"So, you were in a band with your brothers when you were young?" the young man asked.
"Yeah…"
"That's pretty cool," he said. "I don't have any brothers. I doubt they'd be interested in music, but…" He laughed. "Not too many guys where I'm from are too interested in music. They want girlfriends and stuff like that…"
"You don't like girls?" Taylor asked.
"Oh, no!" the young man said. "Nothing like that. It's just…music is first, right? So, I was lucky to run into Steve and Craig and Mike."
"I understand," Taylor agreed grimly. "I had a lot of problems with that, too."
"But you had your family though. Real musical bunch, huh?"
Taylor shrugged. "You could say that."
"I met your older brother. I think his name was Isaac," the young man said, almost questioningly. "He seems real cool. A little bit old, but…"
"Not that old," Taylor said.
"Old enough to be my father," the young man said.
Taylor looked at him, and then sighed. Yeah, he thought, definitely old enough to be your father… "True," Taylor agreed.
"You got kids?"
"Um, one," Taylor said. "But I haven't seen him since he was little."
"Wife leave you or something?" the young man asked.
"Never been married," Taylor said. "His mother didn't like me much."
"Oh," the young man said. "I haven't seen my dad since I was a kid, either." Taylor nearly stopped him to say that he still was a kid, but then let it go. The boy was talking on anyhow. "I feel sorry for your kid."
"I do, too," Taylor said. "I always wished it would have been different, but…"
"You do?"
"Yeah."
"I always thought that my dad hated me or something," the young man said. "Turns out that he really doesn't. Mom handed me an envelope on my way out the door with my name written on it. 'For when you're gone,' she said, and then waved good-bye. I thought she was crazy, or that maybe it was money, but…"
He shrugged. "It was a letter that my dad wrote me. He told me that he would have wanted to be there but that just wasn't how the world turned, so. I thought it was the craziest thing, but… You know, I wonder who he is sometimes?"
"You do?"
"Yeah."
Taylor smiled. "I wonder about what happened to Casey sometimes. When I'm just sitting alone or when I'm walking down the street. I wonder if I'd recognize him if I just saw him. I'd like to think that I would, but… He was an awfully little boy when I saw him. I think about him a lot." He looked at the young man, who was sitting with his mouth slightly opened.
"His name's Casey, too?"
"Is that your name?" Taylor asked, eyes widening.
"Um, yeah," the young man said. They stopped walking and stood to look at each other face to face. "What'd you say your name was?"
"Taylor. Hanson. You?"
"Casey. Wilcombe…"
Taylor felt himself shaking. With a trembling hand, he pulled a worn picture from the pocket of his slacks. He held it up. Casey leaned to see it. "Hey! That's…me…" Taylor's hand shook so hard the picture fell. He felt tears beginning to rise to his eyes. He looked at the young man that he hadn't seen in 13 years; the young man who by some twist of fate had appeared in his studio.
"You're my dad?" Casey asked in a quivering voice.
"I…I…"
Casey suddenly felt terribly sorry for Taylor, as he watched the man's bright blue eyes fill up with tears. It was so sad to see a man just cry, Casey thought. At least, to him it was. He'd never known many men to cry, and the ones he did know didn't cry unless something was awfully bad. Or maybe something awfully good? Casey reached his arms out, and wrapped them around the older man who was racked with sobs. Taylor returned the embrace. The arms that closed around Casey were warm and strong and soft. It hadn't occurred to him until just then, but he was crying, too.
One hand stroked his hair while the other rubbed his back. The feeling was so comforting that Casey thought he might fall asleep. But he didn't. He instead pulled away, realizing that the man was no longer shaking. "So you're my dad. I…"
"I'm sorry," Taylor whispered.
"I know," Casey replied.
"I was young and incredibly dumb," Taylor said. "And I know that's not an excuse but…"
"It's okay," Casey said. "I forgive you."
"I…you'll be around for a while, right?" Taylor asked.
"I'm staying in New York until the recording is finished," Casey said.
"Good," Taylor said. "Good. Would you want…to talk sometime?"
"Sure," Casey said, a little too enthusiastically for his own taste. He blushed a bit, but Taylor just grinned.
"That's…wonderful," Taylor said.
"So, you've been in New York for all of these years?"
"When I first came here, you and your mom were still living around here and she was running Little C's," Taylor said.
"Really?! God, I loved that place. Do you remember Sam?"
"He lived with me for a while," Taylor replied.
"I didn't know that!! What happened to him?" Casey asked.
"He passed on a few years ago," Taylor said. "Very painlessly. In his sleep."
Casey frowned. "You knew me then? How long?"
"Just for a couple of days."
"Mom loved that place. You were there. So you were the one that Mom was running from? You seem fairly harmless to me. How incredibly weird…"
"Yeah," Taylor said, smiling a bit as they continued to walk to the lobby. "Weird…"