Page 56 of As a Last Resort
“This little blond thing you?”I asked.
“I had blond hair up until fifth grade, then it turned dark overnight, to my mother’s dismay.”
I walked down the row of pictures.They were all of Sam at various stages of life—baby pictures, Halloween costumes, Christmas morning.Another frame held a young teenage Sam posed next to some boy band icon, her smile so big it forced her eyes into tiny slits.
“First boyfriend?”I teased.
“Please tell me you know who that is.”She stared at me in disbelief.
“I have absolutely no idea,” I responded, trying desperately to hide a smile.Her jaw dropped.
“Taylor Hanson,” she snapped.
“Is he a cousin?”
The shock on her face was fantastic.Lexi’s room was decorated with life-sized posters of the Hanson Brothers during her high school years.And I’m pretty sure she blew out speakers from two different boom boxes I bought with my own money because she blasted “MMMBop” so loudly.So yes, I was fully aware of who Taylor Hanson was.
“I’m totally kidding.Of course I know who the Hanson Brothers are.Only the most iconic family boy band trio, like,ever.”
“Do you want to see something fantastic?It better still be hanging on the back of my door,” she asked, eyes alight with excitement.
“Wait, what’s still hanging on your door?Please tell me you’re not a weird mega fan that has a lock of his hair tacked above your doorframe in a plastic bag.”
She ignored me and took off down the hallway into what must have been her childhood room.The door squeaked open.
“Come here,” she called out.
I looked above her at the doorframe and hesitated.
“Oh stop, there are no body parts warding intruders away.In.Now.”
When I cleared the door I was greeted with Pepto Bismol–pink walls and a fluffy white duvet withlotsof stuffed animals on the bed staring at me.
“Nowthisis like something out of a horror film.”I walked slowly into the room.
“Mom refuses to change anything in hopes it’ll entice me to come back.Okay, ready… look.”Her voice came from behind me and I heard the door click.I slowly turned around and a life-sized cutout of Taylor Hanson was taped to the back of the door.
And he was winking at me.
It took me a second to find my words.“I’m not sure what to say here.”
She was looking at the door, absolutely beaming.“Isn’t it great?My dad bought it for me before my freshman year of high school and I refused to take it down.He said I had Taylor, so I didn’t need a real boyfriend.It was his last ditch effort to ward me away from teenage boys.”She stood there soaking in all the cardboard glory.“It was one of the few things that survived the purge.”
“The purge?”I asked.
She paused just long enough for the room to feel heavier.“He got sick my freshman year.”
She turned away from me and began to circle her room, her gaze brushing over the dust-layered trophies, the faded place ribbons tacked to her mirror, and the team photos that were probably still sticky-tacked to the wall.Her movements were slow, deliberate, like she was measuring the distance between herself and the memories she wasn’t sure if she wanted to revisit.
“They gave him six months to live,” she continued, her voice steady.“It was a brain tumor.An inoperable one.He was gone in less than two.”
She picked up a little ceramic statue of a kitten off the shelf, revealing a perfectly clean circle of wood underneath it.It made her pause, like she wasn’t expecting anything to be protected against time.She put it back, covering the treasure she’d found, and made her way to sit on the bed.“Mom took down everything in the house that reminded her of him—knickknacks, coffee mugs, it all went.She even threw away his recliner—anything that even hinted of his existence was put in a box in the closet or in the trash.But Taylor survived.”
That’s what was missing from the mantel.
Her dad.
I hated that I hadn’t noticed right away.It felt wrong, like I failed to notice something so important.I was never in high school withLexi and Sam at the same time so I didn’t know much of the news around her class.Even though it was a small town, the age gap proved enough for me to keep a distance from most stuff that was happening in my little sister’s world.
