Liam stayed at my house for the rest of his trip to Los Angeles. I had an extra bedroom with a comfortable bed, but he insisted that he wanted to sleep on the couch, so he spent three nights in my living room before heading back to Memphis.
He woke up before me every morning, and I would come out of my bedroom to find his pillow and blanket neatly stashed on the end of the couch and a fresh pot of coffee brewed.
He even drove my motorcycle over to the Bishop dealership and had the seat replaced so that we could both fit on it. He had some other modifications done as well, but I really didn't know enough about motorcycles to understand what he was talking about—the seat was the biggest visible difference and it meant that I could ride on the back with him. We went out on it twice while he was in town.
We got to know so much about each other during those days. Both of us worked during the day, but we had enough free time to share hours and hours of conversation in the evenings. I had never been so real and honest with anyone in my life. It was a vulnerable yet beautiful feeling letting Liam Kennedy know the real me.
We ate meals together, and laughed, and talked, and kissed. He stayed next to me and held me close like a protective shield, and I had never realized how desperately I'd been lacking that sort of human contact.
It was a rude awakening that following Tuesday when I woke up and there was no one in the house besides Victor and me. I missed Liam like crazy and counted the minutes until Christmas when I would see him again.
My trip to Memphis would only last four days, but it was better than nothing. I would head back to L.A. bright and early on the morning of the 26th so that I could get back to work. I thought about leaving Victor at the doggy daycare in Los Angeles just to make the trip easier for me, but I wound up making plans for him to come along—he needed to meet Vera, anyway.
We arrived at noon on Friday, and we ate a big family dinner at Daniel and Courtney's house that evening. Courtney wasn't much of a chef, so Liam's mom and aunt took care of the menu, which was extremely delicious southern soul food. They served fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans with pieces of ham in it. I hadn't eaten food like that since I was a child.
We brought Vera and Victor with us to dinner, and, as a pair, they were a huge hit with everyone. His family thought it was amazing that Victor's name happened to start with a V, but neither of us let them in on the secret of our little switch. We just smiled at each other every time someone would mention it.
Liam and I got on the road at 8 o'clock the following morning, headed west toward Brookdale, Arkansas. It was a trip I knew I needed to take, even if I didn't end up seeing or talking to any of my family. I did not contact them beforehand because I wanted to give myself the freedom to chicken-out if it came to it.
Liam was completely supportive and never pressured me into anything. I told him I just wanted to drive to Brookdale and see my old house, and he agreed to it with no hesitation whatsoever.
I knew the trip would take us about three hours, so we left Memphis early that Saturday morning in hopes to be there before noon. I got more and more nervous as we drew closer. By the time we got to Hot Springs, my palms were sweating, and all I could do was stare out the window and think of my past decisions and all of the unknown that lie in front of me. Liam could see that I was introspective, so rather than try to talk to me, he just reached over and held my hand.
I didn't need a map to tell me how to get to my old house. I remembered it clearly. Everything in my old town seemed similar yet different than I remembered, and I stared at houses, marveling at how tiny everything was compared to my memory.
It was a strange feeling, driving through my old neighborhood. There was a random brick platform that we used to climb onto, and I smiled when we drove past it, imagining myself and my grade-school friends climbing up there to wave at passing cars.
Liam knew we were approaching my old house, and he drove slowly, allowing me to take it all in. I was on the very verge of crying. I experienced a mix of emotions as I filtered through memories. Fear, doubt, and dread were at the forefront.
When I was young, it seemed as though we lived way out in the country in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors in sight, but now I could see that the neighbors were no more than fifty yards away.
My eyes fell onto the house where I had grown up. It was a red brick ranch style house. It looked the same as it always had yet it seemed somehow unfamiliar to me. My gut clinched as I stared at it.
"Just keep driving," I said as I gazed out the window. There were three cars parked in the driveway, none of which I recognized.
"Don't you want to stop?" he asked.
"Not really. Not now."
I was afraid of what I'd find if we stopped. I was scared of my family being there and I was scared of them not being there.
Liam didn't argue. He kept on driving slowly down the road until we came to an intersection.
"Where to?" he asked when we came to a stop.
"I don't know," I said. "I mean, I feel weird not going over there now that we've come all this way, but I'm scared."
He picked up my hand, drawing it to him and holding it next to his face. "If scared is all you are, then we can handle that."
"What's that mean?"
"It means that if you don't want to see them, then we should go back to Memphis, but if it's about being scared, then we can totally handle that."
He smiled at me as he performed a slow U-turn in the middle of the empty intersection.
I stared at him with wide eyes. "Are you seriously going back there?"
"Why not?" He was still gripping my hand, and I held onto him over the console with both of my hands trembling.
"I don't recognize any of those cars," I said. "They might not even live there."
"There's only one way to find out," Liam said.
I had no idea how he was so calm. I gazed out the window as he pulled into the driveway, parking his SUV behind one of the trucks. He turned off the engine and smiled at me.
"I can't do it," I said shakily.
My jaw ached like I had eaten something sour. I was afraid that if I walked up to the door I would physically be unable to talk. I had on jeans and a sweater, and I felt extremely overdressed for the occasion.
"Even if they live here, they're not gonna recognize me."
Liam tilted his head at me like he didn't think that was the truth.
"What if they hate me?" I asked. "What if they yell at me and tell me to leave?"
"Then we'll leave, and at least you've done your part."
Liam got out of the vehicle and headed around to open my door. He liked for me to wait so he could let me out, but I was too nervous this time. I was already standing next to the car by the time he came to my side. I made a face at him like I was mad at him for making me do this, and he smiled and put his arm around me. I was stiff and numb as we walked to the front door.
If I still lived there, I would have gone through the carport and entered through the kitchen door. But it was no longer my house, and as it stood, I found myself standing on the front stoop, feeling like a total stranger.
A plastic Christmas wreath was hanging on the front door. It had ribbons and little foil-wrapped gifts attached to it and looked like it had been purchased at a dollar store. There was so little room between the front door and the glass door that the wreath was smashed between the two. I stared at it, thinking it must've been my mother that bought and hung that thing and feeling all the more nervous at the realization. I was shaken and my face ached with pain of unshed tears. I was literally unable to reach out and ring the doorbell.
We stood there for a couple of seconds before Liam did it. I heard a dog barking and a child begin yelling after he rang it, and I glanced at him, thinking my parents had neither a dog nor a baby when I left.
Liam held my hand. He looked so handsome. I was proud of him and felt like it would have been impossible for me to stand there without his presence by my side. I heard the door handle shake, and I took a deep breath, bracing myself for my mom or dad to answer.
Neither of them did.
It was a man—a young man carrying a small toddler near his chest. I took them in for a second, trying to gather my wits, but the small dog kept incessantly jumping onto the glass door and barking.
"Mom, would you please call Coco?" the man yelled.
I stared at him. My heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. It was my little brother—only he wasn't so little any more. He had become a man and was perhaps now even a father. The boy in his arms was younger than two—still a baby, really. He had his hand in his mouth and was wearing a shirt with a cartoon Santa on it. The dog disappeared when called, allowing the guy to stare straight at me with no distractions.
I was face-to-face with John David.
My brother.
I couldn’t believe it.
I was afraid I wouldn't be able to speak.
He opened the glass door, staring at me curiously and waiting for me to state my business. I could tell by his expression that he thought we were selling something. I was taken aback that he was staring straight at my face and didn't recognize me. I didn't think it'd been that long. He was the older of the two boys, and I thought for sure he would know me when he saw me.
"Hey John David," I said. My voice came out breathlessly. I was desperately shaken.
"Hello," he said, still looking curious.
"It's me. Taylor. Your sister."
His expression fell, and he regarded me for several long seconds with a look of utter disbelief. He stared blankly at me as if a thousand things had crossed his mind at one time and created a traffic jam in his brain. I felt the same way. Every second felt like an eternity as I waited for him to say something. Anything.
"Seriously?" he asked, finally.
I nodded, tears filling my eyes.
"Taylor?" he asked, staring deeply into my eyes as if he might find the old me in there somewhere if he looked hard enough.
I reached out and put my hand on his forearm. "It's me. I promise."
"Does mom know you're here?" he asked in an accent that seemed more southern than I remembered. "Does she know you're coming here?"
I shook my head.
He glanced at Liam who let go of my hand long enough to shake John David's hand.
"This is Liam," I said. "My boyfriend."
I had never called him that out loud before, but I was already so swept away with other emotions that it was hard to appreciate it.
"I won don," the baby said, squirming.
I couldn't quite understand him, but John David took the cue, and set the boy to his feet before standing to look at me again.
"Is that your son?" I asked.
He nodded, still staring at me like I was a figment of his imagination.
"He's really adorable," I said. "I can't believe you’re a dad."
"He's our youngest," John David said. "We've got a three-year-old girl. She's my stepdaughter. Chelsea had her before we got married." He paused and continued to stare blankly at me. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe you're standing here. Are you coming in?"
I let out a nervous giggle, wondering if that was an invitation. "Are Mom and Dad home?" I asked.
"Yeah, they're right in here. Me and Jonah just came by to borrow some tape. Chelsea's wrapping presents and she ran out."
"Do you live around here?" I asked.
He nodded. "Right over on Live Oak."
I awkwardly stared at my brother as he stepped back, holding the door open to let us in. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but he was so shocked to see me that I didn't quite know how to do it. I held onto Liam's hand as we stepped into the house, but I let it go as soon as we came inside.
My brother and Liam both stood behind me as I took in the scene. It was still the same—a small living room that was attached to the kitchen. The carpet and paneling were both dark and dated. It certainly wasn't the nicest or newest house, but it still felt like home. My heart was beating like crazy as I scanned the room. I could see my father's feet from his place in his recliner, and I watched as the little boy toddled into the kitchen.
My mom came around the corner, making a silly face at the boy. She straightened and looked our way when she saw that there were extra people standing in the doorway. She gave us a curious glance. She was skinnier and older, and her hair was short instead of long, but she was my mother, there was no doubt about it.
"Who'd you invite in?" she asked, talking to my brother while squinting at us. I knew she couldn’t see far off without wearing glasses, and she had always refused to wear them. I remembered her squinting that same way years ago—her face didn't move, it was just her eyes that narrowed as she tried to focus.
"It's Taylor," John David said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Who?" she asked, running her hand through her hair like she hadn't been expecting guests.
My dad put his feet down with a thud, rocking in the recliner as he turned to see what was going on.
Both of them were looking at me, and I swallowed hard. "Taylor," I said. "Your daughter."