:: chapter two ::

It took me little more than a week, but I finally made a decision.

“Mum, I’ve decided,” I said at breakfast one morning. “I want to get in contact with my family.”

Lila, Oliver and Emma immediately looked up from their cereal at me. “Mum, what’s he talking about?” Emma asked.

Mum sighed. “Taylor, I really wish you had waited…” She rubbed her temples. “But tell me honestly; are you absolutely sure you want to go through with it?”

I nodded. “Positive. I really do want to find them.”

“Mum?” Emma repeated.

“In a minute, Emma. All right Tay, if you’re absolutely sure, then we’ll start looking this weekend. All right?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Mum then spoke to my younger siblings. “Your brother has only known about this for the last week, so I don’t want you to feel that you’ve been left out of anything. Basically…your brother is adopted.”

“He’s adopted?” Emma asked. “But…why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“I’m starting to wish we had told all of you the truth to begin with,” Mum said in slight exasperation. “The three of you are to understand a few things. One, I do not want to hear that you have told all of your friends at school about this. It does not leave this house. And two, Taylor is still your brother; he just has different parents to the three of you. Your father and I still love him, regardless of what certain people may believe.” She glanced at me. “And he deserves a place in this family just as much as the three of you. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes, Mum,” chorused my siblings.

Mum then went on to explain adoption to Lila and Oliver. Emma and I tuned it out for the most part – Emma because her friend Kellie was adopted, and me because I wasn’t stupid by any means.

Emma stayed sitting at the dining table after everyone else had left, playing with her hair. Mum had asked me to clear the table and to load and start the dishwasher, and that was what I was doing at that precise moment. I’d just rinsed off the last plate and stacked it in the dishwasher when Emma opened her mouth.

“Tay?”

“Hmm?” I slammed the dishwasher door shut and pressed a couple of buttons. A well-aimed kick got it going.

“What Mum said…are you really going to try and find your family?”

“Yeah, I am,” I replied.

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to leave, does it? I mean, you’re my brother, the best one I ever had…”

I dried my hands off on a tea towel and went back to the table; I sat down next to Emma. “Ems, just because I want to find out who I truly am doesn’t mean I love you guys any less. Of course I won’t leave you. For heaven’s sake, I’m a Kennedy. You are the best little sister I could have asked for.”

Emma snorted. “Tay, I’m fifteen; I’m hardly little anymore.”

I smiled and ruffled her hair. “You’ll always be my little sister. Now, have you got anything special planned for today?”

“No…” Emma said warily.

“Want to come and watch Matt, Cass and I play the recording game? You can help out Mike if you like; he’s always complaining that he needs a second pair of hands.”

“I got a hanger on!” I called as I walked into the recording studio and dropped my pack and guitar case on the floor near the mixing desk; Emma hopped up on Mike’s usual chair and gazed in wonder at all the switches and dials laid out in orderly rows.

Matthew and Cassie looked up from where they were bent over a table in the corner; Cassie smiled. “Hi Emma!”

“Hi Cassie,” Emma replied, returning the smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me…Taylor’s punishing you for some misdemeanour, am I right?” Matthew asked with a cheeky grin on his face.

Emma snatched up a pen and made to throw it at Matthew; I caught her wrist just as she went to toss it. “Hey, no chucking stuff,” I warned her. “There’s some expensive equipment in here.”

“Sorry,” she apologised sheepishly. She put the pen back on the table and sat back in the chair, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Mike arrived about ten minutes later; Emma jumped off the chair she’d been sitting on and retreated to Matthew’s former seat. Cassie, Matthew and I took our places behind the microphone, and Cassie went through her lyrics folder to check what song we were up to. “I think this is the last one; Far Away From Here,” she said. “We’ve got our next show in about a month; that’ll give us a month to practice and get the CD mixed and released.” She spoke into the microphone. “Mike, how far along are we on Far Away From Here?”

“About halfway,” Mike replied. “If you get working straight away, you should be out of here by six.”

“Is that AM or PM?” Cassie asked seriously.

“PM, Cassie; you guys haven’t had a twenty hour day in weeks, and besides why would you want to keep working past sunrise?” Cassie shrugged at this. “All right, if you guys are ready then let’s roll.”

I wedged my headphones over my hair and watched Mike as he counted down from five; I tried not to notice Emma pulling stupid faces at us as we sang, as it would only have distracted me, and that was something we really couldn’t afford. We were already past the ‘deadline’ we had set for ourselves; the CD needed to be mixed by the time we started doing the club circuit, which gave us a month. And if you want the truth, a month can go unbelievably fast.

After five straight hours of recording, we took a break; it was about three fifteen in the afternoon. Mike had gone out and picked up some Chinese food for lunch – plain fried rice for Cassie (who was adamant she was on a diet – the girl is literally a stick as it is), curried chicken and rice for Matthew, and sweet and sour chicken for Emma and I. I won’t eat fried rice, and neither will Emma or Matthew, so Cassie had a whole Tupperware takeaway container of rice to herself. I honestly don’t know how she can eat that stuff; to me it tastes like plain rice soaked in butter and then deep-fried. Disgusting.

When four that afternoon rolled around, it was right back to work; we were putting the final touches on Far Away From Here, after which we could go home. I planned to just keep silent until I went to bed; I needed to rest my voice. My throat was killing me.

“Cassie, tell me something; why exactly do we subject ourselves to this torture?” I asked, uncapping my water bottle.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. She dug around in her pocket and extracted a crumpled package of Butter Menthols. “Want one?” she asked, holding it up.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said gratefully. “My throat is so fucking sore that it isn’t even funny.” I took one, unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth. “Soon as I get home I’m taking a vow of silence for at least a week.”

“I bet you will,” Matthew said. “I bet that by the time dinner tonight rolls around you will be so sick of writing notes that you’ll start talking again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Matthew, you seem to have forgotten one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not you. Besides, I know sign language; I don’t need to write notes to communicate.”

“Oh would you two cut it out; we have a CD to finish recording,” Cassie cut in. “Now shut up or I’ll throw the rest of my fried rice at the two of you.”

We shut up.

It didn’t take us long after that to get the rest of the song recorded. “Well, I guess this is it for another year,” Cassie said as we packed up. “Hey, Tay, I’m just curious about something.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I said as I slid my guitar into its case and zipped the opening closed.

“Taylor, for heaven’s sake, I’m being serious here. What if, you know, you manage to find your family, and you decide to go and live with them? What would happen to the band then?”

“Like I told Emma this morning, I’m not going to leave. I’ve been a Kennedy for as long as I can remember; it’d be too strange for me to ‘change allegiances’, as it were.” I looked up at Cassie, my blue eyes meeting her green ones. “As much as I’ve said over the past couple of weeks that I hate my parents, I don’t really. Deep down inside, I love them more than I’ve loved anyone. They’re the only parents I’ve ever known.”

Cassie nodded. “I just wanted to make sure.”

I said before that a month can go unbelievably fast. I’m not kidding – it can.

I sat backstage at the club, my acoustic guitar across my knees. Matthew was twirling his drumsticks in his fingers, and Cassie was fitting her flute together; her keyboard was already out onstage.

Tonight was our first show after the completion of recording our CD, which we’d titled Riders On The Storm (one of the tracks on the CD was a cover of the Doors/Creed song by the same name). We didn’t plan to perform every single song on the CD, more like just over half, and fill in the rest with cover songs. We’d each chosen two songs to cover – Cassie had chosen Buses And Trains by Bachelor Girl and Ordinary World by Duran Duran; Matthew had chosen Push by Matchbox 20 and Daughter by Pearl Jam; I’d chosen Casey Jones by The Grateful Dead and What If by Creed. We had about ten minutes before the show started.

“So, what song were we starting off with?” Matthew asked. “I sort of forgot.”

“Riders On The Storm,” Cassie replied. “Then it’s Far Away From Here, Borderline, Buses And Trains, Home, Dying To Be Alive, Ordinary World, Push, Daughter, Down, Not The Same, Casey Jones and then What If to finish off.”

Matthew’s brother Casey stuck his head into the room. “Hey, you guys ready to go on?”

“Yeah, we’re about ready,” Matthew replied. He stood up and jammed his drumsticks into his back pocket.

We’d chosen to take the ‘smart casual’ route for the evening’s show – which for us basically translated as ‘if it’s clean, then wear it’. Matthew wore his baggy six-pocket cargo pants, white long-sleeved shirt, black Creed T-shirt and his black Etnies; Cassie wore her jeans, blue peasant top and her sandals; I wore my jeans, a hooded long-sleeved shirt and my Vans. A Harley Davidson bandanna was tied securely over my long hair, keeping it out of my face. “Taylor, you need a haircut,” Cassie told me. “Long hair is so 1997.”

“And you would know this how, exactly?”

Cassie simply rolled her eyes and played a few scales on her flute.

We took the stage at about nine-thirty, launching right into Riders On The Storm. We got through the first four songs in the set list before any of us spoke to the audience.

“Up next is a song that we’ve called Dying To Be Alive; it’s a song about not leaving anything up to chance, and taking control of your life before it’s too late. Here it is.” Cassie nodded to me, and we started the song.

“I heard you crying…somebody stole my soul…how could I be dying…I turned twenty 5 days ago…we’re all on the ground just crying out…would somebody save me please…I won’t sit around just thinking about…the troubles that tomorrow brings…

“I’m dying to be alive, yeah…I’m dying to be alive, yeah…let’s not go through our lives…without just dying to be alive…

“The people you’ve touched…the way you touched them…I hope they touched you too…‘cause in this life it’s hard to tell…what’s false and what is true…we’re all on the ground just crying out…would somebody save me please…I won’t sit around just thinking about…the troubles that tomorrow brings, yeah…

“I’m dying to be alive, yeah…not trying to just survive…let’s not go through our lives…without just dying to be alive…

“And we all come tumbling down…no matter how strong…we all return to the ground…another day gone…a day closer to fate…and soon we’ll find it’s a little bit too late…

“The things you see…the way you see them…will never be seen again…let’s go through life living on luck…betting ten thousand to ten…mistakes I’ve made in this life…I can’t say why or when…but the thing that’s strange is you only live once…I’ll never look back again…

“I’m dying to be alive, yeah…not trying to just survive…let’s not go through our lives…without just dying to be alive, yeah…I’m dying to be alive, yeah…not trying to just survive…let’s not go through our lives…without just dying to be alive, yeah…

“And we all come tumbling down…no matter how strong…we all return to the ground…in the days to come you’ll say why did I wait…you can’t just leave your life up to fate…you got to turn it around before it’s too late…”

We followed the song up with Ordinary World.

“Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue…thought I heard you talking softly…I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio…still I can’t escape the ghost of you…what has happened to it all…crazy, some’d say…where is the life that I recognise…gone away…

“But I won’t cry for yesterday…there’s an ordinary world…somehow I have to find…and as I try to make my way…to the ordinary world…I will learn to survive…

“Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say…‘pride will tear us both apart’…well now pride’s gone out the window…cross the rooftops, run away…left me in the vacuum of my heart…what is happening to me…crazy, some’d say…where is my friend when I need you most…gone away…

“But I won’t cry for yesterday…there’s an ordinary world…somehow I have to find…and as I try to make my way…to the ordinary world…I will learn to survive…

“Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed…here today, forgot tomorrow…ooh, here beside the news of holy war and holy need…ours is just a little sorrowed talk…

“And I don’t cry for yesterday…there’s an ordinary world…somehow I have to find…and as I try to make my way…to the ordinary world…I will learn to survive…

“Every world is my world…I will learn to survive…any world is my world…I will learn to survive…any world is my world…every world is my world…”

After we played the next four songs, Matthew spoke to the audience. “If there are any Grateful Dead fans in the audience, you’ll know this one; here’s hoping that we don’t butcher it. This is Casey Jones.”

Cassie had the lead on this one, and truth be told, she didn’t do too bad a job of it.

“Driving that train, high on cocaine…Casey Jones you better watch your speed…trouble ahead, trouble behind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…

“This old engine makes it on time…leaves Central Station ‘bout a quarter to nine…hits River Junction at seventeen to…at a quarter to ten you know it’s travellin’ again…

“Driving that train, high on cocaine…Casey Jones you better watch your speed…trouble ahead, trouble behind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…

“Trouble ahead, lady in red…take my advice you’d be better off dead…switchman’s sleeping, train hundred and two is…on the wrong track and headed for you…

“Driving that train, high on cocaine…Casey Jones you better watch your speed…trouble ahead, trouble behind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…

“Trouble with you is the trouble with me…got two good eyes but you still don’t see…come round the bend, you know it’s the end…the fireman screams and the engine just gleams…

“Driving that train, high on cocaine…Casey Jones you better watch your speed…trouble ahead, trouble behind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…driving that train, high on cocaine…Casey Jones you better watch your speed…trouble ahead, trouble behind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…and you know that notion just crossed my mind…”

We ended the show with a rousing rendition of Creed’s What If.

“I can’t find the rhyme in all my reason…I’ve lost sense of time and all seasons…I feel I’ve been beaten down…by the words of men who have no grounds…I can’t sleep beneath the trees of wisdom…when your axe has cut the roots that feed them…forked tongues in bitter mouths…can drive a man to bleed from inside out…

“What if you did…what if you lied…what if I avenge…what if eye for an eye…

“I’ve seen the wicked fruit of your vine…destroy the man who lacks a strong mind…human pride sings a vengeful song…inspired by the times you’ve been walked on…my stage is shared by many millions…who lift their hands up high because they feel this…we are one…we are strong…the more you hold us down the more we press on…

“What if you did…what if you lied…what if I avenge…what if eye for an eye…

“I know I can’t hold the hate inside my mind…‘cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life…so I’ll just ask a question…a lonely, simple question…I’ll just ask one question…

“What if…what if…what if…what if…what if I…what if…what if…what if…what if…what if I…what if…what if…what if…what if…what if I…what if…what if…what if…what if…what if I…what if…what if…what if…what if…what if I…

“What if you did…what if you lied…what if I avenge…what if eye for an eye…what if your words could be judged like a crime…

I made my way slowly downstairs the next morning, turning the kitchen radio on as I passed the microwave; the radio that my parents kept in the kitchen was an old tape deck that Dad had bought at a local garage sale more than five years earlier – he’d paid ten dollars for it. Near as I could tell, I was the only person awake or at home at that particular point in time. It was about ten-thirty in the morning.

I scratched a mosquito bite that had popped up on my shoulder as I pulled the makings of a cup of coffee from the cupboards and the fridge. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I rooted through the pile of envelopes and papers on the bench, searching for Bryony’s last letter.

Bryony Hanson was a girl I’d been writing to since Year 7 – she was my penpal. She lived in America, in the state of Oklahoma. And lately, that had got me thinking…I’d been born in Oklahoma. I’d told her I was adopted, and in the letter I’d gotten in the mail little more than a week earlier she’d told me something about her own family, but what it was I couldn’t remember. I’d know it when I read the letter.

I found the pale blue envelope buried under a pile of bills for electricity, telephone, the Internet and pay TV and opened it, pulling out the sheet of notebook paper.

Taylor,

How’s everything going? Had any luck with finding your parents yet? I’ve talked to my parents, but not much luck there, though Mom did say something about having a baby adopted nearly nineteen years ago. But she didn’t say anything else about that though. Dad apparently had no idea that before they were married Mom had even had a kid and given them up for adoption, until I brought it up that is, and they spent at least two hours rowing. Dad was so pissed off after that, you have no idea. They’ve calmed down now of course, but it took a hell of a long time. I asked Mom, while Dad was at work, about the baby she gave up, like what their name was, stuff like that, and this is what she told me – his name was Jordan. Jordan Taylor Lawyer, I think she said. Cool name, isn’t it? Better than Bryony Eleanor Hanson, that’s for sure!

So, tell me Taylor – how’s that band of yours going? You said you had some concerts coming up. I would love to be in a band, it sounds like so much fun. I’m the only kid in this God-forsaken family who has even a skerrick of musical ability. The only one. It’s mostly a pain when I have homework for my music class at school, and neither Mom nor Dad is around to help me out. But I guess that’s what the Internet’s for. Although sometimes I can’t find what I’m looking for, which tends to piss me off, especially if I have a major assignment due the next day and I’ve barely even started working on it! That’s usually my cue to make some excuse for staying up late to work on it. That, and I love to antagonise my brothers and sisters. Bit hard to antagonise the neighbours when you live on a ranch way outside of the Tulsa city limits! But it’s nice out here; I love riding my trail bike around our property. Nice and quiet, just the way I like it. Maybe one day you can come out here and see for yourself. You’d love it here – there’s nothin’ here but horses and bunny rabbits (or ‘bunny wabbits’ as my lil’ sis Zoë would say; she has a slight problem with enunciation, just like any four-year-old you can name). Oh yeah, and the ferals I live with *rolls eyes*

Anyways, I better scoot, I got a mountain of homework that needs doing and if I don’t get it done Mom will have my head on a stick. I’ll catch ya later.

Peace,

Bryony

The kettle whistled, and I filled a coffee cup with hot water, adding a few teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk. I carried my coffee and Bryony’s letter to the dining table, grabbed a pen and paper off the bench and sat down at the table; I drank my coffee slowly as I wrote a reply.

Bryony,

I apologise if any of this sounds incoherent in any way, shape or form, as I only just woke up a bit more than a quarter of an hour ago. So yeah, I’m still very much half asleep. Anyways, I’ll get this started.

We had our first concert, after recording our CD, last night – it rocked! We played seven cover songs and six originals – the covers were Riders On The Storm (The Doors/Creed), Buses And Trains (Bachelor Girl), Ordinary World (Duran Duran), Push (Matchbox 20), Daughter (Pearl Jam), Casey Jones (The Grateful Dead) and What If (Creed). In the immortal words of Matthew Shelton, we ‘rocked da house’. Matt’s an idiot sometimes. I came close to losing my voice after the show, so I don’t plan to talk for at least a couple of days. I need to give my voice a serious break, otherwise I’m going to lose it altogether.

Thinking back to the stuff my mum gave me last month concerning my adoption, and then reading your letter, I have some more stuff to tell you. My first and middle names weren’t always ‘Taylor’ and ‘Francis’ (in that order) – I was born Jordan Taylor Lawyer. Maybe there’s some sort of connection there. I haven’t had a lot of luck really; my parents are still looking into it. We’ll get there eventually. At least, I hope so. I really do want to find my parents. Of course, Emma is scared that if I do find them, I’ll leave the Kennedys and go and live with my real family. I really do doubt that – after all, I have commitments here in Australia. I have my job, and I have my band. Renegade has a real ‘cult’ following where I live – wherever we play shows, the venues are packed pretty much to capacity. I can tell just from the crowd reactions that we would do so incredibly well in a professional sense, but Cassie won’t have a bar of it. Says it’d be too much effort. Too much effort my foot. It’d be fucking amazing. I’ve always wanted to travel, and taking Renegade to the next level would give us that chance. Maybe I should kick Cassie out of the band! *laughs* Nah, Cassie’s my best friend, I wouldn’t do that to her. She’d hurt me if even I tried to.

I should get going; I start work in a few hours. Until next time…

Lyric credits:

Dying To Be Alive – Hanson
Ordinary World – Duran Duran
Casey Jones – The Grateful Dead
What If – Creed