Six Letter Word [Kaylor]

January 2017 (Part 2)

I slipped out of bed at about four in the morning to get ready by five to fly out. My call time was 7:30 out there, and even that was pushing it. It usually took about five and a half hours to go from here to there on Tay's jet, putting me there at seven if we left here in less than a half hour. On the plus side, I didn't even really have to get ready, just get in the car and get to the airport. I could fly in my jammies since it was just me and Derek. He's seen me in a hell of a lot less publicly acceptable clothing before. When we swung by his house on the way to the airport, he had on sweats, a slightly better look than my cat themed pajama pants that on closer inspection I realized were probably really Taylor's. I had a rolling suitcase just to carry a couple changes of clothes and my favorite products to use once I showered to get off all the remains of the shoot. If I really needed something, the LA house probably had it. I have stuff at our houses all over the country. OUR houses. I guess it finally sank in. They're ours. Not just Taylor's anymore. Anyway, I had to admit it was convenient to be able to just roll up to the airport bleary eyed and ready to take another nap. All I had to do was set my alarm for enough before landing to be able to change and look presentable once I got to LA.

It had been hard to leave Taylor knowing that when she woke up in a couple hours she would be alone prepping for chemo. I'd put all her smoothie stuff in one spot in the fridge, and laid out her pills for the morning the night before. Ed had a whole list of things to do and think about and take with them, and he'd joked that it felt a bit like babysitting. Taylor, of course, could do this all herself if she had to. Even now, she's strong and capable and knows what she needs. She doesn't need me to take care of her. I just LIKED doing it for her. Making it so she could concentrate on getting better. I liked feeling like I was contributing somehow. I couldn't make her better. But I could make getting there easier. At least, I liked to think I could. She slept a lot more soundly these days, thanks to the chemo fatigue, so she didn't even stir as I installed yet another bit of temporary art on her shoulder, this time a pair of lovebirds because I would be flying home to see her as quickly as I could.

I had woken up alone a lot since starting chemo. Karlie would often go work out first thing in the morning, while I was still asleep. Or she would be in the shower when I awoke and I could smell her shampoo filtering into the bedroom. Sometimes I'd know she was in the kitchen by the smell of coffee wafting up the stairs, beckoning me down. But there was an emptiness that morning that reminded me she was already headed to LA. I was so proud of her for getting the call for CK, and even though I know she didn't want to leave me for the last infusion of this round of chemo, I was really glad she'd gone. She deserved it. It was that pride that pushed me into the shower. If I was going to go to chemo without her, I could at least up my game a little and show her I could handle it. I wanted her with me when she could be, of course, but I never wanted her to pass up a career move that would benefit her just to sit in a hospital room with me while I felt miserable. I thought a lot about that while I was in the shower. The things she'd undoubtedly sacrificed to be there for me. We didn't talk about it a lot. But I knew she had to have passed up things that came her way. She's one of the top supermodels in the world. She had to have been in demand, and just chosen not to accept unless it was really important to her. I wondered how much responsibility she might have given her team for accepting or rejecting offers, so that maybe even she didn't know how many things had been offered that she hadn't accepted. It wasn't until I was drying myself off that I caught a glimpse of my back and discovered that my wife had placed a new tattoo there, apparently while I was sleeping. Her little reminder that she was with me always, and always had my back.

When I left the bathroom and slipped into a comfortable dress, leggings and boots, with a warm, soft beanie, I could smell coffee from the kitchen, unexpected since I was supposedly alone in the house. But when I got downstairs, I found Ed bustling around my kitchen, Karlie's apron covering his sweater and jeans. He had my smoothie already in a glass, a colorful twisty straw sticking out of the top, threaded through a strawberry for garnish, and was, I thought, making toast. I took a short little video to post on Insta, I knew our fans would get a kick out of Ed being domestic, and I captioned it 'this isn't quite Karlie, but I'll take it' with an emoji. He follows directions well. I knew Karlie had to have told him what to do for the morning. He'd followed our morning routine to a T, right down to the apron. He layered bananas onto the almond butter on my toast, and delicately sliced strawberries on top of that, and for a few moments I wondered who the hell this guy was in my kitchen. His girlfriend had taught him well it seemed.