Lyla's P.O.V:


The drive seemed endless. The 15 minutes I had spent in the car instead felt like years. I was anxious, nervous. I couldn’t help but be. I was filled with mixed emotions about seeing my dad again, being face to face with him for the first time in 6 years. Vic had offered to come along, and though I truly wanted him there with me I knew I had to do this on my own. At some point I had to learn to take care of myself; I couldn’t always rely on others to fight my battles for me, even though it was sometimes easier that way.


I turned down the street until I found it: 2234 N. Baker Avenue. I parked my car along the curb across the street as I gazed at my childhood home. It appeared to have been freshly painted, the once faded white exterior replaced with a rich beige color that complemented the brick finishing quite well. A flower garden lined the base of the massive porch, pinks and yellows giving the yard a peaceful vibe. My dad’s old Ford truck sat in the driveway, the same truck that I had learned how to drive in.


After several minutes of stalling I took a deep breath and stepped out of my car, slowly making my way across the street and up the long driveway to the front door. I lifted my hand to knock on the door, and after a brief hesitation I knocked loudly, shifting my weight from one foot to another as I awkwardly awaited an answer. I had almost talked myself into leaving, to running back to my car and driving away when the door swung open, and there he was: my dad. I looked up, our green eyes meeting, and his jaw noticeably dropped a little.


“Lyla?” He questioned softly. I smiled as I felt tears well up in my eyes.


“Hi dad,” I responded. A smile graced his face and he pulled me into a tight embrace without hesitation, his strong arms holding me close.


“Oh, honey I missed you so much,” he muttered as he held me. “Come on let’s go inside.” He pulled me into the house, shutting the door behind us. I walked through the entryway towards the living room.


It looked different; the furniture had changed, the carpet replaced with hardwood floors. Familiar pictures sat atop the mantle above the fireplace; an old family picture of my parents and I, baby pictures of me, a picture from high school graduation, and a new one: a picture from a photo shoot that I had done a few years back. “I stumbled upon that one online. You looked so beautiful I had to frame it; it made me feel like you were still here,” my dad’s voice cut through the silence from behind me. I turned and gave him a small smile before taking a seat on the leather sofa. He came and sat next to me, and I took it upon myself to speak first.


“Dad, I’m so sorry I never came home,” my voice cracked a little as I spoke.


“No, Lyla, I’m the only one who has a reason to be sorry. The way I treated you….it was uncalled for, and I haven’t been able to forgive myself. I never should’ve tried to force you to give up on your dreams, that’s not what parents are supposed to do. I should never have given you an ultimatum,” his voice was kind and sincere as he spoke.


“Dad, I forgave you a long time ago. I just – I have this bad habit of pushing people away for no reason, and I guess I did that with you too. In a way I've always been afraid that you would be disappointed in me."


"Why would I be disappointed in you, Ly?" He asked and I looked away from him.


"Because I was so adamant about how I wanted to live my life and it didn't really pan out the way I had hoped," I replied quietly.


"Honey, I could never be disappointed in you. You're my little girl. All I want is for you to be happy." He grabbed my hand and squeezed lightly. "And I'll let you in on a little secret: life rarely goes the way you had planned." I let out a small laugh and he did the same.


"I'm glad to see you're still quick on your toes with the clichéd advice, dad." He laughed even louder. His laugh, I had missed it so much. He was always laughing, always goofing around. He wasn't just my dad, he was also my friend and that's what made him the best parent in the world. He did it alone all of those years, and I know it couldn't have been easy, but somehow he made it look effortless.


"How have you been? Are you happy, Lima Bean?" I couldn't help but smile when he called me that. He was the only one who had ever called me that. It was a stupid nickname, and when I was a teenager I absolutely hated it. But now, hearing him say it again made me feel like I was truly home.


I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "I would be lying to you if I told you things had been good. I went through some things that I had never imagined I would have to deal with. I did some things I'm not proud of, and at times I almost felt like giving up because it didn't seem like it would ever get better." I could see the pain in my dad's eyes as I spoke; I hated it, but I was done running. I was done hiding from my past, from the things that I had been through. I was done building walls to keep people away. "But they did get better. I figured out how to fix myself. My past is just that: the past. I'm no longer going to let it define me. I let it define me for far too long."


My dad was smiling widely at me as I spoke truthfully from my heart. "I am so proud of you, Lyla. I'm sorry that you had to find yourself the hard way. I wish I could've been there to protect you from it, to help you."


"Me too. But I didn't do it alone. I had some help." I smiled thinking about Austin and how much he had been there for me. My smile only grew as my thoughts drifted to Vic.


It was as if my dad had read my mind. "Vic," he stated bluntly, elaborating no further. My head shot over and looked at him, at the sly smile playing at his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows.


"What?" I asked, my voice laced with curiosity.


"Am I wrong?" He asked with a small laugh. I bit down on my bottom lip and shook my head. "I always had a feeling you two would find your way back to each other when the time was right. Life is kind of funny that way." He paused and smiled again. "Besides, when you were talking about 'having help', your eyes lit up in a way that they only did when you used to talk about him."


"You know me too well," I responded.


"I'm your dad. I'm supposed to."


We talked for a little while longer. I left out the specifics of my problems, the cutting, the topless photo shoots, the drugs, the rape. I was ready to leave those things behind and my dad could sense that; he didn't press the topic any further. I told him the shortened version of how Vic and I found each other again, leaving out certain details that were too awkward to discuss with my father, if you know what I mean. After about an hour my dad looked down at his watch and frowned. "Honey, I'm sorry I have to get back to work. We had a homicide last night and I have to interview a few witnesses." He stood up and I did the same.


"Still the best homicide detective in all of San Diego, I see," I said and he laughed before ruffling up my hair.


"Yeah, yeah in your eyes maybe. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like, honey. You don't have to leave quite yet." I nodded my head and followed him to the front door. He hugged me and kissed my forehead. "I love you, Ly. I'm really glad you came by."


"Love you too, dad." He started to walk towards the truck but stopped, turning to face me again.


"You and Vic should come by for dinner tomorrow if you're not busy. I'll grill some steaks or something," he offered with a smile.


"I'd love that dad," I replied. We said our goodbyes and as he drove off I retreated back into the house, heading immediately up the stairs. I opened the door at the end of the hallway and smiled; he hadn't changed a thing. My old room was exactly as it was when I left it all those years ago. My bed still draped with a red fleece blanket, posters and pictures still hung on the walls I had once painted black. I stood in front of my vanity and smiled at the picture that still clung to the mirror. I pulled it off and shoved it into my purse. I turned to leave the room; I realized I didn't need to be in here anymore. I didn't need these memories anymore. I had plenty of new ones to make. Before I made it out the door I stopped and walked a few steps back into the room over to my bed. I dropped to my knees and reached under the bed until my hand grazed what I was searching for. I pulled it out and stared at it: a cardboard box I had collaged with pictures from magazines. I clutched it tightly in my arms as I took one last look around the room before I closed the door on that chapter of my life.


I was smiling to myself as I walked back down the stairs and out the front door into the warm afternoon. I locked up the house and made my way back to my car, setting the box down gently in the passenger seat. I drove away from the house, allowing the warm air to fill the car through the open window. I had a stop to make before I went back to Vic's house.


It wasn't long before I closed in on my destination. I parked the car and stepped out slowly; it was surprisingly empty. The cemetery was usually littered with people in the afternoons. I walked through the rows of headstones until I found it: Lacey Marie James.


I took a seat next to the grave, crossing my legs indian style underneath me. "Hi mama," I said as I traced over the engraving on the headstone. "I know it's been a really long time since I've been here. I miss you so much. There have been so many times over the past year that I needed you. I know you were there, though. I just hope I've made you proud, even though I've struggled a bit. I'm working on it, though. I'm making it better. I'm making myself better."


I pulled the picture out of my purse that I had taken from my room. It was the last picture that had ever been taken of my mom, taken just 3 days before she died. I was 10 years old and it was Halloween. She insisted on taking me trick-or-treating even though she wasn't feeling good. The chemo had taken a lot out of her; she was fragile and weak, her body frail looking. But she wouldn't take no for an answer. I was once again dressed up as Britney Spears, striking some stupid pose as I stood in a red jumpsuit similar to the one from the "Oops I did it again" video. My mom was standing next to me in the picture; her hair had long disappeared because of the chemo. I had insisted she replace her normal wig with something fun and crazy. She had on a blue wig, the hair cut into a short bob. She had a huge, bright smile on her face. By looking at it you would never guess that she was in so much pain, that only 3 days later she would be gone forever. We both looked so happy; in that moment we forgot about everything. We forgot about her leukemia. We forgot about her terminal prognosis. We forgot about everything. Instead we were just happy, carefree.


I kissed the picture and held it to my chest. I didn't cry, though. She wouldn't want me to. I tried to focus on the happy memories that we had and pushed out the memories of her sickness, the memories of having to live without her for so long. "I love you, mommy. I miss you everyday." I closed my eyes for a moment as the wind shifted suddenly, grazing over my skin and making goose bumps rise on my arms.


It was a sign. She was here with me, and she wanted me to know. I smiled as I reveled in the moment for a few minutes. I opened my eyes again and stood up. I said goodbye to my mom before I turned and walked out of the cemetery and back to my car. I couldn't help but smile as I sat down in the drivers seat, the car roaring to life as I turned the key. I glanced over at the box that still occupied the seat next to me before driving off, heading back towards the house, back to Vic.


If it weren't for him I don't know where I would be today. If he hadn't of come back into my life who knows what kind of person I would be. He was my home. He was my saving grace.