It was a sensation I had never experienced until this moment, the raw comprehension of betrayal. In my stunned silence I did not know how to breathe and digest this realisation at the same time. I focused on the hard knot which had developed in the pit of my stomach, I am convinced my heart stopped beating, just for a moment. Minutes passed and yet I sat completely rigid on my twin seater couch, motionlesss. I no longer noticed the lumps which I sat on or the ugly brown suede which I loathed. At this moment I knew I would have to make a decision I never expected to face.
The letter arrived on a day I was home, unusual given I worked full time as a cadet journalist and did not have days off; but due to weekend committments my boss cut me some slack and let me off.
I lived in a shack, no exaggeration, it was a one bedroom fibro cement shack. The floors sloped awkwardly, mould on the bathroon walls grew virociously and my twin-tub washing machine churned in the loungeroom while I slept on a foam camping mattress. These few posessions plus my brown suede couch made my home.
I had been waiting for this letter for so long, I hoped it would provide answers to questions from my childhood - who was I , where did I belong, who the hell were my parents?
I got my answers, plus a few I never asked. Reading through the pages of court documents, original birth certificate and other identifying information I felt elated, until I read the line "NO children have been born to .......". In that moment my world changed. Not only was I adopted in less than ideal circumstances but my brother; the golden son, and only blood heir and was also adopted, overseas.
Everything was a lie, my life, his life, all lies. My brother had no idea.
What do you do when your 19 and hold information which could devastate someone else's life?
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