Lies and Secrets

It took a long time for me to understand the difference between telling a lie, and keeping a secret.

I suppose in a way, there is not really a big difference.

You lie to divert the truth, and to keep a secret you lie.

However, lies are told all the time. A child takes a cookie before dinner, lies to their parent in hopes of earning another treat for dessert without having to tell of the naughty indulgence they had without consent. A husband lies to his wife about paying the bill when she asked, when he feels like doing it later and not having to deal with the inevitable argument during his favourite show. A girl lies to their best friend about where she was the other night, saying she was home studying when in fact she was out at a party without her.

Lies can be big. Lies can be small. Lies are deception.

Secrets are more personal.

Secrets, no matter the size, are always explosive.

Finding out the people you are close to are not who you think you are, is finding out your entire life is a lie. A large performance of deception and trickery of love and lies.

The secret is why?

I had been pondering on exactly that simple yet complicated question for the past two hours as I sat uncomfortably in a cold hard chair at the police station. So far, nothing has come to mind except, they were sad and they wanted love. In a way, I understood that. Another part of my brain however was screaming its disgust and anger at them for what they had done, because it was wrong. What they did was wrong.

Everything was hitting me like a train.

The things I missed.

The things I should have noticed.

The things I did notice, but pushed aside, because I thought it was ridiculous.

Because there was no way that it was true.

Well, gee-willikers-Batman! Was I wrong.

As of five o’clock today, my parents were arrested in the comfort of our home in our quiet normal suburb where literally nothing happened. The most exciting thing to happen here was when a man dressed as a clown was chased down the street by ten dogs escaped from their dog walker. My mother had been in the kitchen cleaning up the mess she had made when cooking the cake for my Dad’s birthday tomorrow, while the old man himself was watching the television in the living room with me. Our favourite quiz show was on. We liked to see who was smarter on a daily basis. However, the knock at the door told us that we weren’t going to be having our usual fun this afternoon.

In fact, that fun was never going to happen again. That’s for sure.

My parents were placed into the back of a police cruiser and taken to the station right away. I was pulled to the side by a CPS office and a cop who had to deal with my panic and rage for ten minutes before I calmed down.

It was once I was silent they told me.

My parents…were not my parents.

Of course, I was confused.

Then angry, at the agent and cop of course.

There was no way that was true. They were wrong.

Soon I was taken to the station where I then yelled some more at other police officers who took in my harsh words and disbelief wish great patience. After a while and a few glasses of water, my throat was sore and I was prepared to listen.

My parents, well, my ‘abductors’ I should start calling them apparently, had taken me from the front veranda of my small family home when I was two years old. I had been living with my real parents and grandmother on the other side of the bloody country.

I had been missing for thirteen years.

Back then, I had been a blonde-haired girl with gapped teeth and rosy cheeks. I guess my ‘other’ parents decided to dye my hair when they took me to brown, and didn’t have to worry long since my hair started to darken naturally. I started to recall memories of hair treatments my mother would do on me when I was little. She told me it was to help with a little scalp issue I was having, and I eventually grew out of it. Nothing more.

My real name was Olivia.

I was now named Jordan.

Honestly, I prefer Jordan.

My parents were not wealthy when I was little, and lost more money when they were looking for me as a baby. Over the years they saved and saved, and now lived in a nice house in the same town I saw born in.

I was found when my birth mother saw a picture of me on Facebook attending the birthday party of her friend’s niece, who was a good friend of mine.

There was no great chase.

No chilling thriller story.

Just…simply…a photo online.

The greater mystery I still haven’t understood is, why me?

My abductive parents are demanding they see me, and I am demanding to see them. For answers. For the truth. For the response to why I was the one that was taken. From what I had gathered, I was born in a neighbourhood where toddlers my age were playing together on pathways and skipping down the street to go to the corner store for a treat. I was sitting on the veranda, less than ten meters from the front gate, which was a meter and a half from the curb. They could have just plucked a kid from the side walk if it was that easy. Why did they bother going that little bit further to take me?

“Miss Hall?”

I looked up to Mrs Cardwell, the officer from CPS in charge of my case. She had short fluffy red hair with grey streaks, and looked like the sweetest woman in the world. She had been so far.

“Are you ready to go speak with them?” she then asked me. “I will be in the room with you.”

I didn’t expect any different. Ever since I came here, the only moment I was left alone were those ten minutes to think.

“What will happen?” I asked her. “To me? To them?”

Mrs. Cardwell put on a sad smile. Something I see she had mastered in her job. “That’s not something we need to discuss at the moment dear.”

Of course not.

Besides, whatever she would tell me was a lie. Nothing was going to be fine. Nothing was going to be alright.

But at least it was a lie. Not a secret.

“Ready?” she asked again.

Nodding, I stood and walked with her to speak to the people who I had called mother and father most of my life.

The people who lied.

The people who kept a secret.

Kept me a secret.

And I want to know the truth. I want to know everything.