Chapter Sixteen


"I Didn't Know Your Secret Ambition Was To Become Mr America."

Isaac rang the doorbell for the third time, stamping his frozen feet on the Davidsons' wooden porch. He looked at his watch; it definitely read eleven-thirty and Rhia had definitely said eleven-thirty, Ike could remember making all those dumb Diet Coke break jokes, right before checking the mail.

The mail that had contained a letter with enough power to make his brother cry. Isaac had yet to talk to Taylor about the letter; when he'd gone upstairs for a shower, his brother had been pretending he was asleep. Isaac knew he wasn't; he'd caught Tay peeping a couple of times, but if he wasn't ready to talk about it, Isaac wouldn't push it.

He knew the letter had been from Gabbie, the return of the welfare charm had indicated that, although what she'd said, he had no idea. Maybe seeing Taylor again had prompted her into writing. Maybe she wanted to be friends. Maybe she wanted nothing to do with the Hanson family ever again. Heck, maybe it was a wedding invitation, although he doubted it very much. That would be pure lunacy. Anyway, standing here, second-guessing himself about something that was none of his business - until Taylor made it his business - was doing him any good.

Sighing, he reached out and rang the doorbell again, wondering why Rhia wasn't answering.

Suddenly, he heard a crash from inside the house, followed my raised voices and a lot of shouting.

Jake! Isaac's heart leapt into his throat as he realized what must be going on inside. It had to be Jake hurting Rhia. That was it. Isaac pushed the front door open and ran into the house.

"You stupid bitch!" a male voice yelled from the family room. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

But Isaac stopped, his vigilante plan suspended. That voice wasn't Jake's. It sounded like someone much older, someone much more sophisticated. And there was no mistaking who it was. It was Mr Davidson, Rhia's father. But who was he shouting at?

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You're drinking yourself into a hole, Peter! When are you going to realize it?" The woman's voice was fraught with tears, trembling and breaking every other word.

Isaac felt momentarily dizzy with relief; that voice wasn't Rhia's. But with a sinking realization, it came to him that it was Kathleen Davidson's voice. Rhia's mother.

Then Isaac realized that he probably shouldn't be standing in the Davidsons' hallway, listening to them fighting. Silently, he crept up the stairs and into Rhia's room.

She was lying on her bed, listening to her personal stereo so loudly that Isaac could hear the bass line from where he was standing. Her hands were clamped over the earpieces of the headphones, as if she was trying to block out the outside world completely. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her face screwed up. She was curled into a small ball, tears sliding down her face.

Isaac bit his lip, shocked to see Rhia so sad. She was a strong person, she didn't cry much, but right now, she looked like a little girl. He sat down beside her on the bed, tapping her on the shoulder. "Rhia?" he hissed.

She jumped, sitting bolt upright and opening her bloodshot eyes. "Oh, Ike," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're here."

Isaac wrapped his arms around her leaning his head against hers so that he could hear every word Tony Scalzo of Fastball was signing on 'Out Of My Head'. She hadn't taken the headphones off yet, but she leaned back, out of the hug and removed them.

"Listen to them," she spat bitterly, as there was yet another smash from downstairs. "I guess I'll need to ask Santa for some more crockery. They keep breaking it all."

Struggling to fathom out the situation, Isaac rested his head in his hands. Mr and Mrs Davidson had always seemed to him to be as stable as his own parents were. Always smiling and laughing with one another and their children, the Davidsons' could have been a smaller version of the Hanson family. What had gone wrong? "Rhia, what happened?"

Rhia sighed. "Oh, it's been going on for a while. Like a year. But it's getting really bad now. I mean, really bad, Ike. I can't stand the fighting any more."

"I never even noticed… They always seemed so happy."

"They were," replied Rhia wistfully. "I mean, even when they started to fight, it would just be about little things. Bills and whose relatives were staying for holidays and things like that. But now, they just fight over everything. Money, the house, the cars, us…"

"You?" repeated Isaac incredulously.

"Yeah. I asked my mom if I could go with Hannah Macmillan's family to ski in Vermont over vacation and she said yes. Then when we told my dad, he freaked. Like totally. So I can't go. But it's like if my mom says I can do something, my dad says I can't, just to be spiteful, and it's vice versa. It's terrible…"

"Where's Neil?"

Rhia looked down. "I don't know. Last night, the fighting was really, really bad. I went through to Neil's room… You know, we've actually been talking a bit now. Not much, not like we used to, but with all this fighting, we've gotten… Well, we don't hate each other as much now."

"I guess every cloud has a silver lining."

"Yeah," agreed Rhia sadly. "Anyway, we sat and talked for a while, and I ended up falling asleep through there in his bed. I guess I just needed the comfort. I needed to know there was somebody beside me. But when I woke up this morning, he was gone. He left this note." She rummaged in her drawer and handed it to Isaac.


Dear Mom, Dad and Rhia,


I've gone away for a couple of days. It's all too much, and I need to try to sort it out in my own head. Don't worry. I'm in a safe place and I'll be back soon. It's just too hard for me to deal with right now.


Rhia, I'm sorry I'm not there for you, but Ike will be home now and you can talk to him. I'll call you, and please don't worry about me.


Neil


Isaac shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Rhia."

"Hey, it's not your fault." She smiled wryly. "Welcome to the typical dysfunctional American family." She fell silent, biting her lower lip and avoiding Isaac's gaze.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked.

"My dad…" began Rhia uncertainly. "He's been drinking."

"Your dad? No way."

"That's what I thought. I mean, he's a doctor. He tells people why alcohol ruins your life. What a hypocrite."

"Maybe he's just been under stress," suggested Isaac.

"Oh, I don't know." Rhia sighed. "I don't know anything any more, Ike. Everything I thought I could rely on is crumbling beneath me and there's not a damned thing I can do about it."

"That's not true, Rhia."

"It is," she argued. "My parents' relationship. Strong as a rock. Or so I thought. Nope, now they're throwing more plates at one another than the waiters in Greek restaurants do. My brother. We were so close. Then we hated each other. Now, just when we're starting to regain some of that, he pisses off to God only knows where. My relationship with Jake. I love him, but I'm scared of him, scared of what he'll do to me. Everything I ever clung to is disintegrating, Isaac and it's scaring me. I can't handle it."

Isaac took her hands. "You've still got something. Something that will never crumble or disintegrate or piss off to God only knows where."

"What's that?" Rhia asked wearily.

"Me."

She stared at him, her chin wobbling vulnerably and he knew that she was going to cry again. "Oh, Ike," she sobbed.

"I mean it, Rhia," he whispered as he pulled her in close. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here."

"Thank you." Her voice was barely audible, but to Isaac, it was as loud and clear as the church bells.

He kissed her on top of her head, rubbing her back. She leaned back and stared at him, eyes huge, crystalline and scared. Then she leaned forward, pushing her mouth against his and kissed him.

Isaac froze. What was she doing? Surely this would just complicate things even further for her. But nonetheless, he kissed her back, and as the shouting and plate throwing continued downstairs, Isaac and Rhiannon were aware of no one else in the world but each other.

***

Taylor sat up, rubbing his eyes, surprised to see that it was already dark outside. Squinting at the clock, he realized it was already five thirty in the evening. He'd been asleep for almost six hours.

After he'd run upstairs, he'd cried, re-read Gabbie's letter a few times, cried some more, then pretended to be asleep when Isaac came into their room to get dressed. Then he'd thought about things, thinking and thinking till his head ached, then he'd had to pretend to be asleep again when Zac appeared. But Zac, being Zac, had taken so long to get ready that Taylor must have really fallen asleep. That had been at eleven forty, almost six hours earlier.

Sighing, he rolled off the bed and stumbled through to the bathroom. He peered into the mirror, groaning at the apparition staring back at him. His face was red and flushed, his hair glued to his right cheek and sticking up all over the place on the left side. His eyes were bleary and half-shut, ringed by deep purple shadows and the T-shirt he'd slept in was rumpled and damp with sweat. He ran his tongue over his teeth, flinching as he noticed that they felt almost furry. Grimacing, he realized, to his disgust, that he hadn't even had a shower yet that day.

He reached into the cubicle, turning on the shower and flinching as the ice-cold spray hit his warm arm. As the water heated, he brushed his teeth, getting rid of the old sock taste in his mouth. The glass walls of the cubicle began to steam up, so Taylor peeled off his clothes and dived into it, sighing in relief as the hot needles of water pricked his skin.

Grabbing his shampoo, he lathered up and rinsed, feeling a million times better as the water cleansed him. It was as if the water was washing away his problems as well as the dirt on his skin.

He was thinking reasonably now, and he realized that he would have to let go of Gabbie. Her letter… It hurt him. Much as he hated to admit it to himself, this girl had the power to make him crumble to his knees, crying like a baby. But she wasn't going to have that power any more. She wanted "closure"… Well, he decided, she can have her Goddamn "closure". He wasn't going to pander to her over-inflated ego any longer.

Smiling at the drastic change he was feeling, he wondered if he had ever been in love with Gabbie. Sure, he'd loved her. He still did, in some weird, warped way, but he was finally beginning to feel as if he was getting over her. It had taken him long enough, but better late than never. He was beginning to feel like the big hole she'd left in his heart was filling and maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

He turned the water off, grabbed a towel and hurried through to his room, shivering in the cooler air and quickly dressed.

A few minutes later, his hair tidily combed back, away from his face in a tiny ponytail - it wasn't quite the same since his hair had been chopped a little - he sat back down on his bed, ready to re-read Gabbie's letter for the final time and then never think of her again.

He unfolded it, sniffing it, the light, floral scent mirroring the design on the paper and invading his nostrils, making him feel slightly sick. His eyes skimmed the page, taking in the lines of Gabbie's neatly looped handwriting.


Taylor,


Seeing you in New York the other day was too much. I am writing today to sever all ties I ever had with you. I don't want to hear from you ever again, and I expect you to respect my wishes. Hence, I am returning your welfare charm. I was allergic to it anyway.


I hope I'm not coming across as too harsh. Our casual fling was a lot of fun, but that's all it was. A casual fling. Now I'm engaged to be married. You may wonder why I even bothered to contact you, if I want to sever all our links and erase our past. I certainly don't want you thinking that I really do want to stay in contact and I'm just kidding myself, because it's not true. You may be some hotshot popstar, but in the words of Shania Twain, that don't impress me much.


My real reason for writing is that I need closure. I need to be satisfied, knowing that you know we're over. Please don't try to write back or to call. I didn't include a return address and our number has been changed.


Thank you, Taylor. You made me feel like a schoolgirl again and it was fun, but it's time for me to grow up and move on.


Gabriella Young


Taylor stared at it, wondering if Gabbie Young had the same split-personality syndrome as Honey Perkins seemed to have. One minute, she was all 'I never want to hear from you again, you don't impress me,' and the next, she was thanking him. He shook his head, sighing as the door swung open behind him and two hands fell on his shoulders; one long, thin and cool, the other smaller, chubbier and clammily hot.

"Hey, Tay…"

"Tay, are you okay?"

They spoke at the same time and Taylor turned round, seeing Isaac and Zac looking at him in a concerned way. "I'm fine," he told them.

Zac sat down and took his hand. "Tay, we’re your brothers. You don't have to pretend."

"That's the thing, Zac," Taylor protested, his eyes shining in triumph. "I'm not pretending! I realized today that I couldn't let Gabbie have power over me. She wants closure, she can have it!" He threw the letter and Isaac, motioning for him to read it.

Isaac did so, wincing a few times. "Oww, Tay, this is harsh."

"I don't care," replied Taylor lightly. "I'm so over her!"

Isaac frowned. "You were crying this morning. Don't kid yourself, Taylor. You can be honest with us."

Taylor bit his lip. Maybe he was kidding himself, just a little. But maybe it was helping him. If he believed for long enough that he was over Gabbie, then maybe he really would be over her.

"Tay?" asked Zac gently, reaching out and taking his hand again.

Taylor smiled. "I'm okay, Zac," he assured him, taking his hand out of his brother's sweaty one.

"You're in denial," stated Isaac matter-of-factly.

"I am not!" protested Taylor indignantly. "Don't make me sound like a head case, Ike, because I'm not and you damn well know it!"

"Chill…" Isaac held up his hands. "I just don't see how anyone can go from one extreme to the other so quickly. When I left this morning, you'd been howling. They could probably hear you in Oklahoma City!"

"Oh, drop dead," muttered Taylor. "It wasn't that bad."

Isaac's voice softened. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again, buddy."

"Then why won't you let me get over her?!" Exasperated, Taylor thumped his fist onto the bed. "Why do you keep telling me I'm not over her?"

Isaac sighed. His brother did have a point. "I just think you're moving too fast."

"So you'd rather I lingered over it, torturing myself slowly and painfully?"

"No, Taylor, I'm not saying that…"

"What Ike is trying to say," interjected Zac, hoping to disperse the building tensions between his older brothers, "is that maybe you think you're over her, then something will remind you of her and you'll fall, only from like a cliff ten times higher than the window ledge you were on before."

Isaac and Taylor stopped shooting daggers at one another and turned to face Zac, staring at him incredulously.

"Well," Zac stammered, knowing that he was making no sense at all. "Like…you're on our bedroom windowsill, Tay. And Gabbie keeps pushing you off that window ledge and you fall into the grass and you go, 'Oh, that was rather sore,' pick yourself up and dust off your pants. But, just now, you think you're over her, so you're soaring up and up, and you perch on this cliff. Then Gabbie comes along again, and shoves you. But instead of falling a couple of feet onto the nice, soft lawn, you plummet thousands of feet into the sea and your icy death."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Well, thank you, Sigmund Freud!"

"That's what Ike was trying to say." Zac reddened, embarrassed about his revealing how he saw and analyzed things.

Isaac shook his head. "No, Zac, I don't think it was."

"Well, what were you saying?" demanded Zac crabbily. "I sure as hell don't know!" He flung himself down onto his own bed, burying his face in his pillow.

"I was saying that he could end up hurting himself more if he tells himself that he's over it, rather than letting time heal the wounds."

Taylor nodded. "I see what you're saying."

"Ike?"

"What is it, Zac?"

"That's exactly what I said!" muttered Zac through gritted teeth, sitting up and pushing his hair out if his eyes.

"No way! You had Tay as a bird and Gabbie as a freakin' mass murderer!"

"Technically," interrupted Taylor, "she wasn't a mass murderer. She just kept killing me over and over again."

Zac rolled his eyes. "You guys suck."

"Ah, our little brother…so articulate." Taylor threw a stuffed dog across the room to Zac, who picked it up and threw it hard, out into the hallway, ignoring the shriek of surprise from Mackenzie, who'd been walking past and suddenly had been accosted by a flying Goofy.

"Seriously, Taylor, that could happen." Isaac's goofy smile was instantly replaced by a frown of concern. "I just don't want to see you hurt."

Taylor sighed, spreading his hands palm up in the air. "Okay, I'll be honest with you. It's kinda confusing me, too. It's like…that letter hurt me. Really hurt me." He looked earnestly from Isaac to Zac, whose disdainful expression had changed to one of intent listening. "But when I woke up and got into the shower, it was like someone had snapped on a light or something. Suddenly, I didn't give a damn. I just want to forget about Gabbie and get on with my life. I know it'll always be hard, and I'll always love her in some warped way, but she's moved on. I have to do that too. I wasted the best part of a year on her. It's time to get over it."

Isaac's eyebrows slowly relaxed, the furrow in his brow disappearing. As his lips eased into a smile, his warm brown eyes gazed approvingly at his brother. "Oh, Tay…" He trailed off. "I don't know what to say," he admitted sheepishly.

"Me neither," chimed in Zac, staring up at his next-oldest brother in awe. He'd never heard Taylor utter such wise and meaningful words.

Taylor's serious face broke into a wide grin. "Say you'll help me. Say you'll slap me in the face when I think about her. Just say you'll be there."

Laughing, all three of them began to sing, "And all that I want from you, is a promise you will be there, say you will be there…"

It couldn't have been more simultaneous if they had been specially synchronized by the time experts at Greenwich Meridian themselves, and then practiced it a million times over.

***

Christmas Eve, Zac woke up late. The room was empty; both Isaac's and Taylor's beds perfectly made. He shook his head, heaving himself sleepily up to a sitting position. He could hear his mom softly singing 'Away In A Manger' to Zoë and, more noticeably and not so pleasant, Jessica and Avery screaming at one another. The aroma of cooking mincemeat pies wafted into his room and his stomach growled in hunger. Smiling happily to himself, pleased that his family were set to have such a great Christmas; such a corny, traditional family Christmas, like the ones in the movies; such a caring Christmas, with the people they loved most, Zac swung his legs round and headed into the shower.

Ten minutes later, he stood in front of the mirror in his boxer shorts, running a comb through his wet hair. He flexed his muscles, turning this way and that, admiring himself. "Looking good, Zac, looking good…"

There was a snort from the doorway and Zac turned to find Taylor leaning against the doorframe, chewing on a piece of toast dripping with butter. In his other hand was a rolled up copy of the local newspaper. He tossed his head, sending his ear-length blond hair into a makeshift halo, shining around him.

Zac flushed with embarrassment. "I was just kidding around."

Taylor grinned at him, his teeth covered in a disgusting coating of chewed up toast, crumbs and butter.

"Ugh, Tay, you know I hate seafood!"

"Huh?" Taylor looked confused. "Oh. See food. Sorry." He ran his tongue across his teeth, then grinned again. "I didn't know your secret ambition was to become Mr America."

"It's not," protested Zac, blushing furiously. "I was just…"

"Checking out what a stud-muffin you are?" asked Taylor nonchalantly, his eyebrows raised in a mocking expression.

"No! Look, did you want something?"

"Yeah, I gotta go."

"Go where?"

"No, Zac, I gotta go…" Taylor looked meaningfully toward the bathroom.

"So go and stop standing there like some sort of ornamental molding on the doorframe!"

Taylor laughed. "Ooh, yeah, soon there'll be one of me on every door frame in the United States…" He walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and chucking the newspaper onto Zac's bed.

Zac shook his head, still embarrassed, and pulled on a pair of navy jeans, a white T-shirt and his dark blue knitted sweater. He sat on the bed to tug on a pair of white socks, then began to flick through the newspaper.

It wasn't very interesting. Not much was happening. A bake sale, someone breaking into the convenience store, a local lady reaching one hundred years of age…

Then something caught Zac's eye. Underneath the birthday and marriage announcements, were the memoriam tributes. He blinked, but it still read the same. With a sinking heart, Zac read the section.


Price: In memoriam of a much-loved son and brother, Corey Anthony, who died Friday, November 5th, 1999. Merry Christmas, Corey, and we'll be thinking of you all holidays. Mom, Dad and Jacob.


Zac bit his lip. Ashamed, he realized that he hadn't really thought about Christmas in the Price family. Usually, they were the most Christmassy people he knew. Their house always had the flashing lights, the SANTA STOP HERE signs in the garden, snow spray adorning all possible surfaces, and the tallest Christmas tree Zac had ever seen.

But this year, Zac doubted he'd see one piece of tinsel in the Price house. Corey was gone. They wouldn't be celebrating at all. All they would be doing was thinking about how Corey wasn't there with them. There would be no turkey, no lights, no trees, no Christmas music, no cards, no anything…

Just three people who used to be four, mourning the loss of their son and brother.

Zac shivered, feeling cold all of a sudden. He could still hear his mom's beautiful voice, and he smiled as he realized she was singing 'Christmastime', the song they had written with Mark Hudson in the fall of 1997.

Corey would never get to hear that song again. Zac recalled him teasing them for writing it. What was it he'd said? Zac shook his head, remembering Corey calling them all wusses. "Who wants to write a corny family-love Christmas song like that?" he'd jeered. "There's enough of those about. You should have written a rock one, dudes..." He never had been one for family togetherness.

Just knowing that Corey's family was going to have such a miserable Christmas made Zac feel sad. But, simultaneously, it made him more determined to appreciate his own family Christmas. So what if Mackie got cranky? So what if Zoë spat Brussels sprouts all over his new shirt? So what if Avery made him play Barbies with her? So what if his mom made them all sing carols around the piano while one of them played? That was the Hanson family Christmas, and Zac realized just how lucky he was to have it.

"Oh, my God!" Isaac stormed into the room, kicking Zac's bed hard in frustration.

Zac shook, along with the bed. "Geez, Ike, for some reason, I don't remember asking Santa to turn my bed into one of those vibrating massage ones!"

"Oh, shut up." Isaac stomped across the room, leaping up onto his top bunk bed.

"Who rattled your cage?" muttered Zac, closing the newspaper.

"Dad."

"What about him?"

"Oh!" Isaac agitatedly raked his hand through his hair. "I want to spend tonight with Rhia. She's having a tough time. But Dad says I have to go to Church and spend it with you. 'Christmas is a family time, Isaac!'" he mimicked his father. "I don't believe this!"

Zac couldn't quite believe it himself. Here was Isaac, complaining about one small part - and a part that he usually enjoyed - of a family Christmas and the Price's didn't even have a whole family to have Christmas with.

"What're you moaning at?" asked Taylor, emerging from the bathroom.

"Well-"

"He doesn't want a family Christmas," spat Zac bitterly, interrupting his brother.

Taylor raised his eyebrows at Zac, wondering what was wrong with him, then figuring that he'd been arguing with Isaac, he turned to his older brother. "Why don't you want a family Christmas?" he asked mildly.

"I didn't say that!" Isaac threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "I just said that I wanted to spend tonight with Rhia. Anyway, Zac, why are you on the family Christmas soapbox? You always complain about everything, and you’re right. It can be boring and annoying, and I just want a break for a few hours."

Zac stared at Isaac, his eyes glittering in anger. "You ass."

"Huh?"

"You're an ass, Isaac. A big, fat, ungrateful ass!"

"What's all this about, Zac?" Isaac was confused. What was up with him?

"You! Don't you realize how lucky you are to have a family?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Isaac trailed off, looking helplessly at Taylor.

Taylor laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ike knows that. But we all get on each other's nerves occasionally.

"Oh, for God's sake!" exploded Zac. "You don't get it, do you? You just don't get it!" He jumped to his feet, running out of the room and downstairs, the sound of the front door slamming behind him echoing throughout the house.

***

The door swung open and a small, elfin face, lightly lined with age peeped round. But today there was something different about Kathleen Davidson's tiny face. She was smiling. "Hi, Isaac. Come on in. Rhia's in her room."

"Thanks, Mrs Davidson." Isaac stepped inside, stamping his boots on the doormat. "It's really starting to snow out there."

"Really? Oh, that'll be nice, love. Maybe we'll get a white Christmas."

"Looks pretty likely," Isaac smiled, removing his coat and scarf.

"Just go on up." Mrs Davidson turned on her heel and disappeared back into the living room.

Isaac began to climb the stairs. He listened, but all he could hear was Rhia's parents talking. No yelling, no swearing, no plate throwing. Maybe they'd made up for the holidays? Isaac could only hope, for Rhia's sake.

"Hey, you," he grinned, walking into Rhia's blue and yellow room.

"Hey, yourself!" She bounced off the bed, long, blond ponytail flying behind her. She ran up to him, putting her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. "Happy Christmas Eve!" she squealed excitedly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, Ree, it's snowing!"

"Really?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yup." Isaac sat down on the bed. "Why are you so happy? Hey, I saw your mom. She looked happy too!"

"Neil's coming home today!" Rhia pulled a blue cushion across and hugged it against her chest. "He called yesterday. He spoke to Mom and Dad and they agreed to call a truce for the holidays. Isn't that great?"

"Oh, Rhia, that's wonderful!"

"I know." She grinned, wrinkling up her nose. "So, what's up with you? I saw Zac running past earlier. He looked sad."

"Oh, geez, I have no idea what's wrong with him." Isaac picked up a cushion of his own and pummeled it. "I said I wanted to spend tonight with you, because you said it didn't look like you were going to the church service and my dad freaked and said I had to go. So I complained to Zac about it and he blew up. Said I should be grateful I'm having a family Christmas."

Rhia raised her eyebrows. "He's right, Ike. You should be. I know I am. I came so close to losing my family Christmas this year. Just count your blessings and be aware of how lucky you are."

Isaac looked down, feeling guilty. "I do appreciate it," he mumbled.

"I know you do, Ike. Just maybe sometimes you forget."

"I do not!" Isaac threw down the cushion and crossed his arms.

Rhia laughed. "Oh, Ike," she giggled, crawling along the bed to him. "Don't be such a big kid! Don't go all huffy on me."

Isaac tried not to smile. "Well, you turn me into a man then," he teased, dropping a kiss on her nose.

Rhia stopped laughing. "Ike, we have to stop this whole kissing thing."

"I thought you wanted this." Isaac looked at her uncertainly.

"I do…" She shook her head. "No, Ike, I don't. I can't. I'm with Jake."

"But he doesn't treat you right… And you kissed me last time."

"I know." Rhia examined her nails, which were painted silver, with M-E-R-R-Y-X-M-A-S-! written on them in red and green alternately, a character per nail. "I was upset. You were there." She sighed. "Look, Ike, I love you to death. You know that. But Jake's my boyfriend. You're my best friend. Maybe if things were different, but they're not. You know it as well as I do."

Isaac had to admit she was right. It hurt, because Rhia meant so much to him, but sneaking around was wrong. And you didn't make people you loved cheat on their boyfriends. He nodded. "Ree, you're incredible. You're right. I'm sorry I've been such an ass."

Rhia shook her head stubbornly. "No, you're not an ass. You're sweet, you're cute, you're funny, you're amazing. And it was great. But it was wrong."

Isaac hugged her, then held out his pinkie finger. "Friends?"

"Best." Rhia linked her pinkie with his.

"Always."

"Man, you guys still do pinkie-swears? Didn't we like grow out of that in third grade?"

"Neil!" Rhia jumped up and ran up to him. "I'm so glad you're home." She raised her arms to hug him, then stopped, looking slightly like a clumsy pigeon. She and Neil hadn't exactly been doing much hugging lately.

"I'm glad to be home," he murmured quietly. "Come here." He circled his arms around his twin sister, holding her close.

Rhia rested her head on his shoulder, feeling as if she might cry. It was so good to have her brother back again. Although they hadn't been talking as much, she really had been worried about Neil when he was gone. She'd had trouble sleeping, lying curled in her bed, feeling totally alone. "I missed you," she whispered into his ear.

"You too…"

Isaac hugged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on the worn denim of his favorite old jeans and watching the reunion of the twins. It was easy to forget that Rhia and Neil were twins. Neil was over six feet, almost as skinny as Taylor, with intense dark eyes, jet black hair and a serious face. As his other half, and his complete opposite, Rhia was like a squirmy puppy. She, too, was quite tall, at five feet and seven inches, but apart from that, she and her twin brother were polar opposites. Some of Rhia's puppy fat was still hanging around, much to her despair, but she was by no means overweight, and most people just thought it added to her cuddly personality. Her hair was long, blond and slightly curly, usually tied back into a bouncy ponytail and her eyes an emerald green. Rhia practically screamed fun and energy, but there was a serious side to her as well, even if it didn't show on her round, smiley face.

Smiling, Isaac realized that if he didn't know the Davidsons so well, he'd never believe they were even distantly related, never mind twins. Yet, despite their differences, Rhia and Neil had always been close, until that year. Always playing together, in most of the same classes at school, going around in the same circle of friends. But somehow, during 1999, they'd drifted apart. It was sad. Isaac found himself hoping that it would never happen between him and any of his siblings, as he remembered how miserable Rhia had looked when she talked to him about missing her brother. It made him all the more determined to figure out what was going on with Zac. He wasn't going to let them become like Rhia or Neil.

Now the Davidson family had sorted out their problems, albeit temporarily, it was time for part of the Hanson family - namely Isaac and Zac - to sort out theirs.

***

Taylor slammed the car door shut, praying that his hunch had been right. It was snowing heavily now, and far too cold to be traipsing around Tulsa looking for some over-emotional fourteen-year-old.

Now, Taylor, he scolded himself, shaking his head. Don't be mean. Zac has a right to be upset. You would be too. Just find him, make him better and take him home, before you die of pneumonia.

Sighing, Taylor realized that Zac must be pretty cold by now anyway. It had been a little after noon when Zac had stormed out of the house, and now it was almost ten before five, he noted, glancing up at the church clock.

He'd thought that Zac had just gone for a walk to cool off, but when the hands of the clock crept round to four fifteen, Taylor had figured he'd better go find him. Zac hadn't even eaten that day.

Hence the reason he was standing in the freezing cold snow, his nose red and runny and clutching a paper bag containing a sandwich, a bar of chocolate and a bag of potato chips. He knew his brother; he'd be starving.

Taylor pushed open the large, wrought iron gate and walked up the glittering path, slipping a little on a patch of ice. Cursing under his breath, he carefully tiptoed up the rest of the path, scared he'd draw unwanted attention to himself.

He bit on his lip, screwing up his eyes. A hunched-up figure sat on the snow-covered ground, staring forlornly at his feet. A long, blond ponytail snaked just past his shoulders. Taylor began to walk towards him. He had been right after all.


Zac pressed his cheek against the cool gray marble, feeling the tears well up in his eyes for the millionth time that afternoon. But he wouldn't cry. The tears would come, but Zac blinked them back. Crying didn't solve a damned thing; if there was one thing Zac Hanson had learned this past year, that was it.

He traced his finger over the gold embossed Y, grimacing as he saw his fingertip coming away grimy. You'd at least think the gravestone would be kept clean.

He stretched his leg out, wincing as he heard his knee crack loudly. He must have been sitting here for hours now. He'd stormed out of the house and taken a bus straight up to the cemetery. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten at all that day. But food was the last thing on his mind. He fingered the evergreen wreath he'd bought to lay on Corey's graveside. It was covered in snow now, as was Zac himself, and he cursed himself for not wearing a warmer jacket. Every time he blinked, he saw frosty white, and his toes had lost all feeling hours ago.

He'd started off reminiscing about Corey, but presently, his thoughts had turned more to the Hanson family. Zac knew it was silly, but he had begun to think about one of his family dying, like Corey. Would Isaac be so blasé about it then?

"Zac?"

Zac sighed. Super-Taylor to the rescue. Yet again. "Hey," he mumbled, as Taylor crouched beside him, his hand on his shoulder.

"I thought I might find you here. Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Taylor bit on his lip again, pushing Zac's hair back so he could see his face. "God, Zac, you're freezing!" he commented as his hand brushed accidentally against his brother's cheek.

"No kidding."

Taylor sighed, pulling his coat tighter around his slim body. "Zac… I know what you're thinking…"

"So you're a mind-reader now as well as everything else?" muttered Zac.

"Bite me." Taylor raised his eyes heavenwards, mumbling under his breath. "Look, Zac, I'm trying to help here."

"I know," relented Zac, speaking quietly. "I'm sorry, Tay."

"Don't worry about it," smiled Taylor. "I thought you'd be here. Look, Zac, I know you're mad at Ike. You're probably mad at me, too, but Ike didn't realize you were thinking about Corey. It's not fair to blame him for it. He really didn't know. I had to look at the newspaper before I realized why you were so freaked. It's not fair, Zac."

"I know," replied Zac quietly. "I guess I just got mad." He looked earnestly up at his older brother. "Tay, Corey's mom and dad aren't going to have a Christmas. All they'll be doing is thinking about how he's gone. That's what's not fair."

Taylor slipped his arm around his brother. "It's not, Zac, but it's happened. And getting mad won't change it."

Zac nodded silently, staring fixedly down at the snow-covered wreath.

Taking his arm away and placing it on the top of Zac's arm, Taylor whispered, "Are you okay?"

"It's just…" Zac faltered, kicking the ground agitatedly, sending a flurry of snow into the air. "Ike… He doesn't want to spend Christmas with us. He'd rather spend it with his dumb girlfriend."

Taylor frowned. "He doesn't want to spend Christmas with his dumb girlfriend, as you so nicely put it. He wants to skip the midnight service tonight, which is Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day, unless I'm mistaken, to spend time with Rhia, his best friend, of whom we are both very fond, because she's having problems."

Zac stubbornly kicked the snow again. "What sort of problems?" he spat sarcastically.

"Her mom and dad have been fighting. Neil ran away. It's been tough for her."

"Wow, that bites."

"It sure does."

"But at least she has a family," mumbled Zac.

"Oh, Zac!" Taylor slapped his own thigh in exasperation. "Stop it already! Ike wants to spend Christmas with us! He didn't know you were even thinking about Corey! All he wants is for Rhia to have a good Christmas too! Is that such a crime?"

Zac stared dumbfoundedly at Taylor, surprised at his little outburst. "No, I guess not, but he should appreciate us."

"He does!"

"Funny way of showing it."

"Oh, for God's sake, Zac, grow up!"

Zac narrowed his eyes. "Screw you! Why did you come here? To harass me? To prove what a stupid kid I am? Why don't you just go home and leave me alone!"

Taylor counted to ten, then turned to Zac, resolving to stay calm. "No, Zac. I came here because I was worried. I saw the thing in the newspaper and figured you'd be here. I came to help, to try and explain, but I guess it's not working."

"I guess it's not," echoed Zac, coldly, turning away.

Massaging his brow and the beginnings of a headache, Taylor gritted his teeth and tried again. "Zac, it's Christmas."

"You're joking!" Zac slapped his hand to his forehead. "How'd I miss that?"

"Quiet!" ordered Taylor. "Ike's coming to the church with us."

"But he doesn't want to."

"He does! He's just worried about Rhia."

"Why can't he be worried about us?"

Taylor stared at him in surprise. "Why would he be worried about us? We’re fine."

Zac stared down at the ground, blinking back the tears again. There was no way he was going to cry.

"Zac?" prompted Taylor gently. "What’s up, buddy?"

"What if one of us dies? I mean, it happened to Corey, what's to say it won't happen to me, or you, or Avie…"

"Is this what's been bugging you?" He sighed. "Oh, Zac, don't be silly."

"So now I'm silly?" Instantly, Zac's guard went back up.

"No, no, no… Zac, look at me," he instructed.

Zac obeyed, turning to face his brother.

"Okay… Buddy, nobody knows what's going to happen. You can't be scared of that. I can't say nothing's going to happen, but don't live in fear of it. Is this why you ran out?"

Zac shook his head. "I only started thinking about it up here. But would Ike care more about Rhia if I did die?"

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation. Of course he wouldn't, Zac. Now you really are just being silly."

Zac raised his eyebrows, then they fell again, as he seemed to come to his senses. "I guess so. It just freaked me out a little."

Taylor smiled, producing the paper bag. "Hungry?" he asked.

"Starving!" Zac snatched away the bag and began to chew on a sandwich.

Taylor watched him eating for a few minutes, then spoke up. "Zac, would it help you if you went to see someone about this? Like a doctor or something."

Staring at his brother, Zac's mouth dropped open. "You mean like a shrink?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'm not crazy, Tay," he replied quietly, looking down at his feet again.

"I know, I know." Taylor cursed himself for his choice of words. "I mean like a counselor. I mean, it helps when you talk about it."

Zac looked up at him and smiled slightly. "I'll be okay."

"Sure?" Taylor's brow creased.

"Positive." As an afterthought, he added, "thanks, though."

Shrugging, Taylor got to his feet. "Talk to Ike about it."

"I will," promised Zac.

"Come on, it's freezing."

Zac got to his feet, shaking the snow off the top of his head.

"Wow, Zac, that's some serious dandruff you got going on there," teased Taylor.

"Oh, ha freakin' ha," muttered Zac.

"My brother, the abominable snowman!" jibed Taylor, putting his arm loosely around Zac as the two of them left the cemetery, closing the gates behind them.

Zac stopped, leaving Taylor to get into the car and start the engine. He stared up at all the graves, focusing on Corey's. He gripped the wrought iron bars of the gates, ignoring the cold feeling on his already numbing fingers.

He'd told Taylor he was fine. But with tears welling in his eyes, he realized that he wasn't. Corey's death was something that was going to affect him for a long, long time. But that didn't mean that it had to affect everyone else too. His guilt and his grief was something Zac could handle. And he could handle it all alone.

There and then, Zac resolved to himself not to drag either Isaac or Taylor into any of his stupid little complexes again. If he was still confused, it was his problem, not theirs. It wasn't fair to them. Zac would see this through. But he would see it through all by himself.

"Zac?" Taylor called from the open window. "Are you coming."

"Yeah," Zac replied quietly. "I'll be right with you."

He wiped away a few stray fallen tears and gathered himself together. Squeezing the bars of the gate, he turned and climbed into the car, another tear sliding unnoticed by his brother down his cheek as he stared through his window at the cemetery fading into the distance.

Chapter 17
"Is Yesterday Tomorrow Today?" Index
Main Page