The Memories We Hide

by jodi Gibson

  Laura sat on the couch with her legs pulled up to her chest. She’d been that way since she got home. Outside, sheets of rain beat a steady drum against the window, but Laura barely noticed, all but lost in her thoughts.

  She didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that Rachel had slept with Ryan or the fact that Ryan had slept with Rachel. Although they were one and the same, each scenario was painful in its own way. The betrayal of a best friend. The betrayal of a boyfriend. And then there was Mitchell. An innocent child. A beautiful, innocent child the spitting image of the father he would never know. Laura’s head ached. She knew coming back to Banyula would be hard. She knew saying goodbye to Ryan would be hard. But she had no idea it would be like this.

  She tried to recall the memories of that year. Urging the neurons in her brain to fire them to life. She was looking for something. Something she had missed. Between Rachel and Ryan. A memory flickered to life. It must have been halfway through the year, as Ryan was still playing basketball then. She’d walked with him after school down to the basketball stadium where he had a practice match. Laura closed her eyes and dug deep into the memory.

  Ryan had pulled Laura in for a kiss, and Laura wrapped her arms around his waist as she always did, secretly inhaling his boyish scent of soap and cola. She wished she could breathe him in all day long.

  ‘I have to go,’ Ryan said, pulling away slowly. ‘You sure you can’t come and watch?’

  Laura peered into the basketball stadium. The harsh overhead lighting and neon scoreboard shone back at her through the open double doors. She wanted to, but the popular girls were sitting in the front row with their long, tan legs on display from beneath their barely there cheerleading skirts. Laura turned back to Ryan, knowing she couldn’t bear to set foot in there, no matter how much Ryan wanted her too.

  ‘I know, I wish I could!’ she lied.

  ‘Hey Ry? Coach is looking for you,’ came a voice from the doorway. Laura’s eyes darted to see Stacey hanging out the door with her head tilted, one hand playing with her long blonde ponytail.

  ‘Hi Laura,’ she said with a cruel smile.

  Laura’s face burned.

  ‘Gotta go,’ Ryan said, jogging toward the stadium. ‘I’ll call you later, okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Laura watched as Stacey followed Ryan into the stadium, but not before turning to Laura and raising her eyebrow.

  The pit of Laura’s stomach churned as she turned for the walk home. Why was she so intimidated by those girls? She never used to be. She and Rachel usually kept to themselves. Off their radar was the best place to be. But now she was seeing Ryan, it was like she was a glowing beacon to them. Like she had something they wanted. But Ryan had never been interested in any of them as far as Laura knew.

  Laura paced down the footpath toward her street, and her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from a number she didn’t recognize. She stopped and slid her finger across the screen to view the message. It was a picture of Ryan on the court surrounded by three of the cheerleaders, their heads tipped back in laughter. Laura’s face felt as if it had caught fire. But that wasn’t the thing that caught her attention: one of the girls was Rachel. Not in a cheer uniform, of course, but standing next to Ryan, laughing with them all.

  She tapped her thumbs on the screen:

  Who is this?

  She waited for an answer with tears streaming down her face, turning her back to the passing cars. But there was no reply.

  She tapped again, this time bringing up Rachel’s number, and pressed the call button. It took an eternity for Rachel to answer.

  ‘Oh, hey, Lauz. Where are you?’ The thumping of the basketball on the court echoed through the phone.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at basketball. There’s some practice game going on. I thought you’d be here.’

  ‘Me? Why would I be there? Why are you even there?’

  ‘Stacey asked if I was going. She said you’d be here to watch Ryan.’

  Laura’s chest tightened. She hadn’t spoken to Stacey, apart from to apologize this morning at the lockers when she’d accidently dropped her psychology book on Stacey’s foot. Stacey had just glared at her with icy blue eyes that could freeze the entire Pacific Ocean.

  ‘I … We … we never go to basketball,’ Laura replied.

  ‘I know. I thought it was weird, but when I didn’t see you at the end of school, I thought you must’ve come straight here. And you know, it’s actually kind of fun,’ Rachel said. A roar of cheering came down the line.

  ‘I …’ Laura was lost for words.

  ‘You should come down.’ Another roar accompanied a cheer and thump of bass as music blared in the background.

  ‘I can’t. I have to babysit.’

  ‘What? I can’t hear you, Lauz. Come down. I’ll see you soon, okay?’

  Laura’s legs felt like jelly. She wanted to go, but then Ryan would know she lied. And then there was Stacey and her gang. And what was with Rachel? Why would she believe Stacey and not check with her about it? Nothing was making any sense.

  She brushed the tears from her face, threw her backpack on, and ran home.

  Laura opened her eyes. Was that it? Was that the beginning of it? Laura remembered that later that night Ryan had called her like he’d promised. He’d sensed Laura’s apprehension but had smoothed it over. Laura remembered not thinking of it again. She’d convinced herself it was nothing. But now, it felt like something. She was sure she could pull up another hundred memories and analyze them under a microscope and come up with more signs. But what good would it do? What happened, happened. Her embarrassment burned deep, but they were teenagers back then. Young, naïve, jealous, anxious, and pushing boundaries. That’s what teenagers did. Laura knew now that the signs were there, she had just chosen to ignore them. It was easier that way. She had a boyfriend. Her first boyfriend. And it wasn’t just any boy. It was Ryan Taylor. She didn’t want to mess it up. A tear trickled down her face, stained with naivety. She had to let it go.

  Chapter 26

  As Laura climbed into bed for the night, her phone echoed. Another text from Luke. He’d texted her three times already and she hadn’t responded. What was the point? It was over. She couldn’t keep stringing him along. And she also didn’t trust herself not to take the easy way out and run back into his arms. Better the devil you know.

  She placed her phone on the side table and made herself comfortable leaning against the pillow, the hum of the lamp the only noise until she opened up Ryan’s journal.

  She had promised herself, as she had her mum, to let it go. She berated herself for it taking so long. But this was it. This was the last thing she needed to take care of before she could leave it all in the past. She had to finish Ryan’s journal. She knew that she owed it to Ryan and herself. Ryan deserved to be heard. And she needed to put it all behind her with full knowledge.

  She slipped under the doona, propped herself against her pillow, and opened the journal.

  6 November 2009

  When you go looking for the truth, you expect finding it will change everything. That finally you will have answers for the endless mountain of questions that are floating around in your mind. What is it they say? The truth will set you free? Yeah, right. Today I found out the truth. And it didn’t set me free. After what I found out today I feel like I can’t keep my head above the water, like my legs are lead. The truth hasn’t set me free; it’s drowning me.

  Gran tried to explain it all. She came home to find me in front of the computer Googling my father.

  I hadn’t meant to go snooping, but after she left for her nightly bridge game, I guess I got depressed. The two beers I downed probably didn’t help. I shouldn’t be drinking yet. We have that party tonight, but I couldn’t move from the couch. I stared at the frayed blue carpet. The carpet I used to play with my toy cars on when I was little. Where I used to lie next to Gran watching Thomas the Tank Engine.

  A lump formed at the
back of my throat that made me feel like throwing up. I swayed between self-hatred and anger at the world. My mood swings were worsening. I knew it. There were days I didn't want to see anyone and days where I couldn't bear to be alone. And this restless feeling had buried itself right down in my core, asking me questions all the time. Why doesn't Gran speak about your mum? Who really was your dad? What really happened the night of the car crash? I don’t know where the questions were coming from, but they kept getting louder and louder. I squeezed my eyes tight to shut them up, but they wouldn’t quiet. I went into the hallway, my chest feeling like it was being squeezed tight from the inside out. Light-headed, I grabbed the wall to steady myself and focus on my breathing and looked up toward the ceiling at the skylight. For some reason, I knew I had to get into the attic. What I was looking for, I didn't really know. Anything to do with my mum or dad—photos, anything. I knew there had to be something up there, but I couldn’t see any of the boxes that looked like they’d be helpful. I pushed aside the Christmas tree decorations, an old tent, until I came across a familiar box I knew had some old photographs and some of my early school stuff that Gran insisted on keeping.

  I rummaged through the box, pulling out old black-and-white photos of people. Strangers I had no clue who they were. The only giveaway that they were relatives was Gran's dimpled-cheek smile in some of them. She was really pretty when she was younger. I flicked through the photos of my mother from when she was a young girl, but still nothing of Dad. I gathered everything up and piled it back into the box, and out the corner of my eye, I saw another box that I'd never noticed before. It was a shoebox tucked behind an old sewing machine. I pulled it out and wiped the thick layer of dust off the top to see the word 'Private' scrawled across the lid in black marker in Gran's writing. My stomach churned with a twinge of guilt, but I pulled at the brittle sticky tape, tearing it off in small slivers until I could poke a finger in and release the lid. Inside were a heap of old papers and documents that didn’t really mean much to me. And then I saw it. My birth certificate. Ryan James Baxter. Baxter. Not Taylor. Baxter. I scanned the document, seeing my mother’s name Jane Mary Baxter (nee Lincoln), and then my father’s name: William James Baxter.

  It didn’t make any sense. I was Ryan Taylor. My father’s name was William James Taylor. Not Baxter. I flicked through the other documents and found another legal type document from the Department of Births, Deaths, and Marriages, Victoria, addressed to my grandmother, confirming the change of my name to Ryan James Taylor.

  My head was spinning. I don’t know if it was the beer, or what I had just found out, but I threw myself down the ladder and pulled open my laptop on the kitchen table and typed in the name William James Baxter.

  It took a few minutes of scrolling before I found it. I clicked on the link and read the newspaper article. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the screen, not feeling anything, But next thing I knew, Gran was standing behind me, her face ghost white and hand slapped across her mouth.

  There was no accident. My father shot my mother and then killed himself. I was eighteen months old and custody was granted to Gran, and she moved us two thousand kilometers away to Banyula.

  I felt bad when Gran started crying. I know she was only trying to protect me. She said she wanted to tell me the truth, but there never seemed to be a right time.

  She told me my father was sick. Like sick in the head. He had a temper. Bipolar apparently, or something like that. It was then that everything started to sink in. It’s not like an excuse, but a reason. Everything I’ve been feeling. There’s a reason. I’m crazy. Just like my father.

  I want to be okay with it. To just let it slide. But I can’t. Everything I’ve done this year. To Laura. Rachel. I’ve lied, cheated. And if they all knew the truth—if Laura knew the truth, what I’ve done with Rachel—it would break her. I know Tom knows, but he hasn’t said anything yet. I wish he would. Because I’m such a gutless pig and can’t. Guess I really am like my father.

  What if I end up like him? Violent. Abusive.

  No.

  I won’t let it happen. I won’t. I can’t.

  Chapter 27

  Laura stared at the words. Many were smudged and hard to read. She wondered if Ryan’s tears had caused the smudging. She imagined him scribbling it all down on paper. How he felt. Was he in shock? Devastated? Or was he white hot with anger? Her own tears fell. Her heart breaking for Ryan. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his father’s fault. She ran her fingers over the bottom of the page where Ryan had dug the pen in as he carved deep patterns of black into the page, small rips and scribbles covered the adjoining one. She closed her eyes as goose bumps pricked at her arms, the chilling reality of Ryan’s pain. Oh, Ryan.

  Laura wiped her cheeks as her eyes once again scanned the page. She noticed the date this time—the day of the end-of-year exam party. The day before Ryan died. It all began to make sense. Ryan’s mood that night. His drunken state. His words. She squeezed her eyes to bring back that night. The night she hadn’t wanted to relive. She had to now, just to make sense of it.

  She remembered hearing Rachel and Tom’s voices coming up the footpath as Laura lay sprawled out on her bed waiting for them to arrive. The excitement flitted through her like a thousand butterflies escaping their enclosure at all once.

  ‘Laura, they're here,’ her mum called out, tapping on her door.

  ‘I'm coming.’

  Laura looked at herself in the mirror again, standing there in her jeans, floral top, and Converse. She smiled, happy that she looked okay, and hoping now that exams were done and dusted, everything would be back to normal. Things had been weird between her and Ryan. One moment he'd be all over her, the next distant and reclusive. Rachel had been the same. Whenever Laura brought it up with either of them, they brushed her aside. Rachel muttered something about exams, Ryan completely changing the subject. Lately, Tom hadn’t been his usual jovial self either. Laura sighed and took a deep breath. Hopefully it was all in the past and everything would be like old times.

  ‘See ya, Mum.’ Laura gave her mum a kiss in the hallway. Her mum pulled her close, wrapping Laura in the fruity aroma of her perfume as she whispered, ‘Have a good time. And stay safe.’ Laura's shoulders caved with the hug.

  ‘We will,’ she whispered, breathing in the emotion so it wouldn't escape.

  Laura walked out the front door where Ryan, Rachel and Tom were leaning on the front picket fence deep in conversation, looking up as she approached down the path.

  ‘Hey.’ Ryan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his breath already stale with beer. Rachel quickly linked her arm through Laura's and smiled. ‘Let's go,’ said Tom, unable to meet her eyes.

  By eleven p.m. the backyard of Simon Duncan's house, a couple of blocks away from Laura's, was pumping with the excited bodies of over a hundred final year students. The Duncans’ backyard was a large open space, fences lined with immaculately pruned hedges. Fairy lights were strung along the hedges, while colored disco lights stood tall near the jukebox, lighting a makeshift dance floor in flashes of rainbow. The crowd moved with a rhythmic sensation as Usher’s silky voice rang out ‘OMG’ to the mosh pit of intoxicated bodies dancing like waves crashing on the sand.

  Laura and Rachel were deep in the middle of the dance floor, bouncing up and down. Laura’s scrambled emotions kept in check thanks to the five or six cans of scotch and Coke. She'd lost count as to exactly how many. All she knew was the stress had disintegrated from her mind and body, and all that mattered right in this very moment was singing—or yelling—as loud as possible with her best friend.

  ‘I need to go to the toilet!’ Rachel yelled in Laura's ear as the song changed to Katy Perry.

  ‘But I love this song!’

  Rachel grabbed Laura's hand and pulled her from the dance floor around to the side of the house where the porta-potties were set up.

  ‘I really need to pee!’ Rachel walked like a baby penguin pulling Laura, both of them
stumbling over the trampled grass. Laura waited outside the toilets, trying hard to concentrate on staying still.

  ‘Laura!’

  She turned around to see Tom walking toward her, the frown on his face still intact, as it has been for most of the night.

  ‘Tommmmmmmyyyy,’ she yelled, throwing her arms around his neck.

  Tom slowly peeled her away.

  ‘Lauz, I think you've had enough to drink. Just slow it down, okay?’

  ‘Oh Tom, you're such a party pooper sometimes, you know? You need to relax a little,’ she blabbered before deciding she really needed to sit down. The fairy lights were spinning.

  ‘I'm just gonna sit here, okay?’ she said, planting her backside on the grass, the wetness of the dew off the ground or god knows what soaking through her jeans, not that she cared.

  Tom sat next down next to her, which was the perfect opportunity for Laura to rest her head on his shoulder, just for a moment. She inhaled the musky scent of his usual aftershave, wondering what it was. Hugo Boss or something. Probably not, more like Cool Water. That would be more Tom.

  ‘Lauz,’ Tom said. He was sitting cross-legged, pulling at the laces on his boots.

  ‘Yup,’ she replied, staring blankly at the sky above, trying to count the million stars blanketed above them, but they kept moving out of focus. One, two, three …

  ‘I can't do this anymore,’ he said.

  ‘Can't do what?’

  ‘This,’ he said, throwing his hands up, causing Laura to lift her head. Damn, where was I … One, two … ‘Us. You. Ryan. Rachel.’