Chapter 7 - Michaela's Story
January 21, 1998 - Where else? Tulsa, Oklahoma
Neuton, Grubbery, our parents, Elizabeth, Kestrel, MacArthy and now little Mozzie returned home two weeks earlier than was expected. Manson's tour had been totally unsuccessful due to angry fans. Everywhere the Mansons went rotten fruit flew towards their faces as though there was some sort of magnetism. The new Manson single, "Strange" debuted on the charts at number 87 and swiftly left the charts the following week. The fall of the Mansons was just a quick as their rise.
So now it was back to normaldom for Neuton and Grubbery, and (indirectly) Tweedle-Tay. Tay had been pushed back to normality three months before the others but the realisation that he would never again be the proverbial Adonis of eternity for all girls under thirteen hit him harder than I expected it to. Tweedle-Tay had spent hours on end lying in his bed, not moving, because he was so depressed about the band. In the rare moments that he spoke he explained to me why he was so upset.
"Michaela," he said.
I ran over to his bed immediately. "Mmmm?"
"It's over," Tweedle-Tay said sadly. "The band is gone for good. It's over."
"And it's all my fault," I muttered. "If I hadn't convinced you to threaten to leave the band, none of this would ever have happened."
"Michaela -" Tweedle-Tay began weakly.
"No, you don't have to make excuses for me. I was selfish, and now we're both going to be locked up in here forever. Your rejoining the band was our only hope of escaping....." I trailed off, looking at the roof. Tweedle-Tay moaned. "Oh, sorry Tay!" I said quickly. "I shouldn't have said that. It was tactless of me."
Tweedle-Tay strained a smile. "It was tactless, but it's true. Mercury has dumped us." He sat up on the bed. "You know, it's like, the record company, they pretend they care about you, when you've got a number one single, but as soon as you start to sink, they let you. The time when you need their support most is the time they take their support away." He collapsed onto the bed.
I looked at my brother sadly. I couldn't think of anything to say. There was nothing that I could say. His dreams, everything that he had worked towards, everything he had achieved, had been taken away from him, just like that, and it was all my fault.
Tweedle-Tay began to speak again. "It's not so bad for Neuton and Grubbery, they have each other, they have Mom and Dad, they even have Mama now........ But me, I'm stuck in an attic, I have no one."
"That's not true!" I interjected quickly. "You have me......"
"Yes Michaela, I have you."
"Tweedle-Tay, don't think everyone hates you, because they don't. In a way, this loss of fans shows just how much they care about you. They know that our parents have done something to you and they're boycotting Manson until you come back," I said, my fingers crossed behind my back.
"I thought you hated Manson fans....." Tweedle-Tay said.
"Well I do, but -"
"Then why are you pretending that they're these wonderful, intelligent, noble people when I know you don't think they are?" Tweedle- Tay asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, listen to this." I picked up a magazine from the pile that our 'generous' mother had given us for Christmas. It was a British rock magazine, 'Q'. "This article was written before your disappearance and I quote the following passages; says Tweedle-Tay, a look of bemusement on his cherubic face; It's all there in Tweedle-Tay's voice. He's got real soul in him; Tweedle-Tay could really sing; Tweedle-Tay has most incredible voice. I seriously believe he could become the greatest R&B singer of his generation. He can be the next Aretha!"
"Not any more," Tweedle-Tay said bitterly. "Remember? I don't have a recording contract anymore."
I ignored him and continued. "Says Tweedle-Tay, possibly the most articulate of the three; and.... yeah..... well that's all."
Tweedle-Tay sighed. "And your point is?"
I whacked him over the head with the magazine. "My point is you may not have a recording contract now, but think about what these people have said about you. You have hope. You're not even fifteen years old yet, for goodness sake. The most stupid thing we've done is not escape from this house while we were downstairs, but who were we to know any better? We thought you'd be rejoining the band. Anyway the next time they let us downstairs we'll escape from this old dump and move to my grandmother's house in LA. I inherited her entire fortune." I stopped, remembering how I was supposed to meet up with the executor of her estate around three months ago. "Anyway," I continued. "Once we move to LA you can resume your music career and become a famous hunk again, right? Right?"
Tweedle-Tay was not answering me. I looked over at his face and found that he was sound asleep. Tweedle-Tay had fallen asleep during me inspiring speech. I sighed and began to get changed into my pajamas.
January 21, 1998 - Where else? Tulsa, Oklahoma
Neuton, Grubbery, our parents, Elizabeth, Kestrel, MacArthy and now little Mozzie returned home two weeks earlier than was expected. Manson's tour had been totally unsuccessful due to angry fans. Everywhere the Mansons went rotten fruit flew towards their faces as though there was some sort of magnetism. The new Manson single, "Strange" debuted on the charts at number 87 and swiftly left the charts the following week. The fall of the Mansons was just a quick as their rise.
So now it was back to normaldom for Neuton and Grubbery, and (indirectly) Tweedle-Tay. Tay had been pushed back to normality three months before the others but the realisation that he would never again be the proverbial Adonis of eternity for all girls under thirteen hit him harder than I expected it to. Tweedle-Tay had spent hours on end lying in his bed, not moving, because he was so depressed about the band. In the rare moments that he spoke he explained to me why he was so upset.
"Michaela," he said.
I ran over to his bed immediately. "Mmmm?"
"It's over," Tweedle-Tay said sadly. "The band is gone for good. It's over."
"And it's all my fault," I muttered. "If I hadn't convinced you to threaten to leave the band, none of this would ever have happened."
"Michaela -" Tweedle-Tay began weakly.
"No, you don't have to make excuses for me. I was selfish, and now we're both going to be locked up in here forever. Your rejoining the band was our only hope of escaping....." I trailed off, looking at the roof. Tweedle-Tay moaned. "Oh, sorry Tay!" I said quickly. "I shouldn't have said that. It was tactless of me."
Tweedle-Tay strained a smile. "It was tactless, but it's true. Mercury has dumped us." He sat up on the bed. "You know, it's like, the record company, they pretend they care about you, when you've got a number one single, but as soon as you start to sink, they let you. The time when you need their support most is the time they take their support away." He collapsed onto the bed.
I looked at my brother sadly. I couldn't think of anything to say. There was nothing that I could say. His dreams, everything that he had worked towards, everything he had achieved, had been taken away from him, just like that, and it was all my fault.
Tweedle-Tay began to speak again. "It's not so bad for Neuton and Grubbery, they have each other, they have Mom and Dad, they even have Mama now........ But me, I'm stuck in an attic, I have no one."
"That's not true!" I interjected quickly. "You have me......"
"Yes Michaela, I have you."
"Tweedle-Tay, don't think everyone hates you, because they don't. In a way, this loss of fans shows just how much they care about you. They know that our parents have done something to you and they're boycotting Manson until you come back," I said, my fingers crossed behind my back.
"I thought you hated Manson fans....." Tweedle-Tay said.
"Well I do, but -"
"Then why are you pretending that they're these wonderful, intelligent, noble people when I know you don't think they are?" Tweedle- Tay asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, listen to this." I picked up a magazine from the pile that our 'generous' mother had given us for Christmas. It was a British rock magazine, 'Q'. "This article was written before your disappearance and I quote the following passages; says Tweedle-Tay, a look of bemusement on his cherubic face; It's all there in Tweedle-Tay's voice. He's got real soul in him; Tweedle-Tay could really sing; Tweedle-Tay has most incredible voice. I seriously believe he could become the greatest R&B singer of his generation. He can be the next Aretha!"
"Not any more," Tweedle-Tay said bitterly. "Remember? I don't have a recording contract anymore."
I ignored him and continued. "Says Tweedle-Tay, possibly the most articulate of the three; and.... yeah..... well that's all."
Tweedle-Tay sighed. "And your point is?"
I whacked him over the head with the magazine. "My point is you may not have a recording contract now, but think about what these people have said about you. You have hope. You're not even fifteen years old yet, for goodness sake. The most stupid thing we've done is not escape from this house while we were downstairs, but who were we to know any better? We thought you'd be rejoining the band. Anyway the next time they let us downstairs we'll escape from this old dump and move to my grandmother's house in LA. I inherited her entire fortune." I stopped, remembering how I was supposed to meet up with the executor of her estate around three months ago. "Anyway," I continued. "Once we move to LA you can resume your music career and become a famous hunk again, right? Right?"
Tweedle-Tay was not answering me. I looked over at his face and found that he was sound asleep. Tweedle-Tay had fallen asleep during me inspiring speech. I sighed and began to get changed into my pajamas.
