Page 3
Story: Inevitable Secrets
“Thanks, Mick,” Taylor said taking the phone and dialing in Marty’s number. It was funny how the mind worked. There were just some things that would always be clear—song lyrics, social security numbers, and phone numbers memorized long before smart phones.
“Hello?” Marty answered quietly hesitant, very un-Marty like.
“Marty?” Taylor asked, the quiver in her own voice hugely apparent.
“Taylor? Oh God, how is he?”
Taylor swallowed and felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “The doctor just came in,” Taylor said, stopping to clear her throat, “and he is out of surgery.”
“Oh, thank God,” Marty breathed.
“But she said he was still critical, and, and…” Now that Taylor was relaying the message to Marty she found the meaning of the words soaking in. “And, she said the bullet severed a major artery—”
Marty’s gasp was a reflection of how Taylor felt. “But they were able to repair it and now they are moving him to intensive care.”
“Will, I mean, do they think he will be okay?” Marty stammered out.
“She said, she said that, uh, she wasn’t sure he will survive,” and with that Marty let out a sob, and it was in that noise that Taylor found her strength. “But he is going to survive, Marty,” Taylor said firmly. “He is going to pull through this and walk out of here,” she said clearly. “Do you hear me?”
There was sniffling and some ragged breathing on the other end, and Taylor had to wait, but finally Marty said, “Yes.”
“He won’t leave us.”
“I know,” Marty said, but Taylor could tell she was having trouble believing. “I want to come, but I’m scared,” she finally said. “Rog said it was too dangerous for me to go out right now because the paparazzi is in a frenzy.”
Taylor nodded, and then realized Marty couldn’t see her. “I will go and see him and then call you again, okay?” she said softly. “Try and get some rest, and come in the morning. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Marty?”
“Hmmmm?”
“He is going to get through this,” Taylor reminded her.
The silence on the other end was pounding. “I believe this only because I know he would never, ever leave you, Taylor. He went too long without you to leave you now. Keep me posted. I love you.”
Those three words were like a knife in Taylor’s chest. “I love you, too,” she answered, having an easy time saying it to Marty, and once again having immense guilt over all the times she should have said it to Derrick. She ended the call, passing the phone back to Mick. “Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly flooded with emotion again.
The events from just hours before played in her head like a bad movie. One second she was smiling at her husband and the next, well, the next second…
A clearing of a throat pulled Taylor from her highlight reel of last seeing Derrick, wounded and bleeding on the ground before her. She looked up to find Charlie and Todd looking at her and she had the feeling it wasn’t the first time they had attempted to get her attention. “We are going to find a place for you,in caseyou need some rest,” Charlie emphasized.
“Do you want us to make a statement?” Todd asked.
Taylor shook her head. “Not until I see him,” she said, “and maybe not even then.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to share her private business with the press. It hadn’t seemed to go well the small amount she had shared before. She thought it was going to make things easier but instead it only seemed to result in more popularity and her husband shot.
Charlie looked unsure. “Maybe we—”
“No comment. Got it,” Todd spoke up as he put his hand to Charlie’s back to get him from the room. Once they were gone, Taylor was again alone in her thoughts. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to will away any doubt, to will herself to stay positive. She thought about Derrick’s father now. About how Simon had asked her to keep Derrick happy. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry Simon,” she muttered, knowing she wasn’t doing a really great job holding up her end of the bargain. She missed Simon, and she really missed Delia. Besides her mother, Delia Fletcher was the best woman she could think of, and having her here would have made things easier all around.
“Are you a princess?”
Taylor whipped her head up to find a small face peeking into the waiting room behind Mick, who looked as baffled as she felt. When the little figure moved to make her way around him, Mick went to stop her. Taylor waved her hands to let him know it was okay, allowing the tiny little girl to move towards her.
“Are you?” she asked as she approached Taylor and tilted her head.
Taylor searched the little girl's eyes, sweet little brown orbs that took in Taylor’s gown and perfect hair. Taylor also saw the IV in her arm and the thinning hair on her head. “Am I what?” Taylor asked in a fog, unclear if she was dreaming or if this was actually happening.
“Hello?” Marty answered quietly hesitant, very un-Marty like.
“Marty?” Taylor asked, the quiver in her own voice hugely apparent.
“Taylor? Oh God, how is he?”
Taylor swallowed and felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “The doctor just came in,” Taylor said, stopping to clear her throat, “and he is out of surgery.”
“Oh, thank God,” Marty breathed.
“But she said he was still critical, and, and…” Now that Taylor was relaying the message to Marty she found the meaning of the words soaking in. “And, she said the bullet severed a major artery—”
Marty’s gasp was a reflection of how Taylor felt. “But they were able to repair it and now they are moving him to intensive care.”
“Will, I mean, do they think he will be okay?” Marty stammered out.
“She said, she said that, uh, she wasn’t sure he will survive,” and with that Marty let out a sob, and it was in that noise that Taylor found her strength. “But he is going to survive, Marty,” Taylor said firmly. “He is going to pull through this and walk out of here,” she said clearly. “Do you hear me?”
There was sniffling and some ragged breathing on the other end, and Taylor had to wait, but finally Marty said, “Yes.”
“He won’t leave us.”
“I know,” Marty said, but Taylor could tell she was having trouble believing. “I want to come, but I’m scared,” she finally said. “Rog said it was too dangerous for me to go out right now because the paparazzi is in a frenzy.”
Taylor nodded, and then realized Marty couldn’t see her. “I will go and see him and then call you again, okay?” she said softly. “Try and get some rest, and come in the morning. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Marty?”
“Hmmmm?”
“He is going to get through this,” Taylor reminded her.
The silence on the other end was pounding. “I believe this only because I know he would never, ever leave you, Taylor. He went too long without you to leave you now. Keep me posted. I love you.”
Those three words were like a knife in Taylor’s chest. “I love you, too,” she answered, having an easy time saying it to Marty, and once again having immense guilt over all the times she should have said it to Derrick. She ended the call, passing the phone back to Mick. “Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly flooded with emotion again.
The events from just hours before played in her head like a bad movie. One second she was smiling at her husband and the next, well, the next second…
A clearing of a throat pulled Taylor from her highlight reel of last seeing Derrick, wounded and bleeding on the ground before her. She looked up to find Charlie and Todd looking at her and she had the feeling it wasn’t the first time they had attempted to get her attention. “We are going to find a place for you,in caseyou need some rest,” Charlie emphasized.
“Do you want us to make a statement?” Todd asked.
Taylor shook her head. “Not until I see him,” she said, “and maybe not even then.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to share her private business with the press. It hadn’t seemed to go well the small amount she had shared before. She thought it was going to make things easier but instead it only seemed to result in more popularity and her husband shot.
Charlie looked unsure. “Maybe we—”
“No comment. Got it,” Todd spoke up as he put his hand to Charlie’s back to get him from the room. Once they were gone, Taylor was again alone in her thoughts. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to will away any doubt, to will herself to stay positive. She thought about Derrick’s father now. About how Simon had asked her to keep Derrick happy. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry Simon,” she muttered, knowing she wasn’t doing a really great job holding up her end of the bargain. She missed Simon, and she really missed Delia. Besides her mother, Delia Fletcher was the best woman she could think of, and having her here would have made things easier all around.
“Are you a princess?”
Taylor whipped her head up to find a small face peeking into the waiting room behind Mick, who looked as baffled as she felt. When the little figure moved to make her way around him, Mick went to stop her. Taylor waved her hands to let him know it was okay, allowing the tiny little girl to move towards her.
“Are you?” she asked as she approached Taylor and tilted her head.
Taylor searched the little girl's eyes, sweet little brown orbs that took in Taylor’s gown and perfect hair. Taylor also saw the IV in her arm and the thinning hair on her head. “Am I what?” Taylor asked in a fog, unclear if she was dreaming or if this was actually happening.
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