Bailey
My dad had said something the other day, something that sounded like poetry. He’d said that when he'd first met my other dad…he'd been broken and in pieces. Like he had to put himself back together. Maybe my other dad helped with that?
I kind of got it, though. Being in pieces. Your life breaking, over and over again. The glue? It didn’t always stick because when things got better? It never lasted.
My life was different now, really different, and I was going to make sure it lasted. Perhaps I’d chosen the wrong people to be myparents, but I was pretty sure I’d done good. They were good people. Kind. They talked, sometimes too much, but I didn’t mind. They told me things.
I liked that. I liked that I knew all the important plans and didn’t have to figure so much out on my own. They were…honest. I got that too. I liked it. Also, they bought good snacks and put them in a bowl in my room. A snack bowl. My grandma had bought it, and it had big, swirly colours everywhere. Sometimes I just sat and traced the pattern with my fingers. Little things that calmed my mind. The way the red swirled into the pink and then became purple. Like my life. Things changed and swirled and… That bowl was my favourite. And nobody would come and pick it up and smash it into the wall and break it and…
My life was different now.
Today was the day. The big wedding day. And up to today, I had still been nervous. I didn’t like boyfriends. I didn’t like foster care. I didn’t like anything that wasn’t permanent.
Now, finally, this was absolutely permanent.
Well, the adoption thing had been really good because we’d all worn suits and gone to some meeting and they’d taken pictures and given me paperwork and everything. Shaken our hands and said lots of big words.
I hadn’t cried. That had been a good thing because crying in public was embarrassing. And now my passport said BAILEY FAIRWEATHER, and that had made me calm. I’d never had a passport before, but having one was a big thing. And my dads had asked if I wanted to add more names or change anything else, but nah. It was great. I even had a new photo in there, and we were going on holiday and things…
I was excited. I could finally be excited because now, I could believe in it. That I had a grandma and a granddad who took me to golf lessons, and I sucked at golf, but it was great because afterwards we went to theclubhouse and had Coke Floats, which was the weirdest thing ever and even Granddad had them and then we just laughed.
And it was…
This was my life now. I lived…at an actual school. That always made me giggle. Who’d have thought? Me?
I liked my room because I’d chosen the wallpaper and I’d chosen the carpet and the bed and the desk, and I still had the same bedding, which I’d chosen as well. I had books and pens and notepads and… I even had my own TV on the wall.
It was the small things. The stuff that made me happy. Like my adoption papers. The marriage certificate. I’d grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket, for safekeeping. So when things got messy, I could whip it out and remind my dads that they had no bloody choice. We were family. Families stuck together. Period.
And today? Things were noisy. Everyone was at the canteen where the wedding reception was going on; too many people were sat down talking, and it was too loud and too much and Dad Noah’s aunts were nice, but I just…
I was just sat in my room, in front of my snack bowl, my fingers tracing colours as I tried to calm down. Breathe. In, out.
I was safe. I was calm. And I was…happy.
I had parents. Proper parents. Not some mum whom I didn’t even know, who messed around with drugs and forgot to buy food and made me shoplift and then I’d get caught and she’d put me in schools and then didn’t let me actually go there because she couldn’t get up in time and couldn’t drive me because someone had nicked her car and I didn’t have money for the bus.
Parents shouldn’t do that. Even I knew that. I knew right from wrong, and I knew what parents could be like and I now knew better. I also knewthat stabbing your boyfriend with a knife and watching him bleed out on the carpet whilst you shot up drugs, wasn’t very pleasant to watch. Not when you were hiding behind the sofa, hoping you wouldn’t be the next one to die.
I didn’t want to die. I wanted to stay here in my room forever. I wanted to just sit here.
I wanted the door open at all times, so I wasn’t alone. I wanted to be able to see the sofa out there, the vase in the window, the little kitchen table with three chairs. I wanted everything to be just like this. I wanted my bowl, and I picked out a small pack of raisins. Opened it carefully and took a few out.
I could. Because they were mine. And I decided when to eat them.
“Bay?” Here was…Dad. Well, both of them. Suits. Ties. Stupid flowers on their lapels. I had one on mine too. Wearing a suit. It looked a bit like my school uniform, but whatever.
“You okay?” Dad Noah.
“Yeah,” I said, swirling on my seat. “Too much noise.”
“I agree,” he said, getting down on his hunches. Taking my hand. Dad Fox sitting himself down on top of my desk. The way he did.
“Suit looks good,” I said, grinning at him. “And the bow in your hair is ridiculous.”
“Came with the suit. Matching ribbon.” He touched that silly ponytail. Tugged at the ribbon. Maybe one day I’d have one too, a silly ponytail, if my hair ever grew long enough. It annoyed me when it touched my collar, so I tended to have it cut. But my fringe was long. I liked it like that.
“Want to come sit on the sofa for a bit?” Dad Noah asked, his hand gently stroking my knee. “We can just watch TV for a while. Calm down.”
