Taylor walked in and began checking out his hair. He got his favorite comb out, one that he's had since he was seven, and brushed through the golden brown locks. He flashed that amazing smile and decided to examine his teeth.
"Gotta look good tonight, and my breath is ragin! Just gotta brush my teefs." This time a cheezy grin was shown as he dabbed toothpaste onto his toothbrush.
I had never noticed this pattern before, but there was definitely one. He had done this as long as I could remember, and I remember the time he lost his first tooth!
Taylor was the most unbalanced, yet seemingly, the most balanced Hanson family member. He would do all things very organized, in an unorganized way. In other words he had patterns to everything, like the teeth brushing. Another example is that he would wash his hands three times before he felt they were clean, and would dry them off for exactly two minutes. These were previous patterns I'd noticed in him.
Taylor then filled the sink with hot water, fogging up the view some, and splashed it across his face. He grimmaced for just a second, then I could see the relief wash over him. He sighed heavily. Sometimes a little pain would go a long way for him. Often times the bathroom seemed Taylor's only escape from the crazy house, the crazy world, and his crazy imagination. He would sit in it for a couple hours, just thinking, or writing in his journal. His room door didn't have a lock, and he shared it with two others, so the bathroom was the only peaceful place where there would be almost no interruption.
Knock. Knock.
"Tay? You in there? She's downstairs waiting for you!" Isaac said through the door.
"Yeah, I'll be right down," Taylor called, wiping some steam from his reflection. He peered into it, looking.....searching to discover something, maybe closure or whatnot, but he sighed, coming up with nothing. He then took out the little packet I've seen him use way too many times. He removed a white pill from it, and chomped on it, showing off its bitterness by his twisted mouth. He shook his head, splashed a little more water on his face, and then dried it off.
He smiled one more time saying, "I'm going to have FUN tonight," kind of shooting his reflection dead. I always read that as he was shooting his normal, thoughtful, dreamy self down, and making way for the loud, obtrusive and just plain out obnoxious T. As normal Taylor, he was Taylor, or Tay, but once he popped one of those white things, it was T. Sometimes it was a variation of T, such as "Big T." In other words, he was pretty much not himself. T was the party-goer that would come into the bathroom at two in the morning, with a girl in his arms. Taylor would be the one to wake up and become violently ill, losing everything he'd gained in the toilet. The girl, of course, would be gone, with him probably not even knowing she had been there. I felt sorry for Taylor, because lost inside T, Taylor was nothing; lost inside Taylor, T was nothing, and I wished it would stay the latter. I truly missed Taylor. He finally left out the bathroom door once again, to later return as T.
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Right on schedule, T walked in, a girl giggling under his grasp.
"Shhhhh," he said, giggling himself as he sat upon the toilet seat. She turned, locked the door, and turned the light off.
"Show me what you're made of T," she whispered seductively. All the girls that had been in and out of this bathroom had done almost the same thing. They all even sounded the same. It was something I'm sorry to say I witness more often than not. I heard the zipping, or rather, unzipping of clothing, and a soft "swoop" as each article hit the ground. If only Taylor could see what I see, see what he's doing to himself, and where he's going to end up if he keeps this up. If only. The giggling, the moaning, and the heavy breathing that fogged the glass up didn't keep up long. That's one thing that T couldn't do that Taylor probably could.........keep it up for more than five minutes. Taylor has love, passion, and a reason. T has lust, drugs, and sex. If I could, I would cry for Taylor, just because such a wonderful soul is about to be swallowed up by an evil one. But I guess everyone has an "inner T", most people just surpress it; I know Ike and Zac do, for Heaven's sake. Taylor is too scared to live on the edge, so that's why he uses T; he's kind of an escape. I would definitely not say it's schitzophrenia, because Taylor knows everything that happens, other than what the drugs and alcohol block out. Taylor just doesn't realize the toll that his other lifestyle is taking on him. After a few more minutes, I saw the door open and shut, and knew Taylor would wake up alone, and with the urge to vomit shortly. I waited patiently watching as the saga of Taylor and T went on.
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Unfortunately, Taylor didn't wake up to get sick that night. Isaac came in later that morning and found Taylor, still on the toilet seat. After messing with him for a minute, Ike called to Zac for help.
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The E.M.T.'s filed in, only obstructing my view of Taylor. Once the E.M.T.'s had done what they could, they loaded him onto a stretcher where I could see him. I had a feeling I wouldn't be used by Taylor, or even T, ever again as I watched the lifeless body get taken out of the bathroom.
I began to picture Taylor from the first time I saw him. He was so little and cute. He would hide in the bathroom to play hide and seek, he would bring all of his toys in the bathtub to play with, and he would do silly dances, just because he knew he had the freedom to do it behind that closed door. I loved when he'd make faces. He could do them for ten minutes straight and not make the same face twice. He was so creative and young. I got the opportunity to watch as he grew up. The loss of his first tooth, his first pimple, his first shaving experience, admiring his first armpit hair......I was there for it all. I would miss seeing him every morning, before he took a shower, with his hair going every which way, his teeth still unbrushed, and the sleep still in his eyes. And I would miss the regular nights when he would come in before bed, talking about thoughts for "tomorrow," and kissing at me before he left. But most of all I will miss mirroring his beautiful reflection.