Magic in Our Hearts Page 6

  “It’s about time,” Fran responded, as they both steeled themselves for Brett’s tantrum.

  Taylor entered the dim room and hesitated in order to get her bearings. It was obviously a room that functioned as a bedroom, entertainment, and workout room. It was also obvious that the fully functional gym was not being used. Dirty clothes hung off the weights, and there was a layer of dust covering everything.

  The draperies were pulled shut, even though it was early afternoon, the beautiful view totally blocked. She saw the bottle of Scotch next to Brett’s hand, as she lay slumped in a chair, her head on a filthy table. Taylor approached her quietly and realized that Brett was sleeping or passed out, evidence of tears on her face.

  “Oh, honey what’s happened to you?” Taylor whispered as she moved closer to the unconscious woman. “Brett, honey, wake up.”

  “What … what,” Brett mumbled as Taylor gently shook her, the smell of alcohol and unwashed body almost overwhelming her.

  “Get up, honey. You’re going to take a shower and get cleaned up, and then you’re going to eat a decent meal.”

  The alcohol had taken its toll, along with the medications Brett took to manage her pain. Her words were slurred, and she was almost incoherent. “Why, Taylor, why?”

  “Why what?” Taylor helped Brett to her feet and wrapped her arm tightly around her waist. She was shocked at how bony Brett felt.

  “Why are you here? Why you?”

  “Because I want to help you.” Brett’s eyes were barely open, and she leaned heavily against Taylor as they moved slowly to the bathroom.

  “Why you?”

  “Because I care about you.”

  “I love you, you know.” The words were so soft Taylor barely heard them as she moved Brett into the shower. But Taylor’s heart leaped at the quietly uttered pledge. There was a shower chair in the large open shower and she gently sat Brett down in it.

  Taylor wanted to wrap her arms around the inebriated woman and just hold her, but she didn’t. Her heart was too raw with emotion and she needed to get Brett cleaned up. “Stay here, honey, I’ll be right back.” Taylor flew out of the bathroom and ran for the kitchen, startling Fran and Helen when she burst through the door. “I need both of you to help me. Fran, can you change the bed in Brett’s room and clear out some of the dust? Helen, I need you to make some hot soup and toast. I’m going to get her cleaned up and get some food into her.”

  “We’ll do it!” Helen responded, surprised at how quickly Taylor was taking charge.

  “Thanks. I’m going to help Brett take a shower. If you could change the bed first, it would really help. I’m going to put her in bed as soon as she’s clean.” Taylor ran back into Brett’s room, fearful of leaving her unattended in her current drunken state for long, but Brett was still slumped in the chair, her chin resting on her chest as she slept.

  “Okay, honey, let’s get these filthy clothes off.” Taylor started to remove Brett’s tee shirt.

  “Hey, leave my shirt alone!” Brett snarled, as she began to fight with Taylor.

  “You can’t take a shower in your clothes.”

  “Leave me alone! I just want to sleep.”

  Taylor put her hands on her hips and glared at the very intoxicated woman.

  “You’re taking a shower! You stink! Now, you can keep the clothes on if you want, but you are showering!” Taylor’s voice bounced off the marble walls.

  “Shit, quit screaming.” Brett put her hands over her ears.

  Taylor glared at Brett and then reached out and turned the shower on spray-ing Brett’s face and chest with water. Her clothes were soaked as she shivered under the icy spray.

  “Jesus! God damn it! What are you trying to do, drown me?” Brett sputtered, as Taylor calmly turned the shower up to full power.

  “Remove those filthy clothes.”

  Brett looked up through her bloodshot eyes and wet, matted hair and recognized the look on Taylor’s face. She wasn’t going away. “Okay, you get the hell out and I’ll take them off.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, God damn it!”

  “You will take everything off and scrub every inch of your body.”

  “Get the hell out!” Brett snarled as she started to stand up. “I can do this by myself.”

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Taylor smiled sweetly at the ill-tempered woman.

  Brett swore and mumbled under her breath, but she stood up and took her clothes off. She couldn’t let Taylor look at her scarred, disfigured body. That would kill her. She slowly stepped out of her things, adjusted the temperature of the water, reached for the shower soap and began to scrub her body and her hair.

  It had been a long while since she had taken a full shower.

  Taylor smiled as she stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Helen and Fran had opened the draperies and were busily cleaning the room. In the full light of day the room was even more dismal, as the sight of several empty Scotch bottles laid testimony to what Brett was doing to herself. Garbage overflowed the one wastebasket, and dirty clothes were piled up everywhere.

  “Here, let me help.” Taylor gathered up a stack of dirty clothes and followed Helen out of the room as Fran made up the double bed. “I need some clean towels for her bathroom.”

  “I’ll show you where everything is,” Helen remarked as she led Taylor to the laundry storeroom. “There are towels and sheets in this room.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We should be thanking you. Brett needs someone to penetrate her thick skull. We’ve been so worried about her.”

  “I don’t know if I can do much more than try and get her to eat and exercise.

  And she has to stop all the alcohol. She needs to get all of it out of her system and start focusing on her rehabilitation.”

  “She’s going to go through withdrawal.”

  “I know.” Taylor looked into Helen’s eyes as she responded. It was going to be an uphill battle. They were all going to have to work together as a team.

  “Here are a handful of towels.”

  Taylor hurried back through the bedroom and into the bathroom just as Brett stepped out of the shower. The sight of all the scars on the once beautiful body made Taylor cry out. Brett’s skin was pale, making the angry red scars stand out.

  Four-inch scars slashed over both kneecaps, and several long scars jaggedly crossed her chest. Her skin hung on her emaciated frame with no evidence of muscle tone in any part of her body. Her ribs were evident, and her stomach was concave. She looked half starved.

  “Oh Brett …”

  “Get the fuck out!” Brett screamed, mortified that Taylor was seeing all that she had done to herself.

  “I brought you some clean towels,” Taylor whispered, her eyes locked on Brett’s angry countenance.

  “Get out!”

  Taylor backed quickly out of the bathroom before she burst into tears. The beautiful body she remembered was literally crisscrossed with surgical scars, evidence of the extensive work done to repair her body. Taylor grieved over the amount of pain and suffering Brett had gone through.

  Brett picked up a towel and buried her face in it. Hot tears streamed from her eyes as she felt the shame and embarrassment deep in her heart. “Goddamn it, why Taylor?”

  Taylor turned and found Fran and Helen watching her closely, their faces studies in compassion. “She’s gone though so much.”

  “Yes, she has.”

  “Where are some clean clothes for her to wear?”

  “In the credenza over there are sweats and tee shirts, along with underwear.” Taylor slowly went over and rummaged through the drawers, pulling out sweats, a shirt, and clean panties. She approached the bathroom door with trepidation, knowing how angry Brett was. She knocked softly on the door.

  “What!”

  “Brett, I have some clean clothes for you.” The door was ripped open and, before Taylor could utter a word, Brett grabbed the clothes from her and slammed it in her face.
Taylor backed away and turned to the two grinning women.

  “Well, that went well,” Fran commented, as she turned back to the bed and finished making it. “I want to bring a vacuum in here tomorrow and do some more dusting in this room.”

  “That’s a good idea, Fran. As soon as I talk to Brett about our schedule, I’ll let you know what the best time would be.”

  “Good. Things are looking up around here.” Before Taylor could respond, Brett flung open the door of the bathroom and staggered out. Her gait was uneven, and she struggled to stay upright until she reached the now spotless table and leaned heavily against it. The look on her face was one of rage, shame, and frustration. Added to the alcohol she had consumed, she had a headache that would fell a tree, and she just wanted to crawl into bed.

  “Brett, sit down, and Helen will bring you some hot soup for an early dinner. Then you and I are going to discuss our schedule.”

  Brett’s eyes were at half-mast, her face pasty white, and she was ready to fall flat on her face. “I, I don’t think I can eat anything. Please could you just leave me alone today? We can discuss the schedule tomorrow.” Brett knew she would feel better tomorrow when she got some more Scotch into her system. A steady dose of alcohol made life manageable. She’d been drinking every day for almost a year.

  Taylor didn’t miss the sweat that beaded up on Brett’s face or the swaying of her body. “Honey, come on and let’s get you into bed for now. Helen, could you bring a bowl of soup in here?”

  Brett was too tired and too drunk to do anything but let Taylor lead her to the fresh bed. Clean sheets. Brett couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a shower and climbed into a clean bed. She meekly allowed Taylor to cover her up and plump up her pillow so she was sitting up. She hadn’t even noticed that Fran and Helen left the room. Taylor’s voice was the only thing that Brett was listening to. She had gone to sleep many a night with the memories of Taylor’s sexy voice in her head.

  “Taylor, here you go. Its chicken noodle with vegetables, Brett’s favorite.” Helen placed a tray on top of the table next to Brett’s bed. Taylor pulled a chair over next to the bed and placed a towel over Brett’s lap.

  Brett turned, and her eyes were clouded with pain as she watched Taylor’s every move. She didn’t say a word, as Helen left the two women alone, closing the door behind her. Taylor slowly began to feed Brett while they stared at one another but remained silent. Taylor wanted so badly to slip her arms around Brett and tell her everything would be okay, but it wouldn’t be. Brett wanted more than anything to quench the small ember of hope that was igniting in her heart. She couldn’t stop her feelings for Taylor anymore than she could stop breathing. It had always been that way with Taylor. She had loved her from the very first moment she had looked into her blue eyes. Brett had been committed to her from that first evening, but fate and her own actions had been her downfall. Lack of trust had destroyed the only relationship Brett had ever wanted.

  Now, Taylor was sitting within inches of her, and Brett felt she was no longer worth being with for so many reasons.

  Taylor tried to keep her heart from pounding as she slowly fed Brett, her hand trembling around the spoon. She had never stopped loving the woman who looked up at her with such vulnerable eyes. It would take all of her skills as a therapist to help Brett regain her physical strength, but it would take a miracle to heal her badly wounded heart.

  It took Brett almost thirty minutes to finish her soup and by that time Brett’s eyes were again at half-mast, as she struggled to stay awake.

  “Honey, I want you to close your eyes and get some sleep. You look exhausted. We’ll talk tomorrow after you get up.”

  “You’re going to stay?”

  “Yes, and I’m going to stay for as long as it takes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need me, and I need to be here.” Brett didn’t say another word as she slid into sleep. Her last view was of Taylor sitting next to her bed. Taylor stayed until she knew Brett was out and then bent over and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  “You’re going to be okay, honey. I’m not going to let you be anything but okay.” Taylor picked up the tray of empty dishes, turned out the light and quietly left Brett’s room.

  “Is she asleep?” Helen inquired as Taylor placed the tray on the kitchen counter.

  “Yes, she’s exhausted and has a lot of alcohol in her system. She needs to sleep it off.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here for Brett.”

  “So am I Helen. She needs us to help her heal.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  “I’ll keep you advised every step of the way. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to call it an early night.”

  “You go right ahead. I’ll take care of this. Do you want a cup of tea to take with you?”

  “No thanks. Goodnight Helen.”

  “Goodnight Taylor.” Helen watched as Taylor wearily climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Then she turned and quickly washed the dishes and put them away. Finally, she gratefully headed for her own rooms and a good night’s sleep.

  She was certainly glad that Taylor had arrived. No one had to tell Helen that Taylor loved Brett. Seeing Taylor gently feed Brett was all that Helen needed to see.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I’m going to kill her!” Taylor fumed, as she flew down the stairs heading towards Brett’s room. She didn’t announce herself but simply ripped the door open and strode into the room. Brett was sitting in a recliner, and a young woman was hanging over her, glasses in both their hands.

  The young woman was a playmate of Brett’s who had showed up with two bottles of Scotch. Helen had tattled to Taylor who was livid. It was only nine o’clock in the morning!

  “Brett, tell your friend to leave,” Taylor demanded, her voice strident.

  Brett looked up at Taylor with a lazy smile while her visitor snuggled up to her. Brett wouldn’t let Taylor know that she had never done anything more than drink with this woman. “She just arrived,” responded Brett, a petulant whine in her voice.

  “She’s also just leaving and taking the alcohol with her.” Taylor was furious as she grabbed the woman’s arm with one hand and the two bottles of Scotch with the other. In one continuous motion, she moved with her out of the room.

  “Hey, let me go!”

  “Shut up! Shame on you! If you cared about Brett you wouldn’t be bringing her alcohol and drinking with her at nine in the morning or any other hour, for that matter!” Taylor was relieved to see Fran holding the front door open. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see your face again as long as I’m here!” Fran and Helen chortled with laughter as Taylor shoved the startled young woman toward her car. Taylor was a good two sizes smaller than the unwelcome guest, but at that moment she was a giant. Taylor tossed the Scotch bottles onto the passenger’s seat and, as the woman’s car shot down the driveway, Taylor whirled back toward the front door. She wasn’t quite finished cleaning house.

  She flew by Fran and Helen and startled Brett, who was sitting quietly in her chair looking out of the window. She had awakened with the draperies open for the first time in a couple of years. She hadn’t yet touched the glass of Scotch that sat next to her hand. She was just sitting and enjoying the fact that she was clean and almost sober for the first time in many months.

  “As long as I’m here you will not destroy yourself with alcohol or drugs! I’m not going to watch you waste away to nothing. If you don’t care about yourself, think of your mother. She wants to spend her remaining time with a daughter who’s sober!” Taylor hissed, snatching the full glass off the table.

  This was the second time Brett had witnessed Taylor’s temper, and she found it fascinating. Her blue eyes were snapping and her face was flushed. She was so beautiful. “I haven’t had anything to drink this morning.”

  “I, I, okay, um, that’s good.” Taylor couldn’t help but notice the glass was still full.

  Brett smiled up at Taylor
, surprised that Taylor would believe her. “So I think I remember you saying you wanted to work on a schedule?”

  “Yes, is now a good time?”

  “Sure, I have a heavy schedule, so now would be good.” Brett’s teasing caught Taylor off guard.

  Taylor sat down on a chair next to Brett. “I thought this week that I could assess where you are with your therapy, what you can and can’t do, and then we can make a plan. I’ll need your permission to talk to all of your doctors in order to find out what restrictions you might have.” Brett remained silent as Taylor spoke. She could have sat there for hours, just watching Taylor talk. She was flooded with memories of the time they had been together. Every moment was etched vividly in Brett’s mind. Even though her body craved the alcohol that kept her sane, she still felt the pull of Taylor deep in her heart. Anyway, now that she was unworthy of anyone’s love, she could only dream.

  “Brett, Brett, are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, you want my permission to speak with my doctors,” Brett responded, turning away from Taylor so she wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  Taylor looked at Brett carefully. “Brett, I need you to be an active participant in your therapy. It’s important that you believe in me and my abilities.”

  “I do believe in you.” And Brett did. She had always had complete faith in Taylor. She didn’t blame Taylor for refusing to believe she hadn’t slept with other women. Brett had created her own reputation with just that type of behavior, but she had prayed that Taylor could see through all of the superficial layers to the real Brett. It made Brett angry to realize that it was too late for anyone, especially Taylor, to help her.

  “Brett, I need to know what you’re taking for medication and how much alcohol you’ve been drinking.”

  “I take Percocet for pain when I need it and a muscle relaxer when I start getting muscle cramps, and I drink about a half a bottle of Scotch a day just for fun,” Brett responded, already thinking about the bottle she had stashed in her armoire. At first she had been careful to hide her alcohol from her mother. Now, she really didn’t hide it from anyone. What would it matter that she was drinking herself to death? What did she have to live for? Her mother was being consumed by cancer and she had destroyed her body. She really had nothing at all to make her want to go on.