chapter 13: for the best, unfortunately

Taylor's Point of View

I had been told it would be a simple concert. A small stop on our way to Cleveland that we hadn't planned. I thought it would be easy. Play a few songs, please the audience, and leave. I hadn't bargained for this.

We had grown out of malls, yet we were forced to squeeze ourselves and our fan base into them. I'd thought maybe a hundred people would be able to watch us, but it turned out a couple hundred miraculously squished themselves together and, despite the pain that I knew they were in, got into the songs the best they could by clapping and dancing. If dancing is even possible in that position, wedged between teenyboppers with their faces all marked up. They wrote our names on their faces. Their "favorite" Hanson brother, sometimes. Usually it was my name. Did it make me feel special? Not at all. It made me want to gag.

It's hard to describe a scene that is so crazy, although that's pretty much what you're focused on throughout the whole performance. There was screaming, way too much screaming. I could barely hear myself, and if I'd gone off key, I wouldn't have known. I didn't see a single girl in the whole crowd that didn't have a sign, didn't have face paint on, wasn't screaming, or wasn't crying. They tried to climb on stage, tried to touch us, tried to pull us down on top of them, maybe. All attempts were unsuccessful.

Luckily, I didn't have to drag my keyboard on stage. I just grabbed a yellow tambourine and took my spot by a microphone. Our oldest hit was first, the one that made us famous in the first place, the one I hated with all my heart, if you can even hate something with your heart, "MMMBop."

Yet, every single girl in the entire space knew the words, mouthed them, and danced to them. The entire group got into the song, and as much as I should have, I couldn't get into it at all. The song began to have no meaning, and in all honesty, it didn't. We had made up a reason for it to be sentimental, but it really wasn't. An "MMMBop" wasn't a frame of time; it was a childish word to be used only by immature little blond one-hit-wonders.

It donned upon me. We were merely one hit wonders. All the other songs we had made into singles didn't do so hot. We were remembered by everyone as the "MMMBop Boys."

As we plowed through the set list, playing each song in a short-but-sweet version, I wondered if it was even worth it. I wondered how much the girls in the audience actually liked us for our music, instead of our looks. I wondered if they even cared what songs we played.

I walked off stage happily, sweat pouring down my face, despite the cries from the crowd urging us to come back. It wasn't a real concert. We didn't have to do an encore. Did we?

Grabbing a towel, I wiped the perspiration off my forehead and sat down wearily.

"Come on, dude! They're waiting for us!" Zac called to me from across the room as he picked up his maracas and practiced shaking them.

"What? No!" I protested. "Not an encore! This isn't even a real concert!"

"Just get your tambourine and come on."

I dragged myself up and jogged back out to the makeshift stage with no enthusiasm left. I barely made it through three more songs. My voice was incredibly scratchy and I was singing off-key. I knew I sounded horrible, but it wasn't like I could just stop and walk off.

It was insane trying to get to the dressing room. Hands came from all directions, grabbing at all parts of my body. Screaming enveloped me as well, straight in my ears. I tried to tear away, but it seemed hopeless. The never-ending walkway got smaller as I desperately tried to escape the pain. My hair was pulled, my shirt, and even my shoes, making it all the more difficult to run away from the screaming fans.

"Ow!" I yelped painfully as a girl practically pulled my hair out. Somehow I got out of her grip and made a run for the dressing room.

I was panting and sweating even more than before, but I made it. I dashed in and silently cursed my brothers for getting back so easily.

"Grab your stuff, we're busting out of here!" Zac yelled to me, grabbing his things.

I picked up my instruments, towel, and water bottle and carried them down the long corridor and out the back door into the evening. Luckily, only a few crazed fans had found their way back there. It was easy, with bodyguards, to climb into our tour bus without another attack.

I collapsed on my bed immediately, totally exhausted. Zac, for some reason, had the energy, and the nerve, to ask Isaac to play tic-tac-toe with him.

In my head I willed Isaac not to except, but he did. Then I had to listen to them ramble about who got to be the X and who got to be the O. Then when Zac won, Isaac would never live it down. When Isaac won, Zac blew up and claimed that Isaac had cheated. This went on until Isaac got bored and Mackie was the only one interested in beating Zac. He never did.

That's the last thing I remember hearing before I fell asleep, but there could have been more. Maybe Mackenzie did win. I don't know. It would be interesting to hear Zac's side of the story, anyway.

ooo

"Hello?" I whispered into the darkness.

"Did I wake you?"

Of course she had. It was nearly midnight. But despite my heavy eyelids, it felt good to hear her voice again, although distorted through the receiver of my cell phone.

"No."

"I miss you," her voice was soft and heartfelt.

I smiled wearily. "I miss you too,"

An uncomfortable silence encircled the conversation as I shifted on my bunk. Finally she spoke again.

"Yes," was all she said.

"Hm?" I murmured, figuring I had heard her wrong.

"Yes, Taylor. I'll go to Las Vegas with you."

It had been at least a week since I'd written the letter, and I had totally forgotten my proposal. What had it said? I tried to remember.



Dear Trinity,
I miss you more than words can express, and I'm afraid it gets worse with each passing day. The only time I am content nowadays is when I am writing to you.

This is my fourth letter, and I still haven't said anything about the tour itself. I always just talked about how much I missed you. Well, this letter is going to be different.

Last night, we played Columbus, Ohio. Boring, as usual. Very loud for only two thousand eight hundred people. My earplugs didn't do me justice. We didn't have any silly string left, so we had to just dump our water bottles on the audience. Then, after the show, we had no good water. There was a small drinking fountain near the exit, but the water in it was warm.

Then, on the way to our hotel in our bus, we got chased by a whole bunch of girls. We were afraid that we'd run them over. I think they ran out of energy after a few blocks.

I cannot call you for fear that one of my family members will catch me and ban me from you for longer. That is one thing we must really watch out for now. Our ears must become alert to sounds of parents' feet and voices. We also need better hiding spots and excuses.

Speaking of places to hide, I have an idea. What do you say, for your seventeenth birthday, we fly to Vegas? By that time, I'll be eighteen, but we'll still be forbidden from seeing each other. We'll have to sneak out and get on a plane. We wouldn't tell anybody, just buy some cheap red wine and go get lost in the lights for a few days. We could even go to a casino or two if you want, and gamble off a few bucks. Not only is Las Vegas one of your dream vacations, it would be the ultimate hiding spot. What do you say?



Forever,
Taylor

I was speechless as the memory flooded back to me.

"Tay?"

"I'm here."

"Did you change your mind? I mean, it's not a big deal. If you don't want to go, just tell me…"

"No, no, no. I really want to go. It'll be fun." I said quickly.

I could almost see her smile. "Yeah, you're right."

"You can't tell anybody," I warned her. "Not even Donna. If anybody knows we're leaving, the police will come find us right away."

Trinity sighed. "Alright. Donna wouldn't squeal anyway. She thinks what we do right now is romantic."

I couldn't help but grin and blush a little. "Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"That's…cool," I looked for the right word but couldn't really find it.

"Well, I should go."

My mind screamed for me to stop her. I made my best effort to. "How come?" I asked.

"It's late. Won't someone hear you talking?"

I doubted that. "Maybe."

"Okay." she answered plainly. "When can I call you again?"

"I don't know. I love you."

"I…love you too," she said slowly and uncertainly. "Goodbye."

"Bye." I just about hung up.

"Tay…?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep talking to me…tell me about Vegas…"

ooo

Something was wrong from the moment I woke up.

It felt like I had barely slept at all, and when I woke, light was pouring through the curtains of the window and onto me. Extremely hot, I sat up, pushed the covers off my body, and lay back down. I wondered how close we were to the next venue. I looked at the itinerary posted beside by bunk. We were going to Cleveland, Ohio. The clock read near seven.

Why it felt so different that morning, I do not know. Maybe it was the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that told me not to get up. Maybe it was just the sight of sunlight. Maybe it was knowing that I still had to tour for many more months. Whatever it was, it sure hurt.

At first I thought that I just had a cold.

Somehow I willed myself out of bed and strolled into the little kitchen, sitting at the table.

"What're we having?" I asked first to my mother, whom was busily working on putting a decent meal together for us.

"Hash browns and scrambled eggs," she answered quietly.

I smiled a little, despite the strong pain in my head. "Mom, I think I have a fever."

Mom walked over, pressed her hand to my forehead, and shook her head. "No, honey, you aren't hot."

But I had been hot in the morning. Maybe it was just the sun. I was probably overreacting.

"We'll reach Cleveland in about three hours," Mom announced, running her spatula through the thick layer of scrambled eggs.

I was thankful. For the first time, I wasn't woken up by the screaming of Zac in my ear, yelling for me to get up because we had a show to set up for. For once, we were allowed to sleep in and get up at pretty much whatever time we wanted. We were used to getting up at about six, so it bought us extra time to get ready.

I rushed through my daily routine with a strangely unfamiliar smile on my face. By the time I finished cleaning myself up, the food was ready. My family squeezed into the tiny kitchen space, although I thought the feat to be impossible.

The eggs were great, as usual, but I barely picked at my hash browns. I thought they tasted too burnt. Zac fixed that with a quick squirt of ketchup.

I cringed. "Eww, Zac… "

"What?" Zac smiled innocently, but Mom stopped the fight before it even started.

"Are you feeling better, Jordan?" she questioned me, sliding the rest of the eggs onto my plate.

"Thanks," I smiled at her. "Yeah, I think I was just warm this morning."

Isaac and Zac just stared at me. "If you get sick…" Zac challenged.

"Be quiet. I'm not sick," I shot back, my joyful mood turning sour.

"Uh, okay. But you'd better not get sick, man!"

"I'll try, Zac." I made a weird noise with my nose and rolled my eyes.

Surprisingly, I finished eating before anyone else. I thanked Mom for a wonderful breakfast and dove onto my bunk.

I grinned as I unzipped my accessory bag, which consisted mostly of little games and toys to play with when I got bored. Hurriedly I sifted through the junk and found the one perfect thing I was so desperately looking for: a framed picture of Trinity.

ooo

"Shoot. We ran out of silly string again!" Zac threw his arms in the air.

Isaac just shrugged. "We'll use our water. It's not a big deal."

"No way," I argued immediately.

"Then what're we going to use, smart one?" Zac put his hands on his hips, which ended up looking slightly odd with his figure.

"I don't know…" I said lamely.

"You know, you're the one giving our band all the problems," he continued, as I rolled my eyes. "You won't let us pour our water bottles out on the audience, you sneak around skinny dipping at night, you have a girlfriend, and you tell the world! I mean, it would've been fine if you would've kept it a secret, but…"

"Zac," I interrupted.

"What?"

"Please stop," I begged.

"Wait. I'm not quite finished yet." His hands hadn't moved, which made him all the more annoying.

I got up to leave, but Zac pulled me back onto my chair.

"Okay." He smiled, satisfied that he had the limelight. "If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn't tell everyone. Then everything would be fine. But you did it, even though you knew it would ruin our fan base. And it did."

"Not really," I lied.

"Give me a break. You guys both know why we're playing tiny venues now."

"Because we don't have much money." I explained impatiently.

"Exactly! No money because we don't have enough fans to support us!"

I bit my lip.

Zac finally moved one of his hands and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. "And it's all your fault."

"Let's not get into this," Isaac sighed, sitting on a chair and taking a swig of water.

"No, wait." Zac gave me the evil eye. "Tay, you know what this is doing to our band."

I nodded. "Yeah, but if they truly like our music, they won't care that I have a girlfriend."

"But we're still losing fans, and that's not good. We won't bring in as much profit as before. If you drop the girl, Tay, we'll be right back at number one."

"Stop saying that, Zac."

"I think it's time you choose," he lowered his eyes. "Either be in the band, or be with her."

As I looked into the upset eyes of Zac, the one thoroughly against me, I felt so pained, so confused, so used. Everything felt wrong just then. My life was getting in the way of my lover. My life was becoming too much, my career was too hard. The weight of guilt was too heavy on my shoulders. Just knowing that I was lying to the world about how I loved my job threw me into deeper doubt about everything.

There was no question as to how much I loved Trinity. I loved her more than life itself. When I was with her, we were so intimate. It felt like there was nobody else in the world except us. I knew that very second, and realized that I had known for a while, that I loved Trinity much more than I loved my career. It was one thing to want to be with her, but it was a whole other to need to be.

I looked up. "Then I quit."

"No way," Isaac said, and clearly he had not expected that response.

"So it's the end? Just like that?" Zac looked at me with a distressed tone in his voice.

"But we have a show to do, a tour to finish," Isaac reminded me, his eyes full of anguish.

"I don't care," I answered. "I don't want to be known world-wide anymore. I don't want to be a household name. And I don't want to abandon my love for Trinity just because you want me to!"

"That's not fair, Taylor! If you leave, we can't go on! Hanson will be over!"

"That's your problem." With that, I walked on stage for the last time, strode up to my keyboard, and pulled the all-too-familiar microphone to my lips.

The screaming was deafening, and I wasn't wearing earplugs. I cringed a little, looking into the audience. The seemingly endless mass of girls were all there to see me. They were all at the concert to see my band play. They liked us. They really liked us.

Most of the signs in the crowd said something along the lines of "I Love You" or "Hanson Rocks," but when I squinted, I saw something more. A girl in a wheelchair was sitting in a faraway aisle, holding a small, almost undecipherable sign that read "Hanson Changed My Life."

A single, solitary tear slid down my cheek as I told the audience that the show was cancelled.

Distressed calls from the audience rung in my ears as the screams went from hyper to furious. "Come on! Just sing!" someone yelled.

"It's not that easy anymore," were my final words as a teen pop sensation. Then I walked off stage for the last time in my life, tears glistening in my eyes.

After that, the pain of the knife in my back, the weight on my shoulders, all lifted. I no longer suffered like a star, always in the spotlight, destined for a space in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. I stopped being Taylor Hanson, and I became Jordan Hanson. My whole life changed with a few simple words. Just a sentence or two made it all go away. If only I had known that from the beginning.