing he needed to change the subject.
“To call your grandparents to see if the younger children can stay with them for a little while, at least until we’re not spending the night at the hospital, and who knows when that will be.”
“He’ll pull through, Mom.” He said, completely unsure.
After their grandparents came to pick up the little children, Zac and Isaac waited for their parents to tell them the bad news they knew they’d received. They kissed their grandparents goodbye, and they said they’d pray for Taylor.
“Mom?” Zac said quietly. “Will you tell us… please?”
“Sit down.” Walker said, motioning for him and Isaac to take the empty seats.
“What happened?” Isaac asked.
“Dr. Morgan told us that… that your brother suffered some brain damage from the accident.”
“How bad?” Isaac asked.
“It’s permanent,” he replied, his voice faltering somewhat. “If he ever wakes-up, he’ll only have the mind of a five-year-old. She said if he’s lucky, maybe an eight-year-old.”
“This isn’t real…” Zac said, more to himself than anyone else. He hadn’t even meant to speak out loud, and hadn’t realized he’d done so.
“It’s real, Zac.” Walker said quietly.
“No!” He shouted suddenly. “This is not happening!”
“Zac – “
“What did we do to deserve this?! Can you tell me that? What did Taylor do to deserve this?! He’s a good person! Why is this happening? Tell me!” He shouted. “This isn’t… fair… I can’t…” Walker pulled Zac to him, and let him cry. He’d been so strong so far, and his strength had just crumbled.
“I know,” was all he said, hugging Zac tightly but gently. Isaac put his head in his hands and let the flood gates burst open, and he cried. They all cried; they cried for themselves, for Taylor, for everything he was going to lose because fate wasn’t on their side that night.
Not a single thing had changed. Taylor remained unconscious; he hadn’t so much as moved a finger. The hope that he would wake-up was fading with every second he lay in that bed. There was one improvement – he was taken off the respirator. He was strong enough to breathe on his own.
The fan mail was steadily building – get well cards, letters, balloons, flowers. They still didn’t know the Taylor Hanson they had adored for four years was gone; they had no idea he was now mentally handicapped, if he ever woke-up again. They didn’t know that his family was mourning the theoretical death of who Taylor used to be – he’d never be the same. The hardest part for them to imagine was him giving up his music. He’d loved music, and he’d never make it again. No one could take his voice away from him, but the chances of his other musical talents remaining intact were slim to none. Taylor had always beat the odds; once again the odds were against him, and for the first time it looked like he wasn’t going to win.
She fell asleep in a chair beside his bed. She was exhausted and still, she spent every day and night with him – as much time as she was allowed she took.
“Di, sweetheart,” Walker said softly, regretting having to wake her at all. She lifted her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Honey, but your time’s up.” She nodded once wordlessly, and stood up. She kissed his forehead softly. He took her hand and led her out of the room.
“There was more fan mail this morning.” He told her.
“They should spend more time praying for him.”
“We can’t keep his condition a secret forever. We have to tell the presses something.”
“Our son is in a coma, Walker. Screw the goddamn presses. We’ll worry about telling them he has permanent brain damage when we can stop worrying about whether or not he’ll ever open his eyes again.” She said firmly.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I was just letting you know…” he said quietly.
“If you have to tell them something, tell them what’s happening now.” Her voice softened. “Tell them he’s in a coma, and there’s a chance he’s never going to wake-up again. Tell them that,” she said sadly.
“I have faith in him.”
“So do I. But faith isn’t going to bring him back to us, Walker. Faith can’t undo the damage that’s already been done. And that hurts.”
“I know, Honey,” he said, pulling her close. “I know.”
It was late, long passed visiting hours. Even those ten minutes weren’t allowed now, but that didn’t stop him. Zac crept quietly into Taylor’s room. The steady beeping of Taylor’s heart monitor had become a comfort; at least it let him know his brother was still alive. Although, it hurt most that in all the ways that counted, he was dead. He sat down beside the bed in the darkened room, looking at the bruised face that belonged to the figure in the bed.
“I really don’t know what to say,” he began. “Every time I’ve come to see you, I’ve never talked to you. I was too afraid I was going to say something important and you wouldn’t hear it. I guess it doesn’t really matter.” He said quietly. “The other kids really miss you. I talked to Grandma, and she said Zoë cried for an hour the first night she was there because she wanted you to put her to bed. I think it’s because you always sang Puff the Magic Dragon.” He smiled a little, but it faded quickly. “I guess you won’t be doing that anymore.
“I don’t think this is fair, you know. This isn’t right. It’s… it’s so wrong, and it makes it hurt so much more, Tay. I know Mom always taught us that there’s a reason for everything, but… there’s no reason for this. It’s just cruel.” He said, his voice growing very quiet. “I love you, Tay… no matter what. I just wanted you to know that.” He held Taylor’s limp hand for a moment, and then kissed his forehead gently. When he left the room he went to the chapel. He sat all the way in the back, in the last pew, furthest from the altar; he pulled his knees up to his chest, and he cried.
He was sitting quietly outside on the ground, his back against the brick wall, and a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee in his hands. It wasn’t the best source of nutrition, but he wasn’t hungry or even thirsty; he was just drinking it because it was something better to do than sit mindlessly outside a hospital room door. He was going to go crazy if he had to stare at that wall inside for another ten hours. What good was that going to do anyway?
“Penny for them?” He looked up and met the tired weary eyes of his father. He looked like he’d aged ten years in eight days.
“How come you’re not inside?” Isaac asked.
“Probably the same reason you’re not,” he answered. “Mind if I sit?” He shook his head, and his father sat down beside him. He watched his son sip his coffee. “What’s on your mind, Isaac?”
“Too much.” He replied, taking another mouthful of the hot, bitter liquid; no sugar, no cream this time. Taylor used to drink black coffee.
“Well, say what’s on your mind.” He looked over at his father. This was harder on Walker than him, and yet, here was Walker trying to help him feel better.
“I hate sitting in there,” he said. “What good is it? I sit there and stare at the wall; that doesn’t do anything for anyone; not for me, not for you and Mom, not for Zac, and not for Taylor.” His father nodded slowly, all but telling him to continue, and he was listening. “This is so wrong. It’s… it’s almost perverse. I think about him in that bed… and I can’t do anything.” He was becoming more upset and frustrated now. “I can’t do a damn thing! This is… is… It’s bullshit!”
“I couldn’t have said it any better,” Walker agreed.
“I know you and Mom always taught us – all of us – to believe in God, to have faith in Him. I always have. But after this… After this, I don’t know if I believe in Him at all.”
“And nothing your Mother or I have to say is going to change that.” It was a statement, not a question.
“You’re right, it’s not.” He said, sounding almost bitter. “No matter how this ends up, Taylor gets fucked.” He waited for his father to say something about his using a curse word, but he didn’t.
“You’re right. It’s not fair, and it sucks.” He agreed.
“And don’t tell me everything happens for a reason.” That was said with blatant bitterness and anger.
“I wasn’t going to, because I can’t seem to find a reason for this either.” Walker replied. Isaac felt his eyes begin to water. He was going to cry; he needed to cry.
“He doesn’t deserve this kind of punishment.” The knot in his throat made it difficult to speak.
“I know,” his father agreed. “No one does.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared. I’m scared that he’s gonna die. I’m scared that if he lives he’ll never wake-up again. And I’m scared of what happens if he does wake-up.” He was crying now.
“I’m scared too, Ike.”
“It’s never gonna be the same, Dad…” he cried softly. He put his hand on his son’s knee, and didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything he could say.
The blinds were open and they could see into the room; they stood outside the room while a nurse and Dr. Morgan changed a number of his bandages. He was lifeless. The only thing that took their eyes from the scene was the sounds of footsteps. A tall white man had stepped up, and was looking into the room. He was about five- foot-ten and was fairly heavyset. He just stood watching.
“Can I help you?” Walker asked, a little annoyed someone found his son a spectacle.
“I, uh… I just wanted to see how the kid was.” He had his left arm in a sling, fading bruises on his face, and a healing cut above his eye.
“You know Taylor?” Isaac asked.
“Well, no, I…” he was quiet for a long while. “I wanted to see how he was doing. I heard he was pretty bad off. My lawyer told me not to come, but I – “
“Your lawyer?” Diana repeated.
“I’m… My name is Malcolm Greene. I… I was driving the tr – “
“You son of bitch!” Zac interrupted suddenly. Before anyone knew what was happening he’d lunged at the man, swinging. He landed a punch, right on his cheekbone.
“Zachary!” His mother shouted. Immediately his father and Isaac moved to restrain him.
“You ruined his life!” Zac screamed. Isaac felt the same anger rising in him, but had considerably more control. “Get out of here!”
“I’m sorry… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He said. Isaac and Walker still held Zachary back, holding him firmly; he was strong for a fifteen-year-old.
“Saying you’re sorry isn’t going to bring my brother out of a coma! It’s not going to fix the permanent brain damage he suffered either!” He breathed heavily, and when he spoke again his voice was lowered, but no less filled with anger and hatred. “While you’re sorry, if my brother ever wakes-up again, hell only be able to think like an eight-year-old! You ruined his life. I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you aren’t in a hospital bed, just like that one, in the same condition as Taylor.” The man didn’t say another word. The fact that neither of his parents was scolding him for the things he’d just said let him know that they must’ve felt the same.
“I think you should leave.” Walker said, and he did just that.
Zac shook off his father’s and Isaac’s hands. He was beyond pissed off; he wanted to kill that guy. He ignored his mother quietly explaining what had happened to Dr. Morgan.
“You ok?” Isaac asked.
“No, I’m not.” He answered. “I wanted to kill him.”
“We noticed,” Walker replied.
“He had no right to be here.” He said.
“I think you need some air, Zac,” Diana said to him, still somewhat stunned that Malcolm Greene would have the audacity to show up there. “Walker, go for a walk with him.”
“I don’t need a walk,” he said angrily.
“Don’t argue with me,” she returned. “Go.” His face was still beet-red with anger; he knew he really did need some air. He stormed out, his father close behind him.
News Interlude –
Taylor Hanson remains in a coma at Oklahoma City Medical Center after being involved in a serious car crash nineteen days ago. The Hansons have released a statement to the press that there is a possibility the eighteen-year-old may never regain consciousness. They’ve also informed the band’s employment label, Island Def Jam, that Hanson will no longer be recording. It has been said that should the young pop-star regain consciousness he’ll suffer from permanent brain damage. No details have been discussed of this matter.
The four of them had made numerous trips back and forth between Tulsa and Oklahoma City. Walker had to do a lot to convince his wife to stop sleeping in the chair outside their son’s room; it wasn’t doing any of them an ounce of good. Instead, they spent their days there until visiting hours were over at eight p.m. The younger children spent their days with their grandparents, and nights at home with the rest of their family. All of them wanted to see Taylor, and not one of them was old enough to do so. Diana and Walker decided that Isaac and Zachary weren’t getting enough sleep, and told them the night before that they were staying home today. They put up a big stink, as expected, but gave in – not that they had any other choice. They knew they did no good to anyone sitting at the hospital all day. At least this way the four younger Hanson children could stay home; they all needed the sleep, too.
Diana was drinking a cup coffee at the kitchen table. She didn’t bother to pick up the newspaper; she couldn’t bear to read another article about Taylor. The reminder hurt too much. She looked up when she heard small feet coming down the stairs. Sure enough, Mackenzie padded bare-foot into the kitchen.
“Mac, what’re you doing up? It’s only seven o’clock in the morning.” He shrugged, climbed up onto a chair, and sat at the kitchen table beside her. They were quiet for a while, and he was the first to speak.
“Mom,” he spoke quietly, twisting the fabric on his pajama pants a little nervously. “When’s Tay coming home?” He was only seven; he didn’t really understand.
“Not for a while, sweetie.” She answered, feeling the familiar knot forming in her throat.
“What’s a coma?”
“What?” He’d caught her by surprise.
“What’s a coma? Zac told me he’s in a coma.”
“A coma is… It’s when you sleep for a long time.” She said, trying to explain to her youngest son in a way that he would understand.
“How long?”
“It’s hard to say, Mac. Sometimes it’s for a few days, or weeks. Sometimes it’s for months, or years. And sometimes… sometimes they never wake-up.”
“Is Tay ever gonna wake-up?” He asked quietly, not looking at her.
“I don’t know, baby,” she answered honestly.
“Oh,” he replied, obviously disappointed. “Can I come see him?”
“No, baby, you can’t. I’m sorry.” He just nodded. “But you get to stay home with Ike and Zac today.”
“Okay.”She could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Um… could you tell him something for me? Please?”
“Sure, honey. Anything.”
“Would you, um… would you tell him I love him? And I miss him?” She felt the tears suddenly stinging her eyes.
“I promise I’ll tell him.” She said, trying her best not to cry.
"Thanks,” he said quietly, and hugged her for a long while. He kissed her cheek and decided to go back to bed for a while.
“Mac?” He turned to look at her. “Don’t forget to say a prayer for him, okay?” He nodded once, disappointment in his features.
“I’ve been praying every night. Maybe I’m not praying loud enough, ‘cause God still hasn’t heard me.” She’d never forget the sadness in his voice, or displayed on his face as he turned to go back to bed. As soon as he was out of the room she began to cry.
Diana drove herself this time; Walker was coming with Isaac and Zachary a little later at her request. She knew they all needed to rest a little more than they had been recently. She went into his room quietly, as if not to disturb his slumber, knowing she wouldn’t. She sat down beside his bed, and slid her hand beneath his; she carefully lifted his bruised, scratched hand, and kissed the back of it softly a few times. She lifted his hand to her face, careful not to disturb the I.V. line hooked up to his arm. It just didn’t do any good; so she carefully set his hand back down, and touched his face – it was scratchy, not smooth like she had always known it to be, and the scent of Irish Spring that she always associated with him was gone as well. They bathed him every three days and changed his bed clothes. It was something she wanted to do. She wanted to clean him up and shave him – she was his mother. When someone finally came in to do it, she gathered the courage and asked if she could instead. The nurse had brought in a basin, a washcloth and soap, and a small plastic razor.
“Excuse me,” Diana said. “Would it be possible for me to do this? I’m his mother.” She felt like she needed to add that last part. The nurse looked at her, at Taylor, at the hygiene products, and back at his mother again.
“I suppose if anybody’s qualified to do this it’d be his own mother.” She replied. “Just press the call button when you’re done and I’ll come back.” She was a very somber woman; the expression on Taylor’s face resembled her in that way – very somber.
Diana filled the basin with warm water, just warm enough that there was a little steam. She closed the blinds to his room. She carefully pulled his blankets down and untied his gown. When she saw how bruised his chest and ribs were, she found herself suddenly fighting tears. There was a stitched incision beneath his left lung, and another set of stitches beneath that, that weren't quite as neat; she guessed that it was probably a wound they had closed up. She was careful not to get any of his stitching wet or either of his casts, and made sure that she was as gentle as possible, afraid he might feel it if she were to press to hard on his bruises. When she was through washing him up she covered his bottom half with the sheet. After she shaved him she was going to need help putting the clean gown on him.
She carefully shaved his precious, but bruised face. She had no idea her husband had arrived and was watching her form the doorway. When she was finished, she called for the nurse and they carefully dressed him together. She paused for a moment when she saw her husband, wondering how long he’d been there.
“Are you hungry?” He asked her as she came out of the room.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just got here a little while ago. I saw you in there,” he said softly. “He probably needed that – from you, I mean.” She looked up at him, wanting to cry again, feeling like she was going to cry again.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Walker,” she admitted quietly. “I can’t sit here, day after day, and watch him like this. And if he wakes-up…”
“I know, Sweetheart,” he said softly.
“Things are never going to be the same again. What are we going to do?”
“We’ll figure it all out,” he said soothingly. “Have you eaten anything yet?”
“I had a cup of coffee.”
“Come on,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her head. “Let’s go get a muffin or something.”
Diana sat across from her husband at the small table in the hospital cafeteria. She carefully peeled the paper wrapper off the bottom of her blueberry muffin. It was way passed breakfast time, but a muffin was all she could really handle. He watched her turn the muffin upside down, and started picking off pieces of the bottom. She always did that, ate the bottom first and the top last. Taylor did the same thing whenever he ate muffins; he’d gotten it from her. Walker smiled a little.
“Where are the other two?” She asked, referring to her other two older sons.
“The kids really wanted them to stay home so they could spend some time together. You know Ike and Zac; they couldn’t tell them ‘no’.” He replied. She smiled a little.
“Yeah, I do know them. That’s just like them, too. And I know they wanted to see Taylor.”
“Yes, but there were four other children wide awake and healthy that wanted to see them.” He said.
“They couldn’t say ‘no’,” she repeated softly with a small smile.
“Oh,” he said suddenly, to himself more than her. He reached down and pulled something out of a bag she noticed he’d been toting around with him. “The kids wanted me to bring these.” He set down a small pile of folded papers – they were all homemade cards. She picked them up, looking at each one and reading the insides; her eyes burned with tears. Each one of the other children had made him a card, telling him to get better and that they missed him. Zac had helped Zoë with hers. They were all colourful – his room needed that; it would be a welcome contrast to the constant sterility of the clinical white.
“I’ll put them in his room as soon as we go back up.” She said, wiping away tears.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?” They both looked up; it was Dr. Morgan. “I’ve been looking for the both of you.”
“Is something wrong?” Walker asked her.
“I have something important to talk to you about. May I sit down?”
“Of course,” Diana replied, moving over a space to make a spot for the other woman. She sat down and waited a moment before she spoke.
“I told you before that I was going to monitor Taylor’s brain activity. I have been and…” she looked at both of them. “There seems to be an improvement.”
“What kind of improvement?” His father asked. She could see the sparks of hope in both of their eyes.
“There’s been an increase in his brain activity. I’ve consulted with a team of doctors, and we’ve reached the conclusion that there’s still a chance Taylor will regain consciousness.”
“Oh my God,” his mother replied quietly. “Can we go see him?” Dr. Morgan nodded and they both stood up, and she smiled slightly.
“Don’t forget his cards,” she said, and Diana bent to pick them up.
“Thank you,” Walker said quietly.
“It’s my pleasure.”
She sat next to his bed, gently stroking the back of his hand. Isaac and Zachary stayed home with the children again; they knew it was where they really needed to be. He husband had gone to get lunch – she’d only wanted a turkey sandwich and some lemonade. She stopped stroking his hand, gently laying hers on top of his. The movement was so slight that she didn’t even feel it. She felt it the second time, and moved her hand away; she wanted to see if she was imagining things. She wasn’t. She’d barely felt his fingers move, and now she was watching them do so, even if it was just the little bit they were. He stopped, and she thought that was it, there wouldn’t be anymore; it was only a minute or so before he moved his fingers again. He lifted them up, as if he was reaching for someone, and she quickly slipped her hand beneath his, and he lightly grasped her fingers. His brow creased and he frowned, swallowing harshly. He started to turn his head slightly in her direction, but moving only caused him more pain. When he finally spoke, so quietly, his voice was so hoarse it came out a whisper – after not having spoken in almost a month, and recently having a breathing tube removed it wasn’t a surprise. His eyes were opened very little.
“Mommy…?” He said, ever so quietly, in a hoarse, dry whisper. Tears sprang to her eyes; he hadn’t called her “Mommy” in too many years, and it was a sudden harsh reminder of what had happened to his mind.
“I’m here, baby,” she cried softly. “I’m right here.”
“Oh my God…” came the quiet sob from the doorway; she turned, and her husband stood there, tears streaming down his face.
Avery and Zoë ran, screaming, by the couch, giggling as they stopped for a breather. Isaac looked at them, smiling a little. It was good to see a change in spirit around the house, even if it wasn’t how he really felt at all.
“What’s all the screaming for?” He asked, a slight grin still on his face.
“Me and Zac are playing with Zoë. He’s a monster,” Avery informed him.
“Oh I see.”
“Shh!” Zoë shushed. “He’s coming.” They ducked down as he came by, and he pretended not to see them.
“Hey Ike, you seen Avie and Zoë?” He smirked. “I gotta catch’em and eat’em for dinner.”
“Nope. Haven’t seen’em anywhere.”
“We got you!” Zoë screeched, wrapping herself around Zac’s legs.
“Oh! You got me.” He repeated. The phone ran then, and he carefully tried to extract himself from the three-year-old’s grip. “Oh, let go, Zo. I gotta get the phone.” She let go of him and he jogged to answer the phone before the machine picked it up. Isaac just sat back and watched his expressions change as he carried on the conversation.
“Zac?” The woman on the other end said; it was his mother’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“He’s awake.” She said, half crying. He nearly dropped the phone, and was still in shock when he hung it up.
"Who was it?” Isaac asked.
“Mom.” He replied, still stunned.
“Well what’d she say?”
“He’s awake.”
They walked briskly down the hallway to Taylor’s room. Zac held Zoë again – the little girl having been more like his daughter than his sister in the last week – Mackenzie holding his free hand, as Isaac held Jessica and Avery’s hands. They met their mother outside their brother’s room.
“How is he?” Isaac asked first, the same question having been on Zac’s mind and evident in his eyes.
“He’s in a lot of pain,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”
“Can we see him?” Zac asked, but she shook her head, obviously to his dislike.
“He’s sleeping right now.” She said softly. “He needs to just rest.”
“Why would they want him to go back to sleep? He’s just woke-up from a coma he’s been in for twenty-seven days.” He replied, becoming somewhat frustrated.
“That’s what Dr. Morgan told me, Zac. He just needs to rest. I don’t think he has any energy to stay awake for long periods of time anyway.”
“Where’s Dad?” Isaac asked, realizing their father’s absence.
“He went to call your grandparents. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“How was he when he woke-up? I mean, considering the brain damage,” Isaac asked somewhat quietly. They watched her eyes mist over, and she lowered her head.
“He called me Mommy,” she said quietly, forcing a small, melancholy smile. “And, um, he didn’t really know what was happening.”
“But we’ll help him,” Walker said, coming up behind his wife and putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be some time before he’s out of the hospital. And things are going to change a lot. We’re going to have to look after him; he won’t be able to do a lot of things for himself, or by himself, like he used to.”
“This is gonna be so hard,” Zac said quietly, hugging Zoë a little closer to him.
“We’ll get through it,” Diana replied softly. “We have to. It’s going to be really hard at first, but we’ll adjust.”
“And then you do get to see him, don’t say anything about the accident.” Their father told them. “He doesn’t remember it. We’ll walk him through that with the doctor.” They nodded. “Dr. Morgan warned us that there may be any number of other things he doesn’t remember; we have to be patient with him, okay?” They nodded silently again.
The night was a lot harder then they thought it would be. He was having so much trouble trying to sleep through the pain that Diana and Walker ended up spending a majority of the night awake with him. They didn’t want to keep pumping him full of sedatives – it’s not like he was hysterical; he could barely move – but the pain killers needed to be on time and constant. It was nearly two in the morning and he was up for the eighth time.
“Baby, shh,” Diana soothed. “Just try to sleep.”
“I can’t. It hurts,” he cried quietly.
“What does, Tay?” Walker asked him softly.
“Everything. All over…” he whispered. They looked at one another, their hearts going out to him.
"I know, baby. I know.” She whispered in return, gently stroking his cheek.
“Please make it stop,” he begged hoarsely.
“I wish we could,” his father said apologetically. There was really nothing left for them to do; they couldn’t just tell the medical staff to give him more painkillers, they’d overdose him, so he just cried. And the more he cried, the more everything seemed to hurt. It was becoming so it even hurt for him to breathe.
“Mama… please… please make it stop hurting…” His words were even that of a small child. His voice was still eighteen-years-old, his body, but his mind and words really were that of an eight-year-old. Diana looked to her husband, tears flooding her eyes almost to the point she couldn’t see him clearly.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she cried quietly to him. He hugged her to him, rubbing her back gently.
“We’ll do the best we can;” he replied, “even if it’s just sitting here with him.”
When it got to the point he was having trouble breathing because of the pain, the knew it was time for him to be given more medication; it had to be. The pain killer was given to him through an injection in his hip, and – as much as they didn’t want to have to give it to him, they knew he needed it – the sedative was simply injected through his I.V. He didn’t sleep through the rest of the morning; he was up again nearly two hours later. But they could only do so much for him. As much as his parents would have died to take his pain away, they knew it was impossible. All they could do was sit with him and watch him suffer.
“No not that one,” Taylor said. “Keep going – okay! Back one.” Mackenzie looked back at him, annoyed, and turned the channel back one station. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you just say you wanted to watch Tiny Toones?” He asked.
“I couldn’t remember what the name was,” he replied.
“Oh…” now he felt bad.
“Mac, I think maybe you should let Tay rest for a little while, okay?” Diana said. She could sense the tension in her seven-year-old now, feeling like he’d done something wrong. He tended to forget that Taylor had a little trouble remembering some things, even little things. He knew now about the accident, though he had no memory of it – about fifteen seconds after impact he was rendered unconscious. He was still much too sore to move around yet, but the important thing was he was alive and awake, and he was healing. The hardest part was having their younger children understand that Taylor looked older than them, but essentially he was younger. The other obstacle they had yet to face was physical therapy; they were warned that it was going to be extremely difficult and painful for him, but they would deal with it as it came.
“Okay,” Mackenzie said, shrugging a little and leaving the TV remote in his place on the chair he’d occupied. “See ya later, Tay.”
“See ya later, Mackie,” he replied, watching him as he walked to the door and left the room quietly. His attention was turned back the TV when Walker clicked the screen off. “Aw come on, Dad…”
“Sorry, bud,” he said apologetically. “Time to just rest a while; you’ve had six visitors today.”
“But it was just my brothers and sisters.”
“They’re still visitors. How’s the head?” Taylor just shrugged.
“Ok, I guess. I always have a headache.”
Dr. Morgan told you that you would probably have headaches for a while.” He nodded slightly at his mother’s words.
“Anything we can get you?” His father asked him. Now that they mentioned resting felt like taking a nap, but he also realized he was feeling a little hungry.
“Can I have a candy bar?” He smiled a little, hoping to win them over. His mother and father broke into small smiles of their own almost simultaneously.
“What kind?” Diana asked.
“Umm… A Snickers?”
“Sure,” she smiled, and got up and came over to his bed; she bent down and kissed his forehead. “I love you, baby.” He smiled a little.
“Love you, too, Mama.” He replied and Walker gave her seventy-five cents to get their son a candy bar. He at the very least deserved a candy bar after all he’d been through.
“After that candy bar, will you rest for a little while?” Walker asked him, gently brushing his hair off of his forehead. He looked up at his father – he still had a rather large bruise on the side of his face, right around his cheekbone and eye, his skin slightly scratched still from shattered pieces of glass that had showered him. He nodded. “Good. You look tired.” He yawned and Walker laughed quietly.
“I’m not tired,” he said, his yawn subsiding.
“Sure you’re not,” he chuckled. “I think all those visitors tired you right out, mister.”
“A little,” he said, finding that he really was tired – really tired. He yawned again and his eyelids began to droop.
“I love you, Taylor.” Walker said softly – he’d never be able to say it enough. After nearly losing his son he knew how much his children truly meant to him: if he didn’t have them, or Diana, or if he lost even one of them, life would be so barren and he would be so incomplete. He thanked God every time the thought crossed his mind that He allowed Taylor to live through this.
He looked to Taylor as he finally dropped off to sleep, breathing softly; his simple breaths were treasure, a new kind of music to his ears. This boy… he was a true miracle. He was one gift that they would never take for granted ever again.
Diana returned with his candy bar and smiled softly at seeing her sleeping son, and felt a sudden warmth in her as she watched her husband watch him. They were blessed, so very blessed. This gift of life that had been given back to them didn’t come without a price, but it was worth having Taylor alive.
“Walker,” she said quietly. He turned to her and she smiled softly, warmly; her smile was an essence of soft radiance. She set the candy bar down on the small table beside Taylor’s bed.
“He fell asleep,” he said quietly. “He was exhausted.”
“He’ll just have to eat that candy bar later,” she replied, and smiled up at him. “You know… I never thought we’d ever have to face anything like this. As hard as it’s going to be… I’m just glad I can touch him, that he’s alive…”
"I know,” Walker replied, kissing the top of her head lightly. “I know.”
He stepped out of the van, Isaac supporting him as he put weight on his weaker leg. After four months in Oklahoma City Medical Center he was finally released and given the ‘ok’ to go home. He was finally home… He knew this was home and he’d missed it terribly; he missed his bed and everything familiar that he remembered. He smiled, glad to be home.
“Come on, kiddo.” Walker said, putting his arm around his son’s shoulders, leading him toward the house. He bit down on his bottom lip gently, fighting a huge excited grin. It may or may not have been childish, but he was more excited to be home than he ever was. He limped slightly as he walked; he wanted to run but remembered what his doctor told him: “Take it easy. Do a little at a time, Taylor, okay?”
The house smelled the same but looked different; there was fan-mail everywhere, and Taylor surveyed the scene in wonderment.
“Are all these for me?” He asked a little astonished.
“A lot of people care about you,” his mother replied with a small smile.
“Wow…” He picked up a pile of letters rubber-banded together. “They all know I had a bad accident?” She nodded. “They all know I’m… different now?” He asked quietly, not looking at her.
“They will,” Walker replied softly. “But they’ll still care about you.” Taylor looked skeptical, but didn’t argue. He knew he was different from other people now…
“Okay,” he said, setting the stack down. He looked around the living room, his gaze finally finding the stairs and then back to his parents. “Can I go up to my room?”
Diana nodded. “Ike, go on up with him.”
“Come on, Tay,” Isaac said, helping him up the stairs. “I bet our room missed you.”
“Good. I missed it too.” He replied; Isaac smiled, and Zachary smiled a little as well. He was still trying to come to terms with the permanent change in Taylor, trying to conceive the fact that Taylor would never make music for people again – it was the one thing in his life he’d never have been able to live without; it was his passion, his love, his reason for loving life the way he did. And now? Now, he would need to be baby-sat, and kept a constant eye on, and he would never step foot on another stage to sway another crowd. How could he deal with that? How could any of them deal with that? When it finally hit him, if it ever did, Zac was almost afraid of how harshly he may take it – music was everything to him, and now his whole life had been ripped out from under him and he had to start all over again, nearly from square one. But everyone else was still coming to terms too, soon the rest of the world would weep for what they’d lost – one of the brightest stars to ever grace this worlds presence, and one of the greatest musician’s the world would ever see.
News Interlude –
Taylor Hanson has finally returned home today after spend nearly four months in Oklahoma City’s Medical Center, following the near fatal car crash back in March. The family has released new to the press that Taylor will suffer from permanent brain damage due to injuries sustained in the accident. The young pop-star will no longer record with his brother’s, leaving a world of fans to mourn the loss of true talent. Young Hanson will remain home with his family in light of recent events.
He slept for a long time, glad to be home and in his own bed, his own clothes, own room, and beneath his own blankets. He came down a little late for breakfast but no one complained; they all seemed to brighten with his presence. It was difficult to remember some things he used to do just fine on his own would no longer be simple for him. After breakfast was through Diana told him he could go shower, and it resulted in her giving him a bath.
“But Mom… You can’t see me naked!” He said, his cheeks scarlet.
“I gave birth to you, Jordan Taylor, and I have seen every naked part of you. I promise you I’ve seen it all before.” She replied. “Now get those clothes off and get in the tub. There’s bubbles so – “
“Mom! I’m bigger now! You can’t see me naked!” He argued. “I’m a boy!”
“And I’m you’re mother; I used to change your diapers, Taylor.”
“But Mom!” He stomped his foot.
“Don’tstamp your feet at me. How about this: I’ll turn my back to you so you can undress and I won’t see anything, then you tell me when you’re in the tub?”
“Well…” he hesitated and she watched him as he thought about it. “I can wash myself.” He stated and she raised her hands as if to surrender.
“You can wash your body all on your own; just let me wash your hair and we’ll call it even.”
“Well…” he studied her. “Oookay,” he finally relented. “But you have to turn around; you can’t see me with my clothes off.” She made and ‘x’ across her chest.
“Cross my heart; I won’t look.” She turned her back to him and he quickly undressed and hopped into the bathtub. She stifled a quietly laugh as she heard the water splash slightly as he jumped in.
“Okay,” he said. She turned around, and was thankful for his own sake that there was enough bubbles that she couldn’t see a thing.
“There. See? I didn’t even have to see you naked,” she grinned at him.
“Nope; you didn’t.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back, remembering when he used to be so small… “Just don’t get any soap in my eyes.” He said nonchalantly and she had to laugh.
“I won’t, baby.”
She grabbed the cup from the side of the tub and filled it with the warm water. “Head back,” she said to him, and he tipped his head back far enough that the water wouldn’t run into his eyes when she poured it onto his head. He closed his eyes as she poured the water over his head a few times, smoothing her hand over his newly wetted hair to make sure each lock had been wet.
“Can I put my head back now? My neck hurts,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, reaching for the shampoo. When she opened the bottle all she could smell was coconut. His hair had always smelled like coconut shampoo; she smiled a little at how silly she was being – a coconut scented shampoo was about to make her cry? She laughed quietly to herself.
“Mmm,” he hummed as she began to lather his hair. “It smells good.”
“It does,” she agreed. He relaxed completely as she lathered his hair, closing his eyes and almost falling asleep. She laughed quietly when she noticed. “Don’t fall asleep, Tay.” She smiled a little.
“I’m not,” he protested quietly, even though it sounded as though he were falling asleep. “It just makes me feel sleepy; I’m not really asleep.”
“Oh. Okay,” she laughed softly. “Put your head back again; time to rinse.” She gently rinsed his hair out, careful not to get shampoo in his eyes. When she was through he returned his neck to a normal angle and smiled up at her.
“Thanks, Mama,” he said. She smiled at him.
“You’re welcome, baby. You wash up soon, ok?” He nodded, playing with the bubbles. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes.” She finger-combed his wet hair for a moment, and then left to get him the clean clothes she just said she was going to get.
When she returned from his bedroom she placed his clean clothes on top of the closed toilet lid. “Baby, I put your clean clothes right over here, okay?” He looked over at her and nodded.
“Yup,” he replied, and went back to playing with the bubbles. She couldn’t help but notice that the change in him only made him look all the more innocent, almost angelic. With a small smile she left him to finish up in the tub.
He was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, sneakers on and shoelaces untied. He sat bent over, trying to work the laces into bows; he just wanted to go out in the backyard and play with his brothers and sisters but the stupid laces wouldn’t tie! He bit down on his bottom lip, part in frustration and part in concentration.
“Tay?” He looked up to see Mackenzie standing in front of him. “What’cha doin’?”
“I can’t get these stupid shoelaces to tie,” he said frustrated, and sitting up. He sighed, obviously irritated by the fact he couldn’t do something as simple as tie his shoes. “I know I did it before…” he said more to himself than his little brother.
“Here, watch,” Mackenzie said as he knelt down in front of him, and took the shoelaces. “Loop it like this, then go around with this one… then under, and through… Pull.” It was tied in a perfect bow. “See?” He did the other sneaker too. “Come on, we’re waitin’ for ya!” He smiled at Taylor and ran off, but instead of jumping up and running off to follow, Taylor remained where he was. He folded his arms over his knees, and rested his chin on his arms, feeling the sting of tears. His little brother had to tie his shoes for him…
“Taylor?” He didn’t move but his mother sat down beside him on the second to last stair. “Honey, what’s the matter?” She asked, seeing his tears.
“I’m so dumb,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Taylor,” she said sympathetically. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t even tie my shoes,” he answered. She looked down at his sneaker-clad feet.
“Honey, they’re tied.”
“Mac did it for me, ‘cause I’m too stupid.”
“Oh honey…” She gently tucked his hair behind his ear. “You’re not stupid.” He wiped his eyes again, and she took his chin gently in her hand and turned his head toward her to look at her. “Baby, there are some things you have to learn over again; it doesn’t mean you’re stupid.” He sniffed.
“Yes I am. I’m a stupid idiot.”
“Stop that. I don’t want to hear you calling yourself names like that again. You are not stupid, Jordan.” She tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Okay?” He nodded slightly. “Go on and play.” He nodded again and got up.
“Taylor?” He turned around to look at her. “I love you.” He stood there for a moment, and then began to smile a little, and it grew into a large grin.
“I love you too, Mama.” She smiled at him and he ran out to play. She watched him go and just sat there on the stairs for a little while, just thinking to herself until Walker joined her.
“What’re you thinking about?” He asked, sitting down beside her.
“Taylor,” she replied, looking at her husband for a moment and then leaning against him, letting her head come to rest on his shoulder; he put his arm around her. “What if he can’t handle this?”
“We’re all here for him. I think he’ll be ok,” he replied.
“He couldn’t tie his shoes today; Mac did it for him.”
"See?” Walker said. “They know they need to be here for him in case he needs help. It’s a good thing, Di.”
“Yeah, except now he thinks he’s stupid.”
“What? Are you serious?” He asked in mild disbelief; she nodded.
“I found him sitting here, crying. He thought he was stupid because he couldn’t tie his sneakers, and it hurt him. What happens when he realizes all of the other things he can’t do?”
“Di,” Walker said softly and shook his head slightly. “Things are so different for him now. We just need to constantly tell him he’s not stupid.” He said and hugged her closer. “He isn’t going to understand this completely – we have to be there to help him along.”
“And make him feel dumb?”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, we have to give it all we’ve got. We’ll hold him up when he needs us to. I’d do anything, anything in this damn cruel world to never have had this happen; I’d die for him if it meant this would be taken back.”
“I know you would,” she said quietly. “God, Walk… this is so unfair. He doesn’t deserve this; our baby doesn’t deserve this punishment.”
“I know,” he replied quietly. “But he has us. He’ll always have us.”
“Mom!” Zac yelled through the house. “I’m going to Wal-Mart with Ike!”
“Are you taking Taylor?” She called back.
“Yes!” He grabbed Taylor’s hand and ran out the door with him in tow, and they got into the van and took off.
Once they reached the parking lot Zac and Isaac gave their brother something of a pep-talk; even if it made him feel like a baby they needed to make sure that he understood the rules.
“Remember what we talked about?” Isaac asked him, and he nodded in response.
“You stay with me, no matter what.” Zac said. “You don’t let go of my hand. Okay?”
“Okay,” Taylor replied confidently. “Can we go in now? I really have to pee…” Isaac and Zac laughed a little, and Isaac ruffled Taylor’s hair and let him out. They went inside and first took Taylor to the bathroom.
They were in the photo frame section, and Zac was looking to buy their mother a new frame for their family portrait seeing as the other one was broken with a flying pillow during a pillow fight he’d had with Taylor in the living room. Their hands were still clasped together.
“Hey.” Zac looked up to see a young woman in a blue Wal-Mart vest and a nametag that read SHIRLEY. “You’re the Hanson kids, aren’t you?” He just nodded. “I’m not going to make a big deal or anything, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about what happened to your brother.” She said, gesturing to Taylor.
“Thanks,” he replied.
“I hope things work out ok.”
“Thanks,” he said again, and she went back to organizing the shelves. He let go of Taylor’s hand to inspect a few of the frames.
“Stay close,” he said, looking at his brother, who nodded, transfixed by some of the pretty frames he saw. One of them was silvery polished and shiny and the other was a beautiful, heavy lead crystal; the light caught it, making it sparkle a little. It was beautiful. He reached out and picked it up. It was heavy for a picture frame so they definitely couldn’t hang it on the wall. He turned it over in his hands, thinking how pretty it was…
“Hey Zac,” he said, still examining the frame.
“Taylor, don’t – “ his sentence was cut short by the loud crash. The frame slipped from Taylor’s hands as he turned it over again, falling to the floor and shattering into hundreds of pieces. “Taylor!” Zac shouted at him. “Ugh! You’re not supposed to touch anything!”
“I’m sorry – “
“I’m gonna have to pay for that! Why couldn’t you just listen?” He yelled at him. “That was probably really expensive!” He didn’t notice Taylor flinching. “God, Taylor! You’re such a… a big… stupid… retard!” He finally blurted out. People were looking now, but Zac was too angry to take notice of that or the fact Taylor was close to tears; he stared down at the floor, eyes burning with tear and trying not to cry, and the girl with the SHIRLEY name tag came around and saw the mess. Zac was cooling down some as Isaac came jogging toward them.
“Tay…” Zac said quietly. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it…” but it was a little too late, his words having already cut and wounded worse than the broken shards of glass could have. Taylor’s tears splashed onto the floor.
“What happened?” Isaac asked, looking from the mess to Taylor, to Zac. He realized Taylor was crying and got a little worried. “Zac, what happened? Is he ok?”
“It’s just a broken picture frame,” SHIRLEY name-tag-girl said.
“Tay, please… please don’t cry.” He tilted Taylor’s head up a little so he could look up into his eyes. Isaac just watched as did the others now standing around. “I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean it. Please… I didn’t mean it, Tay.” Taylor nodded a little and looked back down at the floor.
“I’ll pay for it,” Isaac said, prepared to do so as he realized Taylor must have dropped it, but she shook her head. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s ok.” She looked to Taylor and stepped up to him. She gently lifted his chin with her fingers. “Hey now, no tears,” she said softly, and gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. “It was an accident, no big deal; it’s ok. And don’t pout; you’ll make your lip stick out.” He looked from her to his brothers, and back. He slowly pulled his lip in and gently bit down on it – he didn’t want his lip to stick out! She smiled and laughed quietly a little.
"Thanks,” Zac said quietly.
“It’s no problem,” she replied smiling.
“Come on,” Isaac said, taking Taylor’s hand. “It’s ok. Let’s get home.”
They could hear people whispering behind them, only catching bits and pieces such as ‘bad car accident’ and ‘brain damage’ and ‘he’s a retard or something’.
“Don’t listen to them, Tay. That’s not true,” Isaac said softly. Taylor looked back timidly at the people watching and talking about him. “You’re not a retard, Taylor.”
“Tay…” Zac started. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it; I just got mad and it just came out… I’m really sorry,” he said, feeling like the worlds biggest asshole. Taylor knew he was sorry, but the damage had been done and it hurt – a lot.
News Interlude –
Nearly five months ago, eighteen-year-old Taylor Hanson suffered critical injuries in a near fatal car crash. Malcolm Greene, the driver of the truck that struck young Hanson’s car, faces charges brought against him by the family; Greene faces charges of vehicular misconduct and recklessly endangering another life which could result in up to five years in prison, revocation of his license, and thousands of dollars worth of fines. The family released a statement saying, quote, “We’re not suing for money; we don’t want any money. We just want justice for what happened to our son.” A court date has been set for August third.
Taylor sat up on the witness’ stand, looking out at the people in the courtroom, letting his gaze wander over the jury, his family, lawyers, and general onlookers. He looked at his lawyer as he came toward him.
“Taylor,” he said, “do you know what happened to you because of Mr. Greene?”
“Objection,” the other lawyer quickly countered.
“Sustained,” the Judge replied, looking at the lawyer standing near the boy beside him.
“Let me rephrase that: Taylor, do you know what happened to you because of the accident?”
Taylor looked down at his hands, pausing for some time, leaving the courtroom in a long silence before he finally answered. He didn’t raise his head to look at anyone as he spoke. “I’m different,” he said quietly, so meekly he almost couldn’t be heard.
“You’re different?” Mr. Dylan questioned.
“Yeah…” he replied quietly, not looking up.
“How?”
“I don’t know… I hurt my head really bad in the crash.” He still spoke quietly, keeping his eyes focused down on his own hands. “My Mama said something happened to my brain…” Mr. Dylan nodded once. He moved to the table where he had been sitting and returned with something – papers.
“The Prosecution would like to present exhibit C as evidence, medical documentation of the witness, Taylor Hanson’s injuries. Permanent brain damage due to serious head trauma sustained during the crash on March 24th.” The Judge nodded, and turned the evidence over to the jury. “Nothing further, your Honour.”
The Judge gave the other lawyer, Mr. Harper, his chance to cross examine, and he approached Taylor slowly. “You said you’re different, Taylor?” He questioned.
"Yeah…” he wouldn’t look up or speak any louder.
“Tell me how.” Now he looked up at his mother and father, and Diana nodded once, silently telling him it was ok to answer the question again. He looked to the Judge.
“Go ahead, son, answer the question,” he said gently.
“I… I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “I already said…”
“Well, if you’re different you have to know how.”
“I already told you,” he said, looking again at his mother, and then at his lap.
“Tell us again. How are you different? Do you look any different?”
“No, I – “
“So explain to us how you’re different. Tell us.”
“I’m stupid, okay?!” He shouted suddenly in tears, and looking up. “I’m a retard!” He covered his face with his hands. Mr. Harper looked to the Judge guiltily, who looked back at him with contempt.
“I think that’s enough, counsel.” He said sternly, and then turned to Taylor. Diana was standing immediately, Walker holding her back gently by her arms. The Judge softened his tone and gaze as he spoke to Taylor. “It’s ok, son. You don’t have to say anymore; it’s all done. You can step down.” He looked up and nodded to the boy’s mother, giving affirmation that it was all right for her to come and help him down. She came up quickly, and putting her arms around him comfortingly and protectively, holding him close and speaking softly and soothingly to him, she led him from the courtroom.
“Your Honour, I’d like to ask the court for a short recess.”
As soon as he entered the room and closed the door, she began yelling. She was too angry and too upset to control her temper, and at the sight of him it flared.
“What the hell was that in there?” She shouted. “He humiliated my son!”
“Diana,” Walker said softly. “Calm down, please – “
“I will not calm down!” She still shouted. “He had no right to make Taylor feel inferior to the rest of those people in there!”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry it happened. I didn’t know he was going to do that.” Mr. Dylan said.
“You’re damn right you’re sorry.” She snapped.
“He isn’t going back in there,” Walker said, considerably calmer than his wife. He was sitting in the chair beside Taylor, who was partially curled into his father’s lap, hiding his face. “I don’t care what you have to do or say, but he is not going back out there for all of them to stare at.” Mr. Dylan nodded once and came to kneel down in front of Taylor.
"Taylor,” he said softly. “I am very sorry for what that man did; it was very mean, and he shouldn’t have done that to you.” Taylor heard him but didn’t respond, and seeing he would get no response he stood back up. He gave them the affirmation that there was no way for them to lose the case, and returned to the courtroom, leaving the two of them to comfort their son.
News Interlude –
…After the court case was ruled in favor of the Hansons, Malcolm Greene was sentenced to three years in a minimum security prison, revocation of his license, and thousands of dollars in fines.
“Hey guys,” Walker said, coming into the living room. “The Jenks County Fair is going on today and the rest of the week. You wanna go?”
“Really?” Taylor’s eager grin stretched across his face, his eyes taking on light. “Can we? I wanna go on the rides.” Isaac and Zachary smiled at one another, amused by Taylor’s sudden enthusiasm and excitement.
“You boys wanna go?” Walker asked them. How could they say no to Taylor? Besides, they wanted to go anyway.
“Yeah,” Isaac answered, grinning.
“Yes!” Taylor jumped up and ran up the stairs. “Come on, guys! We’re going to the fair!”
Zac and Isaac volunteered to take Taylor around the fairground, along with their other siblings, minus Zoë who stayed with their parents. After an hour or so of playing games Isaac left Zac and Taylor to take Jessica, Avery, and Mackenzie back to their parents. Zac held onto Taylor’s hand as they passed through small crowds of people. Since when did little carnivals get so crowded? He gripped Taylor’s sweaty hand a little tighter; he needed to know he was still with him and safe.
“Come on, Tay,” Zac said, pulling gently on his brother’s hand.
“I’m coming,” he replied, smiling a little as he looked around them. “Hey Zac? When are we gonna go on some rides?”
“I want to meet up with Mom and Dad first so they know we’re ok,” he said. “Then, I’ll take you on some rides. I promise.” He looked back over his shoulder and smiled a little at his older brother. Or was he his younger brother now?
“Ike too?”
“Yeah, Tay, Ike too,” he smiled. “Now come on,” he urged, pulling again to make Taylor move a little faster. It wasn’t long before Taylor noticed people looking at him; even he could tell they weren’t just looking – they were staring, some pointing, some whispering.
“Zac… people are looking at me.” He looked around them, a little nervous now. He didn’t go out in public like this very often anymore, and when Zac heard the nervousness in his voice he turned to look at him .
“Don’t worry about them,” he said reassuringly. “People just haven’t seen you in a while.” He pulled him along still, and Taylor continued to look around them, growing more nervous and self-conscious.
“Zac… they’re staring at me…” He could hear that Taylor was coming close to tears now, and when he turned to look at him there were none in his eyes yet, but thy would be if they didn’t get out of there soon.
“Hey, it’s ok.” He squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. “The sooner we find Mom and Dad, the sooner we can go on rides, and the sooner they can’t see you.” Okay?” Taylor nodded silently and they continued on again. They had only made if a few feet before someone whistled, and Taylor looked.
“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” A man from the crowd laughed at his own stupidity, his son standing beside him did the same. Zac glared at him menacingly; he looked briefly at Taylor and it was easy to tell he was hurt. He didn’t need or deserve that.
“Come on, Tay. Don’t pay any attention to him,” he said gently. Taylor looked at him but didn’t nod this time; he looked down at the ground and let Zac continue to lead him. He looked over his shoulder and the man’s son made a kissing face at him. He just looked back at the ground, feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
“What a freak.” Someone said it quietly, but loud enough that both Taylor and Zac heard it, and Zac felt his brother slow down.
“Keep going, Tay.” He urged him on. Taylor could feel the tears creeping up on him and felt himself slowing down.
“Hey!” The worst mistake he made was looking up and listening. “He’s not just pretty, he’s a retard too.” He and his son started to laugh, along with a few others. Zac felt the pain just flowing through his brother’s hand. The look on his face when he turned around was positively heartbreaking. Hadn’t he been through enough? If there was one thing that hurt him, really hurt him, it was being called a retard. Before he knew what was happening Taylor tore from his grasp, running, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Taylor!” He called after him, but he didn’t stop. He spun around and looked at the man who’d made the hurtful comment, glaring at him and his son, still chuckling. “Do you feel better about yourself because you can pick on him? Huh? I hope you’re happy now that you know you can hurt him in the worst way possible. You’re assholes,” he said, his disgusted look speaking volumes, a small group looking at the man and his son with same disgusted looks as he turned and ran after his brother. It suddenly wasn’t so funny anymore.
He walked into the men’s room, finding it empty except for one closed stall; he could hear him crying – he didn’t think it could hurt so much to know he was in that kind of pain. “Taylor?” He spoke softly, standing outside the stall. Getting no answer he pushed gently on the stall door and it opened slowly – Taylor hadn’t thought to lock it. What he saw… it broke his heart. Taylor was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, his head down on them, and his arms folded to hide his face. “Tay…”
“He… he called me a retard, Zac…” he sobbed. For a moment he swore he was going to cry too, seeing Taylor like that, hearing him sob the way he was. He sat down beside him and gently laid a hand on the back of his head and sighed quietly.
“You’re not a retard, Taylor. Don’t listen to him.”
“Yes I am,” he sobbed. It wasn’t hard to see that he really believed it. Zac scooted closer to him, pulling him into an embrace, letting him cry in his lap. He gently stroked his hair, and wondered briefly, if this was what it was like to be an older brother, or a father.
“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “Please don’t cry, Tay.” But he just continued sobbing, breaking his brother’s heart a little more.
“They’re right,” he cried, “I’m a freak.”
“Tay – “
“I’m a retard, Zac!” He sobbed painfully, his body shuddering. Suddenly, Zac hated that word, more than he ever thought he would. “I’m a retard…”
“Tay, please…” It was becoming difficult for him to speak around the knot forming in his throat; he knew he was going to cry too, feeling the tears burning his eyes. “Please don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” he cried quietly. Before Zac even had a chance to try and stop them, the tears rolled down his cheeks. This was so unfair to Taylor; to go through all he did, to live through by some miracle of God, only to have people do this to him. What did he ever do to deserve something like that? He couldn’t understand it. He lifted Taylor’s head from his lap, holding his face gently in his hands, forcing him to look at him. The tears were streaming down Taylor’s face.
“Don’t you ever believe that.”
Taylor just cried, shaking his head. He didn’t believe him. Everyone thought he was a retard. “Why did I even live? People are just mean to me… Why do you even want me?” He asked quietly, huge tears standing on his eyelashes.
“Because you’re my brother, Taylor,” he said softly. “And I love you.”
“How could anyone love me now?” He asked quietly, still crying. “How… how can anybody love a retard?”
Zac shook his head. “I love you just as much now as I did before the accident – even more.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t realize how much you really meant to me – to us – until we almost lost you. I realized that none of us could live without you, Tay.” He told him gently but firmly. “And you almost…” it was hard to even think it, “when you almost died, and then started to get better… it made me realize that we took having you for granted. It made me love you even more. Can you understand that?” He reached out and wrapped his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, crying so hard it hurt. No one ever said anything like that to him. What that man said to him, it stuck in his head, and it hurt so bad he thought he’d die. But… at least he knew Zac loved him. “Don’t you ever, ever believe what he said.” Zac just held him tightly, hugging him back, knowing it was what he needed. He just sat there with him while he sobbed, just cradling as much of him as he could, rocking him gently, and soothingly smoothing his hair.
“I wanna go home, Zac,” he cried quietly. “I don’t wanna go on the rides any more. Please take me home…?” He didn’t know what else to say to comfort him, and instead just held him tighter. How could someone think hurting him like this was funny? He tenderly smoothed his hand over Taylor’s hair, trying to soothe him in some way – there just wasn’t enough comfort in the world to give him.
Zac got them to their parents, holding Taylor’s hand and keeping him close. They could tell by the looks on the boys faces that something had gone wrong. There was silence for a moment or so as they took in Zac’s expression and Taylor’s flushed cheeks, and wet eyelashes.
“What happened?” Walker asked. Immediately Taylor began crying again, letting their mother stand and take him in her arms; and though he was much taller than her, he bent and placed his head on her shoulder, his face turned in toward her neck.
“I really think we should go home,” Zac said quietly. “Please?”
“I wanna go home, Mama,” Taylor cried quietly. “I don’t care about the rides anymore. Please take me home?”
“Okay, baby.” She said softly, gently rubbing his back. “We can go home now.” She looked at Zac, hopefully for some answers, but his eyes told her enough: he’d explain it all later.
It was a long enough ride home for Taylor to calm down a little; his head was leaned against the window, his hair falling a little in front of his eyes, slightly obscuring his face. He was breathing normally now, no longer sighing from crying so hard. His mother turned around in her seat, feeling a need to keep checking on him – the state he was in when they left the fair…
“He’s asleep,” Zac said quietly, watching his brother carefully, and seeing their mother out of the corner of his eye.
“What happened, Zac?” She asked softly.
"Some asshole yelled some pretty rotten things.” He didn’t even get in trouble for cursing. “First he went and yelled out that he was a pretty little thing.” He paused for a moment to look at Taylor. “He called him a retard,” he said quietly, sadly.
“Oh no…” she whispered, looking at Taylor again. She suddenly understood why he had been so upset.
“He yelled it in a crowd of people. Taylor ran away crying and I found him on the floor in the men’s room.”
“Who would do something like that?” Isaac spoke up. “What kind of dickhead does that?” The younger children looked at him wide-eyed, and he realized what kind of word he’d just used. “Sorry guys,” he apologized quietly.
“We can’t do this again,” Diana said, shaking her head slightly.
“Di, we can’t just keep him locked up in the house like a prisoner. He was lucky enough to have lived through the accident, thank God. If we keep him locked away from the rest of the world we’d just be taking his life away.”
“I’m not going to let people ridicule him, Walker. He shouldn’t have to worry about being humiliated every time he goes out in public.”
“I agree with that, he shouldn’t have to worry, but it’s not going to happen every time he goes out.”
"You don’t know that!” They were getting louder as they argued their points.
“No, I don’t. But what have we always taught them? If you fall down, get up; dust yourself off. Keep going.” He looked at her pointedly for a moment, then back at the road. “I won’t let him just bow his head and give up.” She was quiet for a while and Taylor shifted in the backseat, turning and putting his head on Isaac’s shoulder; he put his arm around his younger brother to reassure him that he was somewhere safe.
“Ike…” the sound of tears were still present in Taylor’s voice.
“Shh… it’s ok, Taylor. Go back to sleep,” he said softly, and after a moment he subsided, relaxing against his brother.
“He can’t handle being hurt like that, Walk,” she said softly. “The old Taylor could, but… now? Things are different now. I can’t handle it when he gets hurt like this,” she added softly. “How can he?”
“We’ve got to keep him going, Di,” Walker replied. “We can’t let him give up – not after all he’s been through just to get this far – we can’t give up on him.”
He crept quietly down the stairs, pulled by the smell of coffee and cinnamon. As he made his way down the carpeted steps he smelled strawberries and pancake batter. He fought a giggle and grinned instead. This meant his mother was making strawberry pancakes – he didn’t remember a lot of things, but he knew he liked those. He ran his hands along the smoothness of the wall and the shiny wooden banister, looking at the family pictures lining the walls. The sight of them made him remember a time when there was always a lot of cameras and bright flashes, and people… but he couldn’t place it, and continued his journey to the kitchen.
The cinnamon smell reminded him of Christmas time – it was one of the things he didn’t lose memory of; he could never forget Christmas of the way the Christmas tree smelled when he’d lay underneath it with Zoë to look at the presents.
He reached the doorway of the kitchen and stood there a few moments, just watching his mother cooking, listening to the sound of her humming floating toward him. She started a little when she finally took notice of him, just as he was yawning – it was early yet and he was still tired. She smiled a little, remembering mornings long before the accident when he couldn’t sleep; they spent the early hours of the morning drinking cinnamon coffee and talking about everything. She hadn’t realized how much she missed that.
“It’s early, baby. How come you’re up?” He shrugged and his answer brought a small smile to her lips, bringing back her earlier thoughts.
“I can’t sleep.” He shrugged again. “Can I have some coffee?” The question came instinctively – he didn’t even really know if he liked coffee.
“Sure sweetie.” She smiled a little, pouring him a cup. She knew he always drank his coffee black, and handed it to him that way – she never liked black coffee, it was always too bitter for her taste. Taylor had always been her one to break the molds.
“I like it like this?” He asked her and she nodded smiling. “I thought you’re supposed to put stuff in it…”
“Go ahead and drink it,” she said. “Be careful, it’s hot.” He sipped it and seemed pleased, or at least unaffected. He obviously liked coffee before…
“I could smell strawberry pancakes when I was coming down,” he said sitting on a high-stool at the counter, only wearing his boxers – some things never change.
“Well are you hungry?” He nodded eagerly and she almost laughed. She just smiled warmly at him, watching his hair fall in his face. She came over to him, reaching up to gently brush his hair out of his eyes; it smelled like coconut shampoo, and he smelled like Irish Spring and clean cotton.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I have some pancakes now? I’m really hungry.” She laughed quietly at his nonchalant seriousness. He reminded her of Mackenzie in that moment; it was definitely something her youngest son would do and say.
“Of course you can, baby,” she said, kissing his cheek. She reached up into the cupboard, moving aside a glass to get him a plate; the glass slipped from its place on the shelf, shattering on the floor.
“Oh shoot,” she said to herself, not noticing the sudden trance her son was thrown into. That sound… breaking glass… His mind flashed back to something he barely remembered; he was behind the wheel of a car, turning around a long bend. There were lights up ahead, a huge truck… The headlights drifted over… It was right in front of him… There was screeching and then crunching, glass shattering in millions of pieces all around him. Everything tightened around him, squeezing him. There was excruciating pain everywhere at once, and then… nothing.
“Taylor?” She said nervously, tucking his hair behind his ears, smoothing her hands over his suddenly pale face. His cheeks were red, flushed with heat, his heart thudding painfully in his chest, his breathing quick and shallow. “Baby, are you ok?” He couldn’t breathe, and he felt sick to his stomach.
“The truck…” he mumbled, his eyes far off and glazed. “It… it was crunching up, and the glass broke up… it squeezed me so tight…” She suddenly realized what was happening.
“Oh baby…”
“It hurt all over,” he said, his voice a near whisper, tears suddenly stinging his eyes and him not entirely sure why.
"Sweetie…” She gently stroked his hair. He couldn’t breathe, and he had a terrible headache.
“Mom…” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“Come here, baby,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his lean frame and holding him close. “Shh… it’s ok.” He relaxed some in her embrace, and let her just hold him, comfort him. It was the only time he had ever remembered anything about the accident. He never wanted to remember it again.
Something about Taylor had changed since the day at the county fair. He’d grown impossibly quieter, not at all the lively, almost bouncy boy he’d been before the fair – before the accident even. He spent most of his time playing with the youngest Hanson children, whether it was in the backyard, in the pool, or in the house with toys in their bedrooms. Everyone picked up on the fact he was afraid to leave the security home gave him. After the incident at the fair he rarely ever left the house to go further than the backyard, unless he had to go to church with the rest of the family.
“Hey Taytor-tot,” Avery said as she bounced into the bedroom she shared with her older sister; Jessica and Taylor were on the floor colouring.
“Hi Avie,” he replied, concentrating on the task in front of him.
“What’cha doing?”
“Colouring.”
“Aw come on, Tay; don’t be so sad all the time.” He shrugged but didn’t look up from his colouring book. “Come watch me at dance class today.” He looked up briefly and shook his head. “Come on, Tay, please?”
“Avie,will you leave him alone?” Jessica said, growing annoyed. “He doesn’t wanna go.”
Too many people,” he said quietly; none of the three of them sure if he was talking to the girls or himself.
“Fine. I’ll just tell mom to make him go.” She turned and left the room. He looked at Jessica as if asking her if he really had to go.
“Don’t worry, Tay,” she said. “You don’t have to go.”
Avery bounded down the stairs and into the den where she’d last seen her mother and father. Her father was still sitting at the computer, glasses on, reading and clicking the mouse.
“Daddy, where’s Mom?” She asked.
“She’s in the laundry room, sweetheart,” he said without looking at her, but smiling nonetheless to let her know he wasn’t brushing her off.
“Okay.” She turned and bounced out of the den, heading off in the direction of the laundry room. “Mom?”
“Yeah?” She turned around to see which child was calling her name. She saw Avery and smiled. “What can I do for you, sweetie?”
“Mom, will you please make Taylor come to dance class and watch me?”
“No, I will not,” she replied, looking at her daughter with a you-know-better-look as she sorted through the clothing and dropped it piece by piece into the washing machine.
“Mom…” she whined. “Please? He always used to come see me dance. He never goes anywhere anymore!”
“Avery Laurel, stop it. Do you remember the fair?” The ten year old nodded. “Someone was very… mean to him. Remember how Taylor was crying?” She nodded again. “It was because of that man, and what he said, and all those people staring at him. He doesn’t like being around a lot of people.”
“Mom, there aren’t a lot of people at dance. Come on, you know that. I promise. Please?” Diana seemed to think; her daughter was right: Taylor didn’t go anywhere anymore, other than church. They couldn’t even go out for dinner as a family because he wouldn’t go and they couldn’t leave him alone. Maybe he should go… The people at dance knew about the accident, and they wouldn’t say anything to hurt him – they all knew him. “Mom?”
“Let me talk to your father, and we’ll see.”
Avery sighed, “Okay.”
Diana stepped into the den, Walker still on the computer as when she left him. She wasn’t sure about this, so she decided it best that she and her husband talk it over together. The last thing she wanted to do was make the wrong decision and cause an upheaval in the calm that had finally started to descend.
“Walk?” He looked up from the computer. “Take a break? I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure, hon.” He clicked the mouse one more time, and took of his glasses, swiveling around to face her. “Didn’t mean to take so long; figuring out some bills. What do you need?”
“It’s about Taylor.” She came in and sat across from him in another chair. “Avery wants me to make Taylor go with us to watch her dance.”
“Does he want to go?” She shook her head in response.
“But she wants me to make him go anyway. She said he never goes anywhere anymore, and she’s right, but I’m not sure making him go is right.”
“Maybe this’ll be good for him,” he said softly. “He needs to go out sometime.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” he replied. “But we have to try.”
Diana stood car keys in hand as Avery slipped on her shoes. She was actually nervous for Taylor, but Walker assured her that he really needed to get out of the house; he needed to interact with other people again.
“Jessica. Taylor.” She called up the stairs. She ushered Avery over to the front door and waited. Both children came down the stairs, Taylor behind Jessica, and waited for instructions. “Well, come on, put your shoes on.”
“For what?” Taylor asked, not moving as he watched his sister go and put her shoes on like she was told. “We don’t have church today.”
“We’re going to Avery’s dance class.” Taylor immediately shook his head.
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Taylor, come on, put your shoes on. She’s going to be late.”
“I don’t wanna go.” She sighed moving forward toward Taylor, still standing on the stairs.
“Taylor,” she said reaching for his hand. He pulled back quickly, taking a step back, moving back up a step.
“No,” he said. “I don’t wanna go.” His eyes were frightened; he almost looked like a cornered animal.
“Taylor, come on now.” She took hold of his wrist gently but firmly, pulling him off the steps, trying to pull him forward.
“No, don’t…” he was trying to stop his feet on the carpet.
“Taylor – “
“Mama, please…” he begged. “Please don’t make me go. Please, please, please?” She looked at him; he was crying now. Walker watched, but didn’t intervene – he wanted to know why Taylor wanted to stay so badly, and so not finding it necessary to stop what was going on.
“Taylor,” she said softly, and he finally pulled his wrist free, reaching for something – anything – to hold on to, and finding nothing fell in a sitting position on the carpeted floor. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his forehead on his knees, crying. Walker took a step toward him and Diana sat down beside him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” She asked gently.
“I don’t wanna go,” he cried quietly.
“But why?” She looked up at Walker hoping she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.
“Too many people.”
“Taylor, honey, there won’t be – “
“They’ll make fun of me!” He shouted into his legs, shuddering with the force of the sob that escaped him. She gently rubbed his back, leaning in a little closer to him.
“Baby, they won’t make fun of you,” she said softly.
“Yes they will,” he cried.
“I promise you, they won’t.” She said. He lifted his head slightly, his nose and cheeks red, tears streaming down his face. He shook his head slightly, sniffing.
“They will,” he cried quietly, wiping his nose on his arm.
“They all know you, baby; they won’t hurt you like that.” She said, gently stroking then tucking his hair behind his ear. “Please come?”
“They won’t laugh?” He asked quietly, timidly.
“No baby, they won’t laugh.” He looked from his mother to his father.
“Please come too?” He begged childishly.
“Sure I will, son.” He said, putting his hand on Taylor’s head and then helping him stand. He squeezed his father’s arm, his eyes pleading with him.
“Please don’t let them laugh at me; don’t let them make fun of me…” he whispered.
“I won’t, Tay. I promise.” If anyone so much as looked at his son the wrong way they’d have him and his wife to answer to.
As soon as the van was parked Avery unbuckled her seatbelt, threw open her door, ad started sprinting toward the building – she was late.
“Avery, don’t run!” Diana called, but it was too late, she was already disappearing inside the double doors. They looked back at Taylor who was nervously biting his thumbnail, and then began chewing his lip in the same nervous manner. “You ready, buddy?” Walker asked softly.
“They’re gonna laugh…”
“They won’t.” Diana assured him. “Come on.” Jessica took his hand and tugged gently until he looked down at her.
“It’s ok, Tay,” she said softly. “Come on” she urged. He cautiously stepped away from the van, Diana closing the door behind him. He and Jessica walked between their parents, holding hands, slowly making their way to the doors. He grabbed his father’s hand and squeezed as they approached the doors.
“Dad…” he protested weakly.
“You’ll be ok,” he said reassuringly. They went inside, making their way down the hallway to Avery’s class. They crept in quietly since the class had already begun. Immediately he noticed the parents of other young children passing glances at him. He suddenly wanted to leave, his mind involuntarily taking him back to the day at the fair…
“They’re staring at me…” he whispered, his lip quivering. He pulled his hand away from Jessica, and moved as if he was going to run, and Walker stepped in his way, allowing him to run into his chest. He gently took hold of his shoulders. He looked between his parents, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“They’re not, Tay,” Jessica said quietly, wanting desperately for her brother not to run out. He pulled away from their father, but he only grabbed Taylor’s hand instead, and he tried weakly to pull away again.
“You’ll be ok,” he said, pulling Taylor closer to him again – the closer he kept him the better he felt, because he was honestly afraid. They went over to the seating area, sitting down with the other parents, and some other children watching their siblings dance.
One of the girls’ mother’s sitting beside Walker leaned over, reaching across his lap and covered Taylor’s hand with hers, squeezing gently. He immediately looked to his father, frightened.
“It’s good to see you again, Taylor,’ she said softly. “We’ve missed your face around here.” Her eyes sparkled and her gentle smile was warm, letting him know she wasn’t going to hurt him. She gave his hand another squeeze before drawing back, and sitting to watch her own daughter. Walker looked to his wife who had a small smile across her lips.
"Thank you, Pam,” Walker said quietly. Most everyone there was on a first name basis – it was a fairly close knit community. Taylor looked at the little girls dancing, spotting his sister; she smiled and waved and returned her attention to her instructor. Maybe this was ok…
Avery ran up to her family, practically leaping on her brother. Taylor received her a little unsurely into his arms, picking her up.
“I love you, Tay,” she said brightly, kissing his cheek. He laughed a little.
“I love you too, Avie.”
“All right,” Walker said smiling. “Avery, get off of your brother.” She slid down until her feet touched the floor again.
"Can we get some ice cream?” Jessica asked, taking Taylor’s hand as they left the building.
“I don’t see why not,” Diana smiled.
As they pulled up to the ice cream parlor Taylor leaned his head against the window; there were some kids out there around his own age, sitting on the hood of a car and standing around it. They were all smiling and laughing as he watched them longingly.
"Why can’t I be like them?” He asked quietly, just before his sisters unbuckled their seatbelts. Diana looked at Walker and then turned around in her seat to face her son. Her poor little boy…
“Go on,” she said quietly to her husband. “We’ll catch up.” Once they’d gone out she climbed into the back seat with Taylor. “Baby…” she said softly, feeling the sudden sting of tears. Life had been so cruel to him… “You’re not like him because you’re different here,” she said softly, gently placing her hand on his head.
“Why?” He asked quietly. “I never used to be different.”
“No, you didn’t.” She agreed. “But remember that accident?” She watched his eyes darken a little, get a little distant.
“The bad one?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “The bad one. Baby, you hurt your head… very badly.” She couldn’t believe how hard she was finding it to do this. “It changed you,” she said quietly. “They couldn’t fix what was hurt because it was hurt too much.”
“Is God made at me?” He had tears in his eyes.
“No, Taylor. No. Why would you think that?”
“Because, He punishes bad people… So I must be bad…”
“No you’re not.” She gently ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the raised skin where permanent scars would hide under his hair for the rest of his life.
“I don’t wanna be like this anymore,” he cried quietly.
“Oh, sweetheart…” She gazed at him, tears rolling down her cheeks as well.
“No one’s ever gonna like me if I’m so different.” He sounded so sad…
“That’s not true, Taylor.”
“It is, too. I won’t ever be married like you and dad,” he said quietly. “No one’s gonna love me like this, Mama.”
“Taylor…” She hadn’t ever thought about that, and didn’t really know what to say. What could she say to something like that? The sad truth was that he was probably right – but how could she accept that for him?
“I think…” He watched his father with his little sisters. “I think I used to want to be a Daddy, just like Dad,” he said quietly. She felt more tears burn his eyes, his words burning her painfully to her core. “But I can’t. I never can. I’d hurt the baby.” He was so quiet and sad.
“Why would you hurt the baby?”
“Because I’m stupid, Mama,” he cried quietly. He sounded so hurt, and she hurt for him. She wanted the best for her children, and now she was afraid that Taylor would never see that. There weren’t enough people in the world who would accept him this way. Everything he had was taken from him; he could have been so happy… normal… but his life was ripped out from under him. She reached out, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks.
“You’re not stupid,” she said softly, wiping her own tears. “Please don’t say that about yourself.”
“I should have died…” he said quietly, looking at his lap. She had the sudden urge to slap him, and instead grabbed his face almost violently, forcing him to look at her.
“Don’t ever,” she said slowly, emphatically, “ever say that again. Do you understand me?” He almost looked afraid, his teary blue eyes wide. “Your life is precious, even if you don’t understand that, it is. What would this family be without you?” She watched his eyes fill with tears again. “We would never be the same again,” she said softly, pulling him into her arms.
“Taylor… I love you so much,” she said cradling him to her. “You are so precious to me,” she cried quietly, “to all of us.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s ok, baby,” she said, drawing his head away from her should and once again wiping his tears away. He reached out and did the same to her.
“Don’t cry, Mama,” he said softly. She smiled a little, knowing he didn’t realize how much his little gesture meant to her.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Mama.” He replied quietly, and she kissed his forehead.
“Come on, baby,” she smiled. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”
Diana could hear the girls giggling in their bedroom, probably entertaining Zoë since the three-year-old wasn’t currently attached to her leg or Taylor. Isaac was downstairs in the den with his father, discussing the record business, though they were officially not recording or performing anymore.
“Hey Zac?” He looked up from the book he was reading. “What have you got there?”
“Oh, um, just reading for history and literature.”
“What book? It looks pretty thick.”
“Oh. A Tale of Two Cities.” He looked back down at the book and then back up at her.
“Well, I’m pleasantly surprised.” She smiled. “Have you seen Taylor?”
“Um, not in the last hour,” he answered. “But I do think I saw him going into the garage.”
“He went downstairs?” She was a little surprised he would go down there…
“Yeah, but I don’t know what he’s doing down there.”
“I think I’m going to go check on him. Make sure your sisters don’t kill each other, and enjoy your book, baby.”
“I’ll try. Thanks, Ma.” He smiled quickly at her and turned back to his book again. Mackenzie was safely immersed in building a monstrous Lego castle.
She made her was downstairs, listening for any sounds of her second oldest child, but it was silent. “Taylor?” No answer. She came down off the stairs, scanning the room. Against the far wall, on the black leather couch, she could see his slightly curled form, and smiled a little. Then she noticed he was holding something. She moved closer to inspect what he had in his hands. She crept closer, leaning down… CD’s? She gently took the small stack from under his arm and hands. Middle of Nowhere, Live From Albertane, Snowed In, This Time Around. What was he doing with all of those? She walked them over and set them on the grand piano, going back to Taylor. “Tay?” She ran her fingers gently through his hair, then shook his shoulder gently. His eyes opened slowly, and he took a few moments to let his vision focus. “You fell asleep down here, baby.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his eyes, and pushed his hair out of his face.
“What were you doing down here?” He shrugged, looking around.
“I dunno.” He looked down at his hands.
“Taylor?” He looked up at her through the fringe that had once again fallen in front of his eyes.
"I dunno,” he said again. “I was trying to remember the old me,” he said quietly. He looked up at her sadly. “We’re not gonna make music anymore, are we, Mama?”
“No, baby,” she said softly, shaking her head slowly.
“Why does that make me want to cry?” He asked softly.
“Because Taylor, you loved music.” She didn’t want to say anything more to upset him. “Why don’t you come upstairs and have something to eat?” He shrugged, watching her stand up first. “Come on,” she urged, and he stood up slowly, looking around the room. He started to follow her up the stairs but stopped in front of the piano.
“I used to play,” he said quietly, “didn’t I?” He looked at her and she nodded. He ran his fingers over the ivory keys, looking like he was about to cry. “I can’t remember how…”
“Taylor,” she took his arm gently. “Don’t put yourself through this. Come upstairs.” He didn’t argue – he didn’t feel like arguing – turning sadly away from the piano, and the papers sitting on it. He had put those notes on that manuscript paper, created what it was on that paper, and now he didn’t even know what the notes were.
She brought him upstairs, wishing she could take the sullen look from his face, his whole demeanor. “What do you want to eat, Tay?” He just shook his head slightly.
“I’m not hungry."
“Taylor – “
“I’m just not hungry, Mama.” She looked at him. Going down there was a mistake for him; all it did was remind him of the things he could no longer do, all it did was make this a little more difficult for him just when she thought he was dealing a little better.
“Taylor, look at me.” He continued to stare off. “Taylor.” She took his chin gently, turning his head to face her. “Baby, I know this is hard. Maybe someday you’ll play again – “ He backed away, and started for the stairs, not letting her finish. “Taylor.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Mama. I know I can’t play. I’m retarded now – people like me don’t make music.” He turned away, heading slowly up the stairs to his room.
“Taylor.” He didn’t turn around, didn’t answer her, just kept going. He was too upset to talk; he just wanted to cry by himself in his bedroom, leaving his mother standing and wondering what in the world had brought this on. Leaving her wondering if anything would ever be right.
Isaac sat down at the kitchen table, watching his mother putting dishes away. He’d been spending more time at this house than his own apartment. He’d figured they would need some help with Taylor, or at least some help keeping an eye on the younger children now that Taylor couldn’t do it. He watched her for a few moments, watching her face, her expression carefully. His mother never looked her age – she always looked younger to him than she really was, but in these last few months it seemed like she had aged five years, and his father the same. Zac had suddenly been thrust into a position he never really took seriously – being a mature, older, and watchful older brother. He’d changed so much, became so much calmer after Taylor’s accident. He was always helping when it was needed, always keeping an eye on Taylor, or helping him do something – it seemed as if Zac had almost become Taylor’s chosen protector. From what, he didn’t know – maybe just from anything in general that could hurt him or his feelings. Isaac knew that it was hard around that house now, and whether they would ask or not, he knew his help was needed, but would be more appreciated than anything.
“Mom?” She turned at the sound of his voice, closing the cupboard quietly. “I think I want to move back in.”
“Honey, you just got settled into your own apartment; why would you want to move back in now?” She asked, sliding tiredly into a chair next to him.
“Because, I can see that you need help. You and Dad are two people trying to do everything for all the kids, and face it – you can’t do it alone.”
“Isaac, I’ve handled all of you kids just fine. Believe me, I can take care of my children.”
“Mom, I know you can – that isn’t what I meant.” He sighed and looked at her. “You’re going to need a little extra help around here; me, Taylor, and Zac have always been around to help you, you know?” She nodded. “And with the accident and how it changed Taylor… You have one less person to help and one more to look after.” She sighed quietly, and he knew that it was a sigh of resignation. She knew he was right – things were a lot harder now.
“Do you really want to move back in?” She asked him looking into his brown eyes. And she wondered, how did she get blessed with children like this?
“Yes,” he answered, covering her hand with his.
“You’ll have to share a room again…”
“That’s okay,” he replied. “I kind of miss it anyway.” She smiled at him, causing him to do the same. If he moved back in, it would sort of be like old times, except for the difference in Taylor…
“We’ve missed having you anyway,” she said softly. He pulled her to him, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Oh baby,” she sighed. “You never were one to let me down.”
“I never could, Mom.”
“Diana…” They looked to Walker, standing in the doorway. “I hate to interrupt, but… I think you should come downstairs.”
“Why?” She asked, sounding suddenly concerned.
“Taylor.” He answered, and it was answer enough. Both she and Isaac rose quickly, making their way down the stairs. She had a feeling she knew what was going on; she’d seen it coming for almost a week, since before he went back down into the garage the first time.
They came down the stairs and could hear him before the even reached the bottom of the staircase. It was obvious he was upset, even sounded like he was crying, but Zac’s voice could be heard, more calming than she’d ever remembered it being. The changes her family was going through…
“Tay, come on, please – “
“It’s not fair!” He screamed. She watched him throw the papers in his hands, scattering them all over the floor. “It’s not fair! Why did this happen to me?!”
“Tay, please – “
“What did I do? Why does God hate me?” He cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Why did he make this happen to me?” He sunk down to the floor, just sitting there, crying. Zac looked behind him at his mother, almost pleading. He didn’t know how to make Taylor feel better, didn’t know what to say to comfort him. Was there any comfort enough to give him? He sat almost Indian style, rocking back and forth, crying. He grabbed a piece of the paper, wrinkled it, and threw it away from him, wrapping his arms back around himself.
“Tay…” Zac said softly. Diana came down off the stairs, going to her son; she sat beside him, pulling him toward her.
“What’s wrong, baby?” She asked softly, soothingly stroking his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead.
“I want to make music, Mama,” he cried softly. She immediately felt the tears stinging her eyes. She knew this was eventually going to happen. Music was a part of Taylor, a very large part, and now that it was no longer attainable, he was breaking down. His whole life had involved music, and suddenly, it was no longer a part of it. He couldn’t write it, read it, play it – nothing.
“Oh Taylor…”
“I can remember playing,” he cried quietly. “But I can’t remember how to play… I just wanna play, Mama.”
“I know you do, baby. And I’m sorry that you can’t play anymore, but it’s not all gone, Taylor.” His body shuddered slightly as he sobbed quietly, letting her lift his head from her shoulder. She held his face gently in her hands, hating to see the hurt in his blue eyes, hating to see the one thing she had never seen in him before: defeat. The tears rolled down his cheeks and she gently wiped them away with her thumbs. “You still have your voice, Taylor. God blessed you with that, and no one will ever take that away.” He was searching her eyes for something, eternally blue like his own. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll always have that, baby.” He wrapped his long arms around her, holding onto her tightly. It was somewhat of a comfort to know he would always have his voice, but his voice wasn’t enough. The gifts he’d possessed, and the extent to which he possessed them were extraordinary. He knew he lost something so precious to him, and to millions of people who looked to him to make the music, who loved the music wholeheartedly. He just wanted to go back to the way he was and make music again, and the thought that he never would, turned out to be so much more than he was capable of handling. Diana knew if his mind weren’t so young, if this was the eighteen-year-old boy he was supposed to be, and something had happened to take away his music, it would literally kill him. If this was the Taylor he used to be, sitting there falling apart because his music was gone, she had no doubt in her mind that if he even knew how to be he’d be suicidal. But this wasn’t that Taylor. This was a little boy in young man’s body, and he was dying inside because he couldn’t understand why his music was taken away from him. And what could she do? Because no matter how much she wanted to or what she did, or any of them did, he’d never have it back.
“Di, is there any fresh coffee left?” Walker croaked, swirling what was left of the dark liquid around in his cup. “I think all I have left is sludge.” She chuckled quietly.
“No. I’m making another pot right now.” She rubbed his shoulders, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “What are you so tired for anyway?”
“I was on the phone with Chris way too late.”
"Chris? Sabec?” He nodded. “Why?”
"Talking about the band.” He sipped from his mug, grimacing and setting back down on the tabletop. She stood up, a little rigidly.
“There is no band, Walker.” She walked away from him, taking the dish-rag and wiping down the countertop to avoid showing him how upset his comment made her.
“That’s what we were talking about. Taylor can’t do the band thing anymore, but Isaac and Zac still can; they can still record and perform. Chris wants me to talk to them about continuing, the two of them.”
“What?”
“Well, the boys love music – I know Taylor can’t be part of it anymore, but Chris and I were talking last night, and he doesn’t see why Isaac and Zac can’t continue to – “
“I cannot believe you are even suggesting this!” She shouted at him. “Do you have no regard for Taylor whatsoever?”
“Diana, don’t even go there. He’s my son too, and I love him – “
“Then how can you even think about this?!” She threw the dishrag down. “Taylor was almost killed six months ago, he survives by nothing less than a miracle, with permanent brain damage, can never perform for anyone ever again, and you’re thinking about having Isaac and Zac continue on with a dream that all three of them had? Have you lost your damn mind, Walker?!”
“I know what happened! I’m quite aware of it. I’m thank God everyday that Taylor lived through that wreck, and I’m sorry he has to go through what he’s going through, but Isaac and Zac don’t have to give up a dream – “
“Do you know what that would do to Taylor?” She asked, her voice lowered less than a shout. “That would absolutely kill him, Walker. If he had to watch his brothers going on and doing something he loved so much… Walker, how could even think of it? How could you think of doing that to Taylor?”
“I’m not doing anything to Taylor!” He shouted at her. “I’m doing this for Isaac and Zac!”
“Isaac and Zachary wouldn’t dream of it!” She shouted back. “Do you honestly think they would do that to their brother?”
“They can still be happy –“
“Not doing the band.”
“Our lives don’t have to stop because of Taylor’s disability!” He shouted at her. She stood staring at him in utter disbelief. Her facial _expression melted into something of disgust.
“I cannot believe,” she said slowly, “that you just said that.” She moved away from the counter, heading out of the room.
“Di – “ he reached for her arm and she wrenched it away.
“Don’t you touch me,” she said angrily. “What you just said was absolutely horrible. Don’t even come near me.” She pushed him away from her, leaving the kitchen quickly. How could he have said such a thing? He was his father; she didn’t understand how something like that could even cross his mind. She made it quickly up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door hard.
Lunch was tense. They all sensed there was something going on between their parents – they’d rarely ever seen their parents fight. It was almost as if they had a perfect marriage, but as they sat there for lunch, not speaking, sitting next to, or even looking at each other, they all knew something was up. Isaac exchanged glances with Zac across the table.
“Um, Mom? Dad? Is everything… okay?” She glared at their father, who glanced at her.
“Fine,” she answered through tight lips. She turned back to her rice and stir-fried vegetables.
“Mama?” She looked up at Taylor.
“What baby?” She said softly, her tone and body language immediately changing.
“I don’t feel good.” He sat back, carefully pushing his food away.
“What’s wrong?” Her face had changed again to something of concern.
“My head hurts,” he answered, looking down at his lap, his hair obscuring his face.
“How come?” Walker asked quietly, earning a glare from his wife.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But it really hurts.”
“Come on,” Diana said softly, standing. “I’ll give you some Tylenol.” He stood as well; she walked around the table, and he took her outstretched hand, allowing her to lead him out of the kitchen and up to the upstairs bathroom.
“Mama, are you mad at Dad?” He asked, watching her take the bottle of Tylenol and dump two pills into her hand. She didn’t answer him for a moment, taking the pills and putting them in his hand. She filled the cup beside the sink with water, handing it to him.
“Go on, take them,” she urged quietly.
“I have to swallow them?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she smiled a little. “It’s gonna taste pretty bad if you chew them.”
“Am I gonna choke?”
“No,” she laughed a little. “Take them and put them on your tongue.” He did as told. “Now take a drink of water and swallow.” He did as told, and to his surprise didn’t choke. “When did you get a headache?”
“Um… a couple days ago,” he said quietly.
“Taylor, why didn’t you tell me?” He shrugged. “It’s been hurting since a couple days ago?” He nodded. “Just your head?” He nodded again. “Well, I want you to go lay down for a while, okay?”
“Thanks Mama.” He kissed her cheek and started off down the hall to his room.
She watched him go, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. They had been told there would be after affects that could come long after the accident.
“He could be prone to headaches,” Dr. Morgan warned them. “It’s most common after a head injury. But, considering the damage that’s been done, he’s also at risk for seizures.”
“Seizures?” Diana repeated quietly. “What do we do if he has one?”
“Just make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, and call your doctor. Let your physician know it happened, and keep an eye on him. If it happens more than once, make an appointment for a cat scan.” She looked at both of them. “Headaches, just give him Tylenol.”
She wondered if that was what this headache was from. He didn’t have a fever, and didn’t seem otherwise ill – though he hadn’t been “himself” since the day in the garage when he lost his bearings. She was afraid of how it was affecting him – if he was the old Taylor, she’d swear he was suffering from some kind of depression. If she wasn’t so angry with her husband she’d talk to him.
Isaac found Taylor lying on his bed inspecting the scars on his arm and leg where bone had once come through, and was repaired. There were two scars on his left arm: one small, oddly shaped where the bone had come through, and one straighter where they had gone in and operated to repair his bones, and stitched it up. His leg had one large scar down the side. His bone had broken through the skin, and they’d used the same spot to cut him open and operate to repair that one as well, leaving a long scar down the side of his right leg. His head was still throbbing, and he was just waiting for the Tylenol to kick in so he could take a nap.
“Hey buddy,” Isaac said smiling a little. “Finding your scars interesting?”
He shrugged. “I’m bored,” he said, “and I have a headache.”
“Yeah, mom told me.” He picked up a book off of Zac’s dresser. “Are you trying to sleep? ‘Cause I can go…” He shook his head, immediately regretting it.
“Ow…” he groaned, putting his hand on his head and closing his eyes. “That was stupid.” Isaac laughed a little. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother. “Ike…?”
“Yeah?” He watched as Taylor looked up at the ceiling, seeming to find it interesting momentarily.
“Can you teach me how to play again?” He looked at his brother, wondering if he knew how to play the piano too, hoping he did so he could teach him again.
“Uh, Tay… I’m really not that good. I play the guitar, remember?” Taylor thought for a moment, and then nodded slightly.
“Yeah, I remember,” he said thoughtfully. “Girls used to scream for those little pick-things, right?” He laughed a little, and nodded to his blonde brother.
“Yep. And they used to scream for you to take your clothes off.”
“What?!” He grabbed his head again, calming himself for a moment. “That’s gross,” he said finally, and Isaac laughed again. “I… I remember… I used to like being up on stage. We used to shake people’s hands all the time, and they used to take our pictures all the time…”
“Dad called those ‘grip and grin’s’,” he smiled at Taylor. “All the fans would line up, and we would take pictures with them and sign stuff.”
“Yeah,” Taylor said thoughtfully, “I remember some of that…”
“What’s this about, Tay?”
“I dunno,” he said quietly. “I keep remembering things, and I don’t know what they are…”
“You know, anytime you need to talk or something, you can come talk to me. If you wanna ask me questions or something, I’ll answer them for you if I can.”
“Thanks, Ike,” he said, his eyelids drooping a little.
“I’ll talk to mom for you, see if I can get her to hire someone to give you piano lessons.”
“Thanks, Ike,” he said again, more of a mumble, his eyes closed.
“No problem, Tay,” he said softly, smiling.
“Love you,” he mumbled.
“Love you, too, Tay.”
“Zac, who was on the phone?” Diana asked, watching her son scribble something down on a pad of paper.
“One of Taylor’s friends again,” he answered frowning a little. “You know he never calls them back?”
She shook her head. “He hasn’t called any of them?”
“No. He’s gotten more calls than I can count since he’s been home, and he hasn’t bothered to call any of them back.”
“I don’t know why not…” She set the basket of laundry she was carrying down. “None of them?”
“Not one.” He shook his head slightly. “Mom, I know the accident made some huge changes in his life, but… He’s still not himself. Since the day in the garage…”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I don’t think he know how to deal with not making music. He asked Isaac the other day to teach him how to play the piano.”
“Are you serious?”
She nodded. “Isaac came and talked to me about getting Taylor a piano teacher, giving him lessons all over again.”
“Can he do that? I mean, what if you get him lessons, and he can’t do it? Is it gonna make things worse?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she sighed. “He wants to be in the band so bad, Zac…” She looked up at him, realizing how much he and Taylor resembled each other sometimes, and how much he was beginning to look like their father. “Did your dad talk to you at all?” She hadn’t spoken to her husband in three days, taking up residence on the couch at night.
“Yeah…”
“About you and Ike going on with the band?” He nodded. “And? What did you two have to say? And if you’re about to tell me you want to go through with that, your best bet is to just leave this room now.”
“We didn’t,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It’s not that we don’t want to make music; we don’t want to do it without Taylor. This was his dream in the first place, and if we went on without him… We’ve always said it would be the three of us or none of us…”
“You don’t know how proud of you I am,” she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing his cheek. “It would’ve –“
“-Killed Taylor,” Zac finished quietly for her. “We know. We couldn’t do that to him. And dad said he wasn’t going to push us to do anything, and that he just wanted to let us know the door was open if we changed our minds.”
“Hmph.”
“I take it that’s why you two aren’t talking to one another?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“Zachary, for him to even think it is so wrong on so many levels. He’s Taylor’s father, he should be the last person in the world concerned with your fame, your careers. Taylor’s life has been turned completely upside down, as have ours, and it just… pisses me off that he would even allow that thought to complete itself in his head.”
His eyes were trained on her; it was rare to hear his mother use a curse word. Occasionally his father would let one slip, but for his mother to say it… He knew she was really upset with him, and it was going to take one sincere, heartfelt apology from his father to be forgiven.
“What are we doing for my birthday this year?” Zac asked, putting down his magazine to look at his mother; she was sitting on the couch, gently combing Avery’s hair with her fingers.
“What do you want to do?” She asked in return.
“This is the first time we’ve been home for my birthday in a long time; can I just have a really big party?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to tell him absolutely not.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Really?” He asked incredulously.
“Yes, really,” she half laughed.
“Can I help with the decorations?” Taylor asked from where he was sprawled out on the floor.
“Yeah,” Zac answered first. “Who else would blow up all the balloons?” He smiled at Taylor and he grinned back.
“I’m not blowing up balloons,” he retorted. “But I’ll suck the air out.”
“No you will not,” Diana replied, looking down at him with a smile.
“Why?”
“Because, it’s bad for you. Zac, do you want to have it on your birthday, or before, or after? What do you want?”
“Right on my birthday, if it’s ok with you.”
“It’s your birthday, baby,” she said, pulling Avery’s hair into a ponytail. “Let me know now so I can start getting stuff together and get invitations out as soon as possible.”
“Let’s have it right here, at the house, but outside in the yard – it’s not too cold yet. Right on my birthday.” He smiled, excited about having a party. He hadn’t had a proper birthday in so many years…
“What about Ike’s birthday?” Jessica asked, sitting on the floor by Taylor’s head, combing her fingers through his hair.
“Well, that’s up to Ike. He’s old enough to not want a birthday anymore…”
“Where is Ike anyway?” Zac asked.
“He went with your father,” which she said without enthusiasm, “and Mackenzie to the hardware store.”
“Are you two still fighting?” Zac asked her, lowering his voice some.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, turning her eyes back to the movie playing on the large screen TV.
“Mama? You and Dad are fighting?” Taylor asked, sounding almost worried.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” She looked pointedly at Zac, letting him know not to bring it up again.
“Why are you mad at Dad?” Jessica asked, looking at their mother.
“Let’s just watch the movie,” she said, avoiding answering the question. She knew if Taylor knew that they weren’t speaking to each other because of a disagreement over him, he’d think that they weren’t speaking because of him. That would send him into a tailspin, and take a lot of comforting and explaining that she would rather spare him from altogether.
“Di?” Walker said softly, peeking his head around the corner of the kitchen doorway.
“What?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked cautiously.
“Talk.”
He sighed, coming into the room. “Look, I know what I said was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I said it. I guess I was just frustrated because I thought maybe the other two still wanted to do the band, and I thought they were missing out on something they wanted because they didn’t want to hurt Taylor’s feelings… I talked to them and they really don’t want to do it without him. They told me it wouldn’t be the same without Taylor.” His words were touching her, knowing she had had a conversation similar to that with Zachary. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she said softly, looking down at the counter where she was chopping up carrots. She set her knife down and turned to him. “I know you are. I’m sorry I was being so harsh, and stubborn…”
“It’s your job – you’re his mother. As his father I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I feel terrible for thinking that way…”
“You were right in a way,” she said quietly, allowing him to envelope her in a warm hug. “We can’t all just stop living our lives because Taylor has a disability now.”
“We’ll figure everything out somehow,” he said quietly, rubbing her back. They had to figure everything out. Things had been running fairly smoothly, but the changes in the household were huge. Things had changed a lot, and getting back to the way things used to be was out of the question.
Diana hurried down the hall to stop the banging noise she could hear coming from Mackenzie’s bedroom; she swore that child found the most inopportune times to be the noisiest person in the house. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared, learning to drown out annoying sounds after Zac was born, but this was different. Taylor had another headache, and she had just sent him to lie down for an hour or so, longer if he could stay sleeping. Mackenzie had just chosen that time to start banging something in his room.
“Mac,” she stuck her head in the door, “stop it.”
“Why?”
“Don’t talk back,” she answered. “And because I said so. Taylor’s lying down.”
“Is he ok?” He asked suddenly very curious. “He has headaches a lot…”
“I know, and yes, he’s ok,” she replied. She wasn’t completely sure he was, but decided it best not to tell her seven-year-old son that she was afraid Taylor was suffering from late, or long-term side affects from an accident that nearly took his life seven months ago. “He just has – “
“Mom?” She turned around to face Zac. “Uhh, you might want to come back down the hall…”
“What’s wrong?” She asked, a little concerned.
“He just threw-up on the way out of the bedroom…” He backed out of his little brother’s doorway, allowing her past him, and following behind her as she hurried back down the hall to the room he shared with his brothers.
“I’m sorry, Mama…” he said tearfully as soon as he saw her. “I didn’t mean to… I had a headache so bad… I was gonna go in the bathroom but I – “
“Taylor,” she cut him off. “It’s ok.” She looked down at the mess on the carpet. If his headaches were reaching a point they were making him sick, maybe she should call his doctor… She looked up at him, realizing he’d thrown up on himself as well. “Come on, baby, let’s get those clothes off.” She reached for him, leading him around the vomit on the carpet. “Zac, help your brother get out of those clothes so I can clean this up, will you?”
“Sure Mom,” he said, taking Taylor by his trembling hand and leading him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Okay buddy, let’s get you out of those.”
“Zac…” He looked at Taylor, watching as his stomach caved involuntarily. “I think I’m gonna throw-up…” He led Taylor to the toilet quickly, lifting the seat and lid in just enough time. Taylor dropped to the floor in front of the toilet, getting sick again. “Zac, my head…” he cried hoarsely. He was finished emptying his stomach, letting Zac flush the toilet and help him up. “My head hurts so bad…”
“All right,” he said softly. “We’ll get you something for your head after we get you out of those pukey clothes.” He moved to where Taylor stood. “Arms up.” Taylor lifted his arms above his head as Zac carefully pulled his shirt up and over, trying not to get throw-up in his hair. “Take those sweats off too.” Taylor carefully pulled his sweat pants off, standing in just his boxers and his socks, shivering slightly. “Sorry, buddy, but those socks have to come off too.” He sat Taylor down on the closed toilet lid, pulling the socks off his feet and throwing them into the pile of dirty clothes now on the bathroom floor. He noticed that Taylor’s cheeks were beet-red, but he was shivering; he went to his brother, who now had his arms hugged around himself. He put his hand on Taylor’s forehead, then touching his cheeks, his neck, and his forehead again. “Tay… you’re burning up.”
If Taylor had a fever, then the chances were he had the flu or something close to it, and his headaches might not have had anything to do with his accident at all. As much as he knew his brother would disagree at the moment, he was almost ecstatic that it could just be the flu – it was better than delayed after affects of the head injury.
“Mom,” Zac threw open the bathroom door and called down the hall. “I think Tay has a fever.”
“I’m coming,” she sighed.
Zac took the thermometer from the cabinet above the sink, and turned it on, watching the digital numbers flash until it was clear. “Open up, lift your tongue,” he placed it under Taylor’s tongue, “close your mouth. Don’t talk while it’s in there. I’ll take it out when it beeps.” He waited for a few minutes or so before the digitized beep brought him to pull the thermometer from his older brother’s mouth. “Yep. Definitely has a fever,” he said more to himself than his brother, just as his mother was coming in.
“What is it?” She asked him.
“102.8.” He answered. “No worries, Mom; I think Taylor here just has the flu.” He couldn’t help but smile. The flu was the best option anyway – he could get over that in two weeks. “Just the flu,” he smiled, patting Taylor’s shoulder.
“It’s not funny,” Taylor whined.
“I’m not laughing at you, Tay.” He said, only earning him a scowl. “I’ll go get him some clean clothes.”
“Think you can handle taking a shower?” She asked him. “A nice cool shower and some Tylenol will help get your fever down.”
“Yes, Mama,” he said quietly. “I can do it myself.”
“I know you can, baby.” She pressed her lips to his forehead, feeling the burning heat of his skin. Just his luck to get the flu. “How about after your shower I bring you some Gatorade, and you can stay right in bed and get some rest?” He nodded, regretting the movement as dizziness swept him, making him feel nauseated once more. The flu was easy to handle – he’d survived fifty-times worse than influenza.
“I think we have everything in order,” Walker said, dropping down on the bed beside his wife. “Nobody’s called to say they weren’t coming, and all the food has been ordered, the cake we’ll pick up the day of the party, and all the fun stuff is up to Zac.”
“Can you believe he’s going to be sixteen in five days? He’ll be legally able to get his permit, and his license…” She shook her head. “God, I feel old.”
“Oh Di,” he smiled, shaking his head, and kissing her cheek. “You don’t look a day over twenty.” She laughed and swatted at him. “Anyway, I’ll teach him how to drive; don’t worry, he’ll be a safe driver.”
“With Isaac and Taylor that was easier to believe; although, Taylor did earn himself the nickname telephone-pole-Taylor, and for good reason. When he first started out he was a terrible driver.” They smiled a moment. “Zac… now he worries me. I have no doubt he’ll be a good driver, but I have my doubts on the safe part.”
“He’ll be safe. Besides that, he hasn’t mentioned driving at all. I think this whole ordeal with Taylor has scared him out of wanting to drive. For now anyway…” He was quiet a moment. “Let’s just be glad he’s over the flu.” They both grinned.
“I don’t know which was worse: the constant whining, or when he was so quiet we needed to check on him to make sure he was all right.” They smiled at one another. “You know… we’ve been through a lot.”
“I know we have, honey. And we’ll keep getting through it.” He held her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it, smiling at her. “For now… I think sleep sounds like a wondrous thing.” She grinned at him, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
“I think you’re right.” She leaned over and kissed his lips. “Night, honey.” They settled into bed, his arms loose around her, holding her close to him. It was simple things like this that really made him thankful for what he had.
Taylor was lying awake in his bed, staring at the bunk above him, watching and hearing it creak with weight as Isaac shifted from whatever position he was in. He hadn’t told them, but there were certain things that had been coming back to him lately… Some things were only tiny flashes, but other things he remember in dreams… It reminded him of watching a movie; he could see himself doing all these things he didn’t think he ever could – and he couldn’t tell anymore if it was just a dream or if these were things he had really done. He turned over on his side, unable to sleep, and stared down at Zac lying in the trundle bed. There was a part of him that so desperately wanted to be like Zac; he wanted that freedom, but knew that, most likely, he’d never have it. Whatever had happened to him that night in the crash, it made him a completely different person. And though he didn’t understand why, really, he was wishing so hard to go back to that point before the crash, before he changed… there was something in him then that was gone now, and even if he didn’t know what it was, he wanted it back. In a way, he’d been missing himself.
“Tay?” He hadn’t realized that anyone was awake, or that he had sighed out loud, and Zac’s voice startled him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. “What are you doing up?”
“I can’t sleep,” he said quietly.
“How come? Did you have a bad dream or something?” Zac asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position to bring himself eyelevel with Taylor, his sheets and comforter a mess around his legs.
“No…” he sighed again. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Was it a bad dream or no?”
“I don’t know!” He whispered harshly. “I don’t know if it was a dream or not…”
“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning an arm on his brother’s bed.
“I was on a stage, a really big stage, and there were people screaming… a lot of people… There was a ton of really bright lights, and microphones… I think we were playing music,” he said sadly. “Was it just a dream?” He looked at Zac, his blue eyes sadder than they used to be – but that was a normal thing now.
“No,” Zac said with a slight smile. “I can promise you, Tay, that was a memory.”
“Zac…” He looked hopefully at his brother. “Will I ever get all the memories back?”
"I don’t know, but I hope you do.”
“I love you.” Taylor said, smiling at his brother. Zac smiled in return, reaching out and ruffling his brother’s hair lightly.
“I love you, too, Taylor. Now go to sleep.” He laid back down watching as Taylor closed his eyes, and bunched his comforter more around himself. He felt as though he could sleep easier knowing he had been some sort of succor to Taylor, and yet, he found himself unable to go back to sleep. He listened as Taylor’s breathing evened out and became softer, knowing he had fallen asleep, and thought instead. Things seemed to be going well, Taylor was living his life the best he could, as were the rest of them, and they were getting on fine. But if Taylor did get all his memories back, all the memories of performing and doing the amazing, fulfilling things he had done, would it be better or worse? At least if he couldn’t remember he couldn’t want it back that badly; although, the breakdown he’d had that one day was bad enough. If he got all his memories back, was it only going to make this harder for him to deal with? He felt the sarcasm creeping on him as he spoke quietly to the ceiling. “You know, when You answer people’s prayers, maybe You should try doing so without warping them so completely that people begin to wonder if this is Your bad idea of humour.” He knew the comment was unnecessary, but he felt like saying it.
“Feeling a little blasphemous, are you?” Came Isaac’s muffled reply from the top bunk, and Zac couldn’t help but grin a little.
“Shut up, Ike, and go back to sleep.”
“Ditto,” he replied, burying himself in his blankets once more.
The house was jam packed with people; most of which were family, and a small group were of Zachary’s friends. Luckily, things were running smoothly. There was a long table set up against one wall in the living room covered with bowls of chips, pretzels, dips, punch, soda, and waters. The music was loud, booming through the entire house, the bass occasionally rattling the window panes. There was a rather large cake in the middle of the table in the kitchen waiting to be cut, and countless half gallons of ice cream in the freezer of most of the people’s tastes. Walker and Diana had ended up with the duty of directing people to the den to drop their coats, and which end of the living room to drop off presents for the birthday-boy. Taylor seemed to be occupied with Isaac and Zac and the group of friends that had gathered by the snack table. Their parents were more than relieved to see that Zac’s small group of friends hadn’t excluded or treated Taylor badly. As a matter of fact, they accepted him into their little group quickly, patting his shoulder and ruffling his hair, telling him that they were glad to see he was ok and doing so well. It brought a genuine smile to his face to see people closer to his own age, that he didn’t remember or had never met treating him like a normal human being instead of making fun of him or acting like he really had this disability. The family was scattered through out the house, greeting Zac with hugs and kisses and miscellaneous gifts and cards that they piled up. They found Taylor’s attention captivated by the pile of gifts more often than not.
“If you behave tonight,” Zac whispered in Taylor’s ear, “I’ll let you open one.” Taylor looked at him, eyes wide, and Zac smiled.
“But it’s not my birthday,” he whispered back.
“It’s ok; I want you to help.” He smiled again and when Taylor smiled back he felt something genuinely good inside him; he felt so good knowing that these little things he did made his brother happy. He would do anything to make him happy.
“Oh my god!” They were interrupted by Mackenzie. All eyes were on him, including Taylor’s. “Dude, Isaac farted! And it is sooo nasty.” There was a moment of silence, followed by Taylor’s distinctive giggle, and uproarious laughter.
“I so did not!” Isaac protested, as Mackenzie covered his face with his shirt, continuously point in his direction. “You little dirtbag,” Isaac laughed. “It was Mac, I swear to God!”
Zac turned back to Taylor, pointed to his gifts and put a finger to his lips, indicating to Taylor that it was a secret. He nodded and grinned, making a zipper motion across his lips, causing Zachary to laugh lightly. This was the best birthday he could ever remember.
They were sitting amongst wrapping paper and torn envelopes. Taylor sat beside Zac “helping” him unwrap presents; he was letting Taylor do most of the unwrapping – he knew it was a big thing for him, and didn’t mind giving it up. “What’s your favourite present?” Taylor asked absently, tossing wrapping paper aside.
“My favourite present…” He looked up, pretending to think hard, stroking his chin and making Taylor laugh. “Hmmm… I think my favourite present is…” he looked at Taylor again “…having you here, and knowing you’re ok.”
“That’s not a present.” Taylor countered.
“It is,” he replied. “I prayed really hard, Tay, after your accident for you to be ok. And the best present I got for my birthday was you being home and healthy.” He shrugged. “That’s it, that’s my favourite present.”
“Really?”
"Yeah. Can you understand that?”
“I think so,” he replied, throwing more wrapping paper in the garbage. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He smiled and stood up. “I guess we better start cleaning this mess and get to bed. What do you think?”
“No way, I’m not tired.” He gave a tremendous yawn and his brother laughed.
“Hate to break it to ya, Tay, but yeah you are.”
“Just a little,” he argued. “I can stay up longer.”
“Nah, let’s just go to bed. We’ll clean up in the morning; how’s that sound?”
“I’ll race you!” Before he really had time to register what he had just said, Taylor had whizzed by him. “I’m gonna win!” He called from somewhere outside the room; Zac just shook his head and laughed. He started to gather some of the wrapping paper up off the floor, stuffing it in the large garbage bag.
“Do you realize how good you are with him?” He looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway with something of a faint smile on her lips.
“I’m not doing anything any different than you,” he replied shrugging.
“No, Zac, I really think you mean the most to him. You look after him, you take care of him; he loves you more than anything.”
“Well, I love him too.” He stuffed more paper in the bag. “I just want him to be happy, Mom, that’s all. He’s alive, and now I just want to move on – but I want him to be happy. I feel like he got jilted, and there’s just never enough that I can do to make it up to him.”
“Baby, you do so much for him. I really don’t think he’d make it by without you,” she said sincerely. “When I see you with Taylor, I can’t help but think about someday down the road when you’ve met the right girl, and you marry her, and you have children; I can’t help but think about what a wonderful daddy you’re going to be someday. You’ll never just be a child’s father; you’ve got what it takes inside you, Zac, to be someone’s daddy.” He suddenly felt more emotional than he was comfortable with. He put down his garbage bag and went to her, wrapping her in a tight hug.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby.” She kissed his cheek. “You go on up to bed; Taylor’s waiting for you. I’ll clean this up.”
“Thanks,” he said softly. “I promised I’d sing to him tonight; I bet Ike’s already started without me.” They smiled one more time before saying their goodnights, and he headed upstairs. It just wouldn’t be the same if the three of them weren’t together at bedtime; he didn’t think, at this point, any of them would get to sleep if even one of them was missing from the picture.
“It looks like it’s moving,” the young voice said, followed by a giggle. “It makes my head feel dizzy.” More giggling.
“Mine too,” he replied. They glanced at one another, giggling again in earnest. “I can see up to the top.” Diana stood in the doorway of the family room, watching her two children; Taylor and Zoë were lying with their heads underneath the Christmas tree, gazing up through branches at the lights, white and colored, sparkling. It was a beautiful sight from a distance, and not just the Christmas tree. Taylor’s long legs were stretched out, his arms folded over his chest, and Zoë beside him lying on her back, her knees drawn up and her hands resting comfortably on her stomach.
“It makes me feel like I’m in space,” she said giggling still. “We can be aliens.”
“No way,” Taylor protested. “Aliens might not have Christmas; I don’t want to miss Christmas. All the family is together and it makes me feel good,” he said, looking over at his baby sister.
“Me too,” she smiled. “Tay, let’s stay up and wait for Santa tonight,” she said quietly, almost whispering to him. His lips stretched into a wide grin.
“But Mom and Dad will catch us…”
“Will not,” she argued. “We’ll pretend we’re sleeping,” she said, breaking into another fit of giggles. “And we can be real quiet and sneak down stairs.”
“What if we scare him?” Taylor asked her, his eyes growing wide. “He might take our presents away…”
“No way,” she replied. “He’s Santa, Tay. He’ll know we’re behind him, and he’ll tell us to keep it a secret.” She was amazed at how her four-year-old’s mind worked.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”
“You’re so silly, Tay,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach. She reached out, taking a small, green foil wrapped present in her tiny hands. “This is yours.”
“How do you know?” He asked, looking over at her.
“It says ‘Taylor’ right here,” she said, pointing to his name. “See?” She turned it more toward him.
“That’s my name?” He questioned. Diana had forgotten that Taylor’s reading ability had been one of the many things damaged in the accident; he had trouble reading and spelling now, where he never had before, even with his own name – it was one of the things he had to learn over. “How do you know?”
“Look,” she said. “T-A-Y-L-O-R. That spells Taylor.”
“It does?”
“Yep,” she nodded. “Now you spell it.”
“I can’t,” he replied. “I don’t remember how.”
“I’ll do it with you.” She smiled brightly at him, but Diana noticed the falter in his eyes, as his smile faded. He grew quiet.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Zo, because I can’t remember how to do it?” He looked over at her; he looked so sad.
“No way,” she replied, shaking her head, tossing her blonde curls every which way. “I couldn’t remember how to spell my name before – and it’s only three letters!” She smiled at him, causing a small smile to touch his lips. “It’s ok; I’ll help you.”
“You won’t laugh?” He asked her, looking at her hopefully.
"Nope; I promise.” She pointed to his name again. “We can do it together.”
“Okay…”
“You start,” she told him, watching as his eyes scanned the letters over and over.
“T…” he looked at her and she nodded. “A…” She nodded again. “Y…” She smiled, nodding eagerly, causing him to smile as well; he was gaining a little more confidence. He studied the “L” for a pair of minutes. “What is that one?” He whispered to her.
“L.” She whispered back.
“L…” he said, gazing hard at the other letter. “O… I don’t know the last one.” He sounded disappointed. “I don’t remember…”
“R,” she said.
“R?” She nodded to him. “R… T-A-Y…L-O-R?” He looked at her for approval and she smiled widely.
“You did it!” She exclaimed excitedly.
“Cool,” he said taking the green package from her hands. “Thanks Zoë,” he said, looking at her with almost reverence.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I love you, Tay.” She leaned over, messing up his hair, giggling.
“I love you too, Zo,” he replied, looking at the package in awe. She couldn’t describe what watching that scene transpire before her had made her feel; her youngest daughter just taught Taylor how to spell his name again; the exchange between the two of them had been absolutely priceless.
The day was still young when Diana heard Isaac and Zac’s feet thudding down the stairs. “Hey Tay,” Isaac called. “Where are you? Zac and I have an early Christmas present for you?”
“What?” They heard his voice float up from another room. They grinned at one another, taking off in the direction of the den. Taylor was in there, playing a game on the computer.
“We have something for you,” Zac said grinning. “I really think you’ll like it better than that game you’re losing.”
“Shut up, I’m not losing,” he pouted.
“Yeah, buddy, you really are,” Isaac laughed. “Now come on, shut that off.” Taylor sighed, accepting the fact there was no salvaging a game he had begun losing the moment he started. They each grabbed his hands, pulling him out of the den.
“What are you doing?” Diana asked, watching them practically drag her son from the den to the living room.
“Mom, help me, they’re going to do something to me…” He whined.
“No we’re not; will you relax?” Zac said laughing. “We want to show you something. We made you something for Christmas.”
“You did?” He asked, suddenly interested. Diana had to smile, watching his eyes light up at the mention they made him something; the only thing was… that light in his eyes, it never seemed to be as bright as it once was; the accident had truly taken something from him, something irreplaceable. She wanted to just reach out and take him in her arms at that moment, and tell him how much she loved him, but she resisted the urge and let his brothers sit him down on the couch.
“Can I sit in?” She asked.
“Of course,” Isaac replied grinning. “Everyone can. Hey, everybody in the living room NOW – we are giving Tay one of his Christmas presents and everyone has to be here!” Isaac shouted. There was a sound that faintly resembled thunder, or a herd of elephants, that started at the top of the stairs; four sets of feet came pounding down, running into the living room. They seemed to know what was going on, grins plastered all over their faces. Walker strode in from the kitchen, seemingly out of the loop.
“What’s going on?” He asked, holding a mug of steaming coffee.
“Apparently we are here to witness a Christmas present – “
“A very special Christmas present,” Zac interjected.
“-For Taylor,” she finished. From the looks on the faces of the rest of their children, they were proud of it, whatever gift this was. And she only hoped Taylor would appreciate it in the way it was obvious they were hoping he would; there were a lot of things he didn’t understand anymore, and if they had made this too complicated it was going to result in him feeling inferior to them, and a lot of hurt feelings and tears. Her heart was suddenly beating faster; she was praying as she sat down next to her baby, taking his hand, that this was going to turn out the way they had obviously planned. He looked over at her, his blue eyes wide with question. She shrugged her shoulders, completely unaware of what her children had prepared.
“Tay, we really, really hope you like this… We worked really hard on it,” Jessica said. “It took us forever,” she said dramatically.
“Well, come on,” Walker said, sitting down next to his wife. “Show us.” They all grinned at one another, Zoë practically bouncing with excitability. Zac took a seat next to Taylor.
“We did this especially for you, Tay. I hope you like it.” He picked up the VCR remote, watching as Isaac turned on the television and set it to the right channel; Zac hit play. Almost immediately there were the sounds of voices in perfect harmony, albeit very young. They watched as a video appeared of Taylor, Isaac, and Zac – Zac couldn’t have been any older than nine – singing Christmas carols in front of the large family gathering they had every year. Sounds of White Christmas floated out to their ears, making a beautiful three part harmony. In the next little snippet, Taylor had to have been about fourteen; they were singing in church, even at the very beginning of the fame that would take hold of them shortly thereafter. They were singing Away In A Manger. Clip after clip of them, ranging from small children to the most recent captures of them played across the screen, all Christmas songs and family footage, and backstage footage for TV Shows and radio interviews. Diana glanced at Taylor; the longing in his eyes was heartbreaking; he wanted to badly to be a part of that again – it was a part of him.
“You guys…” Taylor said quietly, looking down at his lap; it was suddenly blurred by tears. “Thank you but…” He looked up at them, tears swimming in his eyes. “I can’t do that anymore… I can’t… I don’t know how,” he said, shrugging slightly, tears rolling down his cheeks. The pain in his eyes was undeniable, though he tried to hide it.
“Oh baby – “
“Tay, that isn’t what this is for,” Zac said quietly. “We were just trying… We just wanted to give you back a little bit of what… what you lost…” he said quietly. “We just wanted to make it special for you.” He sounded hurt, really hurt.
“Sweetheart,” Diana said, tears coming to her own eyes. This had been the most truly touching thing her children had ever done for their sibling; this display made her see how truly blessed they were to have this family. “How long did you all plan this?”
“For months,” Isaac answered. “We had to go through so many tapes… It took us a while, but it was worth it. We wanted to do this for Tay…” He said, looking from his mother to his brother. Taylor looked down at his lap as their mother slid her arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to her; he rested his head on her shoulder, his face turned in toward her neck.
“He doesn’t understand,” she said quietly.
“Guys it isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate it,” Walker said softly. “It’s just…”
“I can’t do those things anymore…” he said quietly, sniffling. “I love what you did for me,” he said, lifting his head and wiping his nose on his hand; snot made no difference to him, he really didn’t know much better. “I love you guys so much for trying to make me feel better… I love my present…”
“We understand, Tay,” Zac said, putting his hand on Taylor’s knee. He looked so sad for a moment, until she saw the corners of his mouth start to lift. “Hey Tay… I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” He sniffled. “What is it?”
“Well, you have to come with me and Ike… down to the garage…” He knew he had to tread carefully.
“The garage?” Taylor looked at his parents. “Can… Can I go down there?”
“If you think you can, buddy,” Walker said calmly.
“Tay, really, you want to come down. Ike and I can make this better for you…” He looked at them and back at their parents. They nodded their encouragements.
“Okay…” He said quietly, letting Zac take his hand and lead him away from the couch.
“Zac,” Diana called, causing all three of them to turn around. “Don’t let anything happen, ok? If it’s too much, bring him back up here, all right?”
“I promise,” he said, making an “x” over his heart. She watched them until they disappeared around the corner, heard the door open for the basement and close, listening carefully to the sounds of their footsteps as they descended the stairs.
It had been hours before her boys emerged from downstairs. At first she had been a little worried that something had happened and they didn’t want to tell her, and were taking their time to calm Taylor. But when Taylor emerged grinning, she knew otherwise. Something good had happened down there, and it was evident in all three of their faces.
“Guys?” She said, looking at them with a hint of a smile. “What are all the smiles for?”
“You’ll see,” Zac replied grinning. “Hey! Everybody in the living room!” He shouted. Taylor looked at his mother with what she thought for the first time in a while was true happiness. Something wonderful had gone on in that basement studio, and they were going to share it. Feet pounded and there were laughs and shrieks, but everyone made it to the living room. Isaac, Taylor, and Zac stood in front of the Christmas tree, Taylor with a wide smile on his face. They couldn’t remember the last time they had seen him this happy. Zac nudged Taylor, and he spoke up.
“We have a Christmas present for everybody,” Taylor said grinning. “It’s awesome.” They all laughed a little, waiting for this big present. Isaac started snapping his fingers quietly, and Zac whispered encouragement to Taylor. Suddenly the room was filled with this wonderful sound, a beautiful three part harmony singing White Christmas. The younger children grew excited and giddy, ecstatic that Taylor was singing with his brothers. Walker and Diana stood close together, Diana with tears in her eyes. It was no wonder he was so truly happy – he was standing there doing something he thought he’d never do again. If this wasn’t progress, nothing was. They all listened intently, taking in every syllable that fell from the trio’s lips, and cherishing the sound. When they were through, Zoë ran to Taylor, wrapping her arms around his legs. He disentangled her and squatted down to her level, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly as he squeezed her back.
“You did it, Tay!” She said excitedly. “It was beautiful!” Zoë’s words meant the world to him, and when he stood his mother took him in her arms, holding him tightly to her.
“Baby, that was amazing,” she whispered through tears. “It was beautiful, Taylor.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said softly, feeling the tears finally burning his eyes. He sang. Not only did he sing, but he sang with his brothers like he used to, and he didn’t mess up. It was the best Christmas present he felt he had ever gotten, and it was the best Christmas present his family could have ever received.