Untitled Document

It was a couple of days into August. In keeping with ‘the plan’, I’d waited until after dinner to bring up the four month old issue of my adoption. That way, I could be assured of their full attention when it came to revealing my suspicions.

Mum paused in loading the dishwasher, and Dad looked up from reading the newspaper. “About what, exactly?” Mum asked.

“Emma, Lila, Oliver, go to your rooms please,” Mum said; she loaded the last plate into the dishwasher and turned around. “I’m going to count to ten…”

“Okay, okay, we’re going,” Emma groused; she grabbed Lila and Oliver’s hands and led them upstairs, throwing a glance back over her shoulder as they went.

“Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Mum asked as she sat back down at the kitchen table.

I drew a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Bryony and I found out something when she came over here.”

I ran upstairs to my bedroom and scouted around for the Polaroid photograph that Bryony and I had taken with Dad’s camera. It was really the only proof I had, but it would have to do – there was just no other way I could show that I was telling the truth. I found it pinned to the cork noticeboard above my desk and took it back downstairs with me.

Mum picked the Polaroid up and examined it. “They do look a lot alike, Fran,” Dad said reasonably. “It’s quite possible that they’re related.”

When neither Mum nor Dad said anything for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes, I started mentally debating ways to convince them that I was telling the truth. Bash them over the head with a baseball bat. Shove them into the walk in freezer at Coles. Push them over a cliff.

Finally, Mum spoke. “Well, Taylor, either this is a very convincing mock up, or you’re telling the truth.”

“I’m telling the truth! Dad, you let me borrow the camera; you saw Bryony and I go and sit out in the backyard and take the photo. And how would I mess with the photo, I don’t have a scanner or any programs on my computer that would let me do that sort of thing!”

“Taylor, relax,” Dad said. “I believe you. Has Bryony told her parents?”

“Okay.” He got up out of his seat and started pacing. “The next time you talk to Bryony, tell her that your parents want to talk to her parents.”

“I’ll go email her now,” I suggested; Dad nodded, and I hightailed it up to my room.

Settling myself before my computer, I dialled up to the ISP and surfed over to my email account; after logging in, I typed out an email.

I snorted at the postscript of Bryony’s email. Had I had my hair cut yet…it was the most predictable question that anyone had ever asked me.

I sent a return email with my phone number plus the answer to Bryony’s question, then grabbed my guitar and went out onto the second floor balcony.

The winter sun was setting over the houses that populated my neighbourhood as I settled myself in the cane chair that Mum kept out on the balcony and balanced my guitar on my knees. I started tuning it, listening intently for any discordance in sound. I didn’t have a guitar tuner, but I’d learned to tune my guitar by ear. Though soon I’d probably have to buy a proper tuner; still, it was a useful talent to have.

My guitar tuned, I ducked back into my room for my music folder – it contained each and every song I’d learned to play over the years. I flipped through it and found the song entitled Star, by Bryan Adams – it would be a good one to help me get back into practice. I wedged my feet against the balcony and balanced the folder on my feet, then started playing.

“What you gonna do when you grow up…what you gonna do when your time is up…what you gonna say when things go wrong…what you gonna do when you’re on your own…

“There’s a road…long and winding…the lights are blindin’…but it gets there…don’t give up…don’t look back…there’s a silver linin’…it’s out there somewhere…

“Everybody wants an answer…everybody needs a friend…we all need a shinin’ star on which we can depend…so tonight we’re gonna wish upon a star we never wished upon before…to find what you’re looking for…

“There’ll be times…in your life…when you’ll be dancin’ an’ shit…but you ain’t gettin’ it…don’t get disillusioned…no, don’t expect too much…‘cause if what you have is all you can get…just keep on tryin’…it just ain’t happened yet…

“Everybody wants to be a winner…everybody has a dream…we all need a shinin’ star when things ain’t what they seem…so tonight we’re gonna wish upon a star we never wished upon before…gotta get where you’re headed for…

“Everybody wants some kindness…everybody needs a break…we all need a shinin’ star when things get hard to take…so tonight we’re gonna wish upon a star we never wished upon before…so tonight we’re gonna wish upon a star we never wished upon before…

“What you gonna do when you grow up…what you gonna do when your time is up…what you gonna say when things go wrong…what you gonna do when you’re on your own…what you gonna do when you grow up…what you gonna do when your time is up…what you gonna say when things go wrong…what you gonna do when you’re on your own…”

I pulled the folder forward again and searched through it for another piece, coming across the music for Third Eye Blind’s Semi Charmed Life. Shrugging, I started playing it.

“I’m packed and I’m holding…I’m smiling, she’s living, she’s golden, she lives for me…she says she lives for me, ovation, her own motivation…she comes round and she goes down on me…and I make her smile like a drug for you…do ever what you want to do…coming over you…keep on smilin’, what we go through…one stop to the rhythm that divides you…and I speak to you like the chorus to the verse…chop another line like a coda with a curse…come on like a freak show takes the stage…we give them the games we play, she say…

“I want something else…to get me through this…semi charmed kind of life, baby, baby…I want something else…I’m not listenin’ when you say…goodbye…

“The sky was gold, it was rose…I was taking sips of it through my nose…and I wish I could get back there…some place back there…smiling in the pictures you would take…doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break…it won’t stop, I won’t come down, I keep stock…with a tick tock rhythm, I bump for the drop…and then I bumped up…I took the hit that I was given…then I bumped again and then I bumped again…I said how do I get back there to…the place where I fell asleep inside you…how do I get myself back to…the place where you said…

“I want something else…to get me through this…semi charmed kind of life, baby, baby…I want something else…I’m not listenin’ when you say…goodbye…

“I believe in the sand beneath my toes…the beach gives a feeling…an earthy feeling…I believe in the faith that grows…and the four right chords can make me cry…when I’m with you I feel like I could die…and that would be all right, all right…

“And when the plane came in she said she was crashing…the velvet it rips…in the city we tripped on the urge to feel alive…now I’m struggling to survive…those days you were wearing that velvet dress…you’re the priestess I must confess…those little red panties they pass the test…slide up around the belly face down on the mattress…

“One, and you hold me, and we are broken…still it’s all that I want to do, just a little now…feel myself with head made of the ground…I’m scared, I’m not coming down, no no…and I won’t run for my life…she’s got the jaws now locked down in smile but nothing is all right…all right…

“And I want something else…to get me through this life, baby…I want something else…I’m not listening when you say…goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…

“This life was gold, it was rose…I was takin’ sips of it through my nose…and I wish I could get back there, someplace…back there, in the place we used to star…aye aye aye aye…I want somethin’ else…”

I remained out on the balcony long after the sun had set, playing my guitar and thinking over the enormity of the situation that I faced.

Was I angry that I’d had the truth kept from me my entire life? Definitely. I’d always been taught that it was important to tell the truth; I’d been punished many a time for lying and then being caught out for it, mostly by my Italian grandfather – in fact I still had some of the marks. One on my lower back, a couple on the backs of my ankles, and one on my left shoulder. The scars on my back and shoulder had been disguised by tattoos not long after I turned eighteen, to hide them from prying eyes.

Did I wish that I’d been told of my adoption as soon as I was old enough to understand? Hell yeah. There’d always been something in the back of my mind, telling me that something wasn’t right, but I’d always put it down to intuition; my intuition was so wildly inaccurate that I’d never been able to pick the winner of the Melbourne Cup, so why would I trust it? Now it seemed that it had been accurate for once, but I hadn’t listened to it.

But was I ready to learn the whole truth about who I was? I kept telling myself that I was, but there was a tiny little voice in the back of my mind that, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but listen to. If she loved you, she wouldn’t have given you away, it kept saying. She would’ve raised you. She hates you. She wants nothing to do with you. She didn’t want you.

To this I always replied, Of course she loved me. Sometimes the best way to show love is to let someone go. It proves you loved them enough to give them a better chance at life.

I sighed and gazed out at the crescent moon. Tomorrow would be the day I found everything out – tomorrow I would discover the truth. But if I’d known just what would happen, I don’t think I would have been so willing to find out who I really was.

The phone call between my parents and Bryony’s parents had ended hours ago; I’d eavesdropped on part of it, right up until the point where Bryony’s mother had confirmed what my mental voice had said.

Just hearing her say that had killed me inside. Those four simple words had painted an immediate picture in my mind of who she was to me. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have had me adopted. She would have raised me.

For over five hours I had resisted the strong temptation to cry, to let my feelings go. But when my mother, the one who did love me, came into my room a couple of hours after dinner had come and gone, I couldn’t fight it any longer.

“Tay?” came her voice; dim light from the hallway spilled into my room. “Honey, are you awake?”

“Why didn’t you come down to dinner?” she asked me. She turned on the lamp on my desk and sat down beside me on my bed. “You’ve been up here for hours…”

“I heard what she said,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I heard what she said about me. She didn’t love me.”

“I heard enough,” I answered, bitterness invading my tone. “I listened right up until the point where she said she hadn’t wanted me, but she didn’t believe in abortion. That little voice I’ve been hearing in my head was right for once in my life.”

“You didn’t hear the whole story, though.” She helped me to sit up. “After we heard you hang up the extension, the whole truth came out.” A pause. “She said that over the years, she’s wondered just what became of you. She did love you, Tay, but she couldn’t admit it to herself. Sometimes…the best way to show your love for someone is to let them go.”

“She didn’t want me, but she still loved me?” I snorted. “Sounds like a serious whack job to me.”

“We’re turning control of this whole situation over to you, that’s what,” Mum replied. “From this point forward, you get to call the shots. We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

I thought about this. “I’m not so sure anymore whether I want to meet her, not after knowing how she felt about me.” I looked at Mum. “What about Bryony?”

“She confirmed it. She said that Bryony is your half sister. You were right. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“So, how does a late dinner sound to you?” Mum asked me. “We had tortillas for dinner, but I know you don’t like them, so…”

“That’s my baby. Come on short stuff, let’s go find you something to eat.”

I allowed Mum to wrap an arm around my shoulders as we went downstairs; I started rummaging in cupboards and drawers, looking for something edible for my dinner. I hadn’t even realised I’d missed dinner, and now…I was fucking starving. I found some Swiss cheese, some mini pizza bases, a tin of crushed pineapple, a tub of pizza sauce and a couple of Roma tomatoes. Tomato, pineapple and cheese pizza it was. Maybe there’s some Italian in me after all, I thought as I constructed my pizzas and slid them under the grill. Guess I’m not as much of a Yank as I thought I was. I chuckled and crouched down to keep an eye on my dinner. “Mum, do we have any whipped cream around here anywhere?” I asked. “Y’know, the canned stuff.”

“You’ll see.” I pulled the griller tray out and levered the pizzas onto a plate, then went in search of the Milo and the whipped cream. Having found them, I made the same drink that Cassie had made at her place not a month earlier. “That’s why,” I said, setting two nearly full glasses of chocolate milk on the bench. “Cassie’s little invention. Matt and I were positive it was gonna make us sick, but it didn’t.”

Mum smiled. “I suppose one of those is for me?” she asked, pointing to the two pizzas I’d mocked up.

“Yeah, if you want it,” I answered. I picked up one and passed the plate across the bench to Mum. “Mum, what would you say if I told you I wanted to go professional?”

I rolled my eyes. “The music,” I said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the known world. “Matt and I are more than ready to, we’ve been ready to take Renegade to the next level ever since we finished recording our second CD, but Cassie won’t have a bar of it.”

There was silence for some time. Then Mum said, “You’re telling me that, if Cassandra-”

“Cassie, Mum; her grandmother is the only one who calls her Cassandra and actually gets away with it,” I broke in.

“All right, Cassie then. If Cassie agrees to Renegade becoming a fully-fledged recording group, you would make an attempt at getting a contract. Is that what you’re saying?”

I nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. What would you say about it?”

She nodded. “Taylor, I’m not as out of touch as I would have you believe. I have heard and I have seen you, Matthew and Cassie perform. You three are amazing. Phenomenal, even. And I am no record company executive, but Renegade could really go places. I do mean that.” She nodded upstairs. “Every time you go out on the balcony with your guitar, your father and I can hear you. You have a real gift there, both for singing and playing the guitar. In fact, I would go so far as to say you have a talent for everything that has anything remotely to do with music. You don’t have a guitar tuner, do you?” I shook my head. “That’s one. You’re able to tune your guitar by ear. I can’t think of many people who can do that.”

I finished off my drink. “I’ll have to see what Cassie says, but if we can convince her…who knows what will happen?”

Convincing Cassie to go professional, to take Renegade to the next level, was harder than both Matthew and I thought it would be. For one thing, Cassie had been steadfastly against a professional recording career from the start, and once Cassie Dale gets into a rut there’s not much point in trying to shift her.

“Taylor, don’t even start with me. Besides, what if you go and live with the Hansons? What then?”

“Cass, do you really think I would want to go and live with a mother who never wanted me in the first place?”

Cassie paused in scribbling down the lyrics for a song she’d heard on the radio the night before. “She never wanted you?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. But she didn’t believe in abortion so she just gave me up for adoption. I’ve never met her but I already hate her.”

“Yeah, well…” I fiddled with the strings of my guitar. “I don’t care. Bryony’s my sister, and that’s all the family I need. I don’t need a mother who didn’t care enough to give me a decent start in life.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Matthew broke in. “Sometimes the best way to show love is to let someone go.”

“Copycat,” I said absently. I put my guitar down and pulled forward a lock of my long hair; I started staring at it, and my eyes crossed. Cassie eyed my hair and raised an eyebrow.

“Taylor, if you don’t go and get a haircut I will cut it myself,” she said. “If I was looking at you from the back I’d think you were a chick.” I tore my gaze away from my hair, looking her right in the eye, and she flinched. “And uncross your eyes; that’s creepy.”

“Um, Matt, I don’t think that was such a good idea,” I said, uncrossing my eyes and tossing my hair back over my shoulder. “You know what she does when she gets angry…”

“Yes, he does know,” Cassie said through gritted teeth. “And I’m about to do it…”

“Oops,” Matthew said; he screeched and set off at a run when Cassie jumped off of the lounge. “Taylor! Save me from the bitch from hell!”

“No, you’re on your own here!” I yelled back, smiling in satisfaction as I heard a loud splash that could only mean one thing – Matthew got thrown in the pool. My suspicions were confirmed when Cassie came striding up the garden path, her T-shirt damp. But when she saw me, she got a calculating smirk on her face.

I jumped to my feet and ran through the house, Cassie hot on my heels. She was keeping her promise – once I had my casts taken off, she was going to shove me into her backyard swimming pool. And there was no way I was going to let that happen. Unfortunately, she caught up with me just as I finished my second circuit of the yard and prepared to start a third, latching a hand onto the back of my shirt and sending me flying off of my feet.

“Jesus, way to go Cass; do you want me to break my ankle again?” I asked crossly.

Grumbling, I got to my feet, wincing at the pain in my ankle; Cassie poked me repeatedly in the back as I walked reluctantly toward the inground pool that had pride of place in the Dale family’s backyard. Then, just as I neared the edge of the pool, Cassie stuck her foot out and tripped me; I went flying into the water and she followed soon after, climbing up onto my shoulders and dragging me into the deeper end. I managed to throw her off into the water, wincing at the pain in my wrist. The cold water only seemed to exacerbate it, so I kept it out of the water as much as was possible.

Cassie froze and turned around, as did Matthew and I. Cassie’s mother stood on the pool’s wooden decking, arms crossed over her chest.

“Just having fun,” Cassie said sweetly. As if to contradict Cassie’s statement, Matthew sneezed. I accidentally let my right hand drop into the water, yelping as ice cold needles of pain spread themselves through my hand and wrist; I pulled it out and cradled it against my chest.

We did as Mrs. Dale said, changing into dry clothes and tossing our wet clothing in the clothes dryer in the laundry.

“So, Cass, you want to take this to the next level or what? Is Renegade going to go professional?” I asked, taking the hot pack that Mrs. Dale handed me; I wrapped it carefully around my wrist and settled back into the lounge, feeling warmth spread through it.

“I already told you we weren’t going to,” Cassie retorted. “It’s too much effort.”

“It is not!” Matthew protested. “Cass, do you know how long Tay and I have been ready for this opportunity?” Cassie shook her head. “We’ve been ready for it ever since we put the finishing touches on our second CD. And I know you are too; you love sharing your gift with the world, and you love the rush that performing live gives us. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you crave it. Would I be right?”

“I smell smoke,” I piped up. “Cassie, you take the crowds we get at our little club shows, and you multiply that by at least ten thousand. That would be our audience, should we take this to the professional level and make it in the business. It would be amazing.”

“Okay Cass, think of it this way.” Matthew scratched the left side of his jaw. “Why did you want to start Renegade in the first place?”

“Well, lemme see…” Cassie leaned back. “I like music, besides which I’m good at it, and I love to perform.”

“Exactly. If we do this, you can prove that love to millions, maybe even billions of people around the world. You’re an amazing musician Cass; all you have to do is have faith in yourself. We could really go far with this.”

A tiny smile appeared on Cassie’s face; Matthew’s surreptitious praise for her talents was wearing her down.

“Think?” Matthew asked in mock incredulity. “Cass, I know we can go far. We have talent, we have drive, and we already have an independent fan base that we can constantly rely upon to show up at our gigs. If we can manage to get ourselves signed to a major recording label, and get an album recorded, all we’ll need to do is get the word out to the faithful. They’d spread the word about us faster than you can blink. Why do you think we have to book bigger venues for each of our gigs? Those who are already fans of our music tell their friends and family, and those new converts turn up at every show to support us. It’s a nice little enterprise that we’ve got for ourselves here.”

He eyed Cassie critically. “So, what do you say? Do we make an attempt at going for the big time, or are we going to play chicken?”

Cassie frowned. “You’re making being an independent outfit sound like the worst thing on Earth,” she said.

“It is, in a roundabout way,” I cut in. “Think of the money we could make out of this. Providing we got signed, of course. We all have jobs outside of Renegade; being independent doesn’t give us nearly enough pocket money. Matt, how much money did we each get out of the last club tour?”

Matthew counted on his fingers, muttering under his breath. “Just shy of a hundred and fifty dollars,” he said.

“See, Cass? I make that much in a week at work. It’s fuck all. We break the big time, we could multiply that by a thousand at least. Maybe even a million. Music’s a fickle business, but if we can show that we have the talent, we can go places.”

“Well, what’s our best independent recording?” Matthew asked. “We’ve got six, don’t we?”

“More or less,” I said. “I think the last one we did, that’s our best. We can scrounge up a few copies and post them off to some recording companies, see which ones bite. But” and at this I held up a finger “we do not rely on this. We get writing songs for another independent, just in case this doesn’t pan out as planned. We make preparations to hit the studio again. And we make plans for another club tour. If we’re going to do this, we need to have a backup plan. And it needs to be a bloody good one if you ask me. We have to do this the right way.”

We needn’t have worried, though. For things were about to get just that little more interesting.