Isaac was up at five in the morning, searching for some proof for Randy that Taylor loved her until the very last moment he was alive. He had to find something that would prove also that his family didn't hate her. He had been afraid that something like this might happen. That's why he was so cautious with her. He had been up since 3, and still nothing had been uncovered.
At a loss for anything better to do, he got on the computer. He opened up AOL, and waited for the program to come up on screen. On an impulse, he clicked Taylor's screen name. JORMAN43. Like so many of Taylor's things, it had been neglected for the past month and forgotten. Isaac typed in the password, which was not surprisingly RANDY.
The sound of connecting to the AOL server screeched through the darkened room. He hoped that it wouldn't wake anyone in the house up, considering they were all asleep. He opened up Taylor's mailbox, which had only 4 messages. The first one was from Josh Alexander, a guy Taylor had been friends with for years. The last three were from friends they'd made on the road. One was from New York, one from LA, and one from Melbourne, Australia. They were all asking if Taylor had heard the rumors about him being dead, and if he thought they were amusing.
Bitterly, Isaac deleted them.
Feeling spontaneous, Isaac checked Taylor's sent mail. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the e-mail with the date 10/12/01. Bewildered, he opened it up. His heart pounded as he read the private words. It was to Randy. This was his proof.
Randy watched in puzzlement as a familiar car pulled into her driveway. She shuffled to the door. He was here to tell her that the Hanson family no longer wanted to speak to her; they wouldn't want to have anything to do with her. The moment had come. She twisted the lock, then climbed into bed.
Isaac rang the doorbell. A minute later, Belinda Wakes opened the door wide for him. "Hello, Isaac," she said.
"Hey, Mrs. Wakes," he said, peering unobtrusively over her shoulder. "How's she doing?"
"She's still locked up in her room," she replied. "You can go on up."
"Okay," he said. "Thanks for giving me this chance."
"I'm willing to let anyone who thinks they can help her try," she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He smiled and nodded.
Mrs. Wakes pulled a coat off the coat rack by the door, and pushed her arms through the sleeves. "I've got to go to work," she explained. "I only took off for part of the day. Good luck."
"Thank you," he said.
"Bye!" she called. She closed the door behind her, and Isaac looked around the spacious house. It was so much different than his own; comfortable, cozy, and cluttered. The Wakes' house was always spotless and serene. Not busy, as Isaac's home most commonly was.
He hurried up the stairs, which he was really more familiar with because of his days dating Randy. Now that had been an experience, he thought. He remembered Randy's room as being the second door on the left.
He knocked gently on the door. "Randy?" he called.
"Go away," a raspy voice commanded.
"Randy, it's me. Isaac," he said. "Can we talk?"
Randy's heart stopped beating. Raw panic pervaded her. "Umm," she looked nervously around her room. She looked at herself; a pair of flannel pajamas and Odie houseshoes dirty blond hair falling loose from a ponytail. She wasn't ready to be hated. "Can you come back...some other time?"
"Your sister asked me to come today," he said. "I promised her we'd talk."
Her brow creased. Lia? What did she have to do with this? Wasn't he here because of his family? She thought for a moment, the only sound in the room her steady breathing. She got up and scuffled across the room and flipped on her lamp. Dim, amber light filled her room. She unlocked the door, and cross the room back to her bed. She pulled her comforter around her shoulders. "Come in," she said.
Isaac pushed open the door, relieved. Then he saw her. He almost fainted dead away at the sight of her haggard face. Her cheeks were hollow and gaunt, her cheekbones pressing against the sallow skin. Her jaw was taught. Her whole face was a pasty green-white. Her eyes were sunk deeply into her face, surrounded by dark purple-black bruises. Their blue irises had lost their sparkle; her eyes looked almost black. Her hair was stringier than usual; not windblown, as it frequently was. The healthy sheen was gone, and replaced with a dull, limp texture. She looked like she might not have bathed in a week or so.
"What?" she asked.
He blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head. "Nothing," he told her. "May I sit down?"
She shrugged, and nodded at the chair at her desk. "Go for it."
He pulled the chair from the desk, and sat down. She studied him for a moment. "Why are you here, really? Did Lia really ask you to come?"
"I'm here to talk about you," he said. "Lia did send me."
She chewed on her chapped lip. "I'm sorry she made you do that. I know it's got to be hard... You shouldn't have come. I'm so sorry about...everything."
"What do you mean?" Isaac asked, scrunching his face up quizzically.
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that you have to go through all this pain. I know I'm to blame. I am so horribly sorry about everything, Isaac. Taylor deserved more than this. If I could go back, I would have given Taylor up so that nobody would have a reason to..." She dissolved into hysterical tears.
"Hey, hey," Isaac said softly, moving over to the bed and wrapping his arm around the blanket that was tangled around her shoulders. "Don't say that."
"Say what?" she cried.
"Say that it's your fault," he soothed.
"It is," she wailed. "If I had let Taylor go, nobody would have shot him. He was so good, and I was so disgustingly selfish with him..."
"You weren't," Isaac assured her. "You were wonderful for him."
"I WAS HIS DEATH!" she shouted. Isaac was startled, but didn't dare back away.
"You weren't," he replied. "That bullet was."
"The bullet was because of me," she hissed.
"It was because there was a girl with a gun who pulled the trigger," he told her.
"The girl was mad because she thought Taylor was with me," she said. "And he WAS."
"The girl was insane, Randy," he said. "It's not your fault. You were living your life happily, and you were making Taylor happy. Neither of you are to blame for her craziness."
Randy sniffed.
"Look," Isaac said. "Not a single one of the Hansons hate you. You're a part of our family, and we can't stop loving you. None of us think you're at fault."
Her eyes were watery.
"If you do nothing else, check your e-mail after I leave, okay?" he said.
She was befuddled. "Why?"
"Just promise me you will," he said.
"I will," she promised. Her tears had stopped. "Isaac?"
"Yes?" he asked.
"Tell your family I said hi," she said. "And thank them for not hating me."
He smiled weakly. "Okay."
She looked at the door meaningfully. He took the hint and stood up. "Come by and see us some time, Randy. We miss you."
She nodded. Isaac then left, feeling like he had made a small amount of progress in the brief time he spent with her. After she heard the front door slam shut, she scurried to the window. His hunched figure walked quickly to his car. Snow was again falling. He got in the car, and revved the engine. Headlights beamed across the yard.
He pulled out slowly, then drove away.
She ran downstairs, and turned on the computer.