Reader’s
Note: This is Taylor Swift’s journal adapted for reading,
detailing the events around October 7th
(Friday) 2016 after school. Taylor has eaten dinner with the family
and has to babysit that evening.
We ate dinner as a family – boring as usual. My brothers argued about Trump versus Gary Johnson being president at the dinner table as they often did. I said I didn’t care – whoever would make the world burn first got my vote.
My sister watched the “Shaytards” on YouTube during the entire dinner. They’re this annoying trailer-trash family that films their vacations and makes a living doing that by putting it on YouTube. They’re the family I think my sister really wants – wise-cracking and fun-loving assholes.
My father settled us all down and told us that since none of us were voting age it really didn’t matter, and to just remain civil at the dinner table. It was at that time I let out a silent fart and blamed my little sister, who broke out into hysterical laughter when everyone began to react to the smell. I kept my calm and acted completely above anything disgusting like that – especially laughing and giggling like my two brothers did.
The doorbell rang and my father told me to go see who it was.
“Why me?” I lamented having to do anything I was told. “You could at least ask instead of shouting orders!” I glared at him.
“I’ve had a hard day, Taylor.” My dad said that I was closest, and continued eating.
“So I’m punished for sitting closest to the door and not eating much of this swill?” I was being sarcastic and half-joking. My mom is actually an excellent cook – I just wasn’t hungry and didn’t like to pig out in front of the rest of the family. I acted demure when we ate together and then usually raided the snack cabinets at night. They usually blamed one of the other kids because they thought I didn’t like to eat much anyway.
“You have no idea what punishment is.” My dad chewed his steak and pointed at the door without looking up.
I answered the door and the neighbor was standing there. “Ah, hello Woody. How is Soon-Yi?” I said to the red-haired middle-aged Jewish man wearing glasses.
As always, the shy nebbish of a man looked frustrated and nervous any time I compared him to Woody Allen.
“I can see the confusion,” he touched his dark rimmed glasses. “I am Mort Goldman,” he introduced himself as my neighbor.
“I know who you are,” I said, acknowledging he’d spoiled a perfectly good joke. “What do you want?”
“Your mail got delivered again by accident,” he held up a handful of advertisements, value-coupons and junk mail.
“No one cares about mail anymore, Grandpa,” I said sarcastically as I brought him up to speed on e-bills and how the internet works. He ignored my sarcasm and handed me the pile.
“I’ll make sure to throw these in the garbage,” I promised with mock gratitude for bringing them over.
“Some people appreciate the coupons.” Mort started to explain that some of this mail was for the previous occupants and we should return it as I slammed the door in his face.
I left the pile of junk mail on the table right by the door and proceeded to go about my business. I went upstairs and started to change clothes. I was supposed to babysit in less than an hour, and I wanted to look properly imposing so that the kid I was watching would be too intimidated to ask me for cookies or a story or whatever the fuck little kids ask for from baby sitters.
Fifteen minutes into listening to Astro Zombies by the Misfits and my sister came barging into my room without knocking. My top was off but I was wearing a dark lace bra while I applied mascara.
“Oh sorry, Sis! Are you changing?” Janie said while holding an envelope she clearly wanted me to see.
“No, I sit around with my tits hanging out waiting for you or Huckleberry Hound Scotty to run in and check them out,” I spun around and shook my boobs at her. I knew she was jealous because she was largely flat-chested herself and wanted desperately to move up from a training bra.
“That bra is very sexy.” She asked if Mom knew I had it.
“I don’t know – does she do laundry? Then yes,” I snatched the envelope out of my little sister’s clutches and looked at it. “Is THIS why you’ve interrupted my preparations?” I cackled evilly while I looked at it.
“Yeah, it says Taylor and you got into MIT!” she said excitedly.
“That’s nice, but I’m in tenth grade,” I said, shaking my head with natural skepticism. My grades were bad anyway, and I had no technology background. “This is for CHRIS Taylor,” I shook my head at her in annoyance.
“It says Taylor!” she shrugged as if she couldn’t help barging in on me and didn’t know the difference between Chris Taylor and Taylor Swift.
“It’s one of the buttholes that used to live here,” I threw the half-opened envelope on my night stand.
“Why do you have to be so mean!” she pouted and stormed out. “HIS family is probably proud he got accepted into MIT.” My little sister gritted her teeth angrily.
I wanted to laugh and explain that may very well be – but that means nothing to me. I was going to remind her to shut the door so my brothers wouldn’t see me in my bra, but she slammed it before I could. I whispered to myself, “Don’t go away mad – just go away,” and prepared for my evening.
Once I was ready, Mom reminded me that I was already 15 minutes late and that I really needed to get going. “Janie just got picked up for her sleepover and your brothers are at the basketball game. You need to hurry!” She rushed me as she often did. I really could have cared less about being late and she had to see that in how little I gave a shit.
“Yeah, yeah,” I suggested that the old people across the street probably have to turn in by 6 P.M. anyway and would be back before I knew it.
“They aren’t coming home until morning!” Mom was surprised I hadn’t read the note they’d prepared for me on emergency numbers and when to tuck their son in. “You’re going to spend the night in the guest room. You’ll be just across the street and you can call me if you need anything!”
“What’re you two going to do with the house all to yourselves?” I looped my fingers and then inserted my index finger in the universal “Mom’s going to get laid” hand symbol with a grin.
“Stop it, young lady!” Mom prudishly told me that they’d be going to the movies and dinner and wouldn’t be home until late. “We’re going to the Cherry Lawn Town Center.” She told me there was a nice Olive Garden there, and then they were going to the book store and a movie. “It’s our date night!” but reminded me that I could call and they wouldn’t be far.
“Sounds like a real bender,” I chuckled as I walked out the door. They were the world’s most boring parents.
I was going to go straight over to the Vulgus house across the street – I really was. Okay, I’m kidding, I really had no intention of getting there on time. I did want their money, so I really was going to go, but I was going to half-ass the job and be as late as humanly possible to avoid any real work. The kid would already be fed and asleep if it was up to me.
My ring tone for Summer Lane is “It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll…” an old AC/DC song. She’s one of the few girls at my school I would consider a friend, but I use that term quite loosely as we aren’t super-close. They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer – my wisdom is keep them the both far the fuck away.
Anyway, I picked that ring tone for her ironically because the song is super-cheesy and I told her she was too. She gets my sense of humor, so we both had a laugh at that. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, but I was told not to leave out details.
“Hey Summer.” I was shocked because we normally text back and forth. She invited me to come over later to a party. It was Friday night and her and Kimber were going to some high school party to laugh at all the cool kids. “I am down! Just let me double back to the house and change clothes!”
Summer and I had talked for almost an hour on the phone anyway – so I’d already blown off the babysitting gig; whether I had changed my mind or not, it was too late to show up. I felt absolutely zero guilt about missing it either way.
I wanted to look intimidating for the boy I was going to babysit, but I wanted to look hot for this party I was going to pretend to not care about being at!
The couple across the street could find another babysitter or something – you only get about 200 or so opportunities to party in high school, right?
I was careful and clever – I waited another 5 minutes to watch the house for my parents’ car to exit the garage. I didn’t want to roll up and find them just leaving as I showed back up.
In retrospect, I should have probably just checked the garage for their car because they WERE home when I walked in.
I probably could have pretended to have forgotten something important and played things off, but what I saw would change the course of everything in my world so completely and utterly that the thought of what excuse I had for coming in the door escaped my mind – the thought of needing an excuse escaped it too.
I can only say that I was utterly surprised and unprepared for what I saw – and it probably took me a good 30 seconds before I could say anything at all. You may want to notify Guinness, because that’s a new world record for the longest I’ve ever gone without thinking of SOMETHING to say.
Things were going to be different – they had just gotten VERY different.