It had been a month. Spring was blooming all around me, and by now I had nearly a full beard. The effort it took to shave and bathe and eat was often too overwhelming to even attempt. I was lucky I had my restless walks, or I would probably have become pudding. My depression was such a physical thing. I hurt so much that I couldn't even bring myself to personal maintenance. I smoked two packs a day, and I had already taken all of my, Isaac, my little sister, and my mother's pills. I holed up in my room, day in and day out, reading books, watching movies, writing, but mostly... just thinking. Just existing. Just doing nothing. At all. I had lost a will to move, until all of the pent-up kinetic energy bonking around my muscles was too much and I had to get up for a walk.
Every night at dinner, I pushed the food around on my plate. I took a few bites, but often pushed it away before I even made a dent. Everything tasted like cardboard and vomit. I had no appetite, anymore. To pass the time I burned myself with cigarette cherries and once tried watching dirty movies on the internet. One didn't hurt enough, and the other had proven useless. I didn't want to get out of bed, even though my hair and my skin felt disgusting, and my developing facial hair was even worse. I had my prescription bottle. I had my pillow. I had eyelids to close my eyes, and I had sleep to take it all away. When I was asleep, it didn't really matter how I felt, and that was what I liked most.
The days could go on without me, if they could go on without him. Work, school, my career, my family, and my friends - wherever they were - could all go on without me, and I didn't give a shit. As long as I told myself that this wasn't my life, I didn't have to face any of it. I didn't want to. My plan was to wait for a miracle, or wither away and die in the process.
Isaac burst in one day, just in time for the days to start blurring together.
"Taylor. We're going somewhere."
"Mmm?" Was my response. I didn't quite think I had agreed to that.
"Get up. Get dressed. We're going somewhere."
"Where?"
"It doesn't matter where. You just need to vacate this room and this house for a little while."
"Sounds nice." I muttered, putting out my cigarette and turning over, burrowing my body further under my comforter.
"Come on, Taylor. It's your birthday! Your favorite flowers are blooming in the back yard. You haven't left the house in weeks..."
I buried my face in my pillow, a few tears escaped my eyes. How pathetic. It was my birthday, and I hadn't even noticed.
"Taylor..." He whined. He approached my bed. "Taylor, come on. Get up. Mom made you a cake and everything. You can't just forget about the rest of us..."
He pulled on the sheets and I resisted him. Isaac's hands were calloused and bandaged from near-constant guitar playing and learning to play the drums. Maybe his vice was more productive than mine, but I hardly saw him leave the house. Or the basement. I felt my choice to stay in bed and hide from the world on my birthday was as good as any.
He let me go. I thought he had given up, and I relaxed for a moment when I heard him walking away. I heard the shower start in my bathroom and then he marched back toward my bed. I held my comforter tight around my body, but instead of trying to yank the sheets off of me he scooped me up whole.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I exclaimed as I tried to squirm out of his firm grasp. I managed to get my feet on the ground, but he continued to drag me into the bathroom, my ankle skinning the step. "Get off of me!" I pushed and pulled and I was just about loose when he grabbed me again and threw me in the shower, clothes, comforter, and all.
"Happy birthday." He muttered and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. "And you have company, so you better get fucking presentable!" He shouted through the door.
Company?
I lay in the shower for several minutes, recovering from the shock of being tossed into a shower. Eventually I got up, and I turned the temperature to scalding as I undressed. The only way I felt clean, anymore, was if my skin was red and raw from the force of cleanliness. The hot water washed away all of the badness. I kind of liked it. I collected and wallowed in my own filth until one day a week I could wash it all away. All at once, instead of a little at a time. It was refreshing. Like peeling the perfect thin layer of dust out of the dust catcher in the dryer after your clothes are finished. It gave me a jolt of personal satisfaction every time I could hold my perfect dust slice in front of my face, and then be rid of it.
I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. Naked. It had been days, maybe several weeks, since I'd seen myself naked. It made me nervous, but I don't know why. I felt as if I were a voyeur looking through a window at the body of someone else. I swayed my body from side to side, as if to make sure I was really myself, and slowly moved my hand across my abdomen. I studied myself for a long time, staring right into my face until I couldn't take looking at myself any longer. Isaac knocked on the door and my trance was broken.
"Taylor! What are you doing in there?"
"Getting dressed. Go away!" I said, hastily pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I tied my wet hair back into a pony tail. It had been getting long. Throwing on a sweatshirt, I followed Isaac halfway down the stairs. I stopped when, at the bottom of the stairs, in the kitchen talking to my mother, I saw a girl. I turned around.
"Taylor...?"
I slammed my door shut and locked it.
"Taylor?" The voice came barreling down the hallway and banging on my door. "Taylor! What are you doing?"
With shaking hands, I pulled open the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I held a prescription bottle in my hands, knowing that if I took one, I would be worthless and inanimate for the rest of the day, but if I didn't I would freak out. I weighed the two situations in my mind. Isaac was banging on the door again.
"Please come out with us, Tay." Isaac said, a tinge of hurt in his voice. "Come on... You're only twenty-two three hundred and sixty-five times! Why not start the year out right?"
I put the pills down and walked to my door. "Why did you invite her?" I asked it.
"Why not? She's at the fucking store where I buy your cigarettes all of the time! I thought you liked her."
"I do." I said.
"Then why does it bother you?"
"Because you didn't tell me." I said.
"Well, I thought it could be a surprise. You guys could go out to lunch or something... I just thought it would be nice."
I felt bad. He was trying, he really was. I just didn't want to face her. Or anyone. I sat silently on my bed staring at the wall, praying that they would both just go away.
"Tay, let me in..." He said. "Come on. You know I'll get in anyway..."
A few moments later Isaac was picking my lock. He had become an expert at picking locks through years and years of me hiding behind doors. As long as Isaac was concerned about me, I was never completely alone. I heard the door click, and I sighed heavily. Nobody understood that the prospect of living life stirred a monster of fear within me that I could not control. The world was much safer when I was the only one in it.
"Please come out with us, Tay." He said, gently. He was so patient.
My stomach rumbled with hunger, so I lit a cigarette. "Where? To see what?"
"Anywhere you want to see anything you want."
"I want to tear out my eyes so I never have to see again." I took a long drag on my cigarette. "Seeing is believing."
"Fine." He said, flatly. "Then you just stay here and waste your life away. I'll go tell Annissa to go home, since you don't even want to say hello."
I sighed. "Tell her to come up here."
"Is that what you want, or is that just you being polite?"
"I want to see her. Tell her to come."
"Alright." He said, and silently left the room. I remained facing the wall, away from the door, and listened carefully as my younger brother and sisters milled around in the hallway, until a pair of hesitant feet halted in my doorway.
"Taylor..." Came a tentative voice.
"Hey." I mumbled softly. I didn't want to look at her, because then she'd see that I'd been crying. All because I didn't want to go downstairs. Isaac stood in front of me and I could feel him staring at me. I looked at my toes. I had almost wanted to go out with him just ten minutes ago, but now I just felt inept. He motioned for her to come closer, and she stood at my side.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" She asked, and for the first time I looked up at her.
"You can sit." I said, moving over a little and patting a space.
"Scruffy." She said, smiling at me, and I self consciously stroked my chin.
"Yeah... well, I'd always kind of wondered what I would look like with beard." That was a half truth. At any other time, I would never have the patience to grow any substantial facial hair, but lately I only had because I frequently found myself too overwhelmed and exhausted to tend to such things. A part of me was absolutely repulsed by it and wanted to shave it off, but another part of me was proud of it. I was proud of it in a masochistic way, I suppose the way a cutter is proud of their scars. Letting yourself go because you're too depressed to do otherwise is always a kind of achievement that is not understood until the day you wake up and realize how bad it's become. In a way, achieving nothing at all is much more daunting than making the climb to the top of the world. To do nothing is as much a skill as to do something. How many people on earth can sit in a silent, dark room for several hours on end without getting fidgety or bored? Without thinking about tasks or writing music and novels or dreams in their heads. Just blackness for the sake of blackness and nothing more. Shaving off my beard, I had decided, would only indicate that I had an ounce of motivation in my body, and motivation was counter productive in achieving nothingness. Sometimes, I thought, if I sat long enough my brain would just rot in my skull and I'd never have to think again.
"It's kinda cute." Was her response.
"You don't have to humor me. I know how I look."
"What would you say if I told you the truth?"
I shrugged. "Nothing. I know the truth."
"Well, here's the truth. You look like you haven't eaten in three weeks, and you smell like you haven't taken a cigarette out of your mouth since I last saw you. You've been crying. Your fingers are scarred. And I imagine you were much worse off before you took a shower this morning."
I took one last drag on my cigarette, and then put it out in my ash tray, which was overflowing with butts. At some point, without my noticing, Isaac had left the room entirely. I realized we were alone when I looked back at her after scanning the room for something to get me out of this conversation.
"So, I'm right?" She said.
"My brother just died." I responded. "My career is over. Everything I've ever lived for is gone."
"Well, what about Isaac? Or your parents? Or your little sisters? You have seven other people to live for, at the very least."
"Good point. I should've off-ed myself three years ago when I was supposed to, so those seven people could be spared of this grief."
"Oh, Taylor... Do you really think that?"
"Yes." I said, without hesitation. "He wouldn't have died if he hadn't have saved me. I deserve it more than he did."
"Tay, you can't feel guilty about this. It was an accident. A stupid freak accident. You never could have possibly done anything to change it. Whatever he did in the past he did because he loves you. You, I'm sure, would've done the same for him."
"He made a bargain, that day." I said, "I overdosed on coke, the worthless fuck that I am. I almost died. I know he did it because I saw him praying. He offered his life for mine. He begged for my life. He begged."
"Then you should live." She said. "And be every single damn thing you've ever wanted to be. For him."
"My hit single is in the past. We're done."
She shook her head and grabbed my shoulders. "Taylor, just look at me."
I looked. My eyes were watery.
"Forget the band for a second. What do you want to be?"
I thought and stared and thought and stared. Finally I scowled. "Fuck you." I said, because I couldn't think of anything else. I stood up and took a few steps across the room. "Fuck you." I said again. "Like you know so much... Like you can even comprehend what I'm going through. You're just a stupid fucking girl that I met at the god damn Convenience Store."
"I'm not to be blamed for where you fall short, Taylor. This is your problem. Not mine." She said. "I'm just telling you what I think, and never once did I assume anything about you like you just did about me."
I couldn't help what was coming out of my mouth. I didn't even believe what I was saying, but yet I said. The words were tumbling out uncontrollably. "Well maybe you should just keep your thoughts to yourself. You think I don't know what you want? I know what you fucking want. Why don't you just suck my dick and leave? Do you find pleasure in hurting me, too?"
Tears sprang to her eyes. For a moment she looked helpless, before she stood up and began to march out of the room. Shit.
I followed her. "Annissa..." She didn't turn. "Annissa... Come on... I'm sorry." She pushed my hand off of her with a force.
"Don't you dare touch me, Taylor Hanson. I came here to be your friend and take you out and possibly let you have a good day on your birthday. Never once have I made a pass at you, or touched you, or even insinuated that I wanted to. And you demean me by assuming that I want to get in your pants? Do you really think I'm that shallow?" She was crying. "I thought you were better than that."
I never felt so stupid in my life. Why had I said those things? I just didn't get it. I adored this girl. I barely knew her, but I adored her, and I had already hurt her. I felt like I ruined everything I touched. I didn't know what to say, or how to take back the derogatory words. My mouth felt filthy, and I quickly felt nauseous with fear. My lip started to quiver. How was I supposed to explain to her that this wasn't how I am? That I didn't normally insult, assume, or hurt. That I didn't normally act erratically, sleep all day, or cry. I was sorry. Watching her cry, I was more sorry than I had ever been. I felt like I did that night when I was nine, watching Zac on the porch, crying over his empty jar.
"I don't think those things, Annissa."
"I just asked a simple question..." She said, quietly. "Just because you can't answer it, doesn't mean you can take it out on me. I'm not your emotional punching bag. I'm not here to be used, and neither are you."
"I don't understand myself lately. I don't know why I say what I say, or do what I do. I don't want to hurt you." I reached toward her again and she stepped back, still unsure if she could trust me. "I understand." I said, dropping my hands and turning back away to sit down on my bed and stare at the wall, again. I expected her to leave. I expected this to be the end of any friendship we might have had. I lit up a cigarette and fought back tears. This was a bad idea from the start. I knew it. The day should have never come that I turned twenty two. She remained, watching me for several minutes.
Softly, she sighed, and walked in front of me. She knelt down in front of me and looked at me directly in the eyes. Tears spilled over and I looked away from her.
"This is what we're going to do." She said. "You're going to get up, put out that cigarette, shave your face clean, and then we're going to go downstairs and fix ourselves some lunch... and then... we're going to eat the awesome cake that your mom made for you... and after that, we'll go out in the back yard to look at the daffodils. And we'll listen to music and run around the park like we're five years old and don't know anything different. If you can do that, just today, I can forgive you."
I sniffed, and put my cigarette out. I looked at her, and through streaming tears I smiled. "The show must go on."
I felt better and worse, standing in the back yard. I felt clean and fresh, but against the new green grass and Mom's annual hyacinths I felt sick. They were bleeding with life, and I was dead and gray. I sat down in the garden and I admired all of the spring plants, brushed the petals against my cheeks and inhaled their fragrance. I truly did love flowers. When I was a kid, I used to help my mom plant bulbs and seeds in the yard. It was one of those things I had stopped doing at a certain age, when I realized that gardening was not a thing boys typically did. I think I was eleven, maybe twelve when I told my mother I didn't want to plant flowers with her anymore. She had the same expression on her face then as she did when I drove away for the first time, and when Isaac, Zac, and I got our house in Los Angeles. In a way, it saddened me as much as it did her to grow up. I wasn't sure if this was the life I would have dreamed for myself when I was thirteen, starry eyed over a record deal. Some days, I would throw it all away just to be normal.
I had mixed feelings, as I sat there, lost in my thoughts.
Annissa came running up beside me. "Hey Taylor... Your brother just had the best idea."
I rolled my eyes. "I can only imagine... Is he going to drive me to Taco Bueno?"
"No... your other brother."
"Oh." I said, and stood up. "What was that?"
"Ultimate frisbee." She said, smiling slyly, producing a frisbee from behind her back.
"Oh, no, no, no..." I said, holding my hands in front of me.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" She whined.
"Are you sure it wasn't Isaac? Mackenzie knows better." I said. "I'll kick his ass from here until next Tuesday."
"That's more like it."
I reached for the frisbee in her hand, and she yanked it away. "Yoink!"
"You little..."
She ran away, cackling, and I followed close behind.