White Trash Damaged by Teresa Mummert Page A

head as I chewed on the end of my milk shake straw.
    “You really think it’s wise to hire a manager who is already gonna start out with drama?” Tucker grabbed my hand from his leg and squeezed it.
    “She’s good at what she does. This was what we’ve been needing; this is what’s going to be the difference between local gigs and sold-out arenas,” Eric almost shouted. The tension was beginning to build again, and I felt like I needed to help defuse the situation.
    Tucker cut his eyes to Chris, and I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand to try to calm him.
    “Nothing against Dorris, man. She was great, but she doesn’t know a lot about this scene,” Chris explained.
    Everyone was silent for a moment.
    “I’ll show you my poem, if you think it’ll help convince her that I’m worth keeping around. And if you guys like it, it’s yours.” I kept my eyes on my burger as I waited for a response.
    “You sure, sweetheart?” Tucker asked as he adjusted in his seat.
    “Yeah, I want to help you guys.” I shrugged and sat my milk shake down on the table. “I think I’m stuffed.”
    We made our way back to the bus, and the guys took turns getting themselves ready for their concert while I sat in Tucker’s bunk and let the memories of my past flood me. I wanted this song to feel real, unvarnished, the way Tucker’s songs did. I wanted this to be more than just some words on a piece of paper.
    I pictured my mother and her struggle to follow her dreams in life as my father criticized her and told her she wasn’t good enough. I wondered what he would think of my life now and if he would be proud that I was no longer living in the situation I had been or if he would try to discourage me from following my dreams as well.
    The truth is told through blurred vision, this is the world that I must live in
    I wondered if he had changed at all from the man I remembered him as and if he regretted his decision to leave his family behind only to have Jax step in and fill his shoes. I blamed myself every day for the way things had ended. If I had only been honest, maybe things would not have had such a violent end, or maybe it would have only come sooner.
    I’ve lost everything to you, but these words will get me through
    Tears filled my eyes as I thought of what life would be like now if I hadn’t lost the baby. Would I be a good mother? Would history have continued to repeat itself? I would never know unless I was able to get back to where it all began, but my father was long gone, abandoning hope for our family and dooming it in the process. I would never get the answers to the questions that weighed me down.
    If you take this life from me, I will fly with broken wings
    Let me fill these empty sheets, with those lies of love you told to me
    Tears began to fall on the paper, blurring the ink as I gave in to the sadness. It was therapeutic to tell my side of the story. Sarah was right; everyone should have a creative outlet to express their emotions. It amazed me how easily it came to me as I scribbled line after line. Once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. Maybe this was my purpose—to write. To share my pain, not only to heal myself, but maybe to help heal others.
    “You okay?” Tucker asked as he held back the curtain to the bed.
    “I’m fine. This is good.” I nodded and sniffled, giving him a small smile. He smiled back, his eyes filling with sadness before he let the curtain fall back into place.
    My mother always seemed to hold out hope that things would get better, and I wished she would have lived long enough to see that they had. I no longer feared what tomorrow would bring, but the loss of her weighed heavy in my heart, and I felt guilty that I was able to move on with my life, leaving everyone else behind.
    Angels have found their wings from you,
    battered and bruised when they come through
    Maybe I didn’t have a choice in the way it all ended. Maybe the course my life was on had been predetermined