chapter twenty nine.

                                    

                                          
Taylor glanced back at Lizzie, at the way she wasn't sitting straight up in her seat, the way her eyes were watering, the fear was written all over her face... and was reminded of herself. Not completely, but she was reminded of a time when she was made to feel small. Irrelevant, yet so, wholly important. She was made to feel the size of a grain of sand. She'd always try to make herself as small as possible when Adam was in the room. And here was Lizzie, barely thirteen, doing the same thing. 
And that made her so fucking angry.
"Johanna," Taylor said calmly, hiding the anger that was boiling in her veins. "Let's step outside for a few minutes." 
"Mom-" Thea called out across the ice, but Taylor just turned to her with a smile. 
"It'll be okay. Keep skating and I'll see you in a minute." She was so good at that smile. The one that met her eyes, even when she wasn't truly happy. The one that sparkled. She was able to fool the world with her dazzling grin, and that was a power she'd never give up. 
"Elisabeth!" Lizzie's mother called out angrily. 
"She's not coming to speak to you," Taylor told the woman bluntly. "Let's talk outside."
Taylor led the woman outside the rink, where she ensured that she was standing in the eye reach of her security guards. They still followed her everywhere, but Taylor ensured they waited outside. 
Johanna was furious. Everything in her body radiated a sort of rage that was unmissable. 
"Why isn't she skating?"
"You're not allowed to be here," Taylor answered, ignoring her question. "In fact, you are not allowed within one hundred meters of Lizzie." 
"You think you're so high and mighty because your face is on the cover of a fucking magazine every day?" The woman gave a cold laugh, and Taylor smelt alcohol in her breath. 
She felt a memory surface in seconds, a memory of Adam. Breath tainted with alcohol and raging anger. But she pushed it down, trying to maintain a calm atmosphere. 
"No," Taylor answered. "I'm following the law. You're not supposed to be-"
"You think that just because you're Taylor fucking Swift, you'll have everyone falling all over you?" The memories threatened to keep coming back because this was the sort of conversation she'd had plenty of times with Adam. That scared her. This scared her. 
"No, I don't think that, actually." She spoke quietly. "You need to leave, or I will call the police." There wasn't a threatening tone to her voice, even though she was serious. 
"I don't even get to fucking see her." Johanna muttered.
"You lost that privilege. She was given the choice." Taylor couldn't help herself. The betrayal on her face when she realised that Lizzie had been the one to decide she didn't want to see her. The rage turned to sadness for a single moment before she turned ablaze again. "And she decided that seeing you would negatively impact her mental health. I agreed with her." 
"You stole her from me. You have no fucking idea who she is. Who I am." 
"What's her favourite colour?" Taylor asked. Her voice wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was completely flat. Which was surprising, considering how tightly her fists were clenched together. 
"Pink," Johanna asked quickly, trying to pretend that she knew the answer. 
"It's yellow," Taylor muttered. "It's yellow. Like the first days of sunshine in the morning, like the sunflowers in the garden."
Johanna rolled her eyes. "Big fucking deal. So what? You know her favourite colour. I'm going to see my daughter." 
Taylor shook her head. "No. You don't get the privilege of seeing her." 
"You're not her mother." Johanna snapped. "She needs to be on the ice. She needs-"
"You're in no position to tell me what she needs."
"I am her fucking Mom-"

It was another voice that spoke next. It wasn't Taylor's. It wasn't her security, even though Taylor knew that they'd realised the anger of the woman standing in front of her. 
"No. You're not." Lizzie spoke, her voice shaking and her hands trembling. But she spoke. "You might be my mother, the one who gave birth to me, but you do not get to call yourself my Mom." 
Taylor looked over at the thirteen-year-old, at the girl with auburn hair pulled into the braid Taylor had done in the morning... and she felt so proud. 
"Why aren't you on the ice? If you want to get a place on the Russian team-"
"Oh, I already got a place on the Russian team." Lizzie took a few steps forward so that she was standing beside Taylor, and shook her head. "I turned it down."
Taylor glanced from Lizzie to Johanna. At the eyebrows that were knitted together on her face, at the fact she angrily brushed her hands through her hair, shaking her head.
"Do you know how much time and money I put into getting you on that team? I came to America to ensure you could get the best training before we tried getting you on the Russian Training team. And now what? You're sitting on a fucking bench? Useless. Did she tell you that you weren't allowed to skate? So that her daughter would get first place? So that her daughter didn't have to compete with you? Is that what happened?" Johanna's voice was cold. It was one of the coldest voices that Taylor had ever heard. It was second only to Adam, whose voice still haunted her dreams, both awake and asleep. 
Lizzie's face contorted as she shook her head. "No." She paused, taking a shaking breath. Trying to decide whether she owed it to herself to keep talking. Her therapist had often asked her what she'd say if she ever saw her mother again. She'd had this speech written for three months. "I stopped skating because I can't think about anything but you when I'm on the ice. I stopped skating because I actually fucking hate it and I never wanted to skate in the first place. You had me on the ice since I could walk, and not once, did you ever ask what I wanted. You made us move here three days before Dad divorced you, so I never got a choice. So that I never got to choose who I wanted to live with." Lizzie spoke, her voice quiet, and gaining in strength. She'd stopped shaking, completely overcome with anger towards the woman that had caused her endless pain for twelve years. "I was five. I was five and I didn't know why Dad didn't let me stay with him. But then, I realised that he never got a choice either."

Taylor was in awe of her. Of Lizzie. Of the girl who reminded her of the person she used to be. Of the person she was when she spoke in court. Of the person she was when she sent Adam to prison. Of the person she was when her heart was on fire, and her words were unstoppable. Lizzie had the same quiet, unbeatable anger that Taylor had. 
She looked at her green eyes, how she could practically see the flames. There were forest fires in Lizzie's eyes. 

"You don't get to be called Mom. If I get to call anyone Mom, it's Taylor. Because that was one of the only things that I loved about coming here. I met Thea, and I met her parents, and they showed me what a loving household looks like. You'd force me to write out the entirety of a dictionary if I missed a jump, but Taylor would kiss my forehead and tell me that mistakes are what makes us human." Lizzie watched her mother, not breaking eye contact once. "While you were screaming at me from the kitchen table, I was realising that home was never with you. You took me away from Dad so that he wouldn't see how cruel you were. So that he couldn't stop you from treating me so cruelly. You would sit there and you would complain about me. About my life. How you blamed me for the fact you had to turn down your position in the Olympics. How Dad got to live his life, but you were trapped at home with me. I have never once heard Taylor or Joe complaining about the fact that they don't get to live the life they had before they had kids." Lizzie told her mother. 
 "I have never once been hit, or punished, or hurt by them. I fall on the ice and Joe makes me hot chocolate. I get a B on a paper and they tell me they're proud and that there's way more to life than a grade on a test. Taylor calls me Lizziebug when she's really proud of me, and when she's happy. I'm sitting on the bench because I hate you and I don't want to do the thing that reminds me of everything you put me through." Lizzie took a deep breath, her voice shaking, even though for the first time in her life, she wasn't scared of her mother. "And don't you dare accuse Taylor of forcing me to stop skating so Thea could succeed. She's not like you. I look at her and I feel like I'm home. I look at you, and I feel the worst pain imaginable. I don't want to see you again. I don't want you to come looking for me. I am choosing to live with Taylor. I am choosing to leave you. Because if I have to phone the police on you, I won't hesitate. So no, you don't get to call yourself my Mom. Because Taylor's taught me that Moms don't hurt you. They don't make you write out the same sentence over and over again until there are blisters on your fingers. They don't refuse to let you eat because you have to be skinny enough to fit into the same size of costumes you wore when you were seven. They don't shut you in a cupboard because you fell, because you weren't top of the class. Because there was an A- on my report card and you wanted an A . They don't do that. Taylor doesn't do that." Lizzie shook her head. "I'm going to therapy three times a week because of you. You broke me, but it was Taylor and her family that put me back together again." A tear rolled down her cheek, but she wasn't sad. 

She was angry at the woman who had hurt her over and over again without hesitation. "Goodbye," Lizzie murmured before she turned around and walked back inside. Taylor motioned for her security. 
"You can fucking pay for the 'therapy' you fucking bitch. You'll realise soon enough that she's too much fucking trouble, that she's not good enough and she won't do anything you want her to." Lizzie mother huffed as she turned to look at Taylor's security. 
"You're wrong about her." Taylor sighed, her voice soft. "She's amazing. She can play the piano perfectly, and she can paint. She writes these amazing songs but she's too shy to let anyone see them. She loves playing with the younger kids, and she loves baking. She loves swimming and climbing trees and poetry and reading. She always sleeps with a water bottle in her room, and she will always tell you something good that happened in her day before bed." Taylor paused, turning away slightly before continuing. "I will stay up with her until three o'clock in the morning if she needs someone to talk to or someone to sit and listen to her. I will pay for her therapy, and I will continue to drive her there and back so she never has to face her trauma alone. I will sit in the car with a jacket on in the middle of winter while I wait for her and I will tell her every single fucking day of my life that she is good enough. I will tell her how loved she is, and I will always remind her to be kind to herself." Taylor paused. Her security was standing behind Johanna, ready to escort her away. "Because Lizzie is amazing. She is fearless and she is brave and one day, she's going to change the world and you'll be nothing but a shadow in her past." 
 Taylor turned around, ignoring her completely. Ignoring the repulsive words she was being called, ignoring it all. 

She peeked through to make sure the kids were alright - Thea was currently running through a new routine and Elena was dancing to the music while Nora had her head in a book. She smiled, taking a deep breath. So many aspects of Lizzie's mother had reminded her of Adam, and that was confronting. It wasn't something that she'd overcome yet. She still felt scared, even though she'd worked through so much of that baggage. 

Taylor found Lizzie standing behind a fake plant outside the changing room. 
"I'm really sorry for swearing." Lizzie apologised as soon as she saw Taylor. She was grateful when Taylor wrapped her arms around her - for some reason, she couldn't stop shaking. She wasn't cold, the day was warm.
"Sometimes, Lizzie, swearing is okay. And that was definitely one of those times. I am so, so, so proud of you." Taylor kissed the top of her head and felt Lizzie melt into her. "It takes a lot of courage to stand up and face the thing that scares you the most in the world. And you did it fearlessly." 
"I... I meant everything I said." Lizzie sighed, gently pulling away from Taylor. "She's never been a Mom to me - but... you have."

Taylor could sense her anxiety about that sentence, about whether Taylor would be mad at her for suggesting she was like a Mom to her. 
"It's a privilege to be a Mom to you, Lizziebug." Taylor paused. "And if there's ever a time where you feel like you might want to call me Mom, that's okay. But in saying that, you don't have to feel the pressure to. I'm one hundred percent fine with being Taylor to you, too." Taylor felt Lizzie squeeze her tighter.
"Thank you for being the best Taylor in the whole wide world."
"And thank you for being the best Lizzie in the whole entire universe."

Dusk faded into dark blue skies, and Taylor was relieved that the other kids didn't seem to be too bothered by what happened today. She wasn't going to bring it up with Lizzie when everyone was watching, but she knew she wanted to ensure that she wasn't suffering in silence. 
"Are you okay?" Taylor knocked on Lizzie's door, and she saw Lizzie sitting at her desk, hunched over a painting.
Lizzie looked over her shoulder with a smile. "I feel... I don't know what I feel. Relief? Free? There's not a word that seems to apply."
"It does feel like that," Taylor smiled as she sat down on Lizzie's bed. "But you did so well today, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you." 
Lizzie sighed. "I know you said I didn't have to talk to her, and I really hope you aren't mad that I decided to talk to her after all." 
"Of course not. I'm so proud of you for everything - but I would have been proud of you if you'd stayed inside."
"I was just so angry. I was going to sit down and not move until I knew she was gone... but I just couldn't. There have always been so many things I wanted to say to her, and I finally said them."
"You said there was something you wanted to show me?" Taylor said gently.
"You remembered? I thought you might have forgotten after all the stress of today." 
Taylor shook her head. "I'd never forget something like that." 
"Well... I painted something. It's not that good... but I thought that you... I thought that you might understand it." Lizzie reached into the draw of her desk and pulled out a painting she'd made. 

Lizzie didn't even need to explain it, because Taylor understood it perfectly.