Chapter 10
ten
Seeing my childhood home for the first time in almost twenty years is surreal. I haven’t been back here since before I graduated high school.
Easing next to the curb, Logan kills the engine without a word, leaving the truck filled with heavy silence as ghosts from my childhood bleed through open window.
The old, two-story white house with its faded blue shutters looks smaller than I remember.
The wraparound porch where my mom used to rock me to sleep at night now sags a little in the middle.
The tire swing my dad hung from the massive oak tree in the front yard when I was five is long gone, leaving only a thick, gnarled, leafless branch reaching toward the cloudless sky.
My heart jerks when I see the flowerbeds my mom tended so lovingly are still being cared for. A kid’s bicycle is toppled over the first step leading up to the front porch—the same porch I’d skinned my knees on more times than I can count.
A memory of my dad teaching me to ride my bike without training wheels in the driveway takes over.
I can still feel his strong hand resting against my back, keeping me steady up until the moment he lets go and I go flying down the street on my own.
“You’ve got it, buddy! You’re doing it!” his proud voice calls after me.
I close my eyes, letting a wave of sadness wash over me. When they open I half-expect to see him standing there on the lawn, giving me a thumbs-up with a crooked smile.
The sound of Logan’s voice dissolves the memories clouding my brain. “You okay, man?”
Reluctant to let him see how much being here is affecting me, I swallow the lump in my throat and gesture toward the road ahead, scratching at two weeks worth of scruff.
“Yeah. I’m good. Let’s go.”
“My parents are super excited to see you,” Logan says as he restarts the engine and pulls away from the curb. “Pretty sure Mom’s been baking all morning.”
The drive to the Cade house takes less than two minutes. Their large, welcoming home looks exactly the same. Colorful flower baskets hang from hooks along the front porch. The lawn is freshly mowed, and I can smell Mrs. Cade’s famous chocolate chip cookies as soon as I get out of the truck.
“Home sweet home,” Logan says, leading the way up the familiar stone walkway.
The door flies open just as we reach the front porch, and Mrs. Cade rushes out with open arms.
“Rowan, honey!” she exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug. She smells like cookies and the same perfume she’s worn since I was a kid. “Look at you! You’re even more handsome in person,” she gushes, leaning away to examine my face.
Warmth spreads through my chest making me smile. “It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Cade.”
“Oh, please. Call me Janelle. You’re not a kid anymore,” she laughs, ushering us inside. Even the house smells exactly the same—like home-baked goods and lavender-scented cleaner.
As we step into the living room, Logan’s dad tosses his newspaper aside and pushes up from his recliner. His salt-and-pepper hair is a bit thinner than I remember, but his smile is just as wide.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, greeting me with a firm handshake before pulling me into a hug. “Hollywood’s golden boy has finally returned to Lakeside.”
Surprised by how emotional I suddenly feel, I return his embrace. “Mr. Cade. Good to see you, sir.”
“Call me Justin. And it’s good to see you, too,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Your parents would be so proud.”
A pang hits my sternum. “I hope so.”
Justin gestures for me to take a seat on the same couch we used to sprawl out on during movie nights as kids.
“So,” Janelle says, setting a plate of cookies down on the coffee table. “Logan tells us you’re here researching for a new movie?”
Nodding, I take a cookie. “Yes, ma’am. I wrote a script. The studio liked it, so they gave me the green light. I’m hoping this will help convince them to let me direct other movies in the future.”
“That’s wonderful!” she exclaims.
“I’m excited.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “That’s why I’m here. I need to scout some locations, take some pictures. Get a feel for what’s changed and what’s stayed the same so we can set things up for specific scenes.”
Justin leans forward, interest piqued. “What’s the movie about?”
“Growing up in a small town,” I answer, choosing my words carefully. “Friendship. First love. Loss and finding your way back home again.”
He gives me a knowing look, nodding his head in approval. “That sounds great, Rowan. I’m proud of you.”
Pride fills my heart. Justin was always like a second father to me. I stayed at the Cade’s a lot as a kid. Both of my parents had jobs that took them out of state at least one or two weekends a month. Even when they were home, I was always here hanging out with Logan and Lizzy.
We chat for a while. It feels good, sitting here with them, as if no time has passed at all.
“Actually, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to take some pictures? The treehouse, the pond... they’re kind of integral to the story.”
“Of course!” Janelle beams. “Go right ahead. The treehouse is still there. Though it’s not as sturdy as it used to be, so be careful.”
“Thanks,” I say, rising from my place on the couch. “Shouldn’t take too long.”
Logan moves to get up, but I shake my head. “I need to do this alone, if that’s cool.”
Understanding crosses over his face, and he tips his chin. “Of course. Take your time.”
Stepping onto the back porch, I take a deep breath in.
The air smells like freshly cut grass and pond water as the backyard stretches out before me.
The old oak tree stands tall and proud in the corner, its massive branches reaching toward the sky, with the old treehouse nestled between the thickest of them.
Camera in hand, I slowly cross the lawn. It almost feels like I’m in a dream. When I reach the base of the tree, I run my hand over the weathered trunk, tracing the faded initials Lizzy and I carved so long ago inside a lopsided heart.
R.C. + L.C.
The wooden ladder is worn but still sturdy as I test my weight on the first rung.
When I climb up through the opening, I’m struck by how much smaller the inside of the treehouse is compared to when I was a kid.
What once seemed like a castle in the sky is now just a small wooden platform with walls and a roof.
But the memories it holds are anything but.
Floorboards creak under my weight as I duck my head and climb inside.
Sunlight filters through the gaps in the ceiling planks onto the dusty floor.
The bench seat still sits up against the wall, its cushions long gone.
A couple of old comic books lie forgotten in the corner, their pages yellowed and curled up with age.
Taking a seat on the bench, I close my eyes and remember.
Back then, I had a heart full of feelings I couldn’t even begin to understand, much less know the first thing about how to navigate.
I remember sitting next to Lizzy as we read, my heart hammering so hard I was sure it would burst out of my chest. I’d been working up the courage to ask her to kiss me for weeks, rehearsing what I would say, how I would act.
Later that night, I lay in bed going over every moment leading up to it in my head, finding it hard to believe I’d actually had the guts to ask her to kiss me and that she’d actually said yes.
But it’s what happened after that took me years, and copious amounts of therapy before I was able to fully come to terms with it.
Ms. Wilkins, a woman from the Department of Children and Family Services is sitting across from me with a look of pity on her face.
Her blond hair is in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, glasses slipping down her pointy nose as she uses words like “tragic accident” and “arrangements” while I stare numbly at the floor.
“Rowan, sweetheart.” Her voice is soft but firm. She’s nice, but I’m not in the mood for nice. I just want my mom and dad. “I know this is hard, but you need to pack a bag. Just the essentials for now.”
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I want to stay here.”
Ms. Wilkins sighs, checking her watch. “I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible.”
“I can stay with the Cades,” I plead, desperation taking over my voice as it rises. “They’re like my second family. Lizzy and Logan are my best friends. I’ve known them my whole life!”
“I understand, but we have strict protocols. Your grandparents are your legal guardians now, so you have to go live with them.”
“But I barely know them!” I shout, tears streaming down my face. “Please, just let me say goodbye to my friends.”
“I’m so sorry, but that’s not an option,” she says as she stands, smoothing her hands over her black skirt. “Your flight leaves in a few hours, so we need to get you to the airport.”
Panic rises in my throat, my heart racing as I realize this is actually happening. They’re taking me away from everything I’ve ever known—my home, my school, my friends. Lizzy.
“Can I at least call them?” I ask, my voice small.
She shakes her head. “We really need to go. Maybe your grandparents will let you get back in touch after you’ve settled in with them.”
It took about a month, but I was finally able to convince my grandparents to let me call.
Talking to Logan on the phone helped keep me sane.
I didn’t want to talk to Lizzy because it would’ve hurt too much.
After all the pain my parents’ death caused, speaking to her knowing I couldn’t see or be near her, would’ve destroyed my devastated little twelve-year-old heart.
I remember looking back at my house as the DCFS agent’s car pulled away, watching it shrink in the rear window until it disappeared out of sight. Just like my parents. Just like my life as I knew it.
When I open my eyes, the world around me slowly comes back into focus. My hand trembles slightly as I reach up to swipe a tear from my cheek. Almost twenty years later, and the pain still feels fresh. As if it happened yesterday.
It’s strange how something as mundane as an old, rotting treehouse can hold so much of your past.
I take dozens of photos of the treehouse, the yard and the pond.
Each one captures a different angle, a different memory.
Even though they’re meant to help the set designers recreate moments for the film, they’ll never be able to capture what it actually felt like to be here with Lizzy all those years ago.
The girl with a laugh full of sunshine.