“I’m doing great. I’m working with my hands and doing something I love.” Liam really didn’t have time to think about dating. Or looking up exes on Facebook, but hebarelydid that.
“I reckon you’ve really taken to sheep farming. It’s great. But it might be nice to have someone to come home to, don’t you think?”
Liam cocked his head at his brother, letting him know exactly what he thought.
“I haven’t heard of you going on one date. It’s been two years since you and Kelly broke up.”
“I was cheated on, Mark. Kelly and Craig were sneaking behind my back and lying to me over and over for months. I don’t want to go through that again. If I try to be with someone, that’s all I’ll ever think. I trusted Kelly completely. I had no bloody idea.” The pain lanced his heart all over again.
And I don’t know if I want to date a girl next time.The words stopped on his tongue, just as they had done plenty of times before.
“I know you don’t want to go through that again,” Mark said, taking a different set of words out of his mouth. “But there’s someone out there worth the risk for you. I know there is.”
Liam remained doubtful, but he didn’t shake off his brother’s remark completely. “Have a good night. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Say hi to the sheep for me.”
Chapter 3
Nathan
The rest of the day was a string of dead ends and hangovers for Nathan. He didn’t mean to drink again so soon after rehab, but searching for your mother called for a libation backup. He tried reaching out to hospitals in London to find out if there was a single woman who gave birth around his birthday twenty-two years ago, but he was met with long, awkward pauses followed up by standard responses about how they cannot give out that information, even if they had it. Nathan didn’t have a real birth certificate. In England, his father just had to take him as a newborn to a register office within forty-two days, something Nathan had looked up when his dad first dropped the bombshell on him. He tried Google reverse image search, but the only results that came back for the photo was a Wikipedia definition oflady. He looked through more footage online of the Oasis concert, but anyone who wasn’t a Gallagher brother was a blur on screen.
From his balcony, Nathan watched the sun slip behind the buildings of downtown London, as if it were playing hide and seek. He drank Bombay Sapphire straight from the bottle. Alcohol didn’t make him happier or sadder. It made life one constant, dull, barely bearable blur.
This time, though, the Bombay dared him. He lit a cigarette and reached for his laptop. Right after his father had first told him the truth about his mother six years ago, he found a website for missed connections both large and small. It was more extensive than the typical Craigslist page, as people posted about strangers and lovers they’d met on global travels, mostly for one-night stands. Nathan had never seen a post that went back over twenty years, and when he used the site six years ago, nobody responded. But he was out of options. His gin was tinged with desperation.
He uploaded the picture and typed the post:
Had one of the greatest days of my life with this woman over twenty years ago and then never saw her again. I can’t stop thinking about her all these years later. Does anybody out there know who she might be?
“Idiot,” he said to himself when he reread the live post. The only thing the internet was good for was shaming and ridiculing someone. He had nothing to lose.
Nathan drifted off to sleep, one of those drunken, hazy sleeps that were like being under anesthesia. He did have one dream he remembered, one where he was at a dinner table with his mom and her family, and they were his family, too. Loving and accepting. It was very Hallmark, like some tacky advertisement, but it was real.
When Nathan awoke, he discovered that he was not as much of an idiot as he thought.
* * *
They found her.The Internet found her. Well, one person found her. But all he needed was one.
This woman looked familiar to me, and I think I saw her inLes Miserablesyears ago down in this little community theater in Wellington, New Zealand. Good luck!
The internet wasn’t terrible! Nathan did a Google search for theaters in Wellington that produced Les Miserables and scrolled through cast listings and photos until he found her in a still forI Dreamed a Dream.
Mariel Foster.
Her hair was tucked under a wig, but the blazing eyes and button nose matched his Poloroid picture.
There she is! She’s an actor like me!
Nathan’s life began to make more sense. This was where he got his love of theater, his desire to stand out.
He read through articles about her, but his search stopped cold when he got to her obituary.
She’s dead?
It couldn’t be. A car accident. Here one minute, gone the fucking next. Nathan broke out crying in his lounge chair. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this, the pure emotion spilling out of him. If only he had searched for her years ago. If only his fucking dad had showed him that picture and hadn’t told him to give up hope. He could’ve had a mother, someone who loved him.
