Chapter 8
Taylor sat in her car, gripping the manila envelope that reduced years of marriage to legal documents and check boxes, and gave herself a pep talk. The courthouse steps had never looked so steep as they did today. But she wasn’t upset, things had to fall apart so they could come together.
“You can do this,” she coached. It had to be done. She couldn’t delay it anymore. She didn’t want to. She hadn’t planned to. Tyree showing up drunk and reckless made the choice for her. And made it feel urgent. The quicker she got this over with the quicker she could figure out her next step.
A text from Brooks lit up her screen—and without meaning to, she smiled.
Brooks: Chin up, Tay!
The two of them had been texting and talking nonstop lately. Brooks was funnier than expected—a smooth operator who knew exactly what to say to make her laugh. He'd developed a sixth sense about her needs since that first night, but what she appreciated most was his patience.
Part of her wished he was here, though she needed to do this herself. She'd been relying on him too much already, and he still had to install her alarm system.
She took a deep breath, slipped off her wedding ring, and placed it gently in the center console.
Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her paperwork and stepped out of the car.
She took the stone steps one by one until she reached the top.
The entire time she reminded herself that this discomfort she felt was temporary.
Ending anything was hard, she would allow herself to have her moment.
Inside, the courthouse the weight of what she was about to do pressed against her chest, but she kept moving step by step, until she was standing in front of the clerk’s desk.
“Is that everything?” The clerk asked.
“Yes,” she said finally. “That’s everything.”
“Notarized?”
“Yes maam, I followed the steps to a T.”
A coworker of hers told her how to file for divorce without it costing an arm and a leg. They didn’t have any kids, and she’d never put his name on anything. He was too unreliable and unpredictable.
“Ok, Good. I don’t want this delayed. If he ain’t a son of a bitch and doesn’t fight. You’ll be divorced in no time. You’ll get your final decree in the mail.”
“Thank you.”
Taylor handed over her documents, paid her filing fee, and signed to begin the process she hoped went smoothly.
Walking out, she felt lighter despite the heaviness of the moment.
She had girls’ night later, more masks to wear, more excuses to make.
Soon, she wouldn’t have to. And she couldn’t wait for that.
But the hardest performance was still ahead-her parents.
She’d promised to stop by and she couldn’t put it off any longer.
When she made it back to her car, Brooks was the first person she wanted to tell, so she did.
Taylor: Brooksie, I did it.
Brooks: Proud of you, T. Let me see you.
She smiled, letting the weight of those words settle in and sent him a selfie.
Brooks: Nah, come to the shop.
Taylor: Work calls. My pic ain’t enough?
Brooks : Nope, not even close. Don’t let them spoiled brats at work stress you today. Talk to you later.
It wasn’t just Brooks who was proud of her. She was proud of herself too. The feeling carried her through the drive to her parents’ house. The closer she got, the more her leg bounced.
The street leading to her childhood home stretched longer than she remembered, giving her too much time to contemplate turning around.
She was going to wait a while before she told them.
Not because she was ashamed, but because she already knew how this conversation would go.
There wouldn’t be questions, just judgment.
Disappointment in their eyes before she even got the words out.
She could already hear her mother sighing.
Her father rubbing his temples like she was seventeen all over again.
When little did he know Taylor had been the only one paying bills in her household.
She was no one’s responsibility. She’d been handling her business since day one.
They would tell her to pray on it. To try harder. To go to counseling. To fix it. They’d find some way to say it without even knowing. And right now, she was trying to wrap her own head around where her life was. She didn’t need them clouding her judgment .
She was choosing herself and how to handle it.
Pulling into the driveway, she exhaled, allowing a moment of nostalgia to wash over her. The wind chimes that she hated to love made sweet music as the wind blew. The garden gnomes her momma loved were still lined up in their neat little row, watching her like old friends welcoming her home.
But home didn’t feel the same. The love was still there, she knew that. But so was the weight of their expectations.
She squared her shoulders and stepped through the gate.
“Look who it is.” Her mother called from the doorway, “I was just about to make some sweet tea and cornbread.”
Taylor forced a smile, pushing her morning aside. “Perfect timing then.”
Her father appeared behind her mother, newspaper in hand. “Baby girl,” he said warmly, and for a moment Taylor thought she might break right there, might let it all spill out. But she swallowed hard and hugged them instead.
Inside, everything was just as it had always been neat, and warm, with love displayed on the walls and mantle.
Her parents had always doted on her, their only child, making sure her life was as smooth as possible.
Even when she didn’t agree with their spiritual bypassing, she never questioned their love or that they wanted what they thought was best for her.
“It’s been a minute huh? You working too hard.”
“I know. Life been life’ing, ma. You know my car was in the shop.”
“Yeah, but God be God’ing .” Taylor rolled her eyes at her momma and her bible sayings and quotes. She had a saying or scripture for everything.
“And do,” she replied with a laugh. Her mind drifting to thoughts of Brooks, he’d been nothing but an angel in disguise for her.
“You coming back for dinner? I feel like I haven’t spent time with you in forever.”
“I can’t,” Taylor said. “I have plans with the girls tonight. Kennedi’s in town.”
“How’s Tyree? Found em a job yet?” her father asked.
“Not yet daddy, but maybe soon.” She lied; Tyree wasn’t even looking anymore.
“What you whipping up for dinner anyway?” she asked trying to change the subject. She was here to show proof of life not talk about Tyree.
“Shrimp and grits, fried okra, and some cornbread. Ya daddies request chile.” Her mom replied, and then asked, “What y’all having tonight? Chicken wings?” Her mother joked, causing Taylor to laugh.
“Yeah, like usual. We’re meeting up at Slicks for happy hour and wings.
” Wings fried hard — they hated to see her and her girls coming.
Slicks was their spot. The wings made you come back like crack was the special ingredient.
She couldn’t wait to let her hair down, get her eight piece, hot lemon pepper wings, all flats, with blue cheese.
“Y’all don’t get too wild and embarrass ya family. But have some fun. You work hard.”
“I won’t.” Taylor sat down at the table as her mother started making her cornbread. When she plopped down into the chair her mother noticed her demeanor and fought the urge to say something but her mouth won over.
“Taylor, everything ok?”
“Yeah momma, why?”
“You seem distant. I know Tyree not having a job is hard on you. I can talk to him for you if you need me to put some fire under his behind. Or loan ya a little something. Until he gets it on the good foot.”
“Ma, you shouldn’t have to do that. He’s an adult. And I don’t need anything.”
Teresa sighed, stirring the cornbread mixture before glancing at Taylor. “I know, baby. Sometimes, men need a little extra push. Tyree will find his way. I know it.”
Taylor kept her face neutral, but inside, her stomach twisted. “Yeah, find his way right the hell away from me,” she muttered under her breath.
“Huh?”
“Nothing momma, prayerfully he will find his way.”
She bit her tongue, drained from arguing and pushing a man who didn’t want to move.
Taylor often wondered if her father had to be pushed to take care of his family and why that was okay? Taylor somewhat believed her parents wanted them to work so they didn’t feel like failures. It was never about her.
“We’ve been trying to offer him a job at the church, but I can’t get ahold of him. Y’all live so far away and haven’t been to church in a month of Sundays,” her mother continued. Taylor rolled her eyes, her mother was so dramatic at times.
Her father finally lowered the paper, breaking his silence .
“You praying for him, right?”
She was confused and growing more and more irritated the longer she stayed.
It was always about him. Always about what she could do, how she could fix it, how she could pray it away.
She wanted a grown man would take responsibility instead of drinking and making excuses. She wasn’t asking for a lot.
She swallowed, pushing down her frustration, forcing a small smile. “Of course, but while I’m doing the best I can, he should be meeting me at least halfway.”
Her mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and came to sit across from her, concern deepening the lines on her face. “You know we just want you in God’s grace and happy. Every marriage goes through rough patches.”
Taylor nodded again, but inside, the words stung. Did they really? Because right now, God’s grace and happiness felt like two different things. Happiness for her meant walking away. It meant divorcing her husband. And one day, seeing where this thing with Brooks could take her.
But that wasn’t what they meant by happy. They meant we want you happy but within means. Within their version of love, their version of grace. And Taylor was starting to realize neither had ever truly included her.