Read Online White Trash Damaged by Teresa Mummert - Free Book Online Page A

had always been a large part of my life in helping me when I was feeling down. Being able to create that would be a dream come true. I grabbed it and tossed it in the cart along with a pack of pens.
    “Couldn’t hurt.” I shrugged as we continued through thestore. “So . . . what does your family think of you being on the road with all of these guys?”
    “We don’t talk much.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and frowned as she looked over cans of soup. “You think this is healthy?”
    “I have no clue.” I grabbed a few cans and began to look over the ingredients. “I don’t have any family to speak of either.”
    “A merry band of misfits.” She laughed and bumped me with her shoulder. “Let me know if any of the guys give you trouble.”
    “Sure. Thanks.” I was surprised by how kind and easygoing Sarah was. Watching her onstage she gave off the impression that she was larger than life and more than a little intimidating. It was interesting to see how much of that was a mask and not at all who she really was. It made me realize that what you saw on television or read in magazines had little to do with how these people actually lived.
    We collected a few more items and spent a good twenty minutes looking through funky hair accessories. Sarah held up a spool of black ribbon that faded into a pale blue.
    “Not very rock star.” I laughed and she rolled her eyes.
    “I meant for you, would make your eye color pop.”
    “I’m more of a plain-Jane type.” I laughed and grabbed a pack of hair ties from the shelf.
    “That isn’t a type, Cass. That’s a tragedy.” She grabbed thehair ties from my hand and tossed them back at the rack. “You are too pretty not to show it off to the world.”
    By the time we had made it back to the buses I felt light, happy, and optimistic. I didn’t realize how much I’d been longing to talk to another woman about everything that was going on. I hoped I saw her again soon. Her kindness had caught me off guard. There was more to her than meets the eye, and she seemed to feel the same way about me, although I didn’t see it.

I PUT AWAY ALL of the groceries and stored the extra cans and boxes in Dorris’s room. I grabbed my new notebook and stack of pens and sat down at the tiny kitchen table at the front of the bus.
    “My thoughts . . .” I mumbled to myself. “Poetry . . .”
    I doodled a few hearts and stars on the paper before I began to write.
    Love is like a waterfall
    I cringed and scribbled out the words. What does that even mean? I started again, thinking of how much I loved Tucker.
    Your kindness filled the emptiness of my soul
    Great. Now I was the old bucket in the trailer hallway that caught water from the leaky roof. This was harder than Iexpected. I scribbled out the words, feeling defeated. I didn’t have some hidden talent; I was nothing special. The frustration began to spill out of me as I scribbled onto the paper.
    They don’t know how their words have cut me
    Bleeding and dying but you can never hurt me
    Again . . . .
    I refuse to let this break me, my soul is bruised but you can’t shake me
    If I die alone in bed, wrapped in my thoughts trapped in my head
    I will forgive all you have done wrong, with pen to paper and tell my song
    Fill these sheets with my pain, and one day I will learn to love again
    I could hear the band laughing and chatting just seconds before the door to the bus opened. I closed my notebook and slid it under my legs, suddenly embarrassed. These guys were real poets; I’d hate for them to think I could try to create anything close to what they did.
    “Hey, sweetheart.” Tucker placed his hand on the back of my head as he bent down to kiss me on the lips.
    “How’d it go?” I asked as I watched the band mill about in the tiny space.
    “Productive,” Terry called out as he dug through the cabinets. “Food!”
    “Holy shit! We’ve been anti-robbed!” Eric laughed as he grabbed the box of fruit