Twenty Two: Nagging
The week of Taylor’s birthday flew by. I think I had a test in every class that week. In addition, Diana came down with a cough and a cold. She still was able to help around the house, but she was more tired than usual and I was overwhelmed by the increased responsibility put on my shoulders. Suddenly I was making dinners and she was helping. I was sitting the kids down to work on homework and she was overseeing. She tried to insist that I have evenings to myself, but as she walked around the house hacking I couldn’t justify letting her put the kids to bed on her own. I naturally took the responsibility of putting the kids to bed that week every night. By Thursday, Diana’s cold had gotten so bad she couldn’t breathe without falling into a fit of coughing.
Taylor was irritable for the rest of the week. In fact, he seemed annoyed because of how busy I’d been. I still spent time with him every night after I finished homework, helping with dinner, and getting his siblings to bed. I laid with him on his bed every night for over an hour, exchanged stories from our days, fell into kisses, and then hugged him goodnight before I got ready for bed. It was incredible how close we were getting in such a short amount of time. There’s something about living with someone that forces you to get to know them better. We didn’t mind one bit, of course.
Even though I was trying to give him as much attention as I could, it didn’t seem to be enough. Thursday afternoon was his melt down.
I was standing in the kitchen after school helping Diana make dinner. She was just standing there making sure Avery and Mackenzie were working on work they hadn’t finished during the school day, trying not to get too close to the food to spread her cold. Unfortunately, despite her attempts, Taylor, Zoe, and Walker all seemed to be coming down with similar sicknesses. I attribute that to part of why Taylor was in a bad mood.
“How much longer are you going to be cooking?” Taylor complained, wandering in the kitchen and looking over my shoulder.
“I’ll be done sooner if you help me,” I smirked at him. “Want to peel potatoes?”
“Nope,” he grinned, sauntering over to the fridge and pulling out a water bottle. He came back over to me and put his arms on either side of me, standing behind me and watching me cut the chicken and put it into a baking dish. In one week I’d learned to cook. I wasn’t a good cook by any means, but with Diana standing right there guiding me, I could do almost anything she asked and it was usually edible.
“I’m so sick of chicken,” he groaned. “We had chicken like two nights ago… and on my birthday.”
“I thought you wanted chicken for your birthday.”
“I did. But I didn’t want it two more times in the same week.”
“It’s a different kind of chicken,” I explained.
“It’s still chicken. Is that all you can cook, anyway?” he smirked. “Can I have like… macaroni and cheese or something instead?”
I watched him open the pantry out of the corner of my eye and look through it. I could tell he was in one of those moods where he is just irritating everyone around him. He was complaining, whining, and refusing to be at all helpful. He was actually starting to get under my skin too.
“Taylor,” his Mom spat from across the room, looking over at him.
I think he jumped- surprised to hear his mother talking to him and a little taken back by the sternness in his voice. He closed the pantry quickly.
“I think you could show a little respect for Gabrielle and quit being so rude,” she reprimanded. Something I’d noticed about Diana was she very into teaching her children manners and morals. She turned anything into a lesson about proper morals, and always seemed to correct her kids when they were displaying poor manners. I always tried to be as polite as possible at the dinner table- afraid she’d call me out too for reaching over someone to get food or talking with food in my mouth.
Usually Taylor would have probably just shrugged his Mom off, but his mood was not going to let it be that easy.
“I’m not being rude,” he replied, opening his water bottle and taking a long sip. “And besides, that’s between Gabrielle and me. It’s not really your business.”
Her expression could best be described as stunned. It was very obvious by her shocked look that he didn’t usually talk to her like that. I figured it was my presence and his bad mood that caused him to be so fresh to his mother. He was 19 years old, but he was still a child in her eyes- a child still living at home.
“Why don’t you leave the kitchen?” Diana asked him, placing her hands on her hips and tensing up. “I’m not really enjoying your company right now, and I can’t imagine Gabrielle is ether, so why don’t you go somewhere else until you’re ready to be civil.”
“What… just because I said I don’t like chicken I’m not being civil?” he rolled his eyes. He turned to me and gave a very fake smile. “I love chicken, Gabrielle. Thanks so much for cooking it for the third time this week.”
Diana pointed a finger in the direction of the living room, “I said you can leave the kitchen! And if you don’t return with a better attitude, then you’re not welcome back for dinner!”
He glanced at me, glanced back his mom, and then back at me. I could tell he was weighing his options. To be honest, I agreed with Diana. He was getting on my nerves, and I didn’t especially want him around either.
“Thank god. I don’t want chicken anyway,” he grumbled and slammed the pantry closed like Mackenzie might during a temper tantrum. Diana and I both watched him storm out of the kitchen. Living with Taylor definitely showed me another dimension to him I might have preferred to never see. As he walked out of the room, Diana shook her head angrily in my direction, only I knew the anger was directed at Taylor. I shrugged as if to say I had no clue what had gotten into him. She was hot on heels as he walked out, walking quickly to keep up at him. I could hear them fighting at the bottom of the stairs as I continued cutting the fat off the chicken and placing it evenly into the dish.
That night at 5:30 I started walking around and telling everyone dinner was ready like I usually did. Diana finished setting the food on the table and making sure everything was finished, and I went upstairs to let Zac and Taylor know dinner was ready. The house rumor was that Isaac was out on a date, although he wouldn’t tell who with.
After I told Zac to go downstairs, I pushed open Taylor’s door slowly and looked in at him. He was laying on his bed with headphones on. His eyes were closed. I almost assumed he was sleeping until I saw him tapping his foot to the music.
I walked over to him, sat on the edge of his bed, and nudged him. His eyes popped open and he took one of his earpieces out of his ear. He didn’t say anything.
“Dinner’s ready,” I said, gently touching his side. I wasn’t angry about him from earlier. I wasn’t nearly as offended as Diana was, and I knew he was just irritated because I’d been so busy all week. He was having to share me with his family, and he wasn’t used to it.
He sighed and pressed pause on his MP3 player.
“I’m not welcome to dinner,” he finally said in a tired, quiet voice. “In fact, Mom just told me to come up here and she didn’t want to have to see me for the rest of the night. So I think that means I’m not supposed to come out.”
I have to admit the thought of 19-year-old Taylor Hanson, former pop star and celebrity, being sent to his room for the night was almost enough to make me fall into a fit of giggles. It was even more endearing that he was actually obeying. I did my best to maintain my composure for his sake.
“Well you were being a dick to her, you know.”
“I know,” he sighed. “And to you.”
I leaned down and kissed him softly. “Want to watch a movie tonight?”
I knew how bored he could get. He worked with his brothers on music for awhile during the day, and went to his classes three times a week, but other than that he didn’t really have a lot to do. It seemed like they were always waiting for news from their record company about demos. The waiting seemed to take forever, by what I’d seen. They were constantly writing, but I couldn’t help but notice a lack of motivation in Taylor. For most of the day it seemed like he just moped around the house looking for people to harass.
He smiled and nodded, “Sure. Sorry I was an ass. If I had to eat chicken almost every night a week, I’d want it to be your chicken.”
“How romantic,” I laughed at his goofy compliment and kissed him again. Each day with him doubled how close we were. It was an incredible feeling.
After I’d cleaned up dinner and helped put the kids to bed, I really wanted to go into my room and study for a sociology test I had the following day. My grades were beginning to fall just a bit since I’d met Taylor, but I figured if that was all my relationship with him cost me… well then it was worth it. Instead of opening my sociology book, I remembered my promise to him and joined him in his bedroom.
He seemed relieved when I came into the bedroom. He tossed a notebook he was writing in aside. “Thank god… thank goodness. I was working on a song and getting nowhere except more and more frustrated.”
“Thank goodness,” I smirked at him, kneeling next to his collection of DVDs under his television and beginning to look through them.
He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe it. After I was being a dick to both you and my mom earlier in the kitchen, I think the thing she yelled at me about most was saying ‘oh god’ when I walked out of the room. Using the Lord’s name in vain and what not,” he rolled his eyes and crawled to the end of the bed.
“Your Mom is a stern woman,” I smiled, beginning to sort through his drawers of unorganized DVDs. “Why do you have Dirty Dancing in here…?”
He blushed. “I don’t know.”
I let out a loud laugh and examined the DVD.
“Taylor… this is just… you are too much sometimes,” I chuckled.
“It’s my ex-girlfriend’s,” he finally muttered. I stopped laughing. He didn’t say anything either. I think we both took a silent vow to move on without talking about it.
After awhile we decided on Zoolander which I’d never seen before. Then again, I’d never seen most movies before. I crawled into his bed next to him and let him envelope me into a hug. It was a hug I’d been needing a day. I was exhausted, stressed, and worried about my test the next day. Being in his arms was the exact remedy for my stress. At some point we grew cold and crawled under the covers. And at point we stopped watching Zoolander.
Taylor slid on top of me and dropped his lips from my lips down to my neck, stopping when he reached my collarbone. His hands began to slowly work themselves along my sides and under my shirt until finally he pried himself away from me long enough to pull my shirt off.
“Mmmhow come my shirt is always the only one off…?” I mumbled as he tossed my shirt over the side of the bed and leaned back down into me, kissing my lips again and sucking on them ever-so lightly.
“Cause you never take mine off…?” he grinned as I reached down and yanked on the bottom of his shirt. He helped my take it off easily and let his body fall against mine so our upper bodies’ were just flesh on flesh. It felt so different to be intimate and bare with Taylor than it felt with Bobby. I wanted to be close with Taylor… I wanted to connect with him on a physical level. I exhaled a content sigh as he pushed the straps of my bra down my arms and moved his warm hands to my breasts and tracing a line of kisses back on my collarbone. He was aggressive like Bobby when we kissed, but aggressive in such a different way. Taylor was a born leader, and that was no exception when we made-out. But he was gentle and hesitant at the same time, where as Bobby had been brash and thoughtless. Maybe I did deserve Taylor… maybe I’d planted enough seeds somehow.
We were both startled by a impatient knock at the door.
“One second!” he yelped, jumping off of me and grabbing his shirt. I pulled my bra back on right.
“I need to speak to you,” Diana said sternly on the other side of the door. Taylor looked confused as to why his mother was so angry with him, but he just frantically pulled his shirt on and began looking for mine.
“Uhhh…” he stalled, “About what? I thought you didn’t want to see me for the rest of the night.” He got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed for the discarded shirt.
The door began to open and Taylor gasped, “Mom! I’m… getting into pajamas,” he muttered and then looked at me nervously. Getting into pajamas?! Oh it was a horrible excuse. He was a boy. I don’t even think he usually wore pajamas to bed, and he certainly wasn’t wearing them at that moment. He finally found my shirt and threw it at me.
“Taylor…” Diana said angrily as I pulled the shirt over my head and tried to appear normal despite the fact that I was sitting in Taylor’s bed with tousled hair and a guilty expression on my face.
“What? You can come in,” Taylor sighed, sitting back down on the bed next to me.
It was absolutely obvious what we’d been doing before Diana opened the door that there was no hiding it. As if his stalling and lying wasn’t obvious enough, we were both sitting there with the guiltiest expressions on our faces. Whether Diana cared or not, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t about to start discussing it with her to find out. The situation was more awkward than nerve-wracking.
“Nice pajamas,” she muttered. “Guess who I talked to on the phone this evening.”
Taylor frowned and leaned back against his pillows, “No clue…”
“Mary-Ellen Barker from church. She mentioned that she saw you yesterday afternoon at Starbucks at… ohhh … 11:30.”
Taylor looked confused for a second but realization suddenly hit his face. The look of realization then faded into guilt.
“How come you weren’t in class?” His mother said sternly, putting her arms on her hips like she did earlier in the kitchen.
He did the nervous twisting of his ring that he usually did and refused to look at her.
“I just didn’t go…” he sighed. “I went to psychology though!”
“Why are you skipping English, Taylor? You know what you’re doing in that class! You’re good at writing! Why would you be skipping it?”
“I used to be good at writing, but this class is hard!” he sighed. “I don’t know what they’re talking about half the time.”
“It’s hard to so you just don’t go? Doesn’t it make more sense to go to class and learn? Skipping class is only going to make it harder.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he sighed, glancing nervously at me. “Can we talk about this later?”
I could tell he didn’t like having me sit there listen to him get caught not going to class, but quite frankly I didn’t care. I was just as surprised as his Mom was. I remembered him even telling us about how his classes went on Wednesday and flat out lying to us about it. He never struck me as the type to lie, and especially to me.
“No. We can talk about it right now. I asked you how class was yesterday, and you gave me some kind of fake answer! Why would you do that?”
“Gee, maybe because I knew you’d be mad at me if you knew I didn’t go?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Yes, I’m mad! How many English classes have you skipped? I want the truth.”
Taylor sighed loudly and let his head fall back against the pillow- closing his eyes. “I don’t know. Five?”
“Five?! You’re wasting money by not going to class.”
“I don’t care!” he said, exasperated. “I really don’t. I’m a musician. I don’t need classes. I don’t know why you forced me to take two classes anyway. It’s pointless.”
“I didn’t force you. Don’t you act like I forced you. You even said it would be a good idea to get out, meet some people, learn some things.”
“Yeah, well… it’s my money I’m wasting…”
“When did you become so ungrateful?”
Taylor paused his sulking and opened his eyes. He didn’t say anything.
“You’re wasting the opportunity like college classes, complaining to the people who cook your dinner… you haven’t even called Grandma and thanked her for the gift she sent you.”
Was this how real mothers were? I liked the comforting side of the Diana and the way she was always there for her children, but I couldn’t imagine being nagged about things. I’d never been nagged in my life. I’d always just done it. If anything I’d put pressure on my Mom growing up to go out and get a job, pay the bills, and clean the house.
“I’ll call her tomorrow…”
“You’ll call her right now! And then we’re going to finish talking about this. Let’s go. Come downstairs.”
Taylor pointed to the television and yelped. “We’re in the middle of watching a movie. I’ll call tomorrow.”
Diana raised her eyes at the two of us to the point that we felt completely and totally incriminated. “Watching a movie? You’ll have to finish it later. Downstairs. Now.”
Taylor sighed, gave me a disappointed look, and slid off the bed. I watched as he trudged by his mother and began walking down the stairs.
Surprisingly, Diana didn’t follow after him right away. She stopped and turned to me. Was she angry at me? Was she angry about what we were obviously doing when she knocked but pretended not to be doing?
“How about your school work? Have you finished your homework yet?”
“Not yet…”
“Well, Taylor’s going to spend the rest of the evening trying to make up the work he was slacking on. You need to go work on your homework too. Homework comes first. Understood?”
Was I being lectured? Was someone actually telling me to do my homework? I’d never been told that before. At first I resented it. I’d always been perfectly capable of making sure my homework was completed and I’d always kept my grades at A’s! I didn’t need Diana Hanson to tell me when to do it! And then again… my grades were slacking. And for just a moment, just a brief moment, she felt like my mother. It was like I needed that… I almost needed someone to treat me like the 18-year-old that I was and not rely on me to always make the right decisions on my own. I had grown up too fast, and suddenly Diana was stunting my growth.
“Okay,” I nodded, sliding off the bed and giving her a small, nervous smile.
She patted my back as I walked by her but didn’t say anything else. As I disappeared into my bedroom, I wondered how long I’d needed someone to direct me. When did I start being self-reliant? I started making my own sandwiches for school in Kindergarten. I learned to heat up soup and cook it in the microwave when I was in first grade. By fourth grade I could walk to the grocery store and pick up groceries on my own. By sixth grade I’d learned to pay the bills with the money my mom got from welfare each mouth. How long had I been needing and craving for someone to take me under their wing and tell me to do this, do that?
Taylor didn’t understand it. He’d always had a mother to tell him what was right- what was wrong. He’d always been taught how to be polite, how to be responsible, how to be moral. All of those things I had to figure out on my own. He resented someone caring enough about him to make sure he was making the right decisions. He resented that his mother cared about his moral character and responsibilities. He took it for granted, and I didn’t blame him. Most people do. Most people recognize the hugs their parents give them- the birthday gifts and lunches they pack for their school lunches. But they never stop to acknowledge the tough part of being a parent. Most people never really realize that the nagging, the reprimanding, the punishing… that shows a parent’s love just as much as everything else. I grabbed my sociology book, sat on my bed with it, and closed my eyes for a moment just imagining, pretending, that Diana Hanson was the mother I too could take for granted.