Chapter 27

From his back porch Taylor watched the sun sink lower and lower on the horizon.  He loved to sit there alone sometimes when he just needed to think and find some kind of peace.  Everything was so serene at this time, it seemed all the world sat back to watch the colors of the sky change from the bright orange and red of the sunset to the midnight blue night sky that blanketed the world with its stars; the world was like a living oil painting.  Every night for the past week, since Lee died, Taylor found himself sneaking out onto the back porch after dinner to take in this soft and quiet beauty.  There was something so comforting about looking up into the universe; its endlessness made Lee seem so close to him.  He was not sure what there was of heaven, but if it truly hid between the stars than perhaps someday if he looked close and long he would see her again.

 

Taylor smiled at the simple thought and wondered why so much comfort could be found in something so seemingly childish.  Lately he had to take comfort where he could find it; the wound Lee’s death had made on his heart had not even begun to close.  After a routine autopsy, Lee’s mother had her body flown back to Oregon for burial.  Taylor mustered up the courage to call Lee’s mother and ask about the funeral, but she said there wouldn’t be one.

 

“I don’t have the money or the time for much of a funeral,” she had said, “Especially when there isn’t anyone to go to it—all our family is dead and as far as I know most of the coke-heads she hung around with out there are dead too, and the ones who are still walking around would rather pack their noses than spend money flying out here for a funeral.”

 

Taylor couldn’t believe that a mother could sound so cold toward her late and only daughter.  He knew that she had severed from Lee in life, but he just always imagined that it was perhaps too painful for her to be too close, not because she truly didn’t care.  After speaking with Lee’s mother though, he was almost surprised that she wanted to bother burying her at all.

 

A gentle knock on the half-open screen door brought Taylor’s attention back to the here and now.

 

“Tay, your mom told me you were out here— everything alright?”

 

“Yeah sweetie, I’m fine,” he replied giving her a quick kiss, “Just thinking.”

 

Dawn took a seat beside him on the steps, and for a few moments the world around them seem to be completely silent; there was no wind rustling the grass, no crickets chirping the evening’s song, not even the happy shriek of a neighbor child, just an awe inspiring silence.

 

“I still miss her…” Taylor said quietly.

 

“I know,” Dawn whispered back with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

 

“It’s insane, I knew her such a short time, but I feel like I’m never going to stop missing her.”

 

“You probably aren’t; no matter how brief your time together may have been, she made a huge impact on your life.”

 

“I’d still be in the hospital if it wasn’t for her,” Taylor croaked, “I thought I was going to fool them, that they were going talk to me for awhile, put me of a few pills, and send me on my way.  I thought I could take my secrets to the grave with me, but I was so exposed after…after I tried to kill myself.  I thought it would be enough that they knew everything I’d done.  I thought they’d be able to fix it just by knowing what was wrong, ‘He’s bulimic, improve his self-image; He’s hurting himself, teaching him better coping strategies; He doesn’t want to live, show him why it’s important that he does,” but it just doesn’t work that way.  I had to do it for myself, if I wanted to get better I had to start by helping myself, and she wasn’t going to let me give up.  If she hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here…and now she’s gone; it just doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“It isn’t fair…no one so young should be asked to give so much, but this is an imperfect world and tragedy thrives on that.  I’ll spare you the corny sayings about letting her live on in your heart and how time will heal you, even though they’re true, because it isn’t going to close your wounds.  Just cry, ache, mourn, do anything you have to do, just don’t go let yourself get sucked back in over this because than it would be like she never even existed.”

 

Taylor hated himself for crying over her words, but he couldn’t help it.  He hated this feeling and he wanted to escape it.  He didn’t want to cry anymore or grieve anymore; he just wanted to feel better right now.  The thing that had been most impressed upon him throughout this whole ordeal is that everything gets better, eventually.  Taylor hated this eternal struggle with eventually; feeling good in the long run was fine, but what about the here and now.  How was he ever supposed to look forward to eventually when getting through tomorrow was going to be hard enough?

 

Over his tears, he caught the phrase in his mind: “This is just what it was like when I went into the hospital.”  He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud, but the concern Dawn was trying to conceal hinted to him that he probably had.

 

“Everything felt so impossible then, like I was standing at the bottom of a mountain straining my neck to find the summit through the clouds, but I just couldn’t,” Taylor continued, deciding it best to let Dawn see the full picture in his head,  “I didn’t think there was a peak; I thought I was going to climb forever or just fall and splatter on the pavement, but here I am, whole and winded at the top, only to see that was the first mountain in a chain.  And to be honest, it sucks to be here; everything is ahead of you and everything is a struggle; the only alternative is to cut the safety harness, and I just don’t want to do that, not ever again, but I’m so tired…”

 

Dawn listened intently as Taylor’s words faded into his tears. He hid his face in his hands and it seemed he expected the whole world to disappear; he jumped when she touched his shoulder.  She never expected him to come home and be perfect, but she didn’t no what to do with this boy.  She loved him so much and he was bleeding on her shoulder, but her fingers often fumbled when it came to tying tourniquets.  She could think of no words or cute clichés to fix this; there were no magic potions or gypsy’s spells, only her imperfect comfort.  She wrapped her arms around him, the warmth of his body kissing her, and she could feel his sorrow seeping into her bones.

 

* * *

It was a crisp day for the end of summer.  The wind smelled of October, the scent of apples fading out of season and the last echoes of children’s laughter rocking the cold, steel chains of playground swings.  Taylor shivered, jamming his hands into his pockets; if only he’d worn a heavier jacket, maybe he would be able to stop shaking.

 

Dawn looped her left arm through his right; “The man at the office said it should be right on this pathway…Are you ready?”

 

Taylor only nodded as his eyes scanned the names on the headstones.  Forest…Applebaum…Wright…Carver; fourth from the end, just as they’d been told.  He felt his knees morphing into jelly just looking at it, but Dawn clutched him tighter.  Truth be known, Taylor was quite astonished there was a headstone at all, her mother didn’t seem the type, but there it was smooth, solid, gray.  Taylor knew that it was of the cheaper variety, but he was glad it was there.  He crouched down and traced the words with his finger; there wasn’t much there, “Lee Aurora Carver, April 12, 1983-June 25, 2001”, but his hand’s memorized the feeling of the carving, the brail of a man blinded by grief.

 

Dawn was whispering prayers that Taylor could only catch glimpse of; he wondered if he should pray.  He never really knew what to do at a grave, he felt awkward and tried his hardest not to imagine the person he loved below the dirt he stood on.

 

He tried to pretend she could answer him; “Lee…it’s been a long time.  We brought these for you,” he croaked placing a bouquet of yellow roses in front of the stone; Dawn stopped praying, “This is Dawn by the way.  You were right about her you know…you were right about everything.  I wanted so much for you to know, but um, there just wasn’t time I guess, and I never really got to say…”

 

Taylor thought he’d finished with his mourning already before summer took on the costume of fall, but tears were dripping from Taylor’s chin, hitting the cellophane wrapper on the rose stems like firecrackers.  There was just so much; so many feelings to feel, so many events to acknowledge, so many words he never got to say.  Perhaps it made all the difference, perhaps none.  Maybe today was the last day of mourning, the equinox, and tomorrow would be the first day in the long, turbulent season of healing.

 

While his throat still possessed the voice of a man in tears Taylor whispered, “I never really go to say good-bye…”