chapter one: taylor
Taylor
“Daddy.”
At first, I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming. I could feel a tug on my arm, and the voice growing louder. My eyes slowly fluttered open, blurring my surroundings. I had almost forgotten where I was. The glow of the muted television made the room appear blue. A lady and a man were on the Infomercial, distributing some sort of appliance. My son was standing by my side as I lay uncomfortably on the couch, one arm behind my head, and the other tucked snuggly behind my back. A book was still resting on my chest from hours earlier.
“What time is it?” I questioned, yawning and swiping a hand across my face. I got a better look at him when my vision returned to normal. He looked so innocent in his Spiderman pajamas, and he clutched his blanket tightly.
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. I wondered why even bothered asking him.
I smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “What are you doing out of bed, squirt?”
He was silent for a moment, as if he were too afraid to say anything. He took a deep breath. “There’s a-” He paused, looking around to make sure he and I were the only ones in the room. “There’s a monster. He’s in my closet.” A look of relief swept across his face.
“Oh, I see,” I said, nodding. I sat up, closing the book and placing it on the coffee table. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Uncle Zac lately.”
He pulled the blanket over his head. “He’s really there. I heard him.” He tugged harder at my hand. “Tell him to go away, please.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Ezra, you know there is no such things as monsters. How many times do I have to tell you that?” I asked him, getting up to his desire.
“Make him go away!” he wailed. He really was frightened, but he was only five years old. Still, I could’ve killed Zac for this.
I groaned, and he tagged along behind me as we made our way upstairs. This was my job-Super Dad. I chased monsters away from all corners and fought away all evil. This was the not first time that this had happened. Last week, an alien was under his bed. We stopped in front of his door, and he cautiously peeked from behind me.
“He’s in there,” he whispered.
I opened the door, and Ezra hid his face in my leg. He held on tight as I made my way inside. “Come on, Ezra. Be a big boy.”
“I don’t want to!” he said, tightly closing his eyes.
I opened the door to the closet carefully. Ezra was clinging to me harder, almost cutting off the circulation. I flipped the switch on the wall inside of the closet. No monsters-only clothes, shoes, and toys.
“You can open your eyes,” I said, peeling him off of my leg. It was like getting gum off of the bottom of a shoe.
He looked through the cracks in between his fingers. Slowly, he moved them away from his face and heaved a sigh. “I really heard him, Dad. You saved me.” He hugged me gratefully.
I grinned. “Anytime.” I picked him up and swung him on top of my shoulders. “Now it’s time to get back into bed. We have a busy day tomorrow,” I reminded him. I sounded like my mother.
I kneeled down, and Ezra climbed off of my shoulders and onto his bed. I lifted the covers so that he could make his way underneath them. I fluffed the pillows as he laid his back, and then I proceeded to tuck him in tightly and kiss his forehead. He smiled and began to look sleepy again.
“Why don’t you sleep in your bed?” he asked softly. He looked a little concerned.
I shrugged. “I don’t like it very much.”
“Monsters?” His eyes widened.
Laughing, I ruffled his hair again. “There is no such thing. It’s all in your head, Ezra.” I paused, patting him on his lightly. “Time to sleep. Goodnight, Ezra.”
He closed his eyes and turned onto his side. “Goodnight, Daddy.”
I turned off the lamp on his night table and exited the room, leaving the door cracked and the hall light on so that he had extra comfort. I passed my bedroom as I made my way to go back downstairs. Before I took the first step, I turned back to face the closed door and sighed heavily. The piece of wood between that room and me separated two different universes.
I didn’t tell Ezra the real reasons why I didn’t want to sleep in my bed. I wanted to explain everything to him, but I was too afraid he wouldn’t understand. It was mainly because of Natalie’s absence. Without her by my side each night, it didn’t feel right. She had died in a car accident when Ezra was merely three years old. He vaguely remembered her, but her face was engraved in my mind forever.
I opened the door slowly. I glanced around in the dark. Most things in that room remained untouched. I hadn’t been in there much since Natalie’s death. Her hairbrush still had hair clinging in the bristles, her toothbrush remained in the cup in our bathroom, and her clothes were still hanging in the closet. My side of the bed was unmade, but she had left her own neat and crisp.
After she died, I tried sleeping in our bed. I tossed and turned and found it impossible to do. Many of my nights were either sleepless or on the couch these days. It just wasn’t the same without her. I had grown use to my new way of life-a bad back and a coffee addiction. Ezra had taken to waking me up in the middle of the night with foolish stories about monsters and evil elves hanging out in his bedroom. I was thankful for that though-everyday I wake up thanking God that he wasn’t in the car that night. If I had lost him, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on. Losing Natalie already hurt too much.
I lay back down on the couch and shut my eyes. I tried to think about nothing, but I couldn’t get Natalie or the accident out of my head. No matter how hard I seemed to try to stop, I felt like I couldn’t shake the thoughts. I wanted to forget it and move on.
I was at home, alone, skimming through cookbooks for a new recipe to tackle. Natalie and I liked to take turns cooking for one and another. Tonight was my night, and I wanted to try something new. She was better at this than I was, but at least I attempted it. Natalie said that was one of the things she loved about me-I tried so hard to please her in so many ways. Cooking was one of them .She said I never failed.
Natalie had been out with a group of friends for the afternoon. I took time to myself that day as well. I had dropped Ezra off at my parents’ house early that morning. I got some things done. I managed to get some chords down for a new song, and I cleaned things up a bit. I always liked to help Nat out when I could. I prided myself in being a good husband. I also did the laundry, which was something I never knew how to do until Natalie and I got married. I even mowed the lawn and sat outside in the hammock, just thinking about how lucky of a guy I was to have such a life.
Now the phone was ringing. I hopped off of the counter and jogged to the phone across the kitchen. The number was recognized as Natalie’s cell phone. A grin spread across my face. “Hello, my love.”
“Honey!” she greeted me cheerfully. “How has your day been?”
I held the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Great. And yours was just as lovely, I assume?”
“Wonderful, but,” she gushed, “I missed you.”
I felt my cheeks turn pink. “I missed you, too!” I looked at the clock. It was going on six. “Say, when are you gonna be home anyway? It’s my night to cook, you know.”
She sighed. “Hopefully soon. The girls and I are finishing up at nail salon. I got a pedicure,” she told me. “I called you to tell you I’d be a little late. I’m gonna swing by your parents’ and get Ezra, too.”
“No, don’t do that,” I said quickly. “I’ll go get him. He can help me sort out dinner,” I joked.
Natalie laughed. “Alright, that’s cool. I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Soon,” I said with a nod. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” she replied, with a quick kiss.
I kissed back. “Bye, honey.”
“Bye.”
I waited until I heard the dial tone to place the phone back on the receiver.
That was the time I spoke with her. I hadn’t gone to get Ezra yet when I received the call that there had been an accident. I called my mother to tell her what had happened, and I drove to the hospital as quickly as I could. I stayed there until she passed almost a week later.
My mind wandered back to the night I sat at her bedside in the hospital, hoping she’d wake up, tell me she loved me, and she would get better, and everything would go back to normal. The doctors said it didn’t look good. She lay there for almost a week, holding on, breathing, but she was motionless. I didn’t move. My family tried to pry me away from her, but I never left her side. I sat in the cheap recliner next to her, scooting it closer to clutch her warm hand and lay my head on her chest, hear her heart beating. I knew she’d make it. I had so much hope she’d pull through.
A nurse came in at about one in the morning to check on Natalie’s vital signs and injuries. She was shaking me, telling to me to wake up. When my vision cleared, and I came to my senses, I could hear her telling me that she was slipping away, that I needed to start making arrangements. It was all happening so fast. I didn’t want to believe it. I felt lightheaded and clammy, my heart literally being torn apart. My wife was dying. I had a son. What was I going to do?
She died an hour later. I didn’t cry. I was in too much of a daze to even think about shedding tears. I had to be strong for my son. He was all that I had, and he needed me. I don’t even remember what I did for months after her death, besides tending to Ezra. I didn’t eat or sleep much at all. I rarely showered. I rarely left my house. I was emotionless.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, I told myself that Natalie still watches me everyday. She knows what is best for me and always will. She’s with me everywhere, and I can feel her. I feel her spirit running through my veins and pumping out of my heart. I felt a rush of happiness flow through my entire body. I slumbered peacefully throughout the remainder of the night, with hopes that I could move forward into life positively. I felt like those were Natalie's intentions.