Read Online Faking Perfect by Rebecca Phillips - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Phillips
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what she felt she had to do—but Mom was a different story altogether. Five years later, she still blamed her.
My mother and Nolan’s mother had grown up together, just like he and I did. The only time they were ever apart was when Teresa decided to go east for college. Mom stayed out west in Alton, the same town in which they’d both been born and raised, and skipped college for a series of minimum wage jobs. Two years later, she met a tattooed bass player named Eric Davis and got caught up in his wild cyclone of bar gigs, liquor, drugs, and partying. . . until she got pregnant a couple years later, that is, and put a stop to it all. My father stopped too, for a while, until the music scene—and everything that went along with it—beckoned to him again.
Through all this, my mother kept in close contact with Teresa, who’d married Malcolm Bruce, a local guy, and settled down with him in his hometown of Oakfield. Despite their distance and contrasting lifestyles, my mother and Teresa’s friendship was as solid as ever. So when Mom called her up one day, crying, saying she needed to get as far away as she could from Alton and the horrible man who’d fathered me, it made perfect sense for us to go and stay with Teresa and Malcolm for a while. Until we got back on our feet, they said. They’d even pay for the plane tickets.
We lived with the Bruces for two years. During that time, Mom took a massage therapy course while I stayed home with Teresa and quickly became attached to her and to Nolan, who was only a few months older than me. He and I did everything together, even though he was bossy and pushy at times (qualities he still possessed). I didn’t remember much of those years, but what few memories I had were all happy ones. We were a family.
One of my sharpest childhood memories was the day my mother found a stable job and told me we were moving out of the Bruces’ house. I remember throwing myself on the floor in an epic tantrum, and I didn’t shut up until I heard where we were moving. Not back to “that place I was born” like I’d feared, but to the house right across the street with the pretty lilac bush in the front yard. Teresa, who was a realtor by then, had received some inside info on when it would go up for sale. When it did, we grabbed it.
Having our own place was fun at first, but I hated not having my best friend beside me full-time. And my mom wasn’t sweet and fun like Teresa. She didn’t cook chicken nuggets for me or remind me to brush my teeth. She didn’t give me hugs at bedtime or praise me when I cleaned up my toys. I wanted to live with the Bruces again, but I knew I couldn’t because my mother needed me way more than they did.
Even though Teresa didn’t agree with many of Mom’s life choices or her parenting style, she tried not to interfere. But when I turned twelve and Keith Langley exploded into our lives, all bets were off. Keith was a nightclub bouncer with a fondness for Jack Daniels and a hair-trigger temper. The first time he beat the crap out of Mom, I cowered in my room with the lights on, too scared to react. The second time, I threw a can of mixed vegetables at his head and ran across the street for help. Teresa called the police while Malcolm stomped over to break it up and I huddled in the family room with Nolan, shaking under the blanket he’d gently wrapped around me.
Teresa and my mom had a screaming fight in my house that night, one I did not witness. I stayed at the Bruces’ house overnight, and in the morning, Teresa told me what had happened. When she’d arrived across the street, Keith was being led to a police car while my mother sat in the living room, a dishcloth packed with ice pressed up against her swollen lip. The cops came back inside and Mom declined to press charges, which sent Teresa into an uncharacteristic rage. “If he ever comes back,” she’d warned Mom, “if he ever so much as shows his face around here again, I’ll call Child
My mother and Nolan’s mother had grown up together, just like he and I did. The only time they were ever apart was when Teresa decided to go east for college. Mom stayed out west in Alton, the same town in which they’d both been born and raised, and skipped college for a series of minimum wage jobs. Two years later, she met a tattooed bass player named Eric Davis and got caught up in his wild cyclone of bar gigs, liquor, drugs, and partying. . . until she got pregnant a couple years later, that is, and put a stop to it all. My father stopped too, for a while, until the music scene—and everything that went along with it—beckoned to him again.
Through all this, my mother kept in close contact with Teresa, who’d married Malcolm Bruce, a local guy, and settled down with him in his hometown of Oakfield. Despite their distance and contrasting lifestyles, my mother and Teresa’s friendship was as solid as ever. So when Mom called her up one day, crying, saying she needed to get as far away as she could from Alton and the horrible man who’d fathered me, it made perfect sense for us to go and stay with Teresa and Malcolm for a while. Until we got back on our feet, they said. They’d even pay for the plane tickets.
We lived with the Bruces for two years. During that time, Mom took a massage therapy course while I stayed home with Teresa and quickly became attached to her and to Nolan, who was only a few months older than me. He and I did everything together, even though he was bossy and pushy at times (qualities he still possessed). I didn’t remember much of those years, but what few memories I had were all happy ones. We were a family.
One of my sharpest childhood memories was the day my mother found a stable job and told me we were moving out of the Bruces’ house. I remember throwing myself on the floor in an epic tantrum, and I didn’t shut up until I heard where we were moving. Not back to “that place I was born” like I’d feared, but to the house right across the street with the pretty lilac bush in the front yard. Teresa, who was a realtor by then, had received some inside info on when it would go up for sale. When it did, we grabbed it.
Having our own place was fun at first, but I hated not having my best friend beside me full-time. And my mom wasn’t sweet and fun like Teresa. She didn’t cook chicken nuggets for me or remind me to brush my teeth. She didn’t give me hugs at bedtime or praise me when I cleaned up my toys. I wanted to live with the Bruces again, but I knew I couldn’t because my mother needed me way more than they did.
Even though Teresa didn’t agree with many of Mom’s life choices or her parenting style, she tried not to interfere. But when I turned twelve and Keith Langley exploded into our lives, all bets were off. Keith was a nightclub bouncer with a fondness for Jack Daniels and a hair-trigger temper. The first time he beat the crap out of Mom, I cowered in my room with the lights on, too scared to react. The second time, I threw a can of mixed vegetables at his head and ran across the street for help. Teresa called the police while Malcolm stomped over to break it up and I huddled in the family room with Nolan, shaking under the blanket he’d gently wrapped around me.
Teresa and my mom had a screaming fight in my house that night, one I did not witness. I stayed at the Bruces’ house overnight, and in the morning, Teresa told me what had happened. When she’d arrived across the street, Keith was being led to a police car while my mother sat in the living room, a dishcloth packed with ice pressed up against her swollen lip. The cops came back inside and Mom declined to press charges, which sent Teresa into an uncharacteristic rage. “If he ever comes back,” she’d warned Mom, “if he ever so much as shows his face around here again, I’ll call Child
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