Chapter Fourteen: Impulse
He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down
I'm gonna put it six feet underground
He said I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall
Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls
Sunday
"It's dusty in here." She said as she walked around the living room. She couldn't say it wasn't clean. It was immaculate, like he'd spent extra time making sure everything was perfect, like he'd known she was coming home. Except, he couldn't have known. She hadn't told him, hadn't told Summer, hadn't told anyone. She'd been trying to be her old self, had been trying to act on impulse.
The blinds were closed tight and very little sunlight came through. It was dark. Dark and dusty. She closed her eyes. She could remember when this place was happy and bright, when it felt like home.
"Yeah. Sorry. I… uh… I haven't been staying here."
She looked at him confused. "You haven't been staying here?"
"I've been staying with the Cohens."
"Oh." She walked over to the window and opened it. "Is that why you have all that stuff in the car?"
"Yeah." He nodded, changing his mind halfway through. "Well no, I was staying there, but I left."
"You left?"
"It's a long story."
"I have time." He stayed quiet. "Okay. Maybe later."
"Yeah. Sorry. I don't really want to talk about it right now."
"No. No." She chuckled. "This is just so weird."
"I know."
"Everything looks the same. It all feels so normal. I just keep expecting it be normal, but it's not. It's been two months. I missed half of March, all of April and May. It's just so surreal, you know? Everything is so uncanny. Like this is our house, but at the same time it's not. God. I can't believe it's been two months. I am sorry."
"No. You were right to…"
"Ryan, don't. Okay? I know I did the right thing, but I wish I hadn't had to. You know? I don't know. I feel like maybe if I had tried harder or pushed harder, maybe we could have gotten there without me having to leave."
"I wasn't ready to try, Taylor." He shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered, because I wasn't ready."
"I might not have been ready either." She gave him a smile. It was soft and had an almost sullen quality to it. "I forgot how much this place reminds me of her.
"Her. You. It got to be a little too much after a while." He agreed.
"I'm sorry." He moved his lips to speak, she continued before he had the chance to. "You should just get used to it. I'm going to say it all the time."
"You really don't have to."
"Yeah. I do. I missed you." Her front teeth moved to cup her lip. "You should probably shave though."
He gingerly ran his hands around his cheeks. "I thought I was pulling it off."
"Ryan Gosling you are not." She smirked. "Just a little too fair haired."
"I heard this guy from my French class say I looked like a deranged mountain man. I think he was just bitter because I punched him."
"You punched somebody?" She watched as his head bopped up and down. "I didn't think you did that any more."
"Neither did I." She stared at him. "He was telling dead baby jokes." He elaborated.
"Dead baby jokes?" He watched her eyebrows arch.
"Yeah. They're… I'd rather not."
"Right. Well, while we're on the subject of things we've done these last few months, I went on a date."
"Pardon?" He monotoned.
"A date. It was a month ago. I was trying to figure things out. I mean neither of us was exactly being the bigger person and I kept thinking about those last two years we were together. How amazing everything was. How perfect everything was and I thought maybe I was idealizing it. Maybe I was making you into my knight-in-shining armor. My Prince Eric. How maybe I was just so excited about being a 'part of your world' that I remembered everything a little better than it actually was. It was a test. Therapist endorsed and it failed miserably. Benjamin was an ass. He was like a lot like Henri, actually. Wore a scarf. Smelled like Brie. Recited poetry. Just… not the guy for me and the whole time all I could think was how much I missed you. How I wasn't making things better than they were, things were just that good. And then I got home and I was reeling from how god awful that date was and you'd left a message. I saved it. I listen to it all the time. You told me when you fell in love with me and I felt like such a coward. You know, there you were being the bigger person and I realized I hadn't really been trying when I left. I'd been pretending. I'd been doing what I'd done in high school. I'd been keeping up appearances and France was easier. I could be anyone there. I could grieve when I wanted to. I could be a totally different person when I wanted to, the type of girl who dated guys like Benjamin, but not even that as it turns out. I…."
He cut her off. "I kissed Theresa Diaz."
"What?"
"I kissed Theresa Diaz."
"Theresa? Theresa from Chino? Your childhood sweetheart? That Theresa?"
"Yeah. I mean I wouldn't call her my childhood sweetheart, but yeah."
"How was it?" Her voice shook.
"Not very good. She wasn't who I wanted be kissing. It was enlightening. That's when I realized that I was stupid, that I pushed you away. That I wasn't ready to talk about my feelings, so I pushed you away, when I should have done it anyway. We should have talked and it should have been hard. It should have been miserable, but we should have done it. I spent the whole day with Theresa and the whole time I was using her as a surrogate. I was scared of talking to you and so I said some of what I needed to say to her. I just… she wasn't the right person. You are and that's when I left that message."
"Wow." She gulped. "I know I have no right to be jealous, but I can't help it. You know? You kissed Theresa."
"You went on a date."
"A horrible date."
"A horrible kiss."
"I guess we'll call it even."
"Only seems fair." She fell into the couch and pulled her legs into her chest. He smiled at her.
"What?"
"Summer had all these pictures of you on her phone and there was this one. You were curled up on the couch, hugging your legs tight. In every other shot you managed to hide it, you know? You were the Taylor from high school who hid all that sadness away, but in that photo you could see it. I just … you looked so much better, but you weren't pretending anymore. You were there. You weren't wearing a mask." He sat down next to her. "She died and you couldn't sit still. You worked constantly. You wrote thank you notes for flowers and meals. You were an energizer bunny and every time I tried to do something real, you pulled away. I mean, I didn't try often or hard, but when I did you pulled away. You didn't want to be like Julie and I got that. You wanted to pick up and move forward and I got that, but you were always between these two extremes – depressed, near catatonic from sadness or a busy bee who fluctuated between keeping your mind off of what happened at all costs and trying to get me to open up about it. And I didn't know how to deal with that or anything and I pushed you away and you know the rest of the story, but the point is, when I saw that picture I knew. I knew you were ready to deal. I knew you weren't going to just pretend anymore. I thought I was in this place to try and move forward, but I saw that picture and I knew. I knew that if I could get you come home we could do it. We could make being alive worth it again. We could try together and here you are and you think that too and I just… you just reminded me of that picture is all."
Her eyes fell to her knees. "I always think about my birthday. You tried really hard and I just… I freaked out. I was so scared that if I celebrated it'd be like I'd given in, that I'd accepted that this was my life now. Like maybe the whole thing had been a test and you're right, I did pull away. I pulled away then and you're right, you didn't try often or hard and you did push me away pretty much from the minute she was in the ground until the minute I left. But, I was inconsistent and sometimes I did pull away… I don't even know what I am trying to say here… Sorry, maybe? Sorry I made it so hard for you to try before."
"You didn't."
"Yeah, I did. You did too, we both did. Neither of us is blameless and neither of us is guilty. We were both so wrapped up in ourselves that somehow, somewhere the other got lost." She looked him in the eye. "I didn't even wish you a happy birthday. I saw you on your birthday. I knew it was your birthday and I didn't even bother to say anything. I spent the day helping Kirsten around the gallery, but I came home and pretended it was any other day and it wasn't. I am sorry."
"It's fine."
"No, its not. Just because I decided getting older was too much to handle, doesn't mean I had any right to decide that for you." He watched her get up and walk to the hall closet. She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and reached for something at the top. It was a hat box, big and round. Knowing her it'd probably housed some huge, floppy sunhat that looked ridiculous at first glance, but amazing on her.
She handed him the box, pretty in pastel pink. "You got me a hat?"
"Just open it."
Inside were two perfectly wrapped presents. He couldn't help but smile at the wrapping. She'd probably spent far more time on them than was necessary. At Christmas time she'd set up a whole wrapping station. She'd spent hours following gridlines, delicately folding, adding ribbons and bows, making every gift seem like it'd been wrapped by a professional.
Who was he kidding? She was a professional.
"These are for me?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I got a jump-start and I knew you'd never look in there. Happy Belated Birthday."
"You got the M right." He murmured.
"Well, you know March, May totally the same thing." She gave him a smile. "Big one first. Little one second."
He began unwrapping carefully, tentatively. She motioned for him to speed up. "You know me. If you don't hurry, I'm going to have to unwrap it for you."
He did as she said. "Never know Paris might have changed you."
"Nothing could change that." He'd peeled back the wrapping to reveal the book inside. "You kept mentioning that you wanted a copy of Frank Lloyd Wright's The Future of Architecture. A good one. Not like the decrepit old one they have in the university library but that it was hard to find, because it's not in print anymore. Well, in early January, I was in the Mission District coming back from the office and I passed this used bookstore and they had one in near perfect condition. If you open the inside cover, it's even signed." She tried to gauge his expression. "You don't like it."
"No. No." He met her gaze. "It's not… I love it. I really…" he leaned in close to her. "I love it." His face was a few inches away from hers. She stared into his eyes, bluer than the sky. Azure pools, limitless, unending. He moved in closer and closer still, until their lips touched.
It was the first real kiss they'd had since January nineteenth, since the day they'd driven back from Reno, since the night before their daughter died. During the time before she'd left, it'd been nothing but pecks on the cheek and sympathetic kisses on the forehead.
This kiss made her eyes go wide and her knees go weak. It woke Sleeping Beauty from her slumber, brought Snow White back to life, and gave Ariel her voice back. This kiss was everything her kisses with Henri never were. It was passionate, tender. It was everything she'd imagined when she was little. It was everything the quick pecks between her mother and father had never been. It was intimate. It was loving. It was proof he still loved her, even if she was crazy, even if she had run six thousand miles away.
Slowly and steadily they broke apart. "Ryan..."
"Taylor." She stared at him. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She nodded distractedly, "The other one is silly." She pointed to the other present.
"I am sure it's not." He pulled back the wrapping paper quickly.
"It's a Lego model of Falling Water. I got it thinking you could build it 'with' Aurelia, but that's not… Anyway, we could do it or you and Seth or just you. It was just a silly little thing."
"Not silly." He leaned in close again.
"No?" Her heart beat hard in her chest.
"No." He repeated with a shake of his head. Their foreheads touched. "It's great. It's really great and I am glad you didn't give any of this to me in March. I wouldn't have appreciated it."
"I can get us cake and wine later. May 31st can be this year's March 10th."
"And February 24th." He grabbed a hold of her hand. "Come with me, I have something to show you."
She followed him through the kitchen and out the back door. The grass was high. He needed to mow. Her flowers needed replanting. He pulled her into the garage, what had once been their office.
He stopped in front of something large and covered by a sheet. "This is for you." He told her. She pointed at herself. He nodded. She pulled back the covering swiftly.
"It's a desk." She said quietly, admiring the handiwork. It was the design he'd finished when she was still pregnant, finally brought to life. It was sleek and slender. It was the epitome of her style. She knocked on the wood; it was solid too. Real wood. It was the type of furniture you just couldn't buy anymore, that is, unless your pockets were overflowing with cash. "You finished it?"
He shrugged. "I had some time."
"It's beautiful." She shook her head. "I knew it was a great design, but it's really something."
"It better be, you waited two years for it."
She frowned. "Well, they went by like that."
He slid his hand into hers and squeezed it tightly. "Yeah. Too fast." He agreed.
Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire
Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires
He noticed Frank first, his back straight in that hard hospital seat.
His hands fell to his knees and he bent over as he panted. All the parking spots near the front of the hospital were taken; he had to park in the reserve lot. August fifth must have been a bad day to need medical attention. He looked at his watch. August sixth.
Straightening up he noticed Seth glare. "It's twelve-twenty. What happened to eleven-forty?"
He managed to roll his eyes. "Traffic."
"Traffic Smaffic." Seth muttered, flipping through the pages of some ancient magazine.
Ryan pointed at is father. "What's he doing here?" His pulse raced. He'd thought he was in good shape, but he guessed not. He wasn't willing to chock any of it up to nerves.
Seth shrugged. "Taylor was freaking out. She called Julie."
"We were in Carmel at Big Sur, it's only two hours. We drove up." Frank clarified.
"He answered his phone when we called at eight. He's been here for two hours."
"You're going to want to shut up now, Seth." Ryan warned, shooting Seth a glare that sent shivers down his spine. "I don't need you to make me feel bad. Believe me, I feel bad enough as it is."
Frank offered him a bottle of water. He accepted, falling into one of the chairs and trying to catch his breath. "I can't believe she's having the baby."
"Five centimeters dilated. Ninety percent effaced." Seth grumbled. "I am not entirely sure what that means, but those were the last numbers."
"I am going to be a dad." He took a deep breath in and held it. "Fuck. I am going to be a dad."
"Should have thought about that before you decided not to use a condom."
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "It's not like you've never had a pregnancy scare."
"Luckily Summer isn't as fertile as myrtle in there." Seth pointed to one of the rooms.
"Where is she?"
"Room 213." Seth said, not bothering to look up from his magazine.
Ryan started to get up but Frank reached his arm out and stopped him. He couldn't remember the last time his dad touched him, that is, the last time his dad calmly touched him. No alcohol induced haze. No rage. "You're obviously worked up." Frank managed. "You don't want to go in there like that. You want to go in their calm, collected. You don't get to be nervous today. That's all Taylor. Just take a minute."
Ryan sat back down. His eyes watched the clock. She'd been in labor four hours and he had missed it. He'd been in Fresno; he'd been stuck on the ninety-nine. He couldn't believe it. This was not how the day was supposed to go. He needed Sandy and Kirsten. He needed a pep talk. He needed to make things up to his girlfriend, the mother of his child.
"When your mom was in labor with you," he heard Frank say. He turned to look at him warily. "I wore a rubber band on my wrist. Every time I thought I was going to freak out I flicked it."
He handed him one. "Grabbed this from the nurse's station. I'd just keep it in your pocket. If you need it, it's there."
Ryan nodded. "Thanks."
"I think you're ready." Frank said, patting his shoulder.
He shot up. "Doubt it."
Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn
Do back the things it did to you in return
She stared at his phone. It'd rung every hour on the hour since they'd left the cemetery. He hadn't picked it up once.
The clock on the microwave proclaimed 8:59. Sixty more seconds and it was going to ring again. She waited anxiously, wondered what exactly was going on. She'd wondered that since early Saturday morning when she'd gotten his message, but now? Now it seemed urgent. Now she was worried.
The clock struck nine and she jumped despite herself at the ring, knew it was coming, but couldn't stop herself all the same. Her body shook, her hand rushed to her heart. He barely gave the phone a passing glance. To her the ring was maddening, the sole sound piercing through their silence. To him it was just white noise.
She watched him. His whole body tensed. His legs, like hers, hung down off the kitchen table. Unlike hers, they started pumping harder and faster. He was obviously upset.
"What's going on, Ryan?"
He took a sip from the bottle of Petite Sirah she'd bought them. They hadn't bothered to use glasses. Couldn't be bothered to care about germs or class.
"Nothing."
"It's me. I know you and I know that something is going on. What is it?"
"Nothing."
She reached over and put a hand on top of his. With a roll of her eyes she gently scolded. "Atwood."
He downed a little more wine, stayed quiet, stayed tense.
"Ryan." She warned.
"Kirsten's pregnant."
"Good for her." The words came out more bitter than he'd expected from her. Bitterer than he'd thought she was capable of being. "That it?"
"They didn't tell me."
"Ah. So here you are trying to turn to your family for support and they don't even bother to tell you they're expecting."
"Something like that."
"What else could there be?" She thought it over for a second, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a swig. "Maybe a little: I'm depressed and wallowing and they act like they understand, but they can't because inside they're beaming."
He nodded. "Feels like twice the lie."
"I have a little theory."
"Yeah?"
"I think that the universe has decided that our little makeshift family can only be allotted a limited amount of happiness. Each of us gets it in strides."
"Really?"
"Think about it. You move in with the Cohens. You get a shot; the Cohens get a second kid. Happy. Meanwhile next door, life for the Coopers…"
"Not so good."
"Not so good." She agreed. "You and Marissa couple back up. Seth and Summer are going strong. Theresa comes back and tells you she's pregnant. You go to Chino. Seth goes to Portland. No one is happy. I'll skip the whole Trey thing, but note it as exhibit three."
"Noted."
"Somewhere in there I join the gang. I am happy having hot and sweaty sex with Jack." He slapped her playfully across the chest. "You use him to stay at Harbor. Sex stops. Taylor not so happy."
"Maybe not the best example."
"It was a pretty long dry spell after that." She rationalized.
"And you're maybe a little tipsy?"
"That too." She smirked. "The Johnny thing. The Marissa getting back into Harbor thing. The Johnny dies thing. Marissa's tortured youth phase. The whole Seth/Summer Brown drama. Then, you know, things get back on track for Marissa. Life is good. Seth is going to RISD. Summer is going to Brown. I am going to the Sorbonne, not that anyone really cared. Marissa is going to Greece. Then fire, dust, smoke, death, destruction. A few cage fights, environmental protests, marriages, divorces, break-ups, and expulsions later, things are back on track. You and I are happy, Seth/Summer, Julie/Frank, Kirsten/Sandy – hell, even Kaitlin. Then earthquake. Then Kirsten miscarries. Then everyone lives at Julie's and tensions run way too high. Then you and I are expecting and scared shitless. Fast forward a few months, people are settled in in Berkeley, we have a beautiful baby girl. Everyone is happy. A year later, baby is dead. A few months later, Kirsten and Sandy are having another kid. See?" He didn't. "There isn't enough happiness to go around, so the universe has decided to instead screw with us. Sprinkle some here and take some there. Give everybody a chance to be happy and everyone a chance to be miserable."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"No?"
"No."
"You think things happen for a reason then?"
"Maybe."
"Why?"
"Because even given all the bad things that have happened, the Cohens adopting me is still the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even with the pain I feel now, Aurelia is still the best thing I ever did. Even given all we've been through together, you're still the only girl for me."
She tried not to blush. "That certainly sounds nice."
"Yeah."
"You know, sometimes I feel responsible."
"Taylor we've been over this, you can't…"
"Not for Aurelia, for Marissa. Sometimes, I feel like it's my fault she died."
Ryan was at a loss. "How?"
"The whole Volchok prom thing. I did that thing that I did, that I do. I made someone personally responsible for what happened. I could have called the cops, but I didn't. I put it on you and you went and got that money back. And we've never talked about how or any of that, but I don't know. If I hadn't gotten you embroiled in all that, given you an excuse to go all Ryan Atwood on him, maybe he wouldn't have hated you quite that much. Maybe he wouldn't have run you off the road."
"I didn't need an excuse to wail on him."
"Maybe not, but you wouldn't have if I hadn't made you get back that money."
"Money that he stole. Besides, I don't remember you making me do anything."
"I knew who took that money and I knew you were there and while I may not have known you, I knew you and I knew what I was doing. My show wasn't without its motives."
"You're over thinking things. Overextending yourself."
"Maybe." She shrugged.
"Nothing is your fault Taylor."
"Que sera, sera?"
"Huh?"
"You know? Que sera, sera, what ever will be will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera?"
"Not familiar."
"It's a Doris Day song. Seth never made you watch the Man Who Knew Too Much?"
"Seth is not as into Hitchcock as you think he'd be."
"You talked to him?" He shook his head no. "What'd he do? I get the Kirsten and Sandy thing, but what did Seth do?"
"I don't know. It's just all of it I guess. Kirsten and Sandy. Summer going to France without telling anyone…"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't…"
"Because if anything that's on me."
"No…"
"You ever think that maybe you're just mad at me?"
"I'm not."
"It's understandable, Ryan." She turned to look him in the eye. "It's okay if you are."
"I'm not."
"Maybe a little?"
"No."
"Ryan, I left for two months. I wrote you a note and I left without so much as a goodbye. I love you, but you'd be insane not to be."
"I'm not. I mean, I was, but I am not."
"Why?" She didn't understand. "I mean, how can you not be? I am mad at me."
"You're always mad at you. You hold yourself to impossible standards."
"Be that as it may."
He shrugged. "I went to therapy, realized there were underlying issues. When the building collapses, you can't take it out on the construction crew, you've got to blame the architect and the poor foundation."
"I'm the construction crew?" She asked.
"Does it matter?" He retorted.
"Guess not."
"Point is, I am not mad at you."
"But you're mad at Seth?"
"Seth disappeared."
"Seth was at college."
"Yeah, but he stopped..."
"I know. Summer did too." She managed a slight shake of her head. "I don't know, I think our problem is that we forget that we weren't the only ones that lost her. It feels like it, you know? I mean she was ours, but she wasn't just that. She had all these people who loved her and everyone deals with loss differently. Seth and Summer…"
"Avoid."
"Yeah."
"I shut down." He told her.
"Depending on the day I shut down/avoid/pretend/break down. I am a mess."
"You're a mother."
"Was…"
"Don't."
She grabbed the bottle of wine. "We should be happy for them."
"Who?"
"Sandy and Kirsten. We should be happy for them."
"I am happy for them. I am just…"
"Simultaneously mad and jealous? Mad that they didn't tell you and jealous that they get this beautiful baby to look forward to and all you get is me?"
"Take out that last sentence and it sounds about right." She stared down at her feet. "You're not a consolation price, Taylor. Look at me." She obliged. "You're not."
"And they're not the bad guys, Ryan. They're just not." She pushed his phone toward him. "Call them."
"I can't." He took a deep breath in. "I get it, but I can't. Not now. Not yet."
"Fine. Sit here and be miserable then."
"Misery loves company."
"And for better or worse, company you have." She held the bottle up. "At the very least, we should give them a toast." She cleared her throat. "To Kirsten and Sandy Cohen." She drank from the bottle before handing it to Ryan.
"To Kirsten and Sandy Cohen." He repeated.
He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
She was walking around the hospital room, running her hand over her belly. Every few inches she'd lean on something for support. She moaned softly, obviously trying to ignore the fact that she was in pain. If there was one thing Taylor Townsend didn't like, it was having no control.
Summer and Julie sat facing her, though Summer wasn't quite sitting or standing. She was ready to hop up at any minute and lend a helping hand. Taylor obviously wanted none of it. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and inhaled. "Where's Ryan?" He caught the glint of tears near her eyes. "Where the hell is Ryan?"
He was surprised she hadn't noticed the door open. "Hey there." He called from the doorframe.
Her eyes fluttered open. She let a couple of tears fall. "Hey."
"I'm so sorry." He told her, walking over and giving her that helping hand, whether she liked it or not. "I am so sorry."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "Well you should be." He used his right hand to rub her back. "You know how they say giving birth hurts?"
"I think I've heard a thing or two."
"Well they weren't lying. In fact I think they might have underestimated."
Julie nodded from the corner of the room. "When I had Marissa, I thought I was going to die. Really die. Then I had Kaitlin and realized, oh no. That's just how that is."
"You want to sit down?" Ryan asked. She was hunched over more than he thought was comfortable.
"Yeah. Just in a minute." She grimaced. "The doctor said this might speed things along and I don't want to be one of those women who is in labor for three days. I just want the kid to go speeding down the birth canal."
He smiled softly. "I don't think you get a choice."
"Oh no." She turned to face him. "You get to say 'yes' and 'sure' and 'of course' and 'that sounds about right' and 'what ever you want/say' not 'I don't think you get a choice.' You're Mr. Positive Guy today."
"Right."
"How was Fresno?"
"Awful." Her face tightened and she grabbed a hold of his hand.
"Yeah?" She asked, ushering him to keep talking.
"Yeah. I hate Fresno." Her hold on his hand intensified. She motioned for him to keep going. "I drove by my old house."
She took a few deep breaths, breathed through the pain. "Yeah. How was that?" Her grip tightened.
He shrugged. "Well, there weren't any hand prints in the cement, that's for sure." His fingers started to go numb. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She pushed air out through her pursed lips. "Contraction. Just keep talking."
"I am an idiot." She nodded in agreement. "I never should have taken off like that."
"No." She agreed.
"I'll make it up to you however I can."
"Don't worry about it, just be here now."
"Okay." She slowly let go of his hand. He shook it out.
"Summer?" Taylor asked, turning to her friend. She shot up quickly. "Want to go tell the doctor I'm ready for him to stick needles in my spine, put me in twilight sleep, you know, whatever makes this slightly more tolerable?"
She was gone in a flash. "I thought you were going to try to do it naturally."
"Try?" She scowled. "I did try. Four hours I tried, Ryan. Four hours and you know how I told you I faint at the sight of blood?" He nodded. "Well, turns out I don't do so good with pain either. I am a wuss, sue me!"
"I didn't mean." He paused. "Sorry."
"No. No. I am sorry. I am just…."
"I understand." She was on the verge of crying again. "Ready to lay back down?"
"Uh-huh."
He put an arm around her for support and guided her to the bed.
Oh and I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
Monday
He watched her from the hallway. Her make-up was perfect. He was still in his sweats and there she was putting him to shame, making it look like he'd wasted the day away. He looked at his watch. It was only ten. He guessed he couldn't say only ten, as if ten was early. He'd always woken up by seven. He'd never been one to sleep in, but today ten felt normal. Seven felt ungodly.
He took a sip from his coffee and continued to stare at her. Her blouse clung perfectly to her frame and her shorts hung off her hips as if they'd been professionally tailored.
She hadn't noticed him yet. Hadn't noticed the way his eyes followed her. Hadn't caught a glimpse of the yearning in them.
She hadn't come to bed last night. He'd waited for her until his eyelids had gotten too heavy. He wondered where she'd slept. Her side of the bed was still made. There was no dent in her pillow, no lingering scent of Chanel. She was home, but she wasn't really back, not yet. Not the way he wanted her to be. He wanted her in their bed. He wanted her next to him. He wanted her to barely give him breathing room, the way she used to. Back when she could read his thoughts. Back when she was crazy and hilarious and unexpected. Back when they couldn't get enough of each other.
She put her hands on something. He didn't have to see it to know what it was. It was Miles. That's what she had always called it, Miles the Meerkat. Kirsten had gotten it for Aurelia's first birthday; a nod to her love of that show on Animal Planet that Seth had always teased her about. Miles had quickly become Aurelia's favorite toy. It'd gotten to the point where she wouldn't sleep without it.
She played with it awkwardly, putting it back into the crib after a minute and turning toward the door.
"Morning." She greeted when she saw him.
"Morning." He replied. She wasn't wearing eye makeup today. He managed a small smile. She'd learned her lesson. "How'd you sleep?"
"Alright." She shrugged. "The couch is a lot more comfy than I remembered. Then, I haven't slept on it since I was pregnant and everything was kind of miserable then."
"Why'd you sleep on the couch?"
"I stayed up late and you were already asleep. You looked peaceful and I didn't want to wake you." She stepped in closer to the doorway.
"Never stopped you before."
"That was before. This is now. You weren't used to the space before…"
"I never wanted the space, Taylor."
"Right." She gave him a smile. He reciprocated. "You still can't come in here, can you?"
"I…" He started with a shrug.
"It's okay."
"No. It's not." He shook his head before continuing. "I don't believe in ghosts, but when I go in there I know what it feels like to be haunted. I can't explain it."
"I think you explained it quite well." She joined him out in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. "Anyway, that was enough nostalgia for one day. I spend any more time in there I'll be in hysterics by noon. We don't need that."
"No. We don't."
"I had this idea though." He followed her down the stairs. "Every morning we could share one of our favorite memories of her, of our life, just for a while. Just until it hurts less."
"Does it ever hurt less?"
"Until its easier to accept the hurt, maybe?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
"So. Um. Let's see…. It was Christmas Eve and she was four months old. We were at the Cohen's house. We'd packed up everything we thought we needed for the week, because even though we live practically around the corner from Kirsten and Sandy…"
"Three miles is not practically around the corner."
She looked at him in disbelief. "You used to go there on your morning run. You'd get up, run over there and grab a bagel and coffee with Sandy before class. Half the time you'd beat Aurelia and I."
"You were slow."
She scoffed. "I wasn't slow. I was taking care of your daughter. You used to like it when I did that."
"I was in awe of you. You were amazing." She blushed. "Seriously, you were everything my mom never was for me. Everything I always imagined Kirsten was for Seth. More, even."
"Yeah." She was dazed; she barely got the words out. "Well, you weren't so bad yourself."
There it was. He looked at his watch. It was eleven passed ten. He stared in her eyes. It hadn't taken long for that. For the pain to come shining through. For the tears to well in that spot he knew all too well by now.
"Anyway, it can't exactly be far if you can run there in less than twenty. If you barely work up a sweat."
"Yeah." He admired her effort to get passed it. Admired her resolve to pretend everything was normal. Then again, maybe he just needed to accept it. This was their new normal. Tears welling. Pain shining. Words stinging. Voices catching. All of it. It wasn't easy, but it was normal all the same. Then again, he should be used to that by now. His life had been difficult far longer than it had been easy. Besides, having her there made the impossible stuff somehow seem possible. Their new life was hard, but with her around it wasn't all bad.
"Where was I?"
"Christmas Eve."
"Right. So we'd brought all of this stuff, like we were moving in. And we were all sitting around the tree. You had your little Christmas themed yarmulke on, looked handsome as always. Aurelia was fussing, so you took her and put her on your shoulder, patted her back in this quasi-burping-soothing motion that I could never perfect. And Seth was rambling on and on about something. I was tired and my head was going to explode. You know? He couldn't just put in the movie; he had to keep talking about it. You though? You were so calm and collected, so cool. Nothing was bothering you. The crying. The rambling. Nothing. And then…"
"She threw up all over my shirt."
"Yeah."
"And we realized that we'd brought all this stuff for the baby, but we'd left our clothes at home."
They shared a smile.
"Yeah."
"Your birthday."
"Hmm?"
"Your birthday last year. Remember? I made reservations at that new little French restaurant; Sandy and Kirsten watched Aurelia. Well, they were going to. You were nervous about leaving her. You'd just started classes and you missed seeing her during the day, and you were freaking out about spending the night away from her."
"I think freaking out is a little strong." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but she was so tiny and adorable and I just…"
"You were a just a good mom. I know. You don't have to tell me. Anyway, we were just supposed to drop her off. The whole thing should have taken ten minutes, but every time we were almost out the door you turned back around. You used any noise she made as an excuse to stay. We had reservations for seven thirty; we didn't leave the Cohens until a quarter passed eight. The restaurant couldn't take us. We ended up having to go to that little diner…"
"Still the best cheese burger I've ever had."
"Yeah. Wasn't quite the plan though."
"Please, the plan was for you to have your way with me and you did."
"A few times."
"See, I made it through the important part."
"You woke up at four in the morning and paced until you could pick her up at eight."
"I didn't pace." He shot her a look. "I don't pace."
"You paced."
"Maybe." She poured herself a cup of coffee. "See, that wasn't so bad."
"Not in the slightest." He stepped in closer to her. "I missed you last night."
"I didn't even think you'd notice."
"Of course, I noticed."
"I guess, I am not used to you noticing me anymore. It's been a while."
"I learned my lesson."
"Good." She stared down into her coffee cup. "I'll make it up to you. Get dressed. I'll take you to breakfast."
"Where?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "Where do we always get breakfast?"
He took that as a good sign. It had to be a good thing to fall back into the old routine. Didn't it?
And honey all the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They said start as you mean to go on
Start as you mean to go on
"You okay?" She asked, looking over at him with concern in her eyes.
"I am fine." He smirked. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Eh. I am still riding that epidural high. We have some time before we have to worry about me again."
"No." He shook his head vigorously. "Today is your day."
"No." She mimicked the shake of his head. "Today is her day."
"Her day?"
"Yeah."
"God. Her day."
"I know. Only a few more hours now." She chucked. "I have no control over that, I know."
"Look, I just wanted to say that I am sorry about…"
"Don't. It's okay. You're here now. You didn't miss it. We're going through this together. It's fine."
"Not just that..."
"Ryan, it's okay. I promise. It's okay. It wasn't just you, it was me too. It was stupid. It doesn't matter. You're right; a middle name is a middle name. I mean, I hate my middle and it's not like that really defines me."
"I don't even know your middle name."
"Because I don't want you to know my middle name."
He pointed to her belly. "I think we're passed the point of no return now. You don't tell me, I'll read it off the birth certificate in a few hours."
She shook her head. "I am pretty sure you can just do middle initial on those things."
"I don't think so."
She sighed. "It's Emmitt."
"Emmitt?"
"As in Emmitt Smith. As in my mom's first big client, said she knew he was going to be a star. Even when he fell to the 17th draft pick, she knew. Just like she knew I was going to be a boy and she was going to make me a football legend and ride my coattails to an early retirement and a vacation villa in Tuscany."
"Taylor Emmitt Townsend?"
"Yeah. Tragic, isn't it?"
"Certainly puts Jane in perspective."
"Yeah." She smiled. "It's growing on me. Baby girl Jane Atwood."
"Baby girl?"
"Unless, I am missing something. I wasn't aware we agreed on a name before you stormed out."
"What happened to 'Don't. It's okay.'"
"It is okay. I am just relaying facts."
"Taylor."
"What?"
"I am sorry about what happened…"
"Ryan, really it's fine."
"Except it's not fine. You needed me and I wasn't around and that's probably not the best way to start this." He waved his hands around vaguely.
"This was started like eight months ago." Taylor mimicked him. "This is fine."
"So going into labor early wasn't the least bit nerve racking and me being gone wasn't a big deal at all?"
"It all worked out."
"Taylor…"
"What do you want me to say, Ryan? I accept your apology and everything is fine? Okay. I accept your apology and everything is fine. The future is now. This is it. This is what matters. This is the moment where everything comes together. Would I have liked it if you were around when my water broke? Of course. Would I have liked it if you hadn't just disappeared? Yeah. Would I have liked it if you kept your cell phone on when you did? Uh-huh. But none of that matters. We can't change the past, we can only shape what happens next and what I want to happen next is for us to welcome our nameless baby girl into as happy and reconciled an environment as possible. Can we do that?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Now, are you okay?"
He said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow
Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry
You just sit down there and you wonder why
So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
Oh to the head
She sat on the counter in the bathroom watching the steam from the shower rise. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting her eyes fall shut. She could feel her pores opening. It was like she had her very own sauna. She could only imagine how hot he had the water; how red his skin would be when he left the tub.
She imagined him, shirtless, dripping wet. She imagined her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him, of every well-defined muscle in his body. She used to live for that hour after his run, live for seeing him fresh from the shower – the smell of his aftershave strong, his hair and body soft. If it hadn't been so long, she'd have joined him. She would have slipped off her clothes, peeled back the shower curtain, and waited until he noticed her, until he put his arms around her. That is, if he put his arms around her. She couldn't anticipate his actions anymore; it'd been a lifetime since she could do that.
She jumped when the shower curtain rustled, she'd been too enwrapped in her daydream to hear the water turn off.
He reached for his towel and dabbed his face dry.
She stared at his body, his naked flesh. She traced every contour with her eyes, burned the image of him into her mind. It'd been too long. Her eyes wandered. Far too long.
He moved the towel from his face to his waist and looked up at the mirror. "Taylor?" He asked, taken aback by her presence. "What are you doing?"
She held up a razor. "I can't take it anymore."
He rubbed his chin. "It's not hurting anyone."
"Au contraire, Ryan. It's hurting my eyes." He stared at her. "By default that means it's hurting me."
"Taylor…"
"Don't Taylor me." She snapped. "Say goodbye to the beard. I get it you're sad. I am sad. We're grieving. Guess what, you can see that in our eyes, the world doesn't need any other visual aid. There is no excuse for you to look like a dirty hippie, deranged mountain man, whatever. Now, come here." She demanded.
He took a tentative step forward. She waved him closer. "I don't bite."
"I've been growing it out for a while."
"Is that supposed to impress me?"
He sighed. His facial hair was starting to feel like the only thing he had control over anymore. He wasn't ready to part with it. "No, but…"
"But nothing, Ryan. Come here." He did as she said. He wouldn't tell her, but secretly he missed this. Missed her telling him what to do in that direct voice that proclaimed 'listen to me, I know best', and she did. She did know best. He could always count on her to guide him in the right direction.
She grabbed a can of shaving cream from the counter and watched the aerosol spill its contents into her hands. She spread the foam over his face. Her hands were cool against his skin. Her touch was inviting. She chuckled at the sight of him. "Now you really look like Santa Claus."
He shot her a look. "I never looked like Santa Claus."
"Yeah, you did." She said, suppressing a laugh. He raised an eyebrow. "Hot, muscular Santa Claus, but Santa all the same. Fret not though, we're taking care of that right now."
She dipped the razor into the water she'd stopped in the sink. "Come a touch closer." She directed. He rolled his eyes, but did as told. "And stay still, I wouldn't want to cut you." She said, a concealed response to his obvious annoyance.
She ran the razor down his cheek smoothly, dipping it in water after the first stroke and watching the pool begin to cloud. "I was thinking we could go that bereavement group that Dr. King suggested…"
"You mean the Grief Recovery Support Group?"
"That's such a mouthful."
"It also implies that you can recover. I mean really recover, not just go on and I don't know how I feel about that." The blade tickled his skin. "I went a few times, after you left." She stopped mid-stroke. "You went a few times too apparently, they remembered you."
"I tried to get you…"
"I know." He shook his head. "You never told me you actually went though."
"I tried. You never wanted to listen." She rested the razor on his cheek again, dragged it down his skin. "Anyway, I just thought it might be good for us to go together, but we could find another group if you wanted, one that doesn't suggest a cure."
"No. No. It was a good group of people. We could go." The scent of her perfume tickled his nose. She leaned in closer with each new stroke. There could be no denying that she was there, really there, not some desert mirage. Her shorts rode up. He caught a glimpse of her thigh, the soft glow of her skin. "Together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She smiled and pushed his chin up. "Stay still now, this is the hard part."
He stared at the top of her head as she glided the razor down the soft under hang of his jaw. Her eyes were focused on the task at hand, methodical and concentrated. Head near hers he smelled the floral undertones of her shampoo.
He closed his eyes and suddenly it was early December and they were in the shower together. Aurelia was at the babysitter and she'd skipped class to come find him, had slipped into the tub without so much as a word, had greeted him with a suggestive gesture of the hand. He'd reciprocated and slowly everything had dissolved into chaos and giggles – an ill timed movement spilling her shampoo down the drain, the scent rising through the air, providing them unexpected but ever-so inspiring aromatherapy. He could still remember every contour of her body as it had been then. He was Superman, except instead of x-ray vision he had the power to undress Taylor Townsend in his mind, to see her exactly how she had been then, hair tumbling down her shoulders – the water adhering each strand to her skin, body sopping wet and glistening in the light, eyes looking at up at him with excitement and desire.
He felt a wet towel on his face. He opened his eyes. She'd finished shaving him and was cleaning up her mess. She grabbed a bottle of his after shave, let the liquid fall into her hands and slowly patted it onto his cheeks. "I missed the smell of this stuff." She smirked, leaning in close to him. "I missed this face."
He stared at himself in the mirror, her hands lingering. "You can actually see it now." She shook her head. "It's official, you're far too handsome for a beard, promise me you'll never let it get that bad again."
He didn't say anything. Silently, he ran his hands up her body to her face, mimicking her movement, keeping pressure on her cheeks. Silently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips into hers, letting his hands fall to her shirt and carefully undoing each of the buttons on her blouse. Silently, she pulled the towel from around his waist; let it fall to the ground. Silently, her legs reached out and wrapped around his hips, beckoning him closer, keeping him captive. He moved his lips to her ear, nibbled on it softly. "Are we doing this?" He whispered, his hands undoing the button of her shorts. She pushed herself up so they slid off with ease.
"I think we are." She breathed.
"Good." Her shirt was a crumpled ball on the floor. He moved his hands to unhook her bra. "Welcome home, Taylor Townsend."
And honey all the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
He rushed to get the doctor in a panic. His head was spinning. His ears were ringing; nothing was in focus anymore. "It's time", what did she mean it was time? She wasn't a medical professional. She couldn't just know, could she? It couldn't just suddenly be time.
The walk back down that hallway it took everything he had in him not to go run into the nearest closet and hyperventilate. It took everything he had in him not to disappear for another four hours.
How could it be time?
He heard the doctor say, "I hear you think you're ready to push."
Saw her nod. "I mean, I've never done this before, but it feels like it's time."
"It can't just be time." He said under his breath, noticed her pretend not to hear him. "Like she said, she's never done this before." He managed to say that louder.
"Be that as it may." He noted her condescending smile. "I think it's time. What do you think?"
He watched the obstetrician look up from between her legs. "I think it's time to get this show on the road. You ready to have a baby?"
He felt his eyes go wide, would swear his blood sugar dropped. His knees went wobbly. He went to stand closer to her, less to be there for her and more to have something to hold on to.
"I think it's a little late for that now." Taylor smirked.
"I think you might be right."
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
"I kept imagining what it would be like to come home and never once did I imagine this." She was lying on the bathroom floor starting up at the ceiling. "Not once. Not for a second. I kept thinking I'd come back and it'd be more of the same. Two depressed people making each other miserable, too afraid to feel, to do anything."
"We've had enough misery, don't you think?"
"I do." He pulled her in closer to his chest.
"I think we just have to move on to that last stage. I think we just have to accept it, do what we were terrified to do before."
"You mean admit that she's gone and there is nothing we can do to get her back?"
"Yeah." He whispered into her hair.
"I don't know if I am there yet."
"Yes, you do. Yes, you are." He kissed the top of her head. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less. It doesn't mean the misery isn't there. It doesn't mean anything except that we're not going to let the misery consume us. I am not going to be too scared to talk to you. I am not going to be too scared to look you in the eye. You look like her and there is nothing I can do about it. You look like her and there is nothing I can do to bring her back. Before, I resented it. Now, I accept it. Now, I'm just going to let her live on through you."
"When did you get so good with words?"
"When you weren't around to do the talking for me."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. Never this. Never was it this."
"You thought about coming home a lot?"
"I thought about coming home on the plane there."
"But you didn't."
"I was scared. Before I left I was miserable. I hated that everything hurt. I hated how bad you could make me feel. I hated sympathy. I hated the words I am sorry… I still hate those things… but back then, there was very little that I didn't hate and I thought I'd come back to more of the same. I thought I'd come back and nothing would have changed. I thought I'd come back and have nothing left to do but let that love I have for you turn to hate, or worse let it fester into complete and utter indifference."
"I was starting to think you'd never come back. I was starting to think you'd meet some French guy and marry him in his family's chapel because he lent you money for a pay phone…"
"It was a subway ticket."
"Right. That was Henri. That was a lifetime ago, so I imagined a slight variation to the story. I imagined you in a white dress, with a diamond ring, kissing some Henri 2.0 before some justice of the peace. I imagined being an ocean away, unable to do anything."
"You thought I'd just marry some random stranger?"
"You've done it before."
"Yeah, but that was a lifetime ago." She stole his words.
"Some things have changed Taylor, but you're still that girl who dives in head first, who sees something she wants and goes after it, figures the rest out as she goes."
"Maybe, but I am not that girl who goes tumbling into something hoping to find love. Not anymore. I know what it is now and the word doesn't have that control it used to have, not when I don't feel it too." She shook her head. "I was always coming home, Ryan. I just didn't know how long it was going to take."
"I didn't know how much more I could take."
"Then I guess we both were pleasantly surprised this week. I guess we both remembered what relief feels like."
"Relief would have been no more internal bleeding. Relief doesn't exist anymore." She moved away from him, grabbing her shirt off the tile. "It was a pleasant surprise… the best surprise."
"No. The best surprise came on February 25th 2007. It didn't feel like it then, but it was. It was the best. There is just so much that I want to go back and tell myself. If I can't change what happened I want everything that happened to burn brighter in my memory. I want to go back in time and tell us to cherish every second we have with her."
"We did."
She slid her shirt on; let it hang open over her bare chest. "I don't want it to be like she never existed. I am scared that one day we'll have this new family and this new life and everything will seem okay, better than okay. Everything will be like it was and somewhere the hurt will lessen until one day it's barely there. I am scared she'll become something we don't talk about. You know? We might share a knowing glance, but we won't say her name. She'll just fade into dust. She'll be that one child we had before we had those beautiful children. Nameless. Faceless. Some distant memory of some tragic life."
"That won't happen." He got up from the floor.
"How do you know?"
"Because we won't let it."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
"You just do?" A frown started across her face. "It was such a pretty name."
"It is such a pretty name."
"You can't just know."
"Aurelia." He said loudly, grabbing a hold of her hands.
"What?"
"Aurelia."
"What are you doing?"
"You don't believe me that we won't let it be like she never existed, so I'm just showing you that we'll keep her name alive however we can." He squeezed her palms. "Aurelia."
"However we can?" He nodded.
"Aurelia." He repeated.
"This is silly."
He shrugged. "Aurelia."
"Aurelia." She managed.
"Aurelia."
They went on chanting her name, hands pressed together, inhaling the still damp air. Eventually, her hands started trembling and her voice shook. Eventually, she was in his arms letting the tears fall wildly down her cheeks. Eventually, his embrace became something she could barely remember, something from a long lost dream, loving and warm. Eventually, she looked into his eyes, felt his arms tight around her, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was home.
And they call as they beckon you on
They say start as you mean to go on
As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on
He was ushered down to the end of the bed. He felt like he was in school being called to the front of the classroom, unsure of the answer, and about to embarrass himself in front of all of his peers. Except, only her eyes were on him and that was worse. Her gaze was the most important. Her opinion was the only one that mattered. He had to hold himself together. He couldn't falter under pressure. He couldn't disappoint.
"You see that?" The doctor pointed between her legs.
"Uh-huh." He said absent-mindedly.
"That's the head."
"How does it look?" Taylor asked.
Gross, he thought to himself. "Beautiful," He said out loud. He wasn't entirely sure which he meant. Maybe it was beautifully gross. He wondered if that was a thing.
He looked up at her, God she was amazing. The sweat trickled down her forehead. He couldn't imagine being in that much pain, couldn't imagine going on in spite of it, couldn't imagine bringing another life into the world. Then, he could only imagine. He'd never be asked to do something that big. Never be asked to sacrifice his body. Never be able to start the world anew.
"This is it." The OB managed. "One more big push and you have yourself a baby girl."
He went to stand next to her, noticed the fear and the doubt in her eyes. "Hey." He murmured. "Our beautiful baby girl is coming into the world because of you. You can do this. You can do anything. You are amazing."
She nodded and clutched on tightly to his hand. For a brief second, everything felt okay, like it'd be all right in the end. He closed his eyes, thought about how he believed everything he had just said, realized how in awe of her he was. How in awe of her he'd probably continue to be. He looked down at her face, contorted, closing in on itself. He got lost in her cheekbones. Fell into a trance.
He awoke to the sound of cries, to warm bodies busily moving and primping, to Taylor's smile, to umbilical scissors, to talk of cutting cords.
His lungs collapsed. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to faint; the linoleum floor would be a welcome release. Instead, he went forward giving his best headstrong look.
He knew he couldn't be a father, knew he was young, knew there had to be some mix-up somewhere, some mistake. They said it so convincingly though – his feet shuffled forward – he might as well dress the part.
So meet me by the bridge, meet me by the lane
When am I gonna see that pretty face again
Meet me on the road, meet me where I said
Blame it all upon
A rush of blood to the head
Tuesday
He woke to the soft glow of dawn light. Outside a new day was starting. A beautiful mix of yellows and pinks danced outside his window.
Her eyes were on the ceiling. They stared at it intently, as if expecting it to move, to do something unexpected, not continue on in fixed suspension. She'd rested a hand on his abdomen, reminding him that she was there. They were in this together, whatever this was.
She was wearing one of his t-shirts. The night had been far hotter than either of them had expected and it clung to her, as if an adhesive adhered it to her thighs. He'd thought about getting up in the middle of the night and dragging in the fan from the garage, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave her. He was too scared that if he did, he'd return to find her gone.
He wondered how long she'd been up, how long she'd been lying there, quiet and peaceful.
She'd always woken up before him. Even when Aurelia was tiny and they barely got a wink of sleep, she'd gotten up before him. Even when he'd offered to let her sleep in, she'd gotten up before him. She'd told him she'd sleep when she was dead. Sleeping was unproductive and if they were going to make Berkeley and a baby work, she didn't have time to be unproductive. She'd usually go downstairs and put a pot of coffee on. He'd wake up to a cup of it on the nightstand kept warm by a coffee warmer plate, an invention he'd long decided was one of the best known to man.
Not today. Today, she'd woken up and decided to stare at the ceiling. Today, she'd woken up and decided not to leave his side. He thanked god for small favors.
He felt her eyes on him. Neither of them said anything. They lay there silent. He slid his hand to cup hers. He gave her palm a squeeze and heard her suppress a laugh, heard her smile.
"I can't believe you're here." He said softly.
"I've been here for two days."
"I know." He shook his head. "I just can't believe it. I keep thinking this is all a dream and I am going to wake up any minute and you'll be back in France."
"It's not a dream." She moved in closer to him. "And I am not going anywhere."
"I wish I could believe you." He told her honestly.
"I'm not. I promise. I'm not." She rested her head on his chest.
"I wanted it to be perfect." He whispered into her hair absentmindedly.
"Hmm?" She asked, not catching his words.
"Before, I wanted it to be perfect and I should have just done it."
"What are you talking about?"
Without looking, he opened the drawer in the nightstand and felt for a box inside.
"Ryan, what are you talking about?" She repeated her voice muffled by the proximity her lips had to his skin.
"This." He said, handing her a small jewelry box. She felt the black fuzz before she saw it. She clutched it tightly in her hand. "I was going to ask you on Valentine's Day. That had been the plan when I bought it. I was going to take you on a drive up to Stinson Beach. Kirsten and Sandy were going to watch Aurelia. We'd have brunch at that place you love and then we were going to spend the day finally doing the Matt Davis Trail, like we talk about every time we go there. We'd be back to the beach by sunset and that's when I was going to ask. I was going to open a bottle of wine. I had this whole speech prepared. Assuming you said yes, we'd drive to San Francisco check into the St. Regis and have just enough time to shower before we headed to dinner at Chez Panisse. We'd eat, go back to the hotel, do whatever you wanted, wake up to the San Francisco skyline and spend the day on the other side of the bay for once. That's what I was going to do."
"Ryan…"
"But I didn't. And you know what? I don't care anymore. I don't care about it being perfect or what I imagined perfect to be. You're back and that's what matters. I don't want to lose you ever again. I can't. I want to make it that much harder for you to leave. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So what I am proposing is this."
He opened the box, and she finally caught a glimpse of the sparkle in that diamond and in the deep blue sapphires surrounding it.
"Let's do it." He continued. "Let's just get in the car and drive to Vegas. Let's commit to trying, commit to commitment. No fuss. Just you and me, a fresh start. I never thought when I met you that you'd be the right girl. In sophomore year and junior year and senior year all the way though graduation, I never thought. But you are, you are it. You are the one right thing. You are the craziest girl I've ever met, the funniest, the sweetest, the smartest, and the most interesting. Just, the best. And I want to spend every day of my life with you. Maybe this is impulsive. You left for two months, you've only been back two days, but you know what? You're impulsive and you make me impulsive. Kissing for Henri's lawyer, you falling for me, me falling for you, New Year's Eve. Everything. I just know that laying here next to you, everything that didn't feel right suddenly does. I just know that I can't imagine being away from you again. My gut is telling me to act on impulse and my impulse is to marry you."
She looked up at him. Their eyes locked. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She gave him a small smile, it was soft, subtly asking him to continue, to say those final words. "Marry me, Taylor Townsend?" It was more declaration than question.
Without a moment's hesitation, he heard her say, "Yes." He felt her nod into his chest. "Yes."
"Today?"
"Yes." She tried and failed to control her tears. "Just... yes. Today. Any day. Just yes."
He imagined in some parallel universe he'd asked her on Valentine's Day. He imagined that Taylor had barely been able to contain her excitement, had screamed, had jumped up and down, had turned his proposal into a bit of a show. He imagined that Taylor and him had spent the next day in San Francisco, blissful and happy and beaming, had gone home to their daughter, who was also blissful and happy and beaming. He wished them the best.
He looked at his fiancé, blissful and happy and beaming and quiet. He looked into her eyes, caught that joy and that tinge of sadness, that reminder that they would never be those people unburdened by loss. They'd always be Taylor and Ryan minus her.
They'd always be that couple who'd loved and lost.
He slid the ring from the box and guided it onto her left ring finger. Her smile widened, her teeth shined though. Maybe it was okay to be those people, he thought. Maybe despite it all, everything would be okay. "I love you."
She scooted up until they were face to face. "I love you too." She pushed her body hard into his, pressed her lips soft into his.
She laid over his chest, staring at him, that vigor in her eyes, that excitement. Her ring sparkled in the light streaming in from the window. Her eyes peering into his, he remembered what it was to be loved. Remembered what it was for someone to be so hopelessly, helplessly in love with him. He ran his hand through her hair, smiled up at her.
They laid together silently, happily. He looked into her eyes, felt her hands on his chest and he remembered what it was to be hopelessly, helplessly in love with her too.
Song: A Rush of Blood to the Head by Coldplay
That was long. Hopefully, you got through it. Hopefully, it was alright.
Review?
Next Up: Taylor and Ryan head to Vegas, try to avoid old demons