A Whisper In Your Ear
“In secret we met –
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? –
With silence and tears”
― George Gordon Byron
Still trucking
Posted by: TaylorHanson
I think that’s the motto for my entire life right now. I wish I had more actual news to report to you guys, but I really don’t have anything you haven’t heard before. Ike already explained a lot of the music stuff on the Hotline a few days ago and gave you guys some insight into the technical side of things, so I won’t repeat any of that. There’s just so much that goes into making an album besides recording the songs. We’re still hoping to release the documentary we’ve been filming of this album process when the album itself comes out, and it’ll help you guys see what we’re talking about, all this behind the scenes stuff.
Then there’s my health. I’m nearing the end of my adventure with chemo, but it’s a one week at a time sort of thing. At this point, it feels like my side effects have side effects, and I never know from one week to the next how I’m going to feel. It’s an uphill battle, for sure, but I know I’m nearing the top of the peak. What’s on the other side is yet to be seen, but I’ve got high hopes.
I devoured books that summer. It was pure distraction, something to get my mind off the divorce and college and all these things that seemed to be out of my control. I worked my way through the giant library of books I’d accumulated, then started on my dad’s. I would have read mom’s as well, but she was quickly moving her things out of the house and into storage at Aunt Joan’s while she looked for her own place.
Mom only visited me a few times during the summer, and those visits were cleverly disguised as trips to get more of her stuff out of the house. Week after week, the house I’d grown up in became more and more empty and unfamiliar. When she’d finally removed everything she wanted, Mom handed over the keys to her car and explained that she had already had the title and insurance switched over to my name. I just stared blankly at her as she waved from the passenger seat of my uncle’s truck, its bed loaded down with bits and pieces of my childhood.
My sleeping habits didn’t improve much over the summer, and my eating habits only worsened. There were a few awkward trips to the grocery store with Dad, but mostly I just slipped out when I could steal his Jeep and bought whatever junk food caught my eyes. If I only ate a giant bag of potato chips all day, so what? It wasn’t a balanced meal, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I ate and read late into the night until I finally gave in to exhaustion and slept until the afternoon.
One day, though, the phone woke me up in the morning. I vaguely recalled that Dad hadn’t left as early as he usually did for work; his alarm clock usually went off before I’d even passed out. That was the main reason that the phone call struck me as odd. That, and the fact that no one called us. I pulled myself from my bed and shuffled to the desk where my phone rested. My phone didn’t have a caller id, so I had no choice but to take the gamble and answer it.
“Hello?”
“This is a collect call from an inmate at Tulsa County Jail,” a mechanical voice said, and I nearly hung up the phone. Who on earth would be calling me from the county jail? I got my answer seconds later when my dad’s own voice answered me, mumbling his name softly and sounding a million miles away. The recording clicked back on soon after. “Press ‘one’ to accept the charges.”
I pressed one.
There was a click, and then a long, static filled silence before I heard Dad’s voice again. “Adelaide? Are you there?”
“Yeah…”
“I need you to go into my bedroom and get a hundred bucks out of the box in the dresser. I’m sure there’s enough in there. Then come here and tell them you need to pay the rest of my bail.”
It was all so matter of fact, and it made my head spin. “What… what happened?”
“Apparently my lawyer no longer practices law, and no one at all felt the need to inform me of that, or that there was a bench warrant out because I missed my last court date for that DUI. So I showed up today expecting to get it all cleared up, and they handcuffed me as soon as I set foot in the courtroom. So can you just find the money and get down here?”
“Yeah,” I choked out. “I’m just going to take a quick shower and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A little less than an hour later, I’d showered and found Dad’s secret stash of money, and I was on my way across town to the courthouse. The jail was attached to the back of it, so I was sure that somewhere inside, I could find someone who could help me get my dad out.
It took several trips up and down the elevator, but finally, I was standing in front of a woman behind bulletproof glass, sliding a crisp hundred dollar bill into a little slot. Once she had my money, she pressed a button that made the door behind me unlock, and she told me to go inside and wait. The room was dark and bare except for one bench in the center of the room. On the far end was a door and a big glass window that showed a small lobby sort of room. I assumed that room was the only thing between me and the jail itself.
A few minutes later, a police officer lead my dad into that room and I watched as he put his belt back on and slipped his wallet and cigarettes back into his pocket. I wondered if Dad was as humiliated as I was just watching him being treated like some criminal. Then again, I supposed he was, even if he didn’t look like one in his silk dress shirt and khakis. I had the strangely amusing thought that he was probably the best dressed guy in the jail.
The officer escorted him out into the waiting room and I stood up quickly. For a moment, Dad and I just stared at each other.
“So, I guess you found the money?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s a good thing Mom gave me the CR-V last week…”
Dad only nodded, making quick strides toward the courthouse doors. “Well, I’ve got to get to work, since I’ve already missed the half day I put in to miss.”
We went our separate ways then, driving out of the parking lot in opposite directions. I took the long way home, just because I could. I had nothing else to do. As I drove, I could only wonder when and how this had become my life.
To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
Subject: lady
I hear you’re going back to college soon. Had my summer not been spent entirely in hospitals, perhaps I could have seen you. Now you’re leaving again, while I’m out and about. Not only that, but actually leaving Tulsa again. Imagine that.
Isn’t it funny how those things work out?
To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu
Subject: Re: lady
I do believe it’s the sort of scenario Alanis would have called ironic. Whether or not that’s a proper use of the term irony, I’m not so sure.
When will you be back in Tulsa? Although, I have no clue when I will. My summer has been… blah. My parents officially split up in June, and I’ve been back and forth between the two of them (in Tulsa and fucking KANSAS) the whole time. The upside of it all, I suppose, is that I now have a car. Mom spent a chunk of the divorce settlement on a new one for herself and left me her little CR-V. It’s kind of shitty, but hey, it’s a car.
So, out of the hospital? This is good news, right?
To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
Subject: Re: Re: lady
I’m sorry to hear about your parents. That’s… tough. All of this has been tough on mine, though I’m sure I can’t relate to going through an actual divorce.
Being out of the hospital is good, yes. I’m hesitant to say more than that right now. There are all sorts of tests and things still to be done, and I certainly don’t feel like myself yet. But I’m getting there.
We’ve been working in New York for a while, and talking about getting an apartment there if and when my health permits. That seems to be where we’re going to find the most help getting this album out finally. Even when I’m back in Tulsa, it might not be for long. Will keep you posted.
To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: lady
I’m hesitantly glad to hear the news about your health, then, I guess.
As far you when you’re in T-Town… well, I may need plenty of advance warning. Things in my love life are strange and complicated right now. That’s all I can really say about that. I don’t know where I’ll stand with some people when I get back to college.
To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: lady
No worries. I’m not entirely single myself 😉
I considered myself lucky to only be on academic probation for my sophomore year. I’d spent the whole summer in fear that the college would decide I was such a horrible student that they didn’t want me back at all. That was overdramatic, I knew, but I still cried myself to sleep nearly every night in fear of the next morning. When I got the letters telling me about the academic probation and my housing assignment I let out a huge sigh of relief.
The Village was an on campus apartment complex, which gave me my own private bedroom yet again. I still had to share the living room, bathroom and laundry room, but that was alright. Melanie was supposed to be one of the girls sharing with me, but she had randomly decided to transfer and Sarah was an RA that semester. It all amounted to me rooming with a bunch of girls I didn’t know and felt awkward around, but I tried to be social. That usually meant drinking. When I was drunk, I didn’t feel so awkward. It wasn’t long before our apartment got the reputation of being the place to come to party, and we had more than a few close calls with campus security.
One of the fixtures at the parties was a guy named Marcus. He was a freshman, and he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite figure out who. He played drums in the college band and you only needed to take one look at him to know he smoked a lot of pot. I’ll admit, that was a big part of the attraction.
There was a really nice secluded spot in a strange corner of the apartments where someone would have to be looking really closely to even notice us. Marcus had found the spot, and while it still made me a little nervous to be so out in the open, I didn’t know where else to go to smoke. My mom was speaking to me again, but usually only to pass along gossip about the sleazy women she’d heard Dad was dating. Between that and trying to drag myself to class every day, I figured I’d earned the right to smoke up every now and then.
A strange thing happened when I got fucked up. Pivotal transitional moments seemed to vanish from my memory. The moment I moved from the couch to the floor, for example. Or the events leading me to bed with Marcus. It seemed like a natural enough progression after smoking a bowl together, but I can’t really remember. One moment we were just friends, and the next, his hand was under my shirt.
The next day, I applied my makeup extra heavy to cover the bite marks on my neck and tried not to blush when I stared at him across the cafeteria table. I was certain everyone around us already knew, though.
To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu, aleksu@yahoo.com, alex_ander@hotmail.com, ashleygrayson@hanson.net, brokenbracelet@hotmail.com, clickhereforangie@hotmail.com, churchyarddog@hotmail.com, csabec@hotmail.com, dgarza@hotmail.com, elvishasleft@yahoo.com, greg@gregwells.net, jarrod@admiraltwin.com, johnnywas@hotmail.com, matt@matthewsweet.com, mh@markhudsonmusic.com, sam@phantomplanet.com, wadeh1999@hotmail.com
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net
Subject: Health news
Mass email time!
I want to give this news to everyone I’m close to first. I’m sure I’ve left several off this email, so I’ll probably be sending it out again to others. When you get the chance, please give me a call so you can hear the words actually leave my mouth. If you don’t get through to me, leave a voicemail and I’ll call you back later, I promise. My number is the same as always, but in case you’ve lost it, it’s 918-425-6745.
Thanks, everyone.
I got Taylor’s email in the morning before class and had to wait until the afternoon to call him. I didn’t have any time in between my morning classes, and I felt strange about calling him when Marcus was around. That was silly, I knew, but I hadn’t explained him to Marcus yet. We were officially dating, but there was so much about my life that he didn’t know or understand. It was just easier to call Taylor when I was alone, so I waited until Marcus was in band practice.
The phone rang and rang, and finally I had to accept that Taylor wasn’t going to answer. I left him a voicemail anyway. He was probably taking dozens and dozens of calls, and I couldn’t remember if I’d ever actually given him my cell phone number. Chances were, he didn’t even know it was me.
I didn’t hold my breath for a return call, but after almost an hour, my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Adelaide, right? I didn’t have your number in my phone. It’s Taylor.”
“Yeah,” I replied, suddenly feeling breathless. “Umm… you had some news?”
“I did,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s gone. The cancer, I mean. The doctors say I’m completely cancer free, and they don’t think it will ever come back. That’s how it usually goes with this cancer—either the first time kills you, or it never comes back again. So I’m… I’m okay, I guess.”
“I guess you are,” I replied, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s… really great, Tay.”
“Yeah, it really is. Well, I’ve got like a dozen more phone calls to make, so I’ve got to cut this short.”
“Alright. Bye.”
“Bye, Lady.”
If he hadn’t used my nickname at the end, I would have felt like we were practically strangers. I was certain he’d rehearsed what he was going to say, and everyone got the same message. Why should that bother me? He had probably been on his phone the entire day. There was nothing special about him calling me.
I wanted to feel special, though.
Good news
Posted by TaylorHanson
I would actually call this great news, in fact. I hesitated to post about either of these things publicly, but I think it’s time.
First, I am absolutely, 100% cancer free. Of course, anything can happen, but the doctors tell me that there’s very little chance of it ever returning. I’ve been out of chemo for quite a while now, and slowly telling everyone the good news while I regained my strength.
Now that my strength is back, it’s time for us to really dive back into the recording. We’ve been traveling around in the past few weeks, mixing and mastering the album in Boston and New York. For the foreseeable future, we’re going to be in New York, pushing and pushing to get this album out to you guys. I know I promised you guys would have it in your hands this fall, and that would have been an amazing way to celebrate my other news, but sometimes these things take longer than you planned.
As always, we will keep you guys updated. Hope you’ve all got some great plans in the making for Thanksgiving. I know all of us certainly have a lot to be thankful for this year.
My roommates were determined that eventually, the four of us would be friends. They didn’t seem to notice that I spent most nights in Marcus’ room. He had a single room, and even though it was in a regular dorm, I still found more peace and quiet there than in my apartment. It didn’t hurt that his smoke detector didn’t work, so we could smoke out his second floor window with little fear of being caught.
Spending the weekend holed up in his room with the dime bag we just bought sounded like a perfect plan to me, but once again, my roommates had a different idea.
Since it was getting close to Christmas and we had an actual living room, they decided that we needed decorations. I let them go out shopping on their own to pick them out, handing Geri a twenty before she rounded everyone up and left. I didn’t really have the money to throw around, but since I hadn’t chipped in at all for our last “apartment dinner” it seemed like the least I could do.
A few hours later, I was lured out of my room by the scent of espresso in Jen’s fancy new machine and apple cider. I took the cup that she offered me and savored the way it warmed my hands before taking a sip of the warm, tart drink. As I sipped it, I glanced at the mess they’d made of our living room. It wasn’t a big room, and now it was covered in blue and green ornaments and peacock feathers.
“Peacock feathers?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Geri nodded. “Mhm, that was the theme we decided on.”
“Theme?” I echoed.
“Yeah,” Nicole piped up, barely glancing my way as she strung plain white lights around the tree they’d already assembled without me. “My family always does a theme. It just looks so tacky when people just put whatever mismatched ornaments on the tree, don’t you think?”
“Ugh, and colored lights,” Jen added. “Especially the flashing ones.”
“And those tinsel icicles!” Geri added, giggling.
I kept my mouth shut. They had just described every Christmas tree my family had ever had. I always loved our trees. The twinkling lights dazzled me when I was little, and I loved the stories that went along with all our ornaments that we’d collected over the years. My grandmother had bought me a new little angel each year, and my mom showed off her artistic abilities with various craft projects that adorned the tree. I thought our Christmas tree was beautiful.
As I stared up at the ridiculous peacock feather monstrosity my roommates were constructing, I realized that I would never see my Christmas tree again. Left to his own devices, I was sure my dad wouldn’t even bother with one. Would mom? I didn’t know. She had only just found a house to move into, and even though I’d promised to visit for Christmas, I couldn’t imagine it would feel much like a holiday surrounded by unpacked boxes.
Christmas, for me, was over.
I slipped back into my room while my roommates were debating where to hang the largest balls, and they didn’t even notice. I was glad. A few tears had already fallen into my cider, and I really didn’t want to explain to them why I was having a complete breakdown over Christmas decorations.
“This is Kurt Loder with an MTV News special report. Just months after announcing that his cancer is in remission, Taylor Hanson of the band Hanson has landed himself in the hospital for a different reason. Sources tell us that the middle Hanson brother was admitted to a Hamptons, New York hospital in the early hours of January 1st following a car wreck on his way home from a New Years Eve party. No other vehicles were involved and alcohol is said not to have been a factor. No other details about his condition have been released at this time. A representative for the band has assured us this will not delay the band’s plan to release new music later this year.”
A fair amount of disbelief, these walls are killing me
I don’t want to be here, anymore
Speak your mind, or speak your peace, I swear we’re sinking deep
Well I don’t want to wind up on the floor
I don’t want to be here anymoreThe sky is falling all over again, just another day’s conclusion, another disillusional night
The sky is falling all over again, am I losing my composure, or way too much exposure to compromise?
Well I can’t take all these walls