It was two weeks later. Every day just kind of went the same. Having fun hanging out in the morning, playing shows in the afternoon and night, and then eating so much we thought we'd barf after shows. It was never ending. But at least it was never ending fun. I sat on the bus that Tuesday after their second to last show in Australia. Everyone else was asleep because it was a later concert which had started at 9 and ended around 1 in the morning.
I couldn't fall asleep. My mind began to wander. I thought about what would happen when I met my father, if we found him at all. What would his reaction be when I told him it was me. Would he give me a huge hug? Or maybe he would just walk away. I had no idea. And why wasn't he safe either? He was a simple man who worked at a construction sight. I wanted him back. I didn't see the big deal.
Except...but that doesn't make any sense. I thought my parents had settled it. I thought it was all over.
I tried to remember what happened right before the wreck. My heart began to pound as my mind began to piece together the puzzle. It felt like it was beating so fast the boys could hear and they would wake up. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, trying to suppress my tears. Nothing was right if what I was thinking was true. Nothing was fair.
My father was a builder, CEO of one the largest companies in Eastern Australia, so complaints usually ended up going straight to him. Stupid things like a screw that was supposed to come with their kit wasn't there, or most often complaints with the materials of supplies people bought. One day they started a project building a homeless shelter with a wealthy land owner. It turns out the land owner didn't actually own the land and, and the government was infuriated. They immediately wanted to shut down the program considering it was their land, and they didn't permit it. My father refused to stop building because it was for a good cause. Things began to get out of hand. I heard some of the homeless began to riot. The government couldn't keep them all back forever. They got sick of the construction.
When I was 5, my parents starting fighting soon after the construction started. I stayed up at night because I could hear them. My dad screamed it was the best solution. My mom argued back it wasn't fair to the family. I often tried to eavesdrop, but my parents knew I was out there. They began to lock their door and argue in hushed voices. I often sat outside their door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the conversation but I never did.
One night the had a huge fight. They slept in different rooms. My mother even packed up my fathers things and dumped them outside the guest bedroom where he slept.
Suddenly it stopped. The fighting, the arguing, ignoring me, everything stopped. After that night, they woke up and didn't yell. But they weren't happy. My mother often cried. But they never argued. Not once after that night did they fight. They tried to be happy with each other, like they knew something was wrong. I wanted to know what was wrong, but I was too scared to ask. I hated the yelling. I didn't want it to come back. So I left the subject alone, I let it all go.
A month later we got in the wreck. The headlights were the first thing I saw, and then I passed out. I didn't even see my dad. I woke up neatly tucked into a hospital bed. My father was no where to be found.
My mother delivered the news to me. She told me my father had gone away to a better place, tears forming in her eyes. I knew what that meant. It's what they told me when my dog passed away a year earlier. It was traumatizing, but my mother bought me toys to hopefully keep my occupied. We never discussed it again until the trip really.
But now I untangled the mess that had clogged my brain for 11 years after that. I knew he was alive. It all made sense.
The government wanted him to disappear. They wanted him to go away. I didn't know why, but I would when I found him. The catch was they had to make it look practical. Stage a huge accident that would cost my father, Tanner Taylor, his life. But it didn't cost the man in that photo. Whoever he was, he was alive. And he was my dad. I had to find him. He didn't have to be scared of the government. I could help him. He would finally be mine.
