A Taylor-Made Life (30 page)

He gazed deeply into my eyes and
squeezed my arm. “Cry lots, Sweetness…but don’t cry
long.”

My heart shattered, the love and life
that he’d given me gushing out. He released me, rolled to his back,
and closed his eyes.

Settling into the lounger next to his
bed, I fed Aaron as tears rolled down my face. Gavin’s breathing
slowed. The beeps of the heart monitor indicated he was
fading.

Aaron finished the first meal of his
little life. I held him while he slept. My gaze flitted from the
baby to Gavin and back, amazed at how much they looked
alike.

The parents returned, filing into the
room and one by one taking a moment at Gavin’s bedside.

Grace walked over, looked lovingly at
her son, and squeezed my shoulder. Her hair was splayed in a
hundred directions, and her face pale. “He left us for a moment
last night, but said he had to come back for this. For him….” She
cupped Aaron’s little head. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and her
voice broke, “He looks just like his father did. May I hold
him?”

I smiled. “Of course.” I stood and
allowed Grace to sit before I handed over my little bundle that
weighed barely as much as a book.

A stillness engulfed the room. My
heart began to pound. I sat on the bed next to Gavin and took his
hand and softly said, “I love you.”

His lids fluttered opened, his eyes
gazing deep into mine, then closed. He smiled, took one soft
breath, and was gone.

The next morning I stared up at the
tiled corkboard ceiling. Schools, government buildings and
hospitals sported the standard issue white squares with aluminum
edging. My particular ceiling was nine blocks across and eleven and
a half down. The square directly over my head had three hundred and
forty-eight pores, and if I connected several of the dots in my
mind, I could see the shapes of a unicorn, an old-fashioned
microscope, and at least ten different faces staring back at me.
Some smiled but most snarled with horns and fangs. I glared back at
them.

Various beeps and dings sounded out in
the hall, and hustling healthcare professionals pushed carts with
rattling wheels back and forth. The occasional nurse’s voice
echoed, but in my room, there was silence. Because in the end,
silence was the only thing left. Not light or dark, good or bad.
Just hollow. Nothing.

One time, I’d met Matt after football
practice at the stadium. I’d waited in the stands while the players
changed. I’d been the only one there. Standing in the empty expanse
created for hundreds of people had given me a chill I couldn’t
explain, until now. A place that should be full of life and joy sat
empty. And silent.

I raised the head of my bed so with
one eye, I could see between the cracks in the curtain drawn
across—

“All right, Mrs. Taylor. Are you ready
for us?” A nurse I didn’t recognize pushed a cart carrying my
lifeline. The petite woman smiled at me. I didn’t smile back. “Are
you ready for your procedure?”

I nodded, not wanting to talk and not
sure my voice would work, anyway. The dark-haired lady used the bed
controls to raise my head further so I was sitting. Then she
elevated the bed for easier access.

I blinked and watched
blandly.

I lifted my body and scooted up on the
pillow. The nurse straightened my gown and covered me with a stiff
sheet. I pulled the blanket up to my chest and laid my arms over to
secure it in place.

Dad rushed into the room.

“Are they starting already? Oh honey,
are you okay?”

I met his gaze and nodded
again.

He sat in the chair opposite me with
worry lines creasing his brow. “Mom sends her love. She’s a little
sore but doing fine. That little guzzler has been keeping her busy
with feedings. You never ate that much.” He caught my glare. “You
mom wanted to be here, but they—”

“Dad, I need quiet right
now.”

He snapped his jaw closed and nodded.
His eyes sparkled. If he started crying, he was so out of
here.

The nurse flushed my port and
administered a dose of something. With detached interest, I watched
the woman piddle around the room, gathering various things. She
turned to find me staring, and smiled again. I still didn’t smile
back.

The woman’s gaze caught something, and
she gasped. “Oh, what a beautiful ring.”

I pulled my hand to my mouth and
smoothed my lips over the yellow stone. Bile filled my mouth. The
bitter taste stuck on my tongue, burning my throat. Bitter was
good. I could totally do bitter today.

The nurse hooked up my IV, and I
closed my eyes.

A rocky beach surrounded by mountains
spread in front of me, and warm arms wrapped around me from behind.
He was here, and I leaned back against him, letting the medicine
drain into me.

* * * *

“So are you ready to go home,
sweetheart?” Mom smiled at me.

“Home? Is that what it is?”

She knitted her eyebrows. “It’s where
your family is. It’s where Aaron is.”

“That baby doesn’t know me. He hasn’t
seen me since….” I turned my head and stared out the
window.

“That
baby
is your son,
and he may not know you. But you know
him
. He’s a part of
you…and Gavin.”

I jerked my head and glared at
her.

“Yes, Taylor Marie. I said his name,
and you need to say it, too.” She stood and stomped to the bed. Her
face reddened, and her fists balled at her sides. “What’s the
matter with you? Honestly, if I didn’t have the scar, I’d swear you
were having postpartum depression. So what is it?”

My mind raced with unsafe thoughts.
Thoughts that could take me some place I never wanted to go. I
hadn’t allowed myself to analyze anything in the last month
since…Gavin died. Pain shot through me, and my eyes rolled back in
my head. Empty was better than what lay behind door number two.
Stick with empty. I schooled my face and again turned my head
toward the window.

“Don’t you look away from me. Let’s
have this out right now. You’re not going home and shutting
yourself off from everything and everyone. Gavin wouldn’t want you
to be like this.”

“How do you know what Gavin…would
want?” The sound of his name rang in my ears, and it hurt. “You
don’t know the first thing about it. In fact, he wanted me to
grieve for him.”

“This is beyond grief, Taylor. And you
have a baby at home who needs you. Work through your issues so you
can be there for him. That’s your obligation as his mother.” She
spun on her heel and stalked out the door.

Blowing out a long sigh, I slid off
the bed into my fuzzy slippers. I scooted to the window and rested
my forehead against the cool glass, staring and not allowing my
mind to wander farther than the busy street below. Cars and buses
coming and going. Spring was in the air, not that I should know
being trapped in Hospital Hilton for the last month and a
half.

“How’s the birthday girl today?” Dr.
Monroe’s voice cut through my thoughts.

His words startled me. I didn’t turn
around. “Hi.” I hadn’t remembered it was my birthday. Nineteen
years old. Might as well have been a hundred for how I
felt.

Memories of my last birthday flooded
back with a stab of pain. It had only been a year. But it felt like
a lifetime. Tomorrow was my first wedding anniversary. I’d spend it
at home, alone in my bed.

“Your mother tells me you’re having
some issues with depression.”

I scoffed. “Can you blame
me?”

“No, not really. But there’s a
difference between grieving over a death and wallowing in guilt
because you lived.”

I turned toward the little man who I’d
secretly nicknamed Uncle Bilbo.

He stood like a tiny tower of strength
at the end of my bed, searching my heart with probing eyes. “Tell
me what you’re feeling.”

Feeling?
Nothing if I could
help it.
What wasn’t I feeling?
I stared at the ceiling.
Tears welled when I realized it was a gesture I’d picked up from
Gavin. “My heart feels broken like it won’t work right anymore. I
feel like I should be dead.” My voice dropped. “And I want to
be.”

I shot him a glance. “I thought I
could cheat death and this stupid sickness.” I spat the words out,
the torrent of bottled emotions building behind my eyes.

“But even though I’m alive, I’m alone
and empty. I’ve lost everything.
Everything.
It took my
heart. Cancer still won!” A howl tore from my lips from a place so
deep I knew my lungs didn’t have wind enough for it.

I sank in the chair by the window,
dropped my head in my hands and sobbed. When the fit finally broke,
I raised my face wet with tears and snot.

The kind man still stood quietly by my
bedside.

Helplessness, guilt, and grief
crucified me. “I give up, Dr. Monroe. I concede defeat.”

A slow smile spread over his face.
“No, you don’t.”

Something began to build in me, a
small flicker. I grabbed a handful of tissues from one of the boxes
Mom placed on every flat surface of the room.

Uncle Bilbo pulled out my chart and
flipped the metal lid over. “Your body hasn’t given up. It’s
fighting with everything it has. In my twenty years of medicine,
I’ve never seen such a rapid recovery. Your immune system is
functioning better than some people with normal blood counts, and
your healthy white cells are rising at an accelerated
rate.”

Was it possible? The light of hope
grew with his words. While I was wallowing in my self-pity,
something inside me had never given up even when I felt engulfed by
darkness. My spirit hadn’t failed?

He walked over and placed a hand on my
shoulder. “No, my dear, you haven’t given up. And when you’re
ready, you’ll rise up and receive the victory you’ve
earned.”

Chills covered my arms. As if a shaft
of light shone down on him, I looked up, my carefully constructed
safe house crumbling. I wasn’t ready to confront the grief yet. But
maybe I was ready to believe I could. And tomorrow I
would.

He stepped to the door and glanced
back at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning with your release
papers.”

The Texas gulley-washer of tears was
already falling again.

* * * *

I squared my shoulders then stepped
from the garage into the kitchen. Mom followed and shut the door.
Zelda looked up from her steaming pot of something. She wiped her
hands on her apron and pulled me into a big hug, saying something
in Spanish. I hugged her back, tears spilling.

Grace sat at the kitchen table,
holding Aaron. I locked my gaze on the sleeping baby. A stranger. A
savior. A wound to my soul, and its healing, too.

Grace repositioned him. “Hey, weary
traveler. It’s good to have you home.”

I swept my gaze over the room. “Thanks
for staying, Grace.”

The emptiness of the space echoed in
my heart. Everything looked the same, but very little
was.

“I’d never turn down an opportunity to
keep this little guy.” Grace smiled sweetly down at the bundle in
her arms then looked back at me. “I was about to feed him. Would
you like me to bring him to you after?”

I shot a look to Mom, who winked and
nodded.

“Sure. That’d be great.”

I continued to the living room and up
the stairs, Mom trailing behind me. My chest tightened, and my
tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Steeling myself, I stepped
into the bedroom, grasping the doorframe for support. Memories
rammed into me like bullets. A life had been lived in this room,
and the smell of it made me dizzy.

New curtains and a comforter set
decorated the windows and bed. “Thanks, Mom. It’s just enough of a
change.”

Placing a palm on either side of my
face, she said, “Everything will get better with time,
baby.”

I sank on the bed. “Time heals all
wounds?”

“Sure does.”

“It’s funny how time always seems to
control my life. It either can’t pass quick enough or speeds by too
fast. I’m always at its mercy.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “And how does
that make you any different from everyone else?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” I smiled weakly,
and for the first time in weeks, it reached my heart. “It makes me
the same.”

Mom left me, and I stepped to the
closet. Gavin’s clothes and personal items lay as he’d left them. I
pulled a suit sleeve to my nose, and his scent, his memory,
caressed me. I sat cross-legged on the bed and hugged a pillow. He
was all around me. How was I going to do this? My heart ached,
throbbed. “Happy Anniversary, Gavin. I miss you so
much.”

I buried my face in the
pillow.

* * * *

I watched familiar faces gather around
the long dining room table. Brad sat at the head and spread his
files in front of him. Grace sat to my left and Mom to my right.
Dad and Ben stood behind them. Sara, Nic, Jon, and Sophia sat
across from me, whispering and chuckling among
themselves.