Page 44 of Loving Taylor
When she neared, I pushed off the car and opened the passenger side for her. She got in and I closed the door.
"I know a little place close by that makes killer burgers," I suggested when I got in the car.
"Sounds good." The fidgeting of her hands told me she was nervous.
There wasn't much talking while I drove to a nearby burger joint I had first discovered with Slater. On the outside it didn't look like much but their burgers were good. I gave Taylor a side glance to see her take it in.
"It might not look like much, but they make the best burgers," I told her after I parked the car and helped her out.
We went inside and ordered our food, and I paid the bill. I carried our drinks and straws out to any empty table outside. There was only one other couple eating on the patio.
"So why did you decide to go to college?" I asked just as we sat down. I gave her a soda before I opened mine.
"It just seemed to be the next logical step. What made you decide to go to college?"
"I wanted to prove I could do it," I answered.
College wasn't something kids in my neighborhood aspired to. We were lucky if we reached adulthood without a drug addiction or getting shot in a gang war.
"Who are you proving it to?" she asked tentatively, like she knew she was treading on a sensitive subject.
I considered her question for a few moments before I answered, "Myself."
I had wanted to prove that I was more than a guy with a bad childhood who had made some bad choices for survival.
"Why?" She frowned slightly as she asked the question.
"It's a long story." I wasn't going to divulge further into it.
It was time to steer the conversation away from me. "I want to know more about you."
"What do you want to know?" She shrugged.
I was used to feeling uncomfortable about people prying into my past but she looked a little apprehensive now that the spotlight was on her. Was she hiding something? Her slight discomfort at my question piqued my curiosity.
"Tell me about your family," I told her. It seemed to be the best starting point for the conversation.
I studied her closely, trying to read her body language, which was telling me she wasn’t comfortable with the question I had asked. Was she hiding a family secret?
Had something happened in her childhood? I was confronted with the thought that maybe she had experienced something as bad, or worse, than I had.
"My parents are dead." Her revelation blew me away.
I couldn't imagine having no parents although if I looked back I was pretty much an orphan anyway. My father hadn't wanted any part in my life and my mother had spent all her time staring at the bottom of a bottle. No one had cared. Something twisted in my chest at the thought that Taylor had experienced that.
"That sucks," I said.
"Yeah, it does. My brother Connor looked after me." At least she hadn't been alone.
"How did your parents die?" I asked, needing to know more, despite knowing she didn't really want to talk about it. Could I blame her? No. I didn't want to talk about my crappy childhood so I understood why she didn't want to either.
"They died in a car accident," she shared.
"My father died." I don't know why I told her but the words were out. Was it to ease the glimmer of pain I had seen in her eyes? Would knowing that I had also experienced pain in my childhood make her feel less alone in her grief? To most people ‘father’ meant something more, deeper, but to me it was just a word to describe a stranger.
Unable to keep her gaze, I looked down at the straw I was still fidgeting with.
"I'm sorry," she said. I don't know why people said that.
