by Andrea Smith
“Babe, we both know where she’d be. In some trashy trailer court in Florida with some guy named Buck.” He came over and pulled me into his arms. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“I know, me either. I vaguely remember that I was in a foster home. I can’t quite remember the reason, just that Mom was gone for some time. They told me she was sick. I didn’t know from what. I must have been around… five?”
“Oh, shit, please don’t tell me you were… abused there.”
“No, I don’t remember anything like that,” I replied, “but I do remember how strict the lady was who had me. Looking back now, I just wasn’t used to structure and order. My mom was all about anything goes. It’s amazing that I didn’t turn out worse.”
He kissed me on the temple. “Olivia, you’re an angel. In some ways, I think you were the parent in that relationship. Never doubt how great you are,” he said, and shifted Emmie so that she was closer to me. She gave me a big, drooling smile. She wanted me to hold her now.
“Come here, you. You know I could never resist this face.” And as I looked into Emmie’s bright, blue eyes, I had to wonder who her real father was.
But I would never say it out loud.
“So, I know we have the New Year’s Eve party tonight, but have you thought more about going to Michigan to talk with that, Janet girl?” Emmett asked.
“I have.”
“Okay. So, when are we going?”
I held Emmie up and blew raspberries on her belly. “We’re not. I have my family right here. I can live with not knowing the whole, possibly sordid, story of my past.”
Chapter 36
Emmett
Emmie was four months old today. And everything new she did, was new to me as well. Wanda loved taking care of her when the band was down in the studio we’d finally finished, practicing and lining up the tunes for our first official tour.
Gordy was there regularly, providing guidance and insight. He’d arranged the order of the songs we’d perform, and had a choreographer named Maria come in to give us a crash course on - get this - stage presence. It was some real LOL moments, especially getting Wayne who basically had two left feet to ‘loosen up,’ as she had termed it.
“You’re so stiff. Like statue,” she’d said, her arms flailing and thick Hispanic accent present. “You need to loosen up, relax the muscles.”
I could tell Wayne was ready to blow, and not his top. After she left, he crudely remarked, “I got her stiff, hanging,” he grumbled, grabbing his crotch to make his point.
“Relax, Tiger,” Olivia had chided. “She’s only here to help, Wayne.”
He’d snickered. “That’s easy for you to say, Liv. I didn’t see her criticize any of your rock chick moves.”
“Exactly,” Olivia had answered, jabbing her index finger into his chest playfully, “because I’ve watched enough music videos to know just how it’s done,” she finished, giving him an ornery smile.
“She’s got a point,” I’d piped in my two cents. “I mean, dig it, did you see my girl prance out on that stage looking like a Stevie Nicks clone from forty years ago?”
This had gotten a bevy of eye-rolls, moans and groans from my band bros. “You’ve really gone off the deep end, dude,” Slade teased. I’d looked around and Coop and Ace were making the finger-jabbing motion which invoked puking.
Even Olivia’s cheeks had warmed with the outspoken praise.
Fuck! I am totally pussy-whipped.
We had three days off until our next session, and to be honest, we needed it. Olivia had gone to the grocery to get a week’s worth of eats, and stock up on the disposable diaper supply.
Emmie was sucking on her ‘Bop’ and I settled her into the battery-operated swing she dearly loved, and settled myself on the sofa, my Gibson on my lap, plucking away at some random tunes. I couldn’t believe Olivia had done this for me, and each time I mentioned it, she shushed me telling me not to go all gooey on her, whatever the hell that meant.
Emmie’s swing was playing a nursery rhyme tune, and I’d actually started jotting a few musical notes down to go with some lyrics I’d already started for a new tune titled ‘Lost in You.’
I was just strumming some new chords for viability, when the doorbell rang. I got up, looked over at Emmie, who was starting to doze off and said, “Wanna bet Mama needs help bringing the groceries in? Don’t go anywhere little girl.”
I traipsed into the entry hall, opening the door with a “Yes, I’ll–” and I stopped short.
It was not Olivia.
It was a chick I’d never seen before, and as I looked out to the street, I saw an older model SUV parked at the curb.
“Is Olivia here?” she asked.
I was so hoping this wasn’t a groupie of the band. I’d already had a couple young chicks, like jail-bait young, loitering outside the house. I didn’t need some cray-cray stalking Olivia.
“Ah no,” I replied, “was she expecting you?”
The chick looked sheepish as she stood there not meeting my eyes. She waited a few moments before responding. “No, she wasn’t,” she replied, “and I apologize for dropping in out of the blue, but Olivia hasn’t been responding to my messages and it’s really important that I talk to her. My name is… Janet.”
Now that had fucking rang a bell, and I sure as shit wasn’t quite sure how I should respond. Olivia hadn’t mentioned the whole Janet thing in weeks. I was debating whether or not to tell her to get lost, when Olivia pulled into our driveway.
I would let her make the decision.
Chapter 37
Olivia
I turned my new SUV into the drive. I loved my new wheels. Though, I would have instead bought something sportier–something that screamed ‘Hot Chick,’ like a corvette or a Tesla, but since I was now hauling car seats, strollers, and other baby paraphernalia, this was the perfect choice.
The smile on my face suddenly faded when I saw yet another chick at the door. Emmett was just standing there, but the look on his face said it all. He had been busted. Though I knew I could trust him, I was getting slightly sick of the endless stampede of Stacie skanks showing up, all wanting a piece of my man.
Sure, I had my share of whistles from men, and lots of fans, who also wanted to have a piece of me, but the thing about fame was, it seemed to bring out the crazy females for the most part. It looked like one of the crazies had made it to our front porch.
Emmett came around to the back of the SUV, waiting for me to pop the latch. Damn straight he was going to help with the groceries. And little Miss. Skank stood alone on the doorstep.
My… wasn’t she a brave one.
I got out of the car and walked behind to pull out the groceries when Emmett stopped me.
“Hey, I’ll leave it up to you, babe,” he said, giving a nod toward the front porch.
“Fucking yeah, you’ll leave it up to me. The claws are about to come out, Emmett. I’m getting really sick of it. I can see when we are on the road, but damn, not in our own fucking home.”
“No, it’s not what you think.”
“Wait, did you just use that line on me?” I retorted and placed my hands on my hips. “Like when we caught you with your pants down, getting your dick sucked… when you were a nobody!”
I was beyond pissed. And I didn’t care if I would be apologizing later. I had to put my foot down now. We already had a rough start, and I knew as we climbed the charts, it would only get tougher.
I had to get tougher and lay some claim on my family.
“Olivia, dammit, just listen to me. I’m not sure what the fuck you’re talking about using some line on you, and bringing up my past history which has nothing to do with the person who showed up to see you,” he said between his gritted teeth.
“Olivia Harris?” I heard a soft voice behind us. We both looked at her,
Emmett now also staring down at me with a smirk.
“Yes, I am. And if you want to keep that pretty face of yours, I suggest you get back in your car, and never fucking come around here again. You understand?”
“Please, I’m Janet. I really need to talk with you,” she said, and I suddenly felt like a jealous middle-school girl.
“Janet…”
“You never messaged me back. And I’ve come all this way to give you something.”
I looked back at Emmett, my eyes blinking with confusion. Though I wasn’t confused–I was shocked.
“You came all the way from… Michigan? Just to give me something? You obviously have my address,” I said, still a bit pissed. “So why didn’t you just send it to me?”
She just stood there looking sheepish, and shrugged her shoulders in response.
“Babe, she came all this way. Maybe you should listen to what she has to say,” Emmett prodded.
I breathed out a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, Janet, I do appreciate that you came all this way… and I’m sorry for blowing up. But you need to understand, I have a life now and nothing about my past matters. That may sound cruel, and I’m sure it does, but my past was shit, and I want to leave it there–in the past.”
She looked down and then pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, not reaching for the envelope she was holding out for me.
“It’s a letter from your father. A promise I made to… him on his death bed. Please, take it.”
The letter was only inches from me, and I wanted to snatch it up. Find out anything from my past. But I was numb. I had to force myself not to grab it.
“Thank you, Janet,” Emmett said and took the letter from her. “Sweetheart, let’s go inside and read it together,” he suggested. He’d put his arm around my shoulders in support. By now I felt nervous… and kind of shaky. Emmett sensed my discomfort; my pain and indecision about opening up new unknown wounds of the past. He continued on, “Baby, whatever is in there, you know damn well that it will never change who we are together, right?” He kissed me on the forehead, and I felt his promise. I nodded my head in agreement.
We started for the house, and I stopped and turned around. Janet was walking away to her car. “Janet, please. Will you join us?” Whatever was in that letter, I was sure I would have more questions.
Once inside, Emmett led me to the sofa and offered Janet a seat. The letter was still in Emmett’s hand, and he sat down beside me.
“Here, Babe. You deserve to know the truth,” he said and handed me the envelope. I slowly took it and tore open the seal. Pulling out the letter, I looked up at Janet, and then to Emmett. He was rubbing small circles on my back, and I looked down and began to read it.
My baby girl, where do I begin? I have a lifetime of stories for you. A lifetime of love for you. And a lifetime of never getting to see or know you. But none of that matters. What matters is that you must know, I never gave up looking for you.
You were born on a hot, summer day, August 4th, 1998. They put you in my arms, and my world changed. I loved you the minute you looked into my eyes. And that feeling has never changed.
But I only had you for a month. After you were born, your mother became so depressed, with post-partum stuff that I finally took her to Nashville, Tennessee. Not only was your mother beautiful, but her voice was also that of a dove, and singing and playing the guitar was the only thing that could bring her out of that depression.
Please understand that by this time, I suspected your mother had some mental and/or personality disorder issues. Chemical imbalance in the brain is what her physicians and specialists decided, but I know she loved the idea of being pregnant, and wanted you so much. I know this because, once we found out you were coming into our lives, she stopped taking her medication.
Her delusions became so severe, and the distinction between fantasy and reality was lost. In her mind, I was keeping her from her true love and your birth father. She became fascinated with a man we heard sing in Nashville. His name was Zak, and he called her up on stage to sing with him one night. After that, I no longer existed, and you belonged to him.
I did my best to care for her and you. I loved her with all my being, but her delusions became her life, and I came home to an empty house one day after work. She left a note that I was never to go near her, and if I did Zak would kill me.
I searched like mad to find you, but somehow, even in her darkness, she was always one step ahead of me.
I prayed for all my life, that she at least took good care of you and that you had all that you needed. I almost got you back once, but failed.
All I can say now is, I love you, Olivia Mason. And I always will.
Dad.
Tears were running down my cheeks, and Emmett was holding me tightly. I had a father. A father who loved me. Who wanted me. I felt so cheated and so much anger for my mother–and my mind circled around the obvious: the life I could have had was denied because of her mental illness. But that made me feel even more selfish and guilty, because the truth was, she couldn’t help it.
“Babe, are you okay?” Emmett asked, holding me close and rubbing my back. I didn’t read the letter out loud, and with my tears, he was at a loss.
“Yes. My father has been searching for years for me. He loved me, Emmett,” I said in between sobs.
“He did, Olivia,” Janet said, and I forgot she was there.
“Janet, please tell me about my father,” I pleaded.
“He was the only father I ever had. He was a good man. He married my mother when I was five, and all he ever talked about was you. Sometimes, I was jealous of the sister I never knew.”
“He wrote that he almost got me back once. Could you tell me about that?”
“Yes. Your father, my stepfather, hired a private investigator to find you. He found out that you were placed in a foster home, but the state wouldn’t give him much information. He was able to track your mother down. She basically told him that for a certain amount of cash–I believe it was forty thousand dollars–that would supposedly cover the expenses she’d incurred while raising you, she would hand you over. She claimed that her and Zak needed the money to make an album and then travel the world to market it and continue writing music.”
I looked at Emmett. It was pretty obvious where the cash we’d found originated.
Janet continued. “He was to bring the cash by, and she was to provide him with the address of the foster home so that he could claim you as a birth parent and gain full custody. But when he showed up at the foster family’s address, she had already managed to grab you and disappear to God knows where. He was never able to find you or her again.”
“Thank you, Janet,” I said and wiped my face. “I’m so glad you were able to find me, but I need to know how was it that you did find me?” I asked, because that part of the puzzle hadn’t been made clear.
She looked a bit guarded and took a deep breath. “Please don’t think I’m stalker crazy. It was so I could complete your father’s dying wish, and Facebook made it a lot easier.”
I was never really on Facebook much, not until Katie made the band’s fan page.
“I went deep into each post I found on the page, pulling up others’ profiles, mostly people who commented on the band’s post. I got lucky when someone bragged the band was local, here in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. After that, all I had to do was check county records. I typed your name into Beacon Snyder, and up popped your house and address.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Wow, I guess my mother was totally off the radar. That explains why we mostly lived in dilapidated rentals. After I was grown, she bought her used trailer on some kind of land contract deals.” I looked at Emmett as we both tried to swallow the information overload, “But, there’s something I’m missing.”
“Yes, I’ll try and answer what I can,” Janet said, looking most sincere.
“I do have memories of being in a foster home. I remember playing outside one day when my mother showed up and took me from the yard. I told her I had to tell my foster mom I was leaving because…she was strict, and I didn’t want to get into trouble. My mother said she already talked to her and that I was now to leave with her. I didn’t question it. I was only five and happy to be with my mother.”
“That had to have been when she kidnapped you,” Janet explained.
“Yes, but that’s not what confuses me. It’s Zak. I don’t ever remember him, and the letter said they were together. Why don’t I remember him? My mother told me a different story. She said he left when she became pregnant with me.”
“Your mother was mentally ill, Olivia. She and Zak were never together. She tracked him down and broke into his house. She threatened his wife and children. After that, he had a restraining order taken out on her. It was after that when she took off with you.”
“This is some crazy fucked-up shit,” I said under my breath. Twenty-two years of my life was unfolded in seconds, and the more she told me, the more everything made sense. Nothing was ever real. One moment she loved this man, and the next, she cursed the day she met him. All those memories of Zak. None of it was real. It put me to mind of Stacie, and the way she’d created these various fantasy stories, often so detailed anyone who didn’t know the other side of the stories most certainly might find them plausible. I recalled how Stacie had pulled me in at the start believing them all.
I looked over at Janet. “You know, Mom told me once, that Zak had her arrested, and that he was married with children–supposedly, I was in the car. I must have been a baby, because I don’t remember any of it. In her last episode, she was afraid my father was looking for me and going to take me away from her. That was just before she killed herself. Maybe she knew that once we made the album, he could find me. She was paranoid.”
“She never wanted you to know the truth, Babe,” Emmett said, as he brushed his fingers across my cheek lovingly.