Soul's forgotten how to love

If it ever knew how to at all

Caught beneath the tow

Struggling with broken wings

This is the anchor of the mind

Wondering, can you snap the rusty chain?

--From the song Chains

Lyrics by: Orion Bauwens

Christmas is right around the corner. I've kept myself busy, which hasn't been hard. Between Tristan, Jake, and Ben, and then the menagerie of therapy appointments I have, rarely do I have any downtime.

I'm not complaining though. Far from it. It has felt really good to not be touring. It's felt...normal.

I'm in the heated garage, getting ready to head out to my AA appointment. I'm wearing my favorite double-breasted military style jacket. It has a hood. I look so sexy in it. Yeah, I said it.

Getting into my black Infiniti, I have a rare thought--life is pretty good. I honestly can't complain. I'm a lot luckier than most people in the world, and I shouldn't take that for granted.

Smiling a little to myself, I'm about to drive away when my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and answer without looking at the caller I.D..

"Yo, s'up?"

"Is this Orion Bauwens?"

I put the car back into park. "Yes--who is this?"

"It's Jessica Dupree."

Oh, fuck.

"Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn't realize it was you."

"It's okay. Are you sitting down?"

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach and I immediately shudder.

"Yes..."

"I have some news. When would be a good time for you to come to the office?"

"Why?"

"I've found your mother."

My breath rushes out of me all in one gust. My heart pounds in my chest and I'm shaking. Surprisingly, my mind goes blank, absolutely blank. I don't know how to react.

"Orion? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry. Can I meet you tomorrow? I'll get on the first plane I can book."

"Tomorrow is fine. Just get in contact with me once you know what time your plane lands and we'll work around that, okay?"

"Sure. Thank you Jessica."

"You're welcome."

~

Jessica hands me a manilla envelope with a metal clasp, and I damn near puke all over it and her arm. I'm a little surprised when she doesn't quite let it go though.

"Orion...there's something I have to tell you."

I freeze.

"I got a hold of your original birth certificate."

My brow furrows.

"Sit, Orion."

I do. "My birth--what do you mean? I gave that to you."

She shakes her head at me. "Most children who go through the system have two certificates. Their original birth certificate that's made in the hospital, and then one after the child is adopted. They're basically the same--they have all the pertinent information; time of birth, day...Sometimes the original doesn't have the father's information on it. However, with yours it was."

"You found my father, too?"

"Kind of--Orion, I'm sorry, but your biological father is dead."

"Oh."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I mean...I didn't know the guy."

"Alright. Well, everything I found on your mother is in your hands now. How you approach this is completely up to you."

"Thank you so much for everything, Jessica."

I stand up and we shake hands. She holds my hand a second longer and smiles. "You're welcome. I wish you the very best, Orion. Take care, okay?"

I nod.

As I go down the elevator, pulling up my hood, I stare down at the envelope. I can't open it. I thought I would tear it open as soon as I got it, but I can't.

It's not until I'm in the car, shaking, letting the car warm up that I finally do. There's not much there; I guess I was expecting a packet or something. Instead I have two pieces of paper.

I trace my thumb along the tiny little ink footprints on my original birth certificate. I read over it--Orion Young. Young, huh? Father is Steven Young. I knew I was born in California...

The mother is listed as Rachel Price. My heart all but jumps out of my ribs. I flip to the last piece of paper. It has her name, phone number, and address.

Well--this just got real.

~

I never thought I'd ever be in Minnesota. Like, ever. I never even toured here.

But here I stand, on my third cigarette, shivering on the wooden porch of a red cape cod style home. It's quaint; the door frames and window frames are painted white. There's a brick chimney, functional. I love the smell of fireplaces, and I'm hoping the smell is going to seep into my clothes and stay there for awhile.

It's snowing gently, the air freezing. Just think--half a year ago I was dying in Texan summer heat, and now I am freezing in Minnesota winter. This past year certainly has been weird, that's for damn sure.

I flick away my cigarette into the same big pile of snow--away from the wooden house, don't need to burn down my mother's house--and light my fourth. I want to ring the doorbell but I can't. I have so many things running through me right now I have to sort some of it out.

First off is the fact that I didn't sleep last night--at all. I was thinking about my father. How is it possible to mourn someone you never even knew?

I wasn't sure, but I knew that I was definitely mourning him. I felt more upset over his death than my foster mom's, which is so fucked up, right? I hadn't cried over her yet but had spent half the night crying over my dad.

Then was the logistics of the situation I found myself in. I had always been afraid that if I called my mother she could just hang up on me. It would be harder to get rid of me if we met face to face. Maybe it was shitty to force myself on her like this, but it seemed like the only viable option.

Then, of course, were my fears that she wouldn't want anything to do with me. What on earth would I do then? Would I be able to bring myself back to the car? Would I shout? Would I argue with her? Cry? Throw myself on the ground and beg? Would she have to call the cops and have me escorted off the property?

That was the shittiest part of this entire situation. Truth be told I was more concerned over my own reaction than anything she could ever do or say. You don't know what Hell feels like until you fear yourself.

As I snuff out my fourth cigarette I've decided I've waited long enough. I quadruple check the address since I've pulled up to make sure I'm at the right place. Taking in a deep breath I ring the doorbell, interlace my fingers in front of my body, and wait.

Moments later the door opens. As soon as the woman takes one look at me, her hand flies to her face.

"Orion?"

Tears spill out of her eyes. Of course she would know who I am--she looks exactly like me. Or rather, I look exactly like her. It's eerie. Slap graying blonde hair on me and we'd be the same damn person. Well, if I were a woman.

"Y-yeah," I croak out.

For a minute we just stand there, her silently crying with her hand at her mouth, me standing there not knowing what the fuck to do. Finally she smiles and wipes away her tears.

"I'm sorry, it's freezing out there, come in, come in."

She lets me in. The inside is just as quaint as the outside. A beautiful Christmas tree--real, smelling of fresh pine--sits in the corner. The entire thing is decorated white. Personally I like colored decorations, but that's fine. There's a wooden rocking chair next to the fireplace. The scent of the pine and burning firewood is intoxicating.

The couch and armchair are well used, comfy looking, red plaid. To my slight amusement a huge deer head with antlers hangs on the mantle. Before I even think about where I am or what I'm saying, the words slip out.

"I hope you ate the deer?"

She blinks at me. I feel myself turn deep red in humiliation, gesturing towards the prize.

"Oh! The head." She laughs. "Goodness yes. I don't hunt for sport."

I stand awkwardly then in the middle of the room. I'm standing on a round, red and white woven area rug. The floor is wooden, worn. There's a huge wreath hanging on another wall with an equally huge red and gold bow. Sitting next to the armchair is a wood and wire bin filled with newspapers and magazines.

"Did you want some hot cocoa, Orion?"

I slip off my hood, looking down. It's with horror I realize I haven't taken off my boots. "I am so sorry--should I take off my boots? I can clean anything I tracked in--"

She smiles fondly. "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want to make a mess, I am so sorry--"

"It's okay, really. So, how about that cocoa?"

Honestly it'll probably give me a stomach ache, but I can't turn her down. "S-sure. Thank you."

"Come on."

I follow her awkwardly into the kitchen. It's bright, some sort of yellow I think. Trinkets that look like they might've come from Arizona or New Mexico or something hang on the walls. Stylized, bright, smiling suns and moons. Colorful cacti. A couple dream-caters. It's all very warm, inviting.

"Please, take a seat," she says as she busies herself pulling things out from the white cabinets.

I start to sit at the small wooden table but then lurch to my feet. "Er, can I help you with anything?"

She looks at me, an amused twinkle in her eye. "You're very polite. No, you're my guest. Please, sit."

I sit, rubbing my palms against my pants over and over. We don't say anything as she brings water in a kettle to boil. Afterwards she puts a mug in front of me, the coca mix already in it, and pours the steaming liquid in. She does the same with her own mug. Before sitting across from me, she speaks.

"I have marshmallows--would you like any?"

"No. Thank you though."

"I have a bit of a sweet tooth," she says, a bit of mischief in her voice. "I guess that didn't get passed along."

I scratch my head uncomfortably, a little bit too hard. Oh it did, I just wrecked my digestive system and I can't handle anything too sweet or sour for now...

She grabs mini-marshmallows from a cabinet and pours in a handful. I nervously sip my cocoa, watching her as she sits. It's too hot and I burn my lip--I flinch. Before I can even say anything she speaks.

"I need to apologize."

I stare at her in disbelief for a second. "Um, what?"

"You are Orion Bauwens, right?"

A painful knot locks down in my throat, so I just nod.

She hesitates. "I'm sorry, could you excuse me a moment?"

I nod again. I watch her rush out of the room. Moments later she returns with a photo album with a burgundy cover. She sits down and looks extremely nervous, clutching the book so hard her knuckles and nail beds are white.

"I want to show you something, and I want to talk first if that's okay. And I really, really," she closes her eyes, "really need you to not freak out and bolt. Please?"

All I can do still is nod.

Slowly she opens up the book. Looking down, she gently taps the first page, not looking at me.

"I've known who you are for awhile now. I've regretted giving you up my entire life."

Biting her lip, she turns the book towards me and shoves it forward. The first page is a picture of me, on stage, performing. It's the front cover of Rolling Stone. I look up at her. She looks so nervous she could crawl out of her skin. I know that look all too well.

"I had the adoption documents closed because it was too painful for me. But the first time on the radio I heard about an upcoming singer named Orion, well...I became interested. I listened to your band." She chuckles. "Not really my cup of tea."

I'm shocked at the photo album. It's every single article on me, every single interview, every single press blitz I've ever done. There's interviews in there I don't even remember giving. There's ticket stubs, tour dates.

Under normal circumstances I would've run for the hills, frantically calling 9-1-1. Instead I bring a shaking hand to my mouth, trying not to sob.

"The second I saw you on a magazine cover for the first time, I knew you were my Orion. I'm sorry."

I lift my head to find her wringing her hands.

"This all must be very creepy to you--"

"It's not," I say immediately, my voice cracking.

"Orion..." she reaches out hesitantly. She pats the top of my hand, and a tear trickles down my cheek. She takes a deep breath.

"I didn't want to give you up. You have to understand though...I was only sixteen. I was sleeping with a married man--" she looks away a moment, ashamed, "--your father. When I became pregnant he cut all ties with me. Well...tried to, anyway. I didn't want anything from him, not really."

I listen intently, wiping more tears from my face.

"We both decided it would be for the best if I gave you up for adoption. The only thing I ever asked of your father was to be there for the birth. And he was. He signed the certificate, gave me a kiss on my head, told me he was sorry, and left. I never saw him again."

"He's dead," I blurt out.

She looks off to the side, holding her steaming mug in her hands. "Oh..." Her dark eyes flick up at me. "What happened?"

"I d'no," I mumble, "I was kinda hoping you would know."

"How did you find that out?"

I scratch my head again. "Er, the same way I found you."

She raises her eyebrow. "Private investigator?"

I duck my head and nod.

"Orion...Why now?"

I look at her. I look into the eyes that are clearly mine. I look into the face I never knew. I look at the woman who has never held me since the day I was born. I look into my past, a past I never was allowed to know, and I break down.

I hold my head in my hands. "I'm broken. Really, really broken."

"Would it be overstepping a boundary if I hugged you?"

I shake my head adamantly. Not even in a breath she's kneeling besides me and holding me. For a long while we just stay like that. After a point she starts crying too.

Well after the cocoa has gone cold, we finally take a seat on the couch in the living room. If I look anything like she looks right now, I'm a wreck. Her face is all splotchy, her eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

A box of tissues sits between us. I've gone back to looking around the room. I nod towards the picture frames strewn about. They're all gold.

"Family?"

She flinches. "Yes..." She gets up. "This was my husband. He passed a few years ago. Stroke."

"I'm so sorry."

She lovingly strokes the picture a minute and then puts it down. She takes up another of three kids. They look high school, maybe college-age. Two boys and a girl.

"These are your half-siblings. Seth, John, and Amy."

I hold out my hand. "Do you mind?"

She brings over the photo. I can definitely see the resemblance, but also the stark differences. We're totally related though--we all have the exact same smile, and the corners of our mouths crinkle in the exact same way.

My mother runs her hand through my hair briefly. "You have your father's hair. His wasn't quite so dark though..."

I grab a lock. "I dye it. It's about two shades lighter than this."

"Ah."

When she puts the photo down, she pauses. She doesn't turn around as she speaks.

"I've been to one of your concerts. Like I said, not really my cup of tea. I noticed how sad the lyrics are..."

I swallow as she turns around. Her eyes shimmer in the light. "I always hoped the best for you. When I became certain that Orion Bauwens of Saturn Mutants was the Orion I gave birth to, I always hoped that the lyrics were just that--lyrics of a gig."

She looks at me now, a tear dripping out of her eye. "I'm sorry you've suffered. Is there anything I can do?"

I smile, shaking my head a little. "You're doing enough right now..."

She nods, coming to sit next to me. I take her hand, smiling. She puts her other hand on top of mine, and neither of us move. After a moment I look at her.

"I have a question."

She laughs. "A single question? And here I always expected you to have a million if you ever came to me."

I laugh too. "Well, yeah, but one I've been wondering for nearly as long as I can remember."

"Go ahead."

"Why is my name Orion?"

For a moment she doesn't say anything. Then she laughs. I can feel myself getting flushed, and for the first time just a touch angry. "What?"

"That's your pressing question? After, what? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight years?" She giggles.

"Well it's a strange name!"

She grins. "Unique. You have to remember, Orion, I was sixteen..."

I roll my eyes.

"Seriously though." She clears her throat. "When I was pregnant with you I used to look up at the Orion constellation. I would look at the brightest star and wish with all my might that the baby inside of me would grow up as strong as Orion the hunter in Greek mythology, which the constellation is named after."

She closes her eyes, and I can tell she's deep in the memory by how soft and far away her voice has become.

"As I stared out the hospital window after I had you, with this perfect little bundle in my arms...And I knew what I had to do...I prayed to all the stars in Orion with all my might that you would be strong enough to make it through your life unscathed."

She opens her eyes and smiles sadly. "I am so sorry Orion didn't grant my wish, and I am so sorry I wasn't strong enough to do what was right and keep you with me."