Page 11 of Home Is Where You Are

“If you say so. I’m goin’ to go check on her. Make sure she’s okay,” Holden said as he waited a beat. I nodded to him, understanding his need to check on her. He took her leaving harder than anyone. We both knew the pain of her being back in her bedroom would cause. But she wouldn’t want me to be the one to comfort her as she came face to face with the past she’d left behind.

He walked away after I nodded, and I went in search of Lillian so I had something to focus on other than the fact that Ainsleigh was back in this house, so close to touch I could taste it.

five

AINSLEIGH

Ineeded a minute to myself.

I walked up the creaking wooden stairs, then down the familiar hallway. Past all the other rooms, to the last one on the right. The door was shut, keeping the space hidden from my wary eyes.

I will not break down.

I will not break down.

I will not break down.

I kept whispering those words until I almost believed them. With each step that brought me closer to the worst memory of my life, I kept saying them to myself. I reached for the handle that would open wounds I wanted to keep buried.

Mustering every ounce of strength I had, I twisted the handle and opened the door.

Peering inside, I noticed that my mother changed the layout of the room.

Posters still hung on the walls of quotes that I loved. Pictures were still placed on various shelves, but the furniture was new and the bedding that covered the bed was a lilac color instead of the white it was before.

Unsteadily, I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind me.

So many good times were had here.

Gossip stories between my girlfriends.

My first kiss.

Confessions of love.

And in one instant, so much pain.

Walking over to the twin bed against the wall, I sat down on the mattress, almost refusing to look at the nightstand. I needed to look. Needed to face the pain. But I just wasn’t ready.

Tears fell down my cheeks. But I didn’t brush them away. Four years of bottled up emotion was now breaking free. It was way overdue. The only way I remained strong while I was away was because I pushed my emotions down and redirected my focus solely on school. If it wasn’t for my studies, I would’ve been a mess. I should’ve been falling apart, but facing what I’d lost would’ve killed me on the inside. It did kill me when I allowed my thoughts to wander for too long. Which wasn’t often.

I snuck a peek at the piece of furniture that held one memory I knew would be the hardest to face. Instead of seeing the picture that I was afraid to face, I saw a familiar memory in its place sitting atop the weathered Bible my grandfather had given me years ago.

With shaky hands, I picked up the wooden frame. I took in the picture of myself and my brothers. My mother hardly ever got a picture with all of us in it, but on this day, we complied. Just for her. We were sitting on a sturdy branch on a tree on the property. A place I loved to visit. We all loved to visit. The times that we shared under that tree brought a smile to my face.

We shared so many secrets there. Had so many laughs. Shed so many tears. Expressed our fears. We often called it the confession tree. And for good reason. Whenever one of us had something to share, we all met up under that tree and spilled our guts. Right or wrong. Good or bad. We shared our deepest, darkest thoughts. And everyone listened. No one judged the person confessing. The confession tree was a judgment-free zone.

In this particularly rare captured moment, Brooks, Holden, and Leo were all sitting on the branch, and they’d pulled me down for the photo. I was laid across the sturdy legs of my three brothers, laughing because they made sure I didn’t get up and leave so my mother could get the picture. The sun was setting in the distance, causing a summer chill to hit the night air. All four of us were smiling, laughing even.

As I stared at the photo, I wondered where the young girl in this photo had gone. So young and carefree. I missed that young girl. Maybe somewhere deep inside she still existed. I just shoved her down and carried the weight of my loss on my shoulders.

My mother must’ve placed this here knowing I couldn’t handle seeing the photo it had replaced. And I couldn’t be more grateful. Someday, hopefully soon, I’d have the courage to ask her where she’d hidden the other photo so I could face the memories. However unhappy they might have been.

With one last look, I returned the wooden frame to the nightstand. I stood and walked around the room.

All my books were still on the shelves. My desk was still cluttered with notebooks and journals with inspirational quotes on the covers.

I picked up the spiral journal on top and studied the quote.