My Name Was Emily (9)

 Emily

"So what should we watch?" my father asked, sitting beside me on the family couch.

"I've got no preference," I said gently. The words were uttered in Lizzie's voice.

Chloe was sitting on our father's left. Our mother sat down in the spot on my right. She held me close, making a squeeze. She was so pleased to have Lizzie home; I saw it and felt it month after month.

We'd only made a few short trips through town, but I would get to wander outside in time. They were going to put me in school this year. I'd be Lizzie Porter when I ventured about, going to class, going to jobs, and anywhere else in the years to come. 

They seemed confident that I wouldn't rebel. I didn't really feel compelled these days, and doing so wasn't going to get me far. I could tell people that I wasn't Liz, but they would dismiss me as an angry kid, someone lashing out amid a petty dispute. The Porters had family photographs of Lizzie; I looked like the girl in those pictures of theirs.

A man on the screen reminded me of my dad. Not my current dad, my previous one. I recalled a special day we'd shared together — which led me to think of Emily once more.

Why was it I couldn't get her out of my head? As I'd noted, for the most part, Emily wasn't a happy girl...

But Emily believed she could reach that point. She had her own dreams. She had her own plans. She wanted to pursue certain challenges.

That was the sort of thing a Lonergan did.

Was I going to let all of those goals fade? Would I simply live as Lizzie now?

I felt Mrs. Porter squeezing me once more...

No, I thought. I couldn't give in. I loved these people, and they loved me, but I couldn't sacrifice my dreams for theirs. I'd have to get out and force a DNA test. I'd have to do something to establish the truth. I'm not Lizzie Porter. I'm somebody else. My name was Emily.

And it still is.

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