Then



Andy dragged his luggage along behind him, finally off the plane and cruising through the airport, feeling worn out yet still energetic, happy to be on his home turf and finally away from his childhood home. Brian was right, in a way. He did need to get married and get a house, but not in order to "grow up." He had to do it so he had a reason not to haul his ass half way across the country several times a year for stupid holidays.



Thanksgiving sucked worst of all. It amounted to a lot of travel for one too long day of food and football and all out sibling and parental combat. Andy spent the time putting up with intrusions into his life by his older brother and sister and his mother and father. That delight was followed by three more long boring days with nothing to do but to fume and simmer about that first day, or to listen to Mom and Dad battle and scream. All the while he was just waiting to go home, to his own, real, current home. That then meant struggling along with all of the other sorry souls bouncing in random directions trying to get home, too, like a bunch of worms wriggling around in a can on a fishing trip.



The only good thing about going home for Thanksgiving, or again for Christmas or Mom's birthday or anything, was seeing Taylor, and this time he hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving day, even though he'd stayed for three more. He needed to talk to her badly.



Andy stopped in his tracks. It sucked. He hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving Day and he only had himself to blame for it.



A flight attendant was hustling along behind him with more of a sense of urgency and purpose. She hadn't expected him to suddenly halt to wallow in self recrimination, with the result that she almost knocked him over. She was cute, and the minor collision was just the sort of casual opening he could take advantage of to strike up a conversation her.



"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," she said.



Her voice was a breathy chirp, and very naturally sexy. Andy instinctively beamed a smile at her, watching her eyes reflexively light up when she saw it. It worked every time, so well that it was a thoughtless, habitual tactic for him now. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried.



"It's okay. It was my fault."



She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to make up her mind. Then a delicate, well manicured hand reached out in that contemporary way, half offering a hand for an almost intimate he-she handshake, but turned palm slightly downward as if she were hoping that he'd romantically kiss it instead of shake it.



He uncharacteristically stared at her hand for a long moment before taking it. Normally, that was a way forward that he smoothly and easily accepted. Before it became too awkward, he reached out to take her hand.



"I'm Allison."



"Andy."



She smiled, looking as if she were about to say something, then thought better of it. She was too cute. She was petite and strikingly thin, but in a soft, curvy way. She was very blond, with nice legs and what looked to him to be very inviting blue eyes. She looked great and was sending all of the usual signals. He could probably get her into bed by this evening with little effort.



He stared at her, saying nothing more.



"Well, I guess I'd better be going. Sorry again," she said.



With that, she was moving around him. She watched his face as she passed him, offering him one last chance.



And then she was gone, fifty feet away and receding, as Andy stood, staring and thinking.



He pulled his bag along behind him on his way to the long term parking, not at all wondering why he'd passed up such an easy opportunity and instead thinking again about Taylor.



* * *



Now



Taylor eased down the steep steps of the train, one foot at a time, leaning back to keep her center of gravity carefully over her feet. She clung to the side rail, smiling meekly at the conductor as he tried to help, to stay out of the way, to be ready to catch her, and not to cause her to fall, all at once. She kept her other hand on her round, swollen belly, a now common and almost unconscious habit, as if she were somehow shielding the baby by doing so.



She smiled weakly at the conductor for his help, then again at the gentleman who carried her heavy suitcase down behind her.



"Thank you so much."



She hated being helped. Everyone was so kind to a very pregnant woman, and it did make her feel better about the state of the human race, but at the same time she was so used to being independent. It rubbed her the wrong way to accept help from anyone, let alone to need it.



"Do you need help getting somewhere? A cab? Can I carry it further?" the other passenger asked.



"No, Thank you. You're all very kind. My brother should be here to meet me."



Except he's almost certainly late, and will leave me sitting here for at least thirty minutes, without fail. Andy could be counted on to fuck up even just meeting her at the platform.



"Taylor. Taylor."



She turned, and there he was.



She had to smile at him. His damned smile was so bright, it always made her smile back. The older he got, the better that smile got.



"You're here."



"Of course I'm here. I told you I would be. 3:32 PM, on the button."



She gave him a sly look. He probably had a bet with someone, Brian maybe, that he would be on time. He needn't have bothered. She would have lied for him and told them he was on time, even if he weren't.



Taylor looked out at the blue sky beyond the platform. It was one of those crystal clear May days, when it's not too warm and not too cool, after a long winter of freezing cold and snow followed by a series of gloomy, rainy days that weren't as cold as winter, but might as well be.



This was the weather she and Andy had always lived for as kids. This was kite flying weather, and street ball weather, and roll down a grass hillside weather.



Andy had her bag, ready to move, but hesitating.



"Do you need help? Do you need to hold my arm?"



"Andy. I'm pregnant, not paraplegic."



He smiled broadly at her again, and with that smile everything in the entire world just seemed wonderful, making her wonder how or why she'd ever felt sad for a single moment in her life. She looped her hand through his arm, momentarily leaned on his shoulder, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He obediently bent down to help her reach him without much effort at all, which was good because even standing on tip toes was a challenging feat these days.



"But I will take your arm, just because I want to."



With that they walked away down the long platform towards the exit and his car.



* * *



They hadn't gone far when Taylor's phone went off. Andy watched patiently as she hunted for it in her hand bag, pulled it out, glanced at the display, then rolled her eyes for show as her expression soured.



"It's Mom."



Andy gave her a closed-mouth smile. He also propped Taylor's luggage up to stand on it's own, since there was no way this wasn't going to take longer than it should.



"Hi, Mom."



Andy watched Taylor's expressions change in the bright sunlight as she spoke.



"No, yes, he was here. Yes, on time. Yeah, it was Andy. No, for real. Okay. Yes. Yes. Mom. Mom, please. Yes. Yes. Mom! Okay, okay, hang on."



Taylor frowned as she flipped her wrist forward dramatically, offering him the phone.



"It's for you."



She covered the mouth piece briefly before continuing.



"It seems she doesn't entirely trust her little slut of a daughter."



Andy looked at the phone as if it were coated with the plague. Overcoming his revulsion, he smiled conspiratorially at Taylor as he took it.



"Hi, Mom."



"Andy? I told her you'd be there, right on time."



"Of course, Mom."



"That was sarcasm, Dear."



"Of course, Mom."



"Do you have a room all set up for her?"



Taylor stood staring at him with smiling, laughing eyes, enjoying the fact that he had to deal instead of her.



"I told you I would."



"Yes, so you said, but did you actually do it? She can't do it herself, in her condition."



"She's not crippled, Mom, just pregnant."



Taylor rolled her eyes at that.



"You have no idea, Andy. Until you've carried four little babies around in your belly for nine months, you have no idea."



He covered the mouthpiece himself.



"She's playing the you-made-me-fat-for-nine-months routine."



"And she's going to have to eat right, Andy. You can't feed her fast food for the next three months."



"Mom, please. I'll take care of her."



"I know you will, Hun. Better than she takes care of herself."



"She's done a good job until now, Mom."



Taylor shook her head, obviously guessing at what was likely being said on the other end. Her smile drifted quickly from amusement to mild annoyance at this point. She turned to look around the station, where there was pretty much nothing to see, but it was better than watching Mom annoy him and, tangentially, her.



"Yes. Until now," their mom continued. "The father should be dong this for her. Of course, when one doesn't even know who the father is..."



"Mom, we're out on the train platform, and Taylor is getting cold in the wind."



The air was completely still. It was a perfectly comfortable 70 degrees here today. Andy grinned at Taylor at the audacity of that white lie.



"Well, what are you doing with her out in a cold wind?"



"I'll get her inside. We're almost there. We just stopped to answer the phone."



"You can't walk and talk at the same time?"



"Actually, with the luggage and the baby, it's kind of hard."



The baby. Andy looked at her extended belly and thought about what that really meant. A baby. The baby. It had shocked him, actually seeing her shape as he'd walked up. It was sort of a real, almost tangible slap. There was a living, growing baby in there.



"Well, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure she arrived okay."



"It's alright, Mom. I'll take care of her."



"You need to, Andy. She can't take care of herself."



Andy stifled his anger at that. Mom just loved crossing the line. Of all of them, Taylor had done the best with her life so far, short of this misstep that Andy himself could have made a hundred times over. Taylor was usually what Andy tried to be, even though he was four years older. He looked up to his little sister, in a strange way. He couldn't be like her, but he tried sometimes, and he admired what she was, what she had made herself into.



"Okay, Mom. We're going now. Love you."



"I love you, too, Dear. And tell Taylor I'm thinking of her."



"Okay, Mom. Bye."



"Bye."



Andy looked Taylor in the eye as he handed her the phone.



"You unconscionable Jezebel, you."



"Actually, Jezebel was never a prostitute or even particularly promiscuous. She was a princess, and a powerfully influential one, who was killed because of that power and influence."



"Always the professor, even on sabbatical. Okay, thanks for the lesson. Should we get in out of the cold?"



Taylor smiled at him. She really glowed when she smiled, even more so now than ever before. He could stare at her all day when she did. He hadn't expected it, but she'd never looked more beautiful to him than she did now.



She looked around at the clear, blue sky.



"Yes, we don't want to make a total liar out of you. Again."



She looped her arm through his and they continued on their way together with Andy pulling the heavy luggage along behind.



* * *



Way Back When



Andy's nature was already obvious when Taylor was a freshman in high school and she was finally wise enough in the ways of the world to recognize it for what it was. She worried about him then, a lot, sometimes as if she were his second mother. It probably made her love him that much more. It certainly made her want to protect him from himself. It also made her just a little jealous that he could get away with the things that she could never bring herself to try.



She didn't have to actually ask, but she played dumb anyway, because she knew she shouldn't say anything at all. He'd get pissed at her for sure.



"Andy. Is that whiskey?"



"Sh. You don't have to let the world hear you."



Taylor bit her lip. Andy was going out to meet his buddies in just fifteen minutes.



"Are you drunk?"



"Sh. Will you keep it down? No, I'm not drunk."



Yes, he was, Taylor thought. Maybe not falling down drunk, but he was more than buzzed. There was no way he should be driving now, she was pretty sure. She didn't want to take any chances.



It wasn't like she was an expert. She didn't hang out with that crowd at school, and she was pretty much excluded from even knowing about their parties until after the fact. She was too much of a goodie two shoes. They didn't trust her.



She could see that he could see what she was thinking. His expression immediately narrowed to an annoyed glare.



"I'm fine Taylor."



"No, you're not."



The bottle was almost empty. He couldn't possibly have had the whole thing, could he? Was it full when he started? Could anyone drink that much? She had no idea. She hoped not. She wondered if it was Dad's.



"How would you know? Have you ever even had a sip?"



"Andy, I can see with my own two eyes. And hear it. You're almost slurring your speech."



"I am not."



She tried being authoritative but it just didn't work, either for her or with him. Andy had never responded to authority, and she was the furthest thing from one. The baby in the family had little influence on everyone else. She tried just letting him see that she cared.



"I don't want you to drive. Just call a friend to pick you up."



As if to prove her wrong, he immediately got up, looking around for a moment before finding his keys right there in front of him on the coffee table.



"Don't go, Andy."



"You can't stop me."



"I'll tell Dad."



Andy's annoyance turned to quick anger. She bit her lip. She didn't even think before she'd said it, so now she panicked.



"Oh? Is Tattle Taylor back?"



She glared at him. She despised that nickname, and always had, and he knew it. When she was younger he had relentlessly tormented her with it. It eventually had angered her so much that she punched him hard in the stomach, right in front of his friends, and since then he'd mostly stopped using it. She hadn't heard it more than a few times a year since she'd entered high school, in fact.



She chewed her right lower lip. She absolutely hated, more than anything, having Andy angry with her. She never felt more alone in the universe than when he was angry at her. Even when she had a steady boyfriend, which wasn't very often or for very long, she felt alone unless she was with Andy. But when he was angry with her, then even when she was with him she felt alone and abandoned. It hurt.



She weighed her options. She warred with herself. She didn't want him angry. She also didn't ever want to see him get seriously hurt, or worse than just seriously hurt, knowing that she could and should have stopped him.



"Dad!"



"Fuck, Taylor, no."



She tried again, a little more loudly.



"Dad!"



"Okay, look, you win. I'll call Nick."



"What?" their father yelled down from upstairs, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Mom was out, which meant that just now was the little bit of piece and quiet he could get.



"Never mind!"



Andy hissed at her.



"Tattle Taylor."



She grimaced, taking the name in stride. It was the price she'd accepted. He was really pissed. But that would pass, and was a very small price to pay. She didn't ever want to lose Andy, ever. His anger would pass. A horrible accident might be something she had to live with forever. Taylor was way too careful to risk that sort of mistake.



* * *



Then



"Shit. What are you going to do?"



Taylor looked sidelong at Andy, then quickly back out the kitchen window. She fought back tears, as much from stress as actual sorrow. She hadn't been sure how he'd react, or even if she should have told him. It wasn't like he could help. He wasn't even likely to try. That wasn't his style in this sort of situation, or most situations. He'd turn tail and run, ducking for cover to avoid becoming collateral damage himself.



"Fuck, I don't know. What can I do? First I have to tell Mom."



Andy's head snapped around at that. She could feel his eyes boring into hers, even though she couldn't meet them head on. There was no way she could look at him now. In her shame, she felt like she could never look at him again. Instead she stared at a dead bug lying on the window sill, its legs all bent and frozen like some miniature, chitinous claw.



"Tell Mom? Tell her what exactly?"



Taylor did glare at him briefly, instantly angry, before again looking away. She started to speak but her voice faltered. She took a moment to swallow. Her throat felt constricted, as if she were being strangled. With an effort she composed herself before trying again. The words finally came out with a weak but embarrassing tremor. She hated herself for that, among other things.



"What can I tell her? I got drunk. I got stupid. I got knocked up."



She paused, giving him a chance to interject. When he didn't say a word, she continued.



"And I don't even know who the father is."



As she finished that sentence she looked sidelong at him to gauge his reaction. He stared back at her, completely impassive. She was a mess, while he showed no emotion whatsoever. None. Fucking none.



"Taylor... what about an abortion?"



"No!"



She knew he'd suggest that, and she'd imagined slapping him when he did. He had no right. She had no right. She'd certainly considered it over and over again, dismissing the idea but always going back to it. Of course he was going to suggest it. It wasn't his fault that he had.



But it still angered her, especially that he said it so easily and so soon, and without any real thought.



"Sis..."



"No! I'm not that selfish. I'd never do that. Ever."



"But in this case..."



"No! Is that what you'd do? Would you? Kill your baby? Your own baby?"



"No. I... No, I guess I wouldn't. I mean I certainly wouldn't. I didn't think about it like that. I'm sorry."



"It's okay. Look, it's not your problem."



She ached for him to disagree with her, to step in and say it was his problem. He was her big brother, and the one brother that she truly trusted. She needed him to stop being the same old Andy for a while and to be something more for her.



She felt so lonely right now. She needed help, and she didn't know where else to turn, but she couldn't come out and ask. She needed him to just sense it, and to be there for her.



She knew that was never going to happen, even if he tried to, at first. He'd fuck it all up before long and make things worse. That's what Andy did.



"How can I help?"



"You can't."



She said it, knowing it was a total lie. There were a million ways he could help, and she wanted and needed him to tell her how. Her heart cried out for her to open up and let him help, while another angry and rational part of her said no, keep him out of it. He'll only make things worse in the long run.



She kept doing that, she thought. She kept thinking three things at once, all in conflict with each other, and getting angry at the universe that they couldn't all be true. She just couldn't seem to get a handle on anything. Being home now didn't help, either. It made her feel like an outsider with this horrible, awful secret that no one could ever know, and yet she had to confess to.



That was a miserable feeling, watching everyone else be merry and happy for the holidays while her life was crumbling, and if and when they all knew the truth she'd feel like even worse shit than she did now.



"Please?"



Her heart leapt when he said that. It was what she wanted, for him to beg to help her and then when she still refused to force his way in. But her head told her to keep him completely out of it, no matter what.

