Autumn 1982

Two years had passed since John was told that Taylor's cancer was generalised. Whereas the doctors thought she would not last more than seven months, she actually survived all this time. They were fascinated by her, as their patients never held on to life like she did. Was it thanks to the support she had from her friends? Was she fighting for her husband and her son? Was she actually getting better?

All those questions remained unanswered. She actually had no idea how she managed to stay alive all this time. Since her hallucinations due to the morphine that became more and more usual, the doctors decided they would stop giving her this amount. Instead, she had to take very strong pain killers that would only make her sleep.

John often visited Taylor, with a now three-year-old Robert. The child had just started school, and he seemed to enjoy it. John told Taylor that their son had many good friends at school, and that he always received great marks. Taylor was proud of her son, and she never missed the opportunity to tell him so.

One afternoon, the three of them were alone in the hospital room. Robert was in his mother's lap, snuggling against her, while John was sitting on the side of the bed, stroking the tiny hair that appeared on her head. Since she stopped the chemotherapy, her hair and body hair started to grow again. They were taking some long time, but at least they were growing.

John and Taylor were not speaking at all. John's eyes were focused on Taylor, and Taylor's eyes were focused on Robert, who was falling asleep. The only sound they could hear was this of the wind blowing against the window. How she wished she could go out and feel it on her skin again.

Taylor winced as holding her son was becoming painful. John kissed the side of her head and pressed his against it.

“Would you like me to put Robert on the armchair? He's asleep, perhaps he'll be better there. I'll put a blanket over him.”

“Okay” Taylor answered in her deep and hoarse voice. John gently picked up his son and kissed his brown curls, as he carefully put him down on the armchair. Since the chil was not tall, he easily could fit on it, curled up like he was. Taylor handed John an extra pillow, for she did not use them all. John took his jacket and covered his son's body.

Taylor moved clumsily in her bed, freeing some space for John to lie beside her. He did, removing his shoes first, and sneaked under the covers. She was lying on her side, one fragile arm around his graceful waist. It was a miracle that she was able to move in her bed. She had been extremely weak for the past few days, mostly because of her lungs. They stung and burnt as soon as she moved, and she did not have enough fingers to count how many sleepless nights she had.

John tenderly stroked her back, causing her to relax slowly. It felt good to have him beside her. She loved smelling his scent. Along with his voice and caresses, it had the same effect as a lullaby.

“Would you like to sleep, pretty darling?”

“No” she answered, squeezing him against her though it hurt like hell. “I want to be awake when you're there.”

“You're exhausted, love. You should rest.”

“I swear I'm fine.”

John sighed and kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on it. This time, the wind was not the only thing they heard. The rain started to pour outside, and the rain drops knocked against the windows.

While he was closing his eyes and feeling comfortable, Taylor had her eyes opened, though the only thing she could see was the purple colour of his t-shirt. She sighed and clutched the fabric of his top.

“I lost all my originality.”

“What do you mean?”

She sniffed and lightly pulled away, staring in his eyes. She was blushing, and John knew something important was weighing on her heart.

“Remember when we met? I was the kind of girl who would not do anything like the others, who would do peculiar things like walking with eyes closed to find her way, who would build an octopus, who would keep empty frames for the day she will finally do something with her life, who bought records but only imagined the songs without even knowing what they sounded like.”

“I remember.”

“Where has this girl gone?”

A tear rolled down on her nose and crashed on the pillow. She sighed, and John wiped this tear and those coming after this one. He pressed his dry lips against hers, trying to cheer her up and show her that this girl was still there, though she could not feel it.

“Now” she continued “this girl got a job, got married, she moved to a beautiful house with her husband, she's travelled quite a lot, she had a child she's not even capable of raising, and she's fucking ill.”

“What does it change?”

“What? This sucks! I lost all the things that made me... me. It's been happening since we got married.”

John stopped and frowned.

“Do you regret our wedding? And Robert?”

“No, never!” she cried. “No, sincerely, these two lovely things were the best things that happened to me! But I don't know, I became... ordinary. Perhaps I just grew up, and I forced myself to grow wiser because of all the responsabilites I had to deal with. I don't know, but I liked this side of Taylor Taylor. This was the only thing I could appreciate with her. She was unconventional. That was this girl you fell in love with, John, not this woman I am today!”

“Taylor, I love Taylor Taylor AND Taylor Deacon. You think those two Taylors are two different persons, but they're not. You're still peculiar, you're still original. You always think you're weak because you feel pain, but you're not. You would have been weak if you didn't. Of course, you often complain about this situation, that doesn't make you weak, because you dare to show your feelings. You're strong, Taylor, my love. You are! And don't say you're not capable of raising Robert, because it's not a lack of capacity, it's the fact that you're not in condition to do it. That's way different.”

“Still, where's this originality I always wanted to acquire?”

John sighed and rubbed his eye quickly, before looking back at her. He tenderly stroked her cheek and kissed it.

“You survived two years, whereas all the doctors thought you would not even last seven months.”

“Oh, how nice” she replied sarcastically.

“That means way more than you think, sweetheart. You're the first woman who managed to live this long with all the things you have. You're still peculiar.”

“But I'm not the lively person you used to love!”

“And it's not your fault! Don't say I used to love, because I'm still in love with the same person. Taylor Taylor and Taylor Deacon. You're still my lovely and original wife. I never lost my interest in you, quite the reverse. Even today it keeps growing.”

Taylor smiled and kissed John tenderly, running a hand through his hair that he grew longer. She loved how it was now all fuzzy; she often played with the locks of his hair, admiring the look and the texture of it. They pulled each other in a tight embrace, and Taylor did not wince at the horrible pain. She had no time to complain, she prefered loving John as long as she could do it.

“John?” she whispered.

“Yes, love?”

“I promise I'm going to get better. I'll be all lively, and I'll be able to play soccer with you and Robert in the park, we'll travel all together, we'll live comfortably in our house, and you'll tour like you used to.”

“How did I used to tour?”

“Happily.”

John chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. He wished she could get better and do all the things she had just said. However, for now, she could not get home for a while. He knew that one day she would. Oh yes, she would.