My Life In Pieces (Book #1)

Chapter 2

Looking out the small plane window, the brown and green specks of land mixed with tinier specks of buildings and homes of Dallas and its surrounding suburbia, created my last memory of home.

I studied each one my eyes landed on; trying to commit each detail to my brain.

Finally, we rose high enough only the clouds filled my view. I wanted to sail away on one like Wendy heading off to Never Neverland. I wanted to never grow up if it already hurt this much.

The piece of gum in my mouth is trying its best to do more than help the popping in my ears but doing little to ease the sickness in my stomach.

"Toronto was not some scary new place, you've been there before. You know people. Relax."

Elyse's words echoed in my head and I tried to make them my mantra as we flew further away from comfort and closer to a place that though uncomfortable was not completely new.

She was right; I had in fact, spent several summers there as a kid. Many of the memories I had though, were marred by the fact my parents, well father and Jordan, had been married the last time I was here.

I tried to find a happy moment to latch onto as we neared landing but it was like my brain refused to pull a full memory into view. Instead I just had fuzzy edges and fragments that I wasn't sure were reality or a dream I was trying to make into reality. The plane landed and I tried to prepare myself for what would come next.

The soft leather of my shoulder strap dug into my neck as I tried to actually carry my carry-on bag. A sea of strangers filled my vision as I looked for a familiar face in the crowd. My father's face finally appeared and I unwillingly felt relief.

Wipe that smug smile off your face asshole.

Tim knew I didn't want to be here and still acted like he was picking me up for a day trip to Disneyland.

Silence lingered like a rain cloud waiting to open as Tim drove us down vaguely familiar streets. I wasn't sure how I knew them, but I did.

Turning on to Maple Tree Road, Aunt Claire and Uncle Jim's old Victorian style house came into view. I had not seen them or their three kids since I was nine. I wondered why I couldn't remember more about them. I should be able to but they felt like more fuzzy edges as we left their house in the rear view for now.

Tim tried to point out the architectural features of the Grand Victorians and explain the differences between it and the Bay and Gable houses, but they looked the same to me. We were in a suburb of Toronto, called Cabbagetown. My new home. The houses were all older but perfectly manicured with freshly trimmed lawns and rot iron fences.

My bio-mother and Jordan both hated it here. Our house back in Dallas was a small two-story that was built in the 1970s. The paint was chipped and the yard was always a little over grown.

It was a house where nothing had to be perfect and once housed a family that wasn't perfect either but was one I would do anything to have back now.

As we pulled into the driveway I looked up at the house Dad had been living in for the past year.

It looked like he had copy and pasted his brother's house on to a different plot of perfectly mowed land. I looked three houses down and saw my Uncle Jim watering his lawn and tried to accept the fact that I was becoming a clone within my own Stepford universe.

Here all children played sports or were in the band. They were all expected to have straight A's and perfect attendance.

That was at least the façade that my Aunt Claire tried to fabricate every time we visited or spoke. Jordan had never understood why Jim had married her.