Roads by Sheryl
Diana gazed at Isaac, dozing
in the chair, Avie on his lap, sound asleep. He'd been a huge help, keeping the little
ones under control. God knew, she was barely under control herself, she'd have never been
able to do it alone.
Walker had been gone, for what felt like years, talking to the police, trying to
get some sort of grasp on where Taylor might have gone. They'd given the plate number, and
the car's description, but so far nobody had seen anything. The one comfort was that the
car hadn't been involved in any accidents, as far as anyone could tell.
Sighing, she thought about waking Ike, telling him to go to bed, where he could at
least be comfortable, but in the end thought better of it. Sleep wasn't easy to come by,
she was sure, she wouldn't wake him unless she had to. Smiling a little, the thought
"He's an angel" flitting through her mind, she smiled at her sleeping son, and
reached to take the little one off his lap. She'd barely touched her, when his eyes
opened. "She's okay, you can leave her if you want to..." He spoke softly, not
wanting to wake his sister.
Diana shook her head, "No, I'll put her to bed. Why don't you go on to bed
too, try to get some good sleep?"
He shook his head, mute. His eyes spoke voluminous, and she nodded.
She understood. There would be no real sleep for her tonight, either.
A few minutes later, Avie safely tucked into bed, beside her sister and brother, the three
of them sharing their mom and dad's big bed, in hopes of mutual comfort, Diana sank down
on the couch next to her eldest son.
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "He's gonna be back, mom, he's
gonna be fine. You know that, don't you?"
She smiled. "Thank you, baby, I hope that's so."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, pretending to watch TV, then he nudged her
gently. "Mom, when I fell asleep, just now, I kept..." He stopped, voice
breaking, and she saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "I kept dreaming he came
back... then I'd wake up, and he'd still be gone. Over and over. Mom... I can't even start
to tell you how sorry I am. This is all my fault" He rubbed hard at his eyes, she
didn't need to see him crying. "I never should have said that."
She shook her head, slipping an arm around him. "Isaac, you may have said an
unfortunate word, but I... no, honey, no blame lies on you. Trust me. We all said a lot of
things we didn't mean."
He nodded, disengaging himself gently from her embrace and settling back against
the couch cushions. "So," He turned to her smiling gently, "We sit up
together, do we?" She smiled back. "Yes, I guess we do."
They sat back, both lost in their own thoughts, both keeping silent, each, for the
sake of the other, pretending everything was okay.
Zac lay staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. His mom
had even given him a Benadryl, and he still couldn't sleep. Somehow, it seemed to him,
that this was all his fault.
He'd been the one to get all weird on Taylor, he'd been the one that made him feel
so bad he had to run out and get into trouble. He'd left Taylor with Jessica, he should
have known better. He'd been the one who started it. It was even him that had gotten into
Taylor's stuff, back in that hotel. If he hadn't followed him, none of this would have
ever happened.
He refused to listen to the tiny voice in his mind, the voice of reason, telling
him that none of it was his fault. The many tones of guilt drowned out that one tiny
voice. Taylor was gone. The police couldn't find him. His dad couldn't find him. He had to
be somewhere.
Sighing, he closed his eyes again, snuggling closer to Mackie. He'd moved in here
with the little ones, his own room too empty without Tay, his vacant bed seeming to stare
accusingly at him. Mackie slipped an arm around him, cuddling close, and Zac felt a smile
creeping onto his lips in spite of his misery. He thought, that with Mac here, he might
even be able to sleep.
Isaac paced, alone in his room, for the first time sharing it with no one. Zac was in with
the little ones, Tay's absence having seriously gotten to him. Isaac knew better than to
even try to sleep.
His mom had finally sent him to bed, claiming no good reason for everyone to sit
up. Ike knew she'd sent him away for an entirely different reason. He'd heard her crying
before he even made it up the stairs.
Feeling terribly guilty, as if it all rested on his shoulders, he'd crept the rest
of the way to his room. His fault. All of it. No matter that she had told him differently,
it was his words that had sent Taylor running. How could he have even thought such a
thing? Let alone said it. Frustrated and scared, he couldn't sit down. Somehow, some way,
he had to find his brother. He'd been driving. Where could he be? He didn't have money,
Isaac knew that. And the car had been on a quarter of a tank. He could only have gotten so
far. But in what direction?
He glanced at the clock. After midnight. He couldn't call anyone. Nobody needed him
waking them up because he was too edgy to sleep. He'd have bet money that Tiff was up,
though. Maybe she was online. She lived online. Nodding, he switched on Taylor's computer,
and signed himself on. Sure enough, there she was. The seed of an idea forming in his
mind, he began to type to her.
Amanda too, lay sleepless, listening through her open door to the even, heavy breathing of
the boy, asleep on her couch. She'd mulled over the story he'd told her, for what felt
like hours, curled up in a chair, watching him sleep. He certainly looked ragged, and she
didn't doubt for a minute that he'd been through hell and back. But from what he'd told
her, all he was doing now was hiding.
He'd given up. His lack of effort was what was driving his family insane. Not the
drug problem, not what he'd done to Zac, they'd already gotten through that, judging by
his words. It was his apathy, his lack of any motivation that was sapping their patience
and strength. He was becoming a burden. She could understand their short tempers and
frayed nerves. Watching someone you love die by inches was horrible, and the helplessness
you felt easily translated itself into anger. Especially when the person in question was
letting themselves die, and making no effort to stop it.
She knew. She'd been right where they were now. Sighing, she thought back to what
she'd said to him. He'd rapped out the story, mechanically, robotically, as if all the
meaning had been leached out of the words. She didn't doubt it had. He didn't appear to
care about much, least of all himself. She'd listened carefully, letting him finish before
saying a word. She knew that her response wasn't what he'd been looking for. He'd been
looking for sympathy.
What he got was practicality. "Taylor, sounds to me like you're doing a
wonderful job feeling sorry for yourself."
He'd looked at her, wide eyed, shocked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She'd noticed he was shivering, whether with cold, or reaction she didn't know, but she
had reached up behind him, pulling the quilt along the back of the couch over him.
"Means that it sounds to me as if you've been going along expecting everyone to cater
to you, coddle you, and take care of you, but you're not doing a damned thing to help
yourself. Can I ask you something?"
His eyes had narrowed, and a decided crease had formed between them. He was mad.
Still, he nodded. "Go ahead."
"Well, Taylor, how long has it been? Since you got home?"
He scowled at her. "Couple months."
"Okay, how do you feel? I mean physically? Are the aftereffects of coming off
the Valium gone?"
He'd nodded. "Pretty much. I still get sick when I ride."
"Okay, carsickness. How's your head feel? Can you remember things?"
He'd nodded again, cautiously. "Pretty much."
"And how's the confusion?"
"Mostly gone."
"So..." She'd paused for a minute, trying to judge his mood. "You
feel pretty good, overall?"
"No, I don't feel good. But I feel better."
"So is there any reason you have to sit in the house and stare at the
walls?"
He'd simply looked at her, for what felt like an age, and then turned his face
away. "You don't understand."
She'd let it go, preferring to remain silent. She did understand. She understood
exactly. But at this point, she didn't feel he needed to know that. Instead of pursuing
it, she tapped him on the shoulder. "It's getting late. Have you eaten at all
today?" He'd told her no, and although balking somewhat, had let himself be talked
into eating a little. It hadn't been the best idea, an hour or so after he'd eaten, it had
all come back up.
She wasn't sure why, he didn't seem sick to her, she suspected it was either
nerves, or habit. She'd eyed him critically, from the bathroom doorway, noting his lack of
surprise, or real distress. Shaking her head, she'd tossed him a washcloth, handed him a
glass of water, and remarked curtly, "When you're done, come on out to the kitchen. I
want to talk to you." She'd felt a little like a bully, but she couldn't shake the
suspicion that it was all some sort of play for attention.
Tossing and turning, now, she replayed those events and more. What was she going to do
with this kid? His family must be frantic. God knew what kind of trouble she could get
into, having him here. She didn't need this. The talk she'd had with him hadn't helped
much. She'd asked him to call home. Flat refusal. She'd asked him to let her call his
home. Flat refusal. She'd tried to find the number, and was triumphantly told that it was
unlisted, and she'd never find it.
Wanting to smack the smug look off his face, she'd struggled to keep her voice
even. "Taylor, I could call the police and tell them you're here. I'd bet cash money
that they're looking for you." That had given her the first real glimpse of the boy
inside the attitude, that she'd seen all night.
His eyes had gone far away for a moment, and then he'd looked into her eyes, with
an expression so lost, and so hurt that it was all she could do, at that point, not to hug
him.
He'd smiled a little, and told her softly, "Amanda, I really wish you
wouldn't. I honestly don't want to know that they never even called. I don't think I could
take that. Amanda, they don't want me. My mother told me. She TOLD me."
She'd had no words for him then, but had put the phone down, and led him back into
the living room. He'd fallen asleep a short while later. She wished it was as easy for
her.
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