Waking Up

Taylor woke up in the pit. He was up to bat. Coach Raven was yelling his name. His teammates were patting his back. The wooden bat felt heavy and awkward in his hands. He gave it a few practice swings before stepping out to the plate. Those in the stands cheered. Hundreds, thousands of people watching, waiting, supporting him. Taylor waved, sending a smile and a wink out. He took his position and turned to the pitcher.

Black hair and brown bloodshot eyes stared back at him. A thin body in a uniform stood still, blood veins visible through the white skin. Cracked lips split to reveal yellowing teeth, eyes narrowing. Taylor faltered, doing a double take, blinking.

“Let’s play, little brother.”

Taylor tightened his grip on his bat, stepping forward. The scenario was much the same- his big brother teaching him to play baseball. The taunts, the jabs were all familiar to him, as were his brother’s pitches. Years of practice having honed Taylor to play perfectly against his brother and vice versa.

“Your pitch,” he said, blinking sweat from his eyes.

His brother grinned, his face young and bronze and glowing. The sun was shining on the grassy field where they were playing. He was five. He held his T-ball bat awkwardly in his hands, his toddler feet in Velcro sandals too close together. A baseball cap fell into his eyes.

“Luke, I can’t see,” Taylor cried out, his eyes welling up with tears. He wiped them away with dirty fingers. “It’s not fair.”

Luke ran over, his own eleven-year-old body casting shadows. He bent over, hands on his knees and peeked at Taylor from underneath the cap, his face split into a huge grin.

“Maybe the hat was a bit too much,” Luke laughed, taking it off with a flourish and putting it on his own head. “One day you’ll fit into it.”

“Will I really?” Taylor asked, his dark eyes looking up at his brother with admiration and a grin on his face. He tugged on Luke’s pants, the bat forgotten in one hand. “Luke, will I be as big and strong as you someday?”

Luke reached down and scooped Taylor onto his shoulder, “Maybe you’ll be stronger!”

Taylor laughed as Luke ran home, the sun shining bright with promises of lemonade and cookies at home. A warm hug from their mother and approval from their father. Laughter, high and bright, burst from Taylor and echoed in the silent neighborhood. Luke joined in, his long rolls of laughter ringing loud and clear. He closed his eyes and tightened his little fingers in Luke’s thick black hair. They burst through the front door of their home, kicking their shoes off and giggling at the dirt that fell out.

“I was beginning to worry,” their mother said, stepping from the kitchen. “Wash up boys, dinner is nearly ready.”

“May we have some lemonade?” Taylor asked politely. “Please Mommy?”

“Of course, sweetie,” their mother smiled softly. “Go wash up.”

Luke got to the bathroom first and turned the water on hot, putting as much liquid soap on his hands as he could. He rubbed them together until suds formed, then he slowly pulled them apart, creating a thin sheet of soap. Making sure Taylor was in sight he blew softly at that sheet of soap until a bubble detached itself. Taylor squealed with delight, clapping his chubby hands together, “Again!” he shouted. “Again Luke!” Luke did it again, this time popping the bubble on Taylor’s nose.

“You try,” he said, rinsing his hands and pulling out the stepping stool. “Come on I’ll show you.”

Taylor stood next to his brother, following every instruction perfectly until he too could create a soap bubble. Taylor was glowing with happiness, splashing in the soapy water and blowing at it to make bubbles.

“Dinner boys!”

Luke reached over and turned the water on, holding his brother’s hands beneath the flow, making sure to rinse off the dirt and sweat and soap. When Taylor was clean Luke turned the water off, lifted him off the stool, and led him by hand to the dining room. In the center was a tall oak table with four chairs, Father at the head, Mother at the foot, and the two boys across from each other on either side. A bowl of vegetables with a melting pat of butter, a pot of stew, a plate of bread, and a pitcher of lemonade were set on the table. Their father was scribbling on some paper, making a few extra notes for his school work.

“Dinner, William dear,” their mother said. “Finish your work afterward.”

“Yes, Abigail,” their father put aside his work and beamed at his boys. “And how are my boys today?”

“Good,” Luke said, sitting in his spot. “I taught Taylor to hit a pitch.”

“Excellent!” William said, his eyes softening beneath the exhaustion. “And Taylor?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Happy,” he said confidently.

“Why is my little boy so happy today?” Abigail sat down and began dishing their dinner.

“Because I have a happy family!” he said, grinning widely.

Thunder shook the house and Taylor curled underneath his blankets again. The shouting was getting worse. He heard his brother’s voice rise up the stairs, only catching bits and pieces of the argument – drugs, alcohol, theft. His father shouted back. His mother was no longer there. It was just Taylor.

Suddenly, it was quiet. Nothing more than the pattering of rain on his windows. Taylor peeked out of his blanket, his black hair mussed up. He tiptoed across his room, opening the door just a crack and peering out.

All clear.

He toed his way down the stairs, minding the creaky fourth step. Luke stood there in a perfect stalemate against his father. The two of them were completely different in everything but the way they stood. William, in the tail-end of law school dressed perfectly in his suit. Luke, black hair stringy, pale skin, bags under his eyes and pricks in the crook of his elbow, dressed in a dirty shirt with torn jeans.

“Go upstairs Taylor,” his father said, his voice firm.

“But – ”

“Go,” Luke said, turning his bloodshot eyes to him. “Little brother, go upstairs – be strong and brave.”

“But Luke!” Taylor cried out, running up to his brother and flinging his arms around him, ignoring the smell of smoke. “I don’t want you to go!”

“I need you to go upstairs,” Luke said, prying Taylor’s arms from around him. “Go upstairs and be stronger than me.”

Taylor burst into tears. He rubbed them away and opened his eyes, only to be face to face with his father, a baby bundled in his arms.

“This is Bethany,” William said. “She’s going to be your little sister. Would you like to hold her?”

Taylor reached for her, cradling the soft bundle, looking at the chubby pink face and the tiny fists. He tapped one with his fingers and watched in amazement as she opened her hand and curled her fingers around his, holding it tight.

“I’m going to be a good big brother,” Taylor said to her. “I will.”

William narrowed his eyes, “That’s what your brother said the day I brought you home. I only hope you keep your promises.”

He looked down at Bethany, only to find that instead of being an infant, she was now a tottering four year old, still holding tightly to Taylor’s hand.

“Go upstairs,” he said. “I’ll meet you in your room, okay?”

“Okay,” Bethany said, her brown hair trailing behind her.

Taylor stood tall, his sixteen-year-old frame coming up to his father’s shoulder. It had been six years since Luke left. Six years and Taylor filled his brother’s shoes perfectly.

The slap came hard, across his face. Taylor shut his eyes and blinked back the pain. He looked up again at his father’s cold face.

“I can’t believe you’re taking science classes,” he said. “I understand if baseball isn’t your sport, but why not football or tennis? Why do something useless like science?”

“Because I’m not Luke,” Taylor said. “I don’t want to be like him.”

The next hit came harder and was followed by another slap.

“Don’t you lie to me,” William said.

“I am not my brother,” Taylor said loudly. “Even if you can’t see that!”

“You idolized your brother!” his father hit him again. “You wanted to be just like him!” Another slap punctuated the sentence. “You worshiped your brother! You think I don’t know what’s going to happen? Even if it’s too late for Luke, it’s not too late for you.”

Another hit, harder, and Taylor was on the floor, tears of pain springing to his eyes. He looked up at his father, who stood there tall, angry, and cold.

“You will not leave this family,” he said.

“I won’t,” Taylor said. “I wouldn’t leave Bethany in your hands, even if Luke left me in yours.”

His father’s eyes flared with anger and he moved forward, a foot raised in the air. Taylor shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the kick. It never came, instead he heard cheers. He softly opened his eyes, seeing floodlights, a green field, a bat in his hands.

His brother stood on the pitcher’s mound, a baseball rolling between his hands.

“Are you ready little brother?” he asked, his eyes flickering.

Taylor took his stance, ready. Luke cocked an eyebrow, rolled the ball on his finger tips, and threw it. Taylor swung the bat around and, with a crack, the ball sailed through the air.

“Again,” Luke said. “Don’t you want to be like me? Don’t you wish you were me?”

He threw another ball, hard and fast, Taylor hit it, though not nearly as hard as the first.

“Didn’t you think I was everything?” Luke threw another ball. “Didn’t you, little brother? Didn’t you?!” He threw ball after ball and Taylor tried to hit them all, but he couldn’t. They slipped past and hit his arms and chest, leaving bruises.

“Well, little brother?” Luke gasped, his arms limp at his side. “Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to be me?”

“I did,” Taylor said, dropping the bat. “You were my big brother. You were everything to me. I wanted to be just like you, I did, but... you left. You left me alone with Dad. Mom was gone and so were you! You weren’t there when I needed you most, how can I possibly want to be like that? I may look like you, I may have idolized you, but I am not the same person as you and you can’t change that!”

The stands fell away, the shouting and cheering faded away, and he was back in that grassy field, his eleven-year-old brother standing in front of him, his own five-year-old arms holding a plastic bat.

“I’m proud of you, little brother,” Luke said. “So proud.”

Taylor felt his eyes prickle, the sunlight circling the two of them. Luke smiled and opened his arms. Taylor let the tears fall and ran up to his brother, flinging his arms around his brother, holding him close.

“You were my hero,” Taylor mumbled into his brother’s shirt. “I wanted to be just like you when I grew up.”

“I know you did, buddy,” Luke said, holding Taylor tight. “But you’re not me – you’re better, bigger, stronger.”

“I’m not,” Taylor said, gripping the back of Luke’s shirt tightly. “I’m not better than you... I’m just different.”

“I love you, little brother,” Luke said. “And you don’t have to be anyone but yourself. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

“I know,” Taylor sniffed. “It’s hard when I look so much like you. Dad thinks I’m you...”

“You’re strong,” Luke said. “You can do it.”

“I still needed you,” Taylor said. “I needed my big brother and you weren’t there.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” Luke said. “Can’t you be strong without me?”

“I guess so,” Taylor said, letting go of his brother.

“You are a brave boy,” Luke’s face altered, aging in super speed, gaining stubble and hair growing, but instead of the bloodshot eyes and gaunt face, Luke was clean shaven, his brown eyes bright and shining, his face full and healthy. It took a moment before Taylor realized he was looking into a mirror, his drug addict brother gone.

---

Bethany sat in a chair, clutching her teddy bear, swinging her feet in a mindless rhythm in her head. Her brother, her strong brother, lay in a hospital bed, machines around him and wires attached to him. He was hurt, really bad. Her mommy wouldn’t say why. She kicked her feet again, tapping her shoes together.

There were footsteps and noises outside the room. Bethany lifted her head and watched as a doctor ran in, a couple of nurses behind. Bethany’s mom following closely.

“What’s happening Mommy?” Bethany asked.

“Your brother is experiencing brain functions,” her mom said. “It means he’s closer to waking up.”

Bethany’s face lit up.

“It’s not much,” the doctor said. “He’s probably just dreaming, but his brain is functioning higher than just keeping him breathing. If his brain functions keep on rising like this then he should wake up.”

Bethany reached over and tapped Taylor’s legs with her little hand, “It’s okay big brother, we’ll wait for you.”

---

“We’ll wait for you,” Bethany said, clutching her mother’s skirt. “Don’t worry Taylor. I’m sure you’ll be with us soon.”

It was the only time she called him by his first name. She was being taken away. No. Taylor was being left behind, with not even his baby sister for comfort. He knew this day would come, he had just always hoped it would come tomorrow, never today. Yet, here it was. Taylor felt his chest cave in as he watched William and Nancy load up their car with all their possessions, leaving Taylor in an empty and painful house. Bethany pressed her nose against the window, mouthing words that Taylor didn’t have the energy to decipher.

“I love you,” Bethany said, sitting on the bench outside the 7th grade English classroom, swinging her feet back and forth. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Taylor grinned at his sister. “I just need to talk to my coach for a moment, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Bethany just smiled in a way only two-year-old’s can pull off and held up her teddy bear, “Mr. Fluffykins will take care of me.”

Taylor grinned, “I’ll be back soon.”

Taylor left down the hallway, walking to the gym where Coach Raven should be. It wasn’t something important, just a small scheduling dispute. It was his 8th grade year in middle school and he, after much talking to his bus driver, was going to be in the chemistry class offered at the high school. Unfortunately, his chemistry class would make him late to most baseball practices, something that Coach Raven usually wouldn’t stand for. Fortunately for Taylor, he had one secret weapon – his older brother’s reputation.

“Hey, Coach,” Taylor said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah sure, what is it?”

Taylor explained his problem quickly, laying out the importance of this chemistry class but his unwillingness to leave the baseball team. He knew that he would have to practice more than the other boys, but Taylor wasn’t going to leave his team. They needed him.

“That’ll be fine,” Coach Raven said. “I would prefer you to come to practice instead of going to that silly science class, but you’re a good player, almost as good as Luke. Just put in some extra practice on your own. If you don’t do well, then I will expel you from the team.”

“I expect nothing less sir,” Taylor said. “Thank you.”

With his schedule mostly figured out, he went back for his sister. He turned the corner where Bethany was sitting, right in front of the English room, only to find she wasn’t there. Taylor felt a chill run down his spine, spreading to his fingers, like a bolt of electricity. He shook his head clear and tried to focus. Maybe he missed the turn; he left Bethany by the 7th grade classrooms. He sprinted down the hallways, looking for his little sister.

Nothing. No sign of her anywhere. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wouldn’t find Bethany if he was panicking. He needed to keep a cool head. She couldn’t have gone far, the school was large – but not that large.

Luke wouldn’t have lost his little sister.

Taylor turned another corner, threw open a door, and found himself in the hallway of the elementary school. He turned around only to find a brick wall behind him. He walked through the hallways, trying to remember what classroom Bethany was in. He walked through them, feeling himself shrink down to an awkward twelve year old. Bethany was not yet old enough to be in elementary school and he was just old enough to have moved on. A bell rang and he was swarmed by first graders, their superhero and Barbie backpacks bouncing off their shoulders as they ran out the doors, shouting to each other and waving their papers around.

Taylor felt a backpack on his shoulders and, without thought, walked home. He walked through the doors of his house, heard his stepmom Nancy in the kitchen (where she always was) and went upstairs to his room, dropping his schoolwork on his bed and throwing off his shoes. He went down to the kitchen, picked up an apple from the fruit bowl, and walked into Bethany’s nursery.

She was only four months old and spent most of her time in her crib asleep. But without fail, every day after school, Taylor would walk in, pick her up, plant himself in the rocking chair, and hold her gently, all the while singing a lullaby his mother used to sing to him.

Bethany was a beautiful baby, all soft white skin with a smattering of dark hair and thick lashes. She would open her blue eyes, see Taylor, and give this huge toothless grin. She would grab at his face with her chubby little hands, cooing all the time.

Taylor picked her up and she scrunched up her little face, her fists rubbing her eyes open. Bethany looked up at Taylor with a disapproving look. He grinned and tapped his fingers on her nose.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he cooed at her.

She gabbled and waved her arms about. Taylor cradled her in his arms and moved to the rocking chair. He rocked her back and forth, slowly telling her about his day. About how his math grades were soaring. How their small unit of science was the most interesting thing he’s ever done. How he was still struggling with writing. How during dodge ball he got pegged in the face. Twice. During all that, Bethany just looked at him, with her wide blue eyes.

“I guess you’re waiting for me to sing,” Taylor said, smirking at his sister.

He got through the first phrase when he heard the door slam. His father was home. Angry too, if the door-slam was anything to go by. Quickly he set Bethany back into her crib, promising he’ll sing to her again. He put her bear next to her, “It’ll be alright,” he said.

His dad opened the door to Bethany’s nursery, his face livid.

“Taylor!” he bellowed.

Bethany stiffened with fear, her face contorting in misery. Taylor rested a hand on her stomach, shushing her until she was calm.

“Not in here,” Taylor said. “Not in front of Bethany.”

“Then get out here,” his dad said through his teeth.

Taylor spared one last smile to Bethany before following his father to the front room. The two of them stood there, squaring off, until Nancy turned on the water to wash dishes. Though the hit shouldn’t have come as a shock, Taylor still nearly fell over from the force of it.

“I heard from your teacher you don’t think you’ll join baseball in 7th grade,” he said, taking his hand back for another swing, slapping Taylor across the face. “I was on that baseball team. Luke was on that team. I want you, tomorrow, to tell you teacher you’ve changed your mind and you will be on that team.”

“And if I say no?” Taylor managed to say.

“You will not be allowed to see Bethany again,” his father said.

Taylor felt his stomach bottom out. His love and devotion to Bethany was obvious for anyone to see. It had only been four months, but Taylor couldn’t think of anyone he cared for more than his little sister. William knew that Taylor would do anything and everything, as long as he got to be with Bethany.

“Please sir,” Taylor said, pleading now. “I’ll do it, I’ll join the team, but don’t take me from Bethany.”

“Good boy,” his father said. “Now go upstairs and do your homework.”

“Yes sir,” Taylor said meekly, trudging up the stairs.

He walked up the steps, putting his cold hand onto his burning face where he was hit. He opened the door to his room finding Bethany, now six, playing tea party with her dolls. She looked up, her blue eyes still vibrant, her brown hair in curled pigtails, and a grin spread across her face, her milk teeth white and straight.

“Hi big brother!” she said. “Want to have a tea party with me?”

“I would love to Beth,” he said, “but I’ve got to study. Graduation and all that.”

“Okay,” Bethany said. “Can I stay here?”

“Always,” Taylor smiled.

He didn’t know how long they sat in his room together; he didn’t care. It was one of the few times he felt a slice of happiness. He sat on his bed, laptop and books open, his cell phone nearby, texting Michael. Bethany sat on the floor, quietly talking to herself as she had her tea party. It wasn’t nearly as perfect as when Mom was around, but it was close.

Then he heard the thundering of steps coming up the stairs. His dad was home. And he was mad.

“Bethany,” Taylor said, standing up, pushing his books aside. “Bethany, hide. Now.”

Bethany looked at him with confusion but dove under the bed, carrying her dolls with her. Taylor raced for the door, hoping to catch his father on the stairs, not in his bedroom. He reached it, his hand barely touching the handle, when it flew open.

“I heard that you’re going to prom with Alice,” his father growled, his eyes sparkling with anger. “The black girl?”

“Yes,” Taylor said, “I am.”

He was expecting a slap, what he got was a punch. He barely had time to recover before another one hit his gut. He doubled over in pain, glancing sideways at Bethany, under the bed still, holding her doll tight, eyes widened with fear. Taylor managed a small smile, anything to comfort his sister, before he felt the sharp pain of a shoe in his side.

“I don’t care what she is, you can’t take her,” his dad shouted, “You hear me boy?!”

Taylor refused to speak, trying to block out the insults from his father, the pain from kick after kick, coupled with punches. He could feel his face swell, his ribs ached, blood was in his mouth, dripping onto the floor. He thought of Bethany, of her sweet and smiling face when he sang to her. He thought of Michael, his best friend. He thought of Alice, of her soft hugs and kisses, her dark eyes, her thick hair.

He finally thought of Mom. What she would think of all this. Would things be different if she was still around? If Mom was still here then Luke would still be here, then Taylor wouldn’t be hurting. A shoe collided with his head, and he rushed to meet his mother.

Taylor could feel a vague sense of what was happening around him. He could hear the murmur of voices, feel hands caress his forehead, his cheeks. Cold hands that kept the pain from erupting again. Gingerly opening his eyes he came face to face with green eyes on a worried face, red and blue hair standing straight up.

“Oh, thank God, you’re awake,” Michael said, his eyes softening.

Taylor tried to ask what he was doing here, but all he managed was a mumble.

“Bethany called,” he said gently, his hands gently touching the bruises on Taylor’s face. “She called me and said you were in big trouble and that she needed my help.”

“Really?” Taylor’s voice cracked.

“Yeah,” Michael smiled. “Alice is on her way. William wanted to go out for a bit – probably to go shoot something, and Nancy’s with him. It’s just you, me and Bethany.”

“Is she okay?” Taylor sat up, hissing in pain as the muscles in his torso contracted.

“Whoa there,” Michael pushed him down. “Easy. She’s fine. She told me you were very brave and very strong. Do you really think I would let something happen to her?”

“But Dad,” Taylor said, struggling against Michael. “He’ll do something to her. If he finds out that she knows what happened, if he finds out that she kept a secret from him, he’ll kill her.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Michael promised, pushing Taylor firmly on the bed. “You know that. You, me and Alice, we’ll look out for her.”

“I can’t keep her out of danger forever,” Taylor said. “I can’t keep doing this. Sooner or later she’s going to get hurt and I won’t be there to protect her! I can’t let my dad hurt her.” Taylor turned on his side and faced the wall.

His door opened. Taylor rolled over and saw Alice standing in the doorway, dressed in her traditional black leather. Taylor felt his heart lighten when he saw that Bethany was right beside her. Bethany stepped into the room, took Michael by the hand, and led him out.

“Oh, babe,” Alice sighed and knelt by Taylor’s bed. He realized that she had heard everything. “You know that Bethany would rather be with you than with them. No matter what. I promise.”

“I just...” Taylor sighed and reached for Alice. “I’m her big brother. I need to keep her safe and I don’t know how long I can keep it up. I can’t – I can’t be like Luke here.”

“She’s going to grow up,” Alice said. “And she’ll grow up strong and beautiful and you can’t carry the weight of her life on your shoulders. It isn’t fair to you, to me, or to her.”

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Taylor’s forehead. Taylor shut his eyes, lifting his head slightly, waiting for that gentle, reassuring kiss. It never came. When he opened his eyes again he saw Bethany, eight years old and gorgeous, standing in the door, hand still clenched to her mother’s skirt.

“It’s time to go,” Nancy said. “Bethany. Now.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Bethany said, looking back on Taylor, her blue eyes filled with tears. “When will I see Taylor again?”

Nancy looked down at her daughter and said nothing. She turned to leave, Bethany following. His baby sister was leaving. It was now or never.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, falling to his knees. “I am so sorry, Bethany. I can’t protect you. I can’t keep you safe forever. I just... I need to be your big brother and I need to be a good one. I need to be better than Luke. I can’t let what happened to me happen to you.”

“You’re already better.”

Cool hands touched his cheek, lifting his face up. He saw blue eyes, a heart shaped face, and brown curls falling down to a graceful neck.

“Bethany?” he gasped.

“Taylor,” her voice was older. “Big brother, no matter what happens to me, you will always be my big brother.”

“Always?”

“Always,” Bethany said. “I’m growing up, I have to live, and you can’t always keep me safe. But I know that I can always count on you to be there for me. No matter what. I’ll always have my big brother.”

She smiled and Taylor smiled back. He flung his arms around her, holding her close to him, his hands buried in her long brown hair. She held him just as tightly, hands rubbing his back gently. Slowly she grew smaller and smaller. Taylor looked down and saw in his arms a bundle of blankets, pink with flowers. Amidst the baby blankets though, there was no baby Bethany. He looked up and saw her, full grown, standing in the doorway, sunlight streaming around her.

“No matter what,” she said, her voice full of promise. “You’ll always be my big brother.”

--

Bethany heard more beeping, more noises. Footsteps again. Last time was two weeks ago, when big brother was getting a little bit better. Maybe he was getting better again. Maybe he would open his eyes and swing her around like he always did and compliment her dress.

Mommy and a doctor were talking quietly outside. Daddy wasn’t here. He didn’t like coming. Especially since Alice and Michael were here almost all the time. Bethany liked them. She liked that Alice always had lots of bracelets and necklaces for her to play with. She liked that Michael’s hair was lots of different colors. She liked that they made big brother laugh.

“He’ll be fine,” Alice said, holding Bethany closer. “He’s always fine. He’ll make it.”

“I know,” Bethany said, burying her face into her bear’s fur. “But what’s taking him so long? I miss him.”

“Give him time,” Michael said. He was sitting on the other side of the bed, but he reached across Taylor to touch Bethany’s hand. “Be brave, for him.”

Bethany nodded solemnly.

“You stay here too,” she said. “Both of you.”

Alice nodded and held the girl closer. “We’ll stay as long as we need to.”

--

Taylor was dressed in his best tuxedo. He’d never owned one and he felt strange wearing it, but it felt right. He had a black tie, splattered with neon colors, and a silver vest. He looked around the room, his gut twisting in his stomach. In a few moments he would be walking out the door, down the pathway, to an arch where he would wait for Alice. He looked in the mirror again, smoothing down his hair. Taylor heard the door open. Expecting Bethany, he turned to tell her to wait outside.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Mom?”

Abigail stood there, in a short green dress, silver shoes, her brown hair done up elegantly. Her skin was white, creamy, her brown eyes brilliant underneath her thick lashes. His twisting gut increased, a sharp pain in his side and he found it hard to breath, his heart beating double time. Abigail walked closer, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“My little boy, all grown up,” she said softly. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

“Alice,” Taylor’s voice was almost inaudible. “Her name is Alice. Mom, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Alice?” Abigail’s smile fell away. “You’re marrying a black girl? Does your father know?”

“He’s not here,” Taylor said shortly. “Bethany is.”

“Not anymore,” Abigail said, patting her son’s cheek. “I’m taking her to her mother. She shouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” Taylor said, his voice wavering.

“Happy for you?” Abigail said. “Of course sweetheart, but once you say ‘I do’, you are no longer my son.”

“Mom, no,” Taylor begged. “Don’t leave me again.”

“Should have thought of that earlier,” Abigail said. “You’re my son, and I love you, but I lost Luke to drugs and I can’t lose you to Alice.”

“She’s my Alice though,” Taylor said. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Tears flooded his eyes and he rubbed at them, brushing away the wetness from his cheeks. A bass drum pumped though his body. Opening his eyes he saw flashing lights, teenage bodies dancing together, rubbing against each other. A body was next to his, pressed tight against him. A red plastic cup of beer in his hand.

Taylor felt hot. The air was thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe. His nose was overcome with the smell of sweat and fruity alcohol and teenage hormones. The pulsing beat of the bass pounded in his head, making him dizzy. He grabbed onto the body next to him, bringing the dancing to a stop.

“It’s a bit crowded,” the person said. “Want to get out?”

Taylor turned to see dark eyes, curly hair catching the colors of the lights. The girl wore a purple corset top and leather pants. Rings adorned her fingers, her nose piercing reflected the lights. Taylor nodded and she grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room and up the stairs. Somewhere along the way he learned her name; Alice.

Taylor collapsed on the bed, dragging Alice down with him. She laughed but allowed Taylor to curl up next to her. Taylor wrapped his arms around her middle, burying his face into her hair, breathing in deeply and sighing with contentment.

“My, aren’t you a clingy one,” Alice’s body rumbled with laughter.

Taylor sighed and pulled her tighter, just mumbling a few words. She slowly wormed her arms around Taylor’s waist and sank closer into Taylor’s embrace.

Alice hummed and pulled back. She looked up at Taylor. She was beautiful, her dark skin warm from the alcohol and her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Taylor leaned down a bit and pressed his lips against her forehead. It was wet and sloppy and Taylor felt a tremor of embarrassment flush through him. Alice grinned, wide and open, and tucked herself firmly under his arm. Taylor sighed and fell onto the pillows, his eyes shut, almost drifting away to sleep.

Before he could completely fall into unconsciousness, he felt a hand on his leg, tightening slightly. He opened his eyes, seeing a white ceiling, the edges of posters creeping up. He turned his head slightly, he caught a glimpse of Alice. They were sitting on his bed and Michael was cross legged on the floor, flipping through pages of a script.

“Are you going to open it?” Alice asked.

Taylor looked down at the white envelope in his hands, an official seal on the back. With quivering hands he broke the seal, opening it slowly. He pulled out the paper, folded in thirds, and opened it. He got to the phrase “succeeded with 1st place” before he was screaming in delight. Michael’s grin was bright and Alice pulled Taylor into a crushing hug.

“I knew it!” she said, “I’d knew you do it!”

Taylor pulled back, placed his hands on both sides of Alice’s face, and brought their mouths together. Realizing what he had done Taylor leaned back, though didn’t let go of her face. The silence was deafening.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The excitement and... I wanted it to be special, I’m sorry.”

“Taylor,” Alice said. “First kisses rarely happen at a convenient time.”

“Preach,” Michael crowed from the floor. “I’ve been waiting forever for you two.”

Taylor flushed slightly and let Alice pull them together again. Their lips met, soft and hesitant. A warmth settled low in Taylor’s stomach and his skin tingled from the roots of his hair to the tips of his fingers. Alice’s hands were soft on his cheek. Their lips moved against each other’s slowly in sweet tenderness.

“Okay, gross guys,” Michael snorted. “I’m still here.”

Alice laughed and pulled in Taylor for an exaggerated kiss, ignoring the gagging sounds from Michael.

“Seriously!” Michael complained. “Just take your love and go somewhere else. Leave poor, single me, to myself.”

Taylor almost always ate his lunch with Mr. Fensworth, his Chemistry teacher. More so now than ever because Michael was busy with rehearsals for the spring musical and Alice had to make posters for prom. With his friends gone to their various clubs and organizations, he had nowhere else to go.

“Thought about prom yet?” Mr. Fensworth asked.

“No,” Taylor said. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not? You and Alice should go. You’ve been together for what, two years now? This school is good; he students support you. Take advantage of that.”

“But my father – ”

“Is not in control of your life,” Mr. Fensworth put his pen down and sighed heavily. “It’s your decision ultimately, but I would take my girlfriend to prom, given the chance.”

“I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged. “It’s Alice.”

“That doesn’t make a difference,” Mr. Fensworth insisted. “She is a bright student and happier than most. Are you really going to let something as trivial as her skin color make that choice for you?”

Taylor smiled at him, and nodded. After school he would ask Alice to prom. The rest of his classes went by fairly quickly and smoothly, a few other girls getting asked to prom, a few other boys getting turned down, and the bell was ringing.

The hallways were crowded, as they usually were, and Taylor wormed his way through them, looking for Alice. She was standing right outside of the cafeteria, supervising others as they put a poster up on the wall. She looked radiant today, red plaid skirt and a lacy black top, her hair was braided into thick cornrows that fell down her back in ropes.

“Alice!” he called out. “I need to talk to you.”

“Hello, babe,” Alice took his hand in hers and kissed his cheek. “What do you think of this poster?”

Taylor spared a glance, “It looks lovely. Look, I really need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead,” Alice nodded.

Taylor took a deep breath. Alice never let the rumors bother her. She was always her own person first and Taylor promised to try and keep up. He glanced around, looking at the students who had stopped walking. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force himself to say the words.

“Alice,” Taylor said, ignoring the slight hush that fell over the crowd, “Do you wanna go to prom with me?”

Alice’s eyes opened wide, her mouth split into a huge grin and she punched him in the shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” Alice said. “Of course I’ll go to prom with you.”

Taylor grinned and leaned forward and kissed her.

Prom itself was a great night. Taylor took Bethany with him to Michael’s house as they got ready. They met with their Alice and James (Michael’s date) and were off to the dance, leaving Bethany with Michael’s family. Taylor, a few bruises still faintly visible, was uncomfortable in his tuxedo and wouldn’t stop fiddling with his boutonniere, even as Alice smoothed the lapels of his jacket down.

The night progressed with ease. Taylor felt more relaxed after a few sips of the spiked punch, and soon he was dancing with the rest of them. His dark hair fell from where it was pushed back, falling into his eyes. Alice had braided in purple extensions for the occasion and it shimmered in the flashing lights.

Midnight was nearing and the dance would end soon. Taylor tugged on Alice’s hand, pulling her away from the dance and to a small grove of trees. They sat on a bench, leaning against each other, looking up at the stars.

“You don’t have plans for college do you?” Alice asked softly “You were going to get a job and rent an apartment, right?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, blinking through the haze of alcohol.

“Well, I was thinking,” Alice said, taking both of Taylor’s hands in hers. “Why not come with me? You and I will get a couple of jobs, I’ll go to school, we’ll get our own little apartment and – ”

“Bethany,” Taylor said. “You know I can’t leave her behind.”

“You’re 18,” Michael said. “A perfectly legal adult. If you tell the court your dad and stepmom are being abusive to Bethany, they can give her to you.”

“What if they don’t?” Taylor said. “They treat her like a princess. I’m the one who gets beaten. I don’t think it would work.”

“Well then,” Alice leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Taylor’s cheek, “We’ll stay close by. What do you say?”

Taylor gave one of his rare blinding smiles, “I’d like that.”

“And we’ll take care of each other,” Alice said, standing in the sunlight, “No matter what happens, I will always be there for you. I will be your best friend, you complete confident, and your wife, in all things.”

Taylor had already said his vows and hearing Alice’s made his heart contract and he couldn’t stop smiling. He couldn’t see the crowd, couldn’t even bring himself to care. This was his day. This was a day set aside for him and Alice alone. This was their wedding day. They exchanged silver rings, a quote from Shakespeare engraved along the inside “The course of true love never did run smooth” and with a kiss, it was done.

Bethany was the first one out. She ran between the chairs and between peoples legs and jumped up into her brother’s arms, her little arms tight around his neck. She pulled back enough to laugh and then leaned over and pulled in Alice, the three of them holding each other tightly.

Michael came up next, James beside him, and pulled in Taylor for a hug. “Congrats, bud. Always knew you’d be first.”

One by one their guests came up and congratulated them. Their friends gave hugs and even Mr. Fensworth showed up. They cut into their cake together, shoving it into each other’s faces, frosting on their cheeks. They danced their first dance together, underneath the twinkling lights strung up. Then Abigail came forward.

Alice kissed Taylor softly, reassuringly, and left Taylor alone with his mother.

Abigail came forward and engulfed her son in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “I am so unbelievably proud of you, my son.”

“You said – ”

“I know what I said,” Abigail said. “And the fact that you wouldn’t back down, that you wouldn’t leave Alice. You are the son I had always hoped you’d be.”

“Mom,” Taylor said, pushing her back. “You left when I was ten. How could you know what I was going to be?”

“I had hope,” she said. “I left because I needed to. Your father.... your father is a cruel man. I spent 16 years with him, and when you were old enough to take care of yourself, I left. Taylor you must know, I never wanted to leave you or your brother. If I could, I would have taken you with me. William would have hunted me down though. He never would have allowed me to take his precious boys. But I knew, as only a mother knows, that you would be a good man. And look at you now. All grown up and married to the woman you love most.”

“Mom,” Taylor said, losing himself in his mother’s warm words. “Momma.”

He looked up at her, curling his ten year old hands around her skirt, “Please don’t go.”

“Sweetheart,” Abigail knelt down so they were face to face. “I never left. You’ve kept me in your heart all these years. I will always be with you. I’m so proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Taylor broke into tears, flinging his arms around his mother’s neck, breathing in her lemon scent, holding her close. His tears stained her shirt but she didn’t push him away. She ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp softly, shushing him quietly.

“My brave, brave boy,” she said.

Taylor pulled away from Abigail, tears still streaking down his face.

“You are brave, you are strong,” she said. “You know how to love with all you’ve got. So wake up Taylor. Wake up.”

Taylor closed his eyes and fell.

--

Taylor’s eyes snapped open. The machines went wild. Michael, Alice and Bethany woke up. Taylor took a deep breath, his brown eyes wide and pupils dilated. Michael pushed Bethany into Nancy’s arms as Alice went straight to Taylor’s side and holding his hand.

“Mom,” Taylor called out. “Mom!”

Alice ran her fingers through Taylor’s hair, her other hand rubbing circles on the back of Taylor’s hand, trying to keep him calm. She was pushed out of the room as the doctor came in. Bethany grabbed her hand and dragged her away to the waiting room. Michael was already there, phone in hand and thumbs flying across the screen. Alice sat beside him and tugged Bethany onto her lap.

“Is he better now?” Bethany asked, looking up with her blue eyes.

“Let’s hope so,” Michael smiled, tucking his phone away.

Alice could only nod mutely.

It was a week before they could see Taylor again. Though Taylor was out of his coma, he was still feeling the after effects of the car crash.

Alice sat next to Taylor’s bed, holding onto his hand, waiting for a sign that Taylor was out of it; that Taylor was back. Michael was snoring from his spot on the sofa, his phone held tightly in his hand. She heard a soft rustling and her eyes snapped back to Taylor. He was moving under the blankets, making small noises, and opened his eyes.

“Hey stranger,” Alice said. “Welcome back.”

“Hey,” Taylor’s voice was rough with disuse. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been in a coma for six weeks, that’s what,” Alice shrugged. “Just another day, right?”

Taylor didn’t move and Alice sighed.

“Listen,” Alice said, tightening her grip on Taylor’s hand. “I thought you were gone, or going at least. Bethany was beginning to lose hope.”

“Bethany!” Taylor moved to get up.

Alice pushed him back down, “No. She’s fine. The doctor actually got some lawyers down here for William’s abuse to you.”

“How did…?”

“I told them,” Alice said. “I had to. They asked me why you would be in a crash, they asked me why you had so many other visits to the hospital, so I told them everything.”

“And...?”

“And you need your rest, dear,” Alice said. “Once you’re better, once you’re out of here, we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” Taylor reached over with his other hand, taking Alice’s in both of his. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Always.”

Taylor fell back onto his pillows, dreaming of nothing but the future.