At the age of 23 and 26 this seven-month break from each other was the longest separation we had ever endured since I had come home at three days old. I wasn't sure if I would remember who he was - what if he changed? What if we didn't remember how to speak to each other? I was so afraid of rejection... afraid of losing him for good. I hid all of my prescription medicine under a loose floorboard next to my bed and made a point to make myself look "at home" with my usual mess to cover up the space. I didn't allow myself to take even one Valium the day he came in. I wanted to appear as "with it" as I possibly could - I knew Isaac would be judging me on my state of mind.
I was nervous when I saw his car drive up. Alex held my hand in my room as I listened to casual greetings in the front hall. She squeezed my hand and feeling her beside me kept my anxiousness at bay. I listened carefully to see what they were saying, wondering what Isaac would say to them when they announced my presence in the house - based off of his reaction I calculated what I might say to him later - when he came in the bedroom door with his suitcase and jacket.
"Taylor's here," My mother said. "With Alex and Theodore."
"Taylor?" He was surprised, but didn't let on to any anger or resentment in his voice.
"Yeah, he arrived yesterday - They drove up from L.A."
I stood, anxiously waiting - I would let him come to me. Alex kissed me gently and left me alone in the room as I attempted to appear occupied. I milled about the room and found an old book and opened it to the center and pretended to be engrossed in the contents, sitting on the computer chair. After about 15 minutes passed he finally emerged from the hallway - a shadow in my doorway.
"Taylor." He stated. I looked up, there was a ball of nerves in my stomach. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here." I stated and shut my book, "Well, I'm visiting."
"Mom said you hadn't called in months - we were convinced we'd never see you again."
"Funny, I felt the same way about you. No one exerted much effort to call me." He was trying to accuse me, but I wouldn't let him. He scrutinized me, looking for mistakes.
"You look sick still." He said, satisfied when he found one. He wanted to make me the one at fault. I was the one who was sick - I was the one who was irresponsible. "Your eyes are gray."
"I'm glad that's the first thing you noticed." I spat. "What else is wrong with me? Why don't we point it all out and get it over with."
"Don't act like this." He sighed. I was irrational, I was a child.
"Like what?" I scanned his face. "Act like what?" He had no answers for me. "I drove here from L.A. for two fucking days straight because I wanted to see my family at Christmas - because I wanted Theo to see his family at Christmas, and all you assholes can do is stare at me and ask 'What are you doing here?' like it's some kind of fucking felony - like you don't want us here? You didn't even call him on his first birthday, or Thanksgiving, or any time else for that matter! How should I act to please you?"
"Do you have any idea of what you put me through!?" He shouted at me. "Do you have any idea of what you've put this family through?"
"Don't give me that." I said. "Don't even try."
"I'll give it to you." He said. "I'll give you whatever I fucking want to. I know you don't care about our careers or anything else for that matter, but I just don't think you quite understand what's been happening outside of your little bubble."
"Oh? Did anyone take the time to ask me how I felt? Did anyone care about what happened to me?"
"You wouldn't talk to us! You wouldn't talk to anyone! Don't you understand? You locked up... you didn't speak to anyone. You lived inside your fucking head! You sat up here in this room looking out the window for three days before we went back to L.A.!"
"Do you know what it's like to walk into someone's house and find them dead? Fucking covered in blood - and dead?!" My stomach clenched, that must have been the third time in my life that I'd actually said that aloud, and the reality of it still startled me. "Do you know what it's like to live your life walking into that bathroom over and over and over, every single day? Do you know what it's like to not be able to tell the difference between what's in your head - and what's not? Do you?"
"Do I need to?!" He shouted. "Mom tore herself apart with worrying about you! No one knew what was wrong! You were sick all of the time - and you'd sit in your room at night shivering. You ruined our fucking career, and you know it. You knew it then, and you don't even fucking care! You're nothing but this fucking apathetic, soulless, mess!" He sucked in a breath of air quickly. "Do you know what it's like to look into the eyes of someone you love and see nothing there? Vacancy. Nothing. Nada. Zip."
I stared at the floor. My hollow eyes. My bruised skin. My basket rib cage. Apples and oranges; patterns on bed sheets. "What do you see now?"
"Sickness and pain." He said, softly, apologetically.
"It's better than nothing." I said with a fake smile of optimism. "I'm not sick anymore."
"You aren't well."
"What do you know?"
He kicked my clothes around and knelt down on the floor, tearing up the floorboard to reveal my miniature pharmacy beneath. "This." He said.
"Those are for my episodes." I tried to explain. "They keep me from panicking."
He grabbed a few of the orange containers. "Valium." He opened the bottle and dumped the pills on the floor. "Don't lie to me."
"They are! Don't do that." I grabbed the bottles from his hands and dropped to my knees, gathering the Valium together and scooping it carefully back into its container. Didn't he know the mind of an addict? Nonetheless he thought I was lying, and I had to prove him wrong. I opened all of the bottles and showed him all of the names. "They're only for when I need them." I said, placing them in perfect order back under the floorboard. I wasn't lying about that.
"Then why do you hide them? What's the big secret?"
I didn't know. I cast a curtain over my medication. I treated it as if it were the coke I used to hide in the same place - like my imbalance was something I could tack under the floorboards like my addiction. I looked up at him. "How did you know they were there?"
"I know." He said. "You're predictable, Taylor. You've been hiding drugs there for years."
"I never knew you knew..."
"Come on Taylor - even Mom and Dad know about this hiding place. No one even knows what your like when you're not feigning for something or fucked up." His tone was bitter. "Pills! Vials of Cocaine!"
"I'm not like that anymore." I said.
"But you hide Valium under floor boards? Don't tell me what you aren't like anymore. It was the same shit with Annissa! It started with the Valium and then you were fucking doing lines again! I know you."
"I'm not doing coke. I'm not doing anything."
"Not yet."
"What do you want from me?!"
"To stop! To get better! To be my brother again!" He tried to hold his ground firmly, but I could tell by his tone that he felt the sand washing out from beneath his feet. He knew he was always standing on the edge. He thought he had lost me, but it was then I realized that we were both after the same thing.
"When will I be good enough for you? When am I okay?" I said. "You won't even call me." My voice broke and tears threatened to surface. I swallowed hard - not for Isaac. I refused to let him see me cry.
"When you fucking throw the Valium away, and act like the Taylor I knew before this whole mess."
"It's just to numb the pain." I mumbled, half under my breath.
"Yeah. Numb the pain." He said cynically. "And the whole fucking essence of your being!" Then with a deep breath, and a sincere tone, "Tay, there's nothing left of you. You've beat yourself to the ground."
"No, no." I replied. "I was still standing - you beat me to the ground."
The next time I encountered Isaac I was with Alex and Theo in our game room. Theo waddled about and babbled baby talk as Alex and I talked amongst ourselves. I got up to get a glass of water, and when I returned Theo was fussing, crying and calling for me. Alex handed me his bottle, "He wants you to do it." She sighed.
I sat down on the floor cross-legged and he walked to me and sat on my lap, reaching anxiously for the bottle. "Here you go, little guy." I said, holding the bottle to his earnest mouth as he drank its contents. He moved and shifted until he was cradled in my arms and I felt a smile creep onto my face as the warmth of holding Theo in my arms spread over me.
With Theo occupied Alex disappeared from the room, I heard her footsteps on the staircase, and I figured she had just wanted a break. A minute or so passed and someone approached the doorway. With my back turned to the door, I spoke without thought. "Al, could you take my glass?"
"I'm not your damn dishwasher." Came a voice, and I turned to see Isaac standing in the doorway, watching me. Theo pushed his bottle away, curious about his new visitor.
"Dah?" He asked, questioning Isaac.
"That's your Uncle Ike." I said in his ear. "Say 'Hi' to Uncle Ike."
Theo looked confused, shifting his eyes back and forth between the two of us for a moment, then forgot his plight and smiled again, waving to Isaac. "Hiiii," He called.
Isaac broke a grin, he couldn't help it. He sat down beside me and brushed his hand through Theo's soft baby hair. "Hi Theodore!" He said. "I'm Uncle Isaac."
Theo was excited and glad to be the center of attention, he grinned and baby babbled. He reached for the bottle again and stared up at me. "Dada." He begged.
"Oh, alright." I said, and picked the bottle up for him, and he settled happily in the crook of my elbow and drank from his bottle again. "Someone's going to have to pee in a few minutes, and it's not my fault." I said, with a smile. I looked up at Isaac, who wore a dark expression. I was startled by it, and returned his stare with one of confusion. He shook his head and relaxed his features. His eyes moved to Theo, suckling the bottle hungrily, then to my hand.
"What happened to your hand?" He asked. I glanced at them, red and sore with cuts, and shrugged.
"I was involved in a crucifix."
He nodded, expression blank. A moment passed, he hesitated, and then his eyes came back into focus, realizing what I had just said. "A... crucifix?"
"I got away." I said, trying hard to keep a straight face. "They almost did my feet, and someone shouted, and then..."
"Shut up." He said with a smile, but I was too busy laughing. "You're so full of shit." He joined in, and we laughed together. Theo squirmed in my lap and I took the bottle from his mouth.
"That's enough for you." I said, pulling him up to an upright position in my lap, and placing the bottle to the side. He made a whining noise, but got over it quickly and curled against my chest. I held him close to me, protectively.
"So where did they actually come from?" Ike asked, a tone of seriousness now in his voice.
"Rose Thorns." I replied. "I picked up thorny roses on accident."
He looked at me strange. "Do weird things always happen to you, or do you just neglect to leave important parts out of the story?"
I laughed and lay back on the floor lifting Theo up in the air to watch him smile and bubble. I didn't really feel like discussing these things right then, and Theo was my main concern - the only thing that mattered. "A bit of both." I replied, honestly.
"So what's the truth?" He persisted.
"I bought Annissa roses. I didn't cut the thorns, that's all." I replied. Don't press the issue, I thought. I brought Theo to my chest and he lay in my arms for a moment, ear against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. I closed my eyes, feeling the distinct rise and fall of Theo's weight against my chest, and I didn't open them again until he squirmed off of me and returned to his toys.
"Dada!" He squeaked and pointed at his matchbox cars.
"Theo!" I replied. "Do you know what those are?"
"Dah?" He looked at me with his wide, curious brown eyes. What was I talking about?
"Car." I said, "Car."
"Cah?" He asked, for reassurance.
"Yes. Car." I picked one up and handed it to him. "This car is blue."
"Car?" He repeated again. Then with more confidence, "Car!" He put it on the carpet and pushed it, laughing and cooing.
"He's smart." Isaac observed, and I smiled. I was proud.
"Of course he's smart." I said. "He listened to Mozart in the womb."
"He calls you 'Dada.'"
I looked up, registering the comment quickly in my head, analyzing it; trying to decide. Now I understood his dark stare, though, when he actually spoke the words, he sounded more sad than bitter, more reluctant than angry. "What should he call me?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Taylor?"
"I'm his father." I made the mistake of saying.
Isaac clenched his teeth and his jaw was taut. "No you're not."
I scowled, but didn't say a word. Arguing with Isaac was useless, especially about a topic as ambiguous as this one.
"You're not." Isaac insisted, he wanted to beat me down, to show me he was right.
"Zac's not here, Isaac. Zac's gone."
"So what? Are you just gonna take the only thing we have left of him for yourself?"
"Fuck you." I said, and he shot me a dirty look. "You think I'm selfish? Fuck you. Alex and I have been raising him when you weren't even calling! None of you even acknowledged his fucking first birthday - and now you're yelling at me because he addresses me as his father? Well, you know what? I am his father. Don't even give me this speech."
"Don't swear in front of Theo." He scolded.
"Don't criticize me. It's all you ever did."
"Shut up, golden boy." He spat. "You think you're so goddamned perfect."
"Get the fuck out of my face."
"Fine." He said, but he didn't move.
"Leave." I said, firmly, and he flouted angrily before he got up and left the room, muttering harsh words and wish-he-could's under his breath.
Theo sat very still and I inched toward him. "Let's play with the trucks." I said, gently. Theo immediately moved on, taking little note of the passing tension - the moment, to him, was no longer a factor. My child laughed and it sounded beautiful.