Parker Lowell
I had some vague premonitions about what was to come next. They never passed the back of my mind though. I wouldn't let them. I didn't want them to.
My eyes darted around the room every once in a while, though they mostly concentrated on my shoes. It felt like the lights in the room were getting increasingly brighter and the temperature getting increasingly hotter. The tight blue shirt that I still wore clung to my skin even more than it normally would have. I felt absolutely sick inside.
"Are you all right, dear?" I heard Mrs. Hanson say. I thought that she was talking to Taylor, but when he didn't answer, I looked up and saw that she was looking straight at me. Her general facial expression portrayed worry, her eyes concerned. I wondered how she could be so concerned for a copmlete stranger.
"Yeah," I said, my voice coming out hoarse. It was obvious to see that I was, in fact, less than all right.
"Do you want a glass of water?" she asked me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she put a sympathetic hand on my arm. She quickly retracted it, seeing my fear. You would've thought that she was a policewoman and I was a victim of a recent crime.
"No, thank you," I whispered.
"Taylor?" she said, turning her attention toward her son.
I had to assume that he had shaken his head in response for she went back over to the chair she had been sitting in and sat back down.
I wanted so badly to know what was going to happen. I wanted to know what they were going to do to me. I had expected security guards and policemen to have come into the room and dragged me away to some nearby police station by now. Why were they keeping me in such a cruel state of suspense?
Suddenly, I felt my knees go very weak and once again reached for the chair beside me. Taylor happened to reach for the same chair at the same time. Both of us snapped our hands back. I imagine that the fear in his eyes was reflected in my own.
I couldn't help but stare at him, I had heard many people, countless people, tell me that I looked just like him before. I had often shot it down, citing features of mine that were unlike his. Now that I was faced with him in person, it was like looking in a mirror. His eyes were my own, his hair was my own, his nose was my own, it was all the same.
Gina arrived fifteen minutes later. She was led into the room by a security guard.
"What's going on?" she demanded as soon as the guard had left.
Mr. Hanson gestured hesitantly toward where Tyalor and I were standing. Worry gave way to shock.
"Oh God," she said. "I don't believe this."
"So this is the same Parker as we think it is?" Mr. Hanson said. He said it as if he were an investigator on a man hunt and I was a serial murderer.
"Yeah, I think it is," she said. "And I presume that this is the same Jordan?"
"Taylor, actually. But it's the same person," Mr. Hanson answered.
Wasn't Jordan the name of...?
"Would anyone care to tell us what the...what's going on here?" I said.
"But you're not Lawrence, are you?" Gina said, ignoring me.
Mr. Hanson shook his head. "Walker."
Gina's eyes widened. "Walker!" she exclaimed. It seemed as though she wasn't sure whether to go up and hug him or slap him.
Wasn't Walker the name of....?
"I don't understand," she said.
"Join the club," I mumbled.
"Wasn't Lawrence the one who..."
"Yes," Mr. Hanson asnwered her half spoken question, nodding. "But you know the way it was. He couldn't handle it. So he gave the baby to us. We adopted him."
"What baby?" Taylor wanted to know.
I had a sudden sinking feeling.
"Wow," Gina said, sitting down. "This is all too weird."
"What's going on?" I asked again, becoming more than frustrated with the way everyone was ignoring my question.
Gina looked at me. I looked back at her a long time. She was trying to find a tactful way of putting this to me.
"Well," she began. "You know that wish you made for your birthday?"
I didn't recall any actual wish, but I knew what she was talking about.
"Happy birthday," she said before I could respond.
I looked at Taylor now, my eyes wide. Was she telling me that this was....? And that all this time...?
I prayed that this was all just a bad dream. A practical joke. That at any minute Theresa and the others would enter the room with wide smiles, shouting out, "Gotcha!" It couldn't be true. Not after all this time. It just simply wasn't possible. Things like this don't happen.
"I don't understand," Taylor said, not looking at me though I know he was fully aware of the way I was gawking at him.
"Sit down, Tay," Mr. Hanson said, gesturing toward the chair in between both of us. I moved away, my eyes still wide and shock running hot and cold through my veins.
"I think we should step out. Come on, Parker," Gina said, taking my arm and quietly leading me out of the room. I was too numb to be able to walk by myself.
I wanted to speak, but as soon as I opened my mouth to do so, Gina put a finger to her lips, indicating that she wanted me to be quiet.
We heard only muffled voices coming from inside the dressing room. It was easy to distinguish one from the other. It was a painful thing to listen to. I wanted to tune it out, but found that I couldn't. Were they really in there telling him that I was...?
"So I guess you'll want to hear the rest of the story now," Gina whispered as soon as the voices in the room silenced. I expected to hear the sound of something smashing up against the wall, but there was nothing but complete silence.
I nodded somberly, unable to find my voice now.
"I had suspicions when you told me that everyone told you that you look like Taylor Hanson, but I didn't mention anything about it," she whispered. "I figured that it was pretty improbable that you two would even find each other anyway, since he was supposed to perform tonight and I figured they'd probably be too busy with soundchecks and things like that to roam the park."
"So he is my twin brother?" I said.
She nodded.
"Oh my God," was all I could say.
I wasn't sure whether to jump up and down for joy at finding my long lost twin brother or if I should start crying or if I should start screaming and yelling from the frustration and utter disbelief. My only thougts at the time were that it wasn't supposed to happen this way. He wasn't supposed to be him.
A few minutes later, Gina and I were sill standing outside the dressing room door, left wondering if the Hansons had forgotten about us, when Isaac and Zac walked up to us accompanied by the same person who had led them away. When they saw Gina and I standing there and heard the sounds of silence coming from within the dressing room, it only instilled more worry inside of them than was already present.
"I'll go make hotel arrangements," the guy said, disappearing again quickly.
Zac and Isaac both leaned against the wall of the hallway opposite the one that Gina and I were leaning against, soon to be joined by their younger siblings and the woman who had led them away. We all waited, nervously tense, for the other three to come out of the room.
I wanted to say something but was afraid that I might seem hostile or stupid, depending on what came out of my mouth. I didn't actually know what I waned to say, I just knew that I wanted to say something.
Before long, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson came out of the dressing room with Taylor. All faces were tear streaked and red. Taylor kept his eyes to the floor. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson smiled weakly at their other children, silently promising an explanation later and entreating them to not ask about it. They all subtly nodded in agreement.
"Where's...," Mr. Hanson began, his voice deeper than usual because of the crying he had done. Isaac promptly interrupted him with the answer to his question.
"He went to make hotel arrangments," he said. Mr. Hanson just nodded and we all stood, no less silent than before, waiting once again. I had done a lot of waiting that day and I was really beginning to get sick of it.
"I hope someone here knows where the Hillside Inn is," the guy said as he came back to where we were standing.
"Yeah, I do," Gina spoke up.
"Lead the way," Mr. Hanson said, gesturing for her to go ahead.
It was the last thing any of us said to each other that night except for a meek, quiet good night from someone as we entered our hotel rooms that no one would remember later.
allieway12@hotmail.com
Index
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Thirteen