Finding Laila: Some Changes are Necessary Page 13

  “Do me a favor,” she says, still not realizing that I’m look at her until she raises her head, “don’t go online today.”

  “Too late,” I say, pointing to my screen.

  She jumps off the bed and kneels down next to my desk to see what I’m looking at and I can tell her eyes land on the entries I’ve read when she mumbles parts of the words aloud. We take turns scrolling through the feed and I feel like a glutton for punishment. I know what these people have to say about me, they never keep it a secret, so I’ve grown a thick skin. But Bailey eyes it all and occasionally covers her mouth in disbelief before clicking the button to close out the browser.

  “Enough of that,” she states with finality as she stands up. “I’m going home to change and get some things. What do you have the rest of the day?”

  “No idea. I still haven’t seen my parents, so I guess I’ll spend most of the day with them,” I shrug.

  “All right, well, call me later and we’ll do something,” she heads to the bathroom to change but stops and looks at me, “with or without the guys.”

  I lean back in my chair and smile at how easily she can change the mood around her and I nod in agreement.

  She is quick to dress and head out the door but shocks me when she gives me a hug, similar to one my mom would give me.

  “Happy Birthday, Laila,” she says when she releases me.

  “Thanks, Bay,” I answer and catch the nickname I seem to have given her all of a sudden. She laughs and departs the room as if we are old friends, and leaves me in silence.

  Who would’ve thought Bailey Butler, one of the princesses, would end up being my friend?

  * * *

  “How was your night?” Mom asks, scooping eggs onto my plate.

  “I’m a star,” I laugh excitedly.

  She gives me a bemused grin and I explain about the gift Haden gave me last night in the quarry. When I finish recalling the evening, her eyes carry the same wonder and excitement that mine do.

  “I always knew you were.”

  “What did you know?” Luka asks as she skips into the kitchen.

  “That your sister is special,” Mom answers before putting eggs onto Luka’s plate.

  She stares at it and wrinkles her face in disgust, which causes a laugh from Mom.

  “What’s that about?”

  “I don’t want eggs,” she protests. “Lala said I could have cake today.”

  “She’s right, Mom.” I bring my plate to the sink and set it down, opting to open the Tupperware box with the cake in it. “You said anything I want for my birthday.”

  Mom nods in defeat, because she knows it’s a losing battle today. My sweet tooth chose to make an appearance today and I’m going to indulge it.

  “There’s the birthday girl,” Dad says when he walks into the room. “How does eighteen feel?”

  “A lot like seventeen,” I admit. “Wait, I’m an adult now—that means I don’t have a curfew.”

  “Excuse me?” Mom asks, with the mom-look only she can give.

  “Yeah, like I said, feels like seventeen.” I smile in defeat.

  “Do you have any plans for the day?” Dad asks.

  “I was going to ask you both the same thing.”

  Mom and Dad exchange a look that says so much, even though I have no idea what it is. Luka walks up and asks for more cake, but Mom denies the kid the treat.

  “You’re going to Grandma’s house so Mommy and Daddy can be with Laila,” Mom tells her. “Hurry and get your bag together so we can drop you off.”

  Luka doesn’t waste a moment before rushing upstairs to load up. I, on the other hand, look at my parents to wait for some sort of explanation, but both seem to ignore my questioning glare.

  “What’s going on, Mom? Where are we going?”

  “Dad and I just wanted to spend some time alone with you,” she says with tears in her eyes. “You’re eighteen now, and before long you’ll be off at school. We just want to…” She trails off and Dad finishes for her.

  “Take you out.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We’ll drop your sister off and then go anywhere you want,” Mom answers.

  I don’t wait for them to change their minds before I jog up the stairs to relax until they’re ready to go, but Luka distracts me. She’s in her room across the hall and I can hear her struggling with something, so I go check on her.

  “Luke” I laugh, “what are you doing?”

  “Grandma doesn’t have Barbies like mine,” she grunts, shoving another Barbie into a bag.

  “She has plenty,” I remind her.

  “Nu-uh, the girls she has are all gross and ugly. And she doesn’t have any boys,” she holds up one of her girl Barbies that she managed to cut the hair off of, “so I’m bringing Ken.”

  “What about your clothes?” I laugh, noticing her empty duffle bag.

  I go to her drawers and throw a change of clothes into a bag, along with the other things she’ll need while she’s at Grams’ place. Luka doesn’t skip a beat as she continues to load up her Barbie dolls.

  “Luka, hurry up. Grams is waiting for you,” Mom calls to her.

  Luka runs into my arms and gives me a wet kiss on my cheek.

  “Save me some cake, Lala,” she whispers before she disappears from the room.

  * * *

  I hear the front door close and I hurry down the stairs to see Mom setting her purse on the kitchen counter.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I ask excitedly.

  “Well,” Mom drags, “we’re going to stay here.”

  Great, so much for anything I want.

  “We just wanted to be with you alone. Eighteen is a big year,” Dad says with a smile when he walks into the room.

  “Yeah, well, so was seventeen, and even it was a bigger deal than this,” I argue, my temper and disappointment finally getting to me. “Well, I suppose I’ll be upstairs if anything exciting happens.”

  I see the hurt look on their faces, but I can’t seem to be bothered when I make my way up the stairs and close my bedroom door behind me. I grab my phone from my side table and notice a few missed texts from Haden, but I don’t read them. I pull up the last message from Joey and send him a quick text.

  Me: 18 sux.

  Joey: What’s wrong?

  Me: Nothing

  Joey: Are we getting together later?

  Me: YES! I need to get out of here

  Joey: Did Bailey leave?

  Me: Yeah. BTW, I really like her.

  Joey: Me 2

  Me: Don’t mess it up ;)

  There’s radio silence after my last text, but I don’t expect a response anyway. Before I set my phone down, Haden calls my cell as a faint knock sounds at my bedroom door.

  “Hey, Searle,” I answer the phone.

  Despite ignoring the knock, my parents enter but remain at the threshold.

  “Happy birthday, Lai,” Haden says, and I can almost hear his smile.

  “Thank you again for my present. I loved it,” I answer, unable to hide my smile.

  “I’m glad,” he answers.

  “Laila,” Dad calls out and waits for me to acknowledge him so I give him what little attention I’m inclined.

  “Give me a sec, Haden,” I say into the phone before facing my parents. “Can it wait? I’m on the phone.”

  “We need to talk,” my dad says as he steps into the room.

  Mom follows him as they completely ignore my current need for privacy. I cup my hand over the phone and try to get my parents to leave, but they don’t seem eager to please.

  No surprise there.

  “Haden, can I call you back?”

  “Yeah,” he starts, “or just call me and we’ll meet at the quarry when you’re done.”

  “Okay,” I concede. I’d much rather be with Haden than held prisoner in my room.

  “I love you,” he responds. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks. And,” I look at my parents who are w
aiting and clearly have no sense of privacy, “I love you, too.”

  We disconnect and I glare at my parents like I’ve never done before. I know I should feel bad, but then again, it’s my birthday and their idea of celebrating a huge milestone is to do nothing?

  “Laila,” Dad says as he sits at the edge of my bed and waits for me to look at him, “we need to talk.”

  Mom walks further into my room and sits closer on the bed than Dad is, and I’m suddenly very alarmed.

  “Oh my God,” I sit up and cover my mouth, “what is it? Is it cancer?”

  Dad looks from Mom to me in shock. “Is what cancer?”

  “You? Mom? What’s going on? Will someone answer me?” I almost yell at the two of them.

  “No,” Mom shakes her head, “no one is dying. There are just some things we need to tell you.”

  Here it is. They’re going to divorce.

  “Okay.” I tuck my knees protectively to my chest. “I’m ready.”

  “I don’t even know how to do this, Garret,” Mom says to my dad with tears in her eyes. “I’ve thought about it for so long and now, how do I do this?”

  “Mom, just say it. I’m here.” I reach for her hand and her eyes meet mine. She nods and takes a few steadying breaths before speaking. She reaches for my face and runs her hand down my cheek.

  “My beautiful girl,” she whispers. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” I furrow my brow and look at my dad in confusion. “What’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.”

  “The day you came into our lives was by far one of the best,” she says.

  Dad walks over and sits next to Mom and reaches for her hand before looking at me. “Our little miracle.”

  I smile at the sentiment they have repeated my whole life.

  “I couldn’t love you more if I gave birth to you myself,” Mom says as tears spill down her face.

  Gave birth myself?

  Our little miracle?

  “What’s going on?”

  “You were placed in my arms,” she says through her tears, but I interrupt.

  “Wait a minute. You said ‘if you gave birth to me yourself.’ You’re joking right?”

  Dad leans over and takes my hand in his. “You are the baby we always wanted but couldn’t have on our own.”

  My head is spinning over this confession at the hands of my parents. The people I love more than anything in this world. Two people I’ve known and trusted my whole life are telling me things that I can’t seem to wrap my mind around. My eyes burn as tears begin to form, yet I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from the two strangers who raised me.

  “What are you talking about?” I demand through clenched teeth. I can feel my nose tingle and my entire body feels like it’s one hundred degrees.

  “When we got married, we wanted to start a family right away,” Mom says quietly as tears continue to fall, “but after years of trying, doctors told us that our chances of conceiving were slim to none and suggested we search other options.” She drops her head as a sob escapes her and I look to my dad, who looks equally upset.

  “It was another year before we found someone,” he sighs. “She wanted an open adoption, but only because she wanted to be there when you were older, if you had any questions.”

  The tears spill out of my eyes as I listen to my parents tell me a story that seems too unreal to be true. They are both willing to answer my questions and fill in any gaps, but I’m in a state of shock.

  “But you had Luka,” I finally say when I calm down enough. “I felt her move in your stomach. So you had a baby of your own.”

  “We did, but it never made us love you any less. You’re our baby, too,” Mom sobs.

  I shake my head furiously, still trying to understand.

  “Why today? Why my birthday, of all days? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I yell, even as my mom winces from the bite in my tone. “Just ready to finally get rid of me? I’m too old and too much of a burden, thank God you have a real kid to take care of!”

  “Laila Jude,” my dad shouts, “you will not talk to your mother and me like that. Do you understand?”

  I jump off the bed and run to my door without giving them time to stop me. Just before I close the door, I turn to them and look my dad in the eye with all the anger I can muster. “Apparently I’m not your concern since I’m not your daughter.”

  I slam the door and stop for a moment to hear my mom wail in pain from my words. If I don’t hurry, they’ll be behind me in a flash, so I grab the car keys and run out the back door without so much as a ‘see you later.’

  What’s the point? Why should I tell them anything, since it’s apparently okay to keep secrets…for someone’s entire life!

  Chapter 15 ~ Finding Space

  “Laila,” I hear my dad yell as I back down the driveway, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to hear anything else they have to say. I don’t know where I’m heading, but I can think of a few places that are out of the question and the quarry is one of them. It will be the first place they’ll look.

  My phone is in my purse and the familiar ring I assigned to my parents sounds but I ignore and silence it since there is nothing I want to hear from them anyway. Mom told me once that driving while in an emotional state isn’t exactly wise, and considering the blurry view I’m able to obtain through the tears, I can understand why now.

  “How could they keep this from me?” I scream past the lump in my throat.

  My entire life has been a lie. I don’t have my mom’s eyes or my dad’s odd sense of humor. There is nothing of me that is from them because I’m not from them.

  Memories flood my mind and every one of them hurts my heart.

  Christmases with Grandma. Oh my gosh, she’s not even my grandma!

  The family reunions in Oklahoma with Dad’s side of the family where people would surround me and comment on how tall I was or how my features must be from Mom’s side of the family. How did I not pick up on these little things?

  The uncontrollable sobbing is hurting my chest and I can hardly keep my eyes open as I drive, so I pull off to the side of the road without looking to see where I’ve ended up. It feels as if I’ve been driving for hours, but in reality it’s only been one.

  I throw the car into park and take the keys out of the engine while I try to compose myself and see my phone glowing again from my purse. Hesitantly, I pull it out and see a string of texts, missed calls and messages—none of which I have the least interest in returning, but I read through them.

  Dad: Please come back home

  Mom: We need to talk

  Dad: Where are you?

  Haden: Your mom just called me freaking out. What’s going on? Are you okay?

  Mom: Laila, you need to come back. I’m so sorry.

  Joey: What’s going on? Where are you? I’ll come get you

  Bailey: Joey is freaking out. Call me

  Dad: Get back here now

  Braxton: Why is everyone looking for you?

  Cole: The Instagram stuff wasn’t that bad was it? ;) Where are you?

  Haden: Joey asked if you were with me. Go to the gallery, I’ll meet you there.

  The last message from Haden was sent two minutes ago and the gallery is only a fifteen-minute drive from here. As I’m about to send him a message, my phone vibrates in my hand and I immediately answer it when I see Joey’s face flash on the screen.

  “What’s going on?” he asks without saying hello.

  “I can’t,” I sob again as tears stream down my face. “They lied.”

  “Who lied? Where are you? You’re worrying me, Lai.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I lie, because right now I’m not sure I will be. “I just need to be alone.”

  “You don’t need to be alone, you need to go home. Your mom is freaking out.”

  “I really don’t give a damn, Joey!” I yell at his defense of her.

  “You should—she’s your mom. What d
id she do that’s so terrible?”

  “I can’t talk right now. I gotta go.”

  I hang up the phone and wipe my face on my shirt before I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Red nose, glassy eyes, splotchy face, and smeared mascara stare back at me but I do my best to recover before turning the car back on. In all the years that Joey and I have been friends, I don’t think I’ve ever hung up on him, let alone yelled at him, but he said the wrong thing. He’s supposed to be on my side, not theirs.

  The morning traffic is starting to get heavy, but the gallery isn’t too far away and I have a feeling that Haden is already there. When I turn down Main Street, the small boutique stores are only beginning to open but the small coffee shop is busy. Any other day, I’d probably enjoy the people-watching, but at the moment, my goal is to get to the building at the end of the road where I hope Haden is waiting.

  The gallery is next door to a small bakery that is known for its homemade muffins, so there is no place for me to park this early—which means I’ll have to go to the back. The gravel crunches beneath the tires while I slowly make my way to the rear entrance and pull to a stop. There is only one other car here, and it’s not Haden’s.

  Instead of waiting for him, I climb out of the car and head to the entrance and take a seat on the bench where cigarette butts litter the ground. My tears start falling again, despite my efforts to be strong.

  I don’t want to cry.

  I want to be angry. I want to yell and say hateful things and make them hurt as much as I hurt. But I don’t have the energy.

  “Hey,” I hear Haden call to me when he shuts his car door.

  I don’t say a word, and when he sees my appearance he rushes toward me. He pulls me into his arms and melts to the ground with me as I sob anew.

  “Shh,” he coos, smoothing my hair and holding me so close I can hear his heartbeat. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

  I shake my head in disagreement, still unable to force my voice to work.

  Slowly, he moves his hands to my shoulders to push me away so he can see my face. Concern is etched across his features, a question he doesn’t seem to want to ask when he wipes the tears from my eyes.

  “I hate them,” I cry out. “I love them and I hate them and I don’t know what to do.”