White Trash Damaged

“Oh, I don’t keep a diary.” I tossed the book back on the stack. Sarah grabbed it.

“You have to get your thoughts out somehow. My head would explode if I didn’t write songs or poetry.” She smiled as she held it out to me. I hesitated, but I realized it might be nice to get my feelings down on paper at times when Tuck wasn’t there to talk to. Music 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 the store. “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 the hair 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.

6

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 I expected. 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 snacks and slid in the seat across from me at the table.

“You did this, Cass?” Chris asked as he pulled a Gatorade from the mini fridge.

“I did,” I said, beaming. “And I bumped into Sarah, too, actually. It was fun.”

“If that’s what you consider a good time, Tucker is not fulfilling your needs,” Eric joked, and Tucker smacked him on the arm before nudging me over so he could sit next to me.

“It was! We hung out, gossiped in the cereal aisle.” I grinned at Eric who suddenly looked more interested in my shopping spree. Something about his expression made me wonder if he had an interest in her.

“What’s this?” Tucker pulled my notebook out from under him.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” I reached for the book as Tucker flipped it open and his eyes danced over the page. He let me pull it from his hands as he stared ahead. His expression was unreadable. “I told you it was stupid.”

“No. It’s . . . beautiful. You’re a natural.”

“I want to see!” Eric reached across the table, but I pulled the book back before he could grab it.

“Reach across this table again and you will pull back a nub!”

“Damn! She has been hanging out with Sarah.” Chris laughed as he shoved some crackers in his mouth.

“So what did you guys talk about?” Eric leaned back in his seat, trying to look unconcerned, but it was obvious he was crushing on her.

“A lady never tells.” I smirked.

“True. Now spill it.”

I narrowed my eyes at Eric as Tucker chuckled. He slid his hand under the table and squeezed my knee as he winked at me, which sent butterflies into flight in my stomach. Sometimes it still didn’t seem real that I was dating him.

I leaned my elbows on the table like I was ready to spill all of the juicy details of our chat.

“She said you have a really big . . .”

Eric leaned forward, giving me his undivided attention.

“Ego.” I let out a laugh, and Eric threw a fruit snack at my head.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Eric’s focus turned to Tucker. “What’s in the notebook?”

All of the band was quiet waiting for some big reveal.

“Poetry,” Tucker replied as he ran his hand through my hair, slipping it behind my ear.

“I had no idea you were so deep.” Terry looked genuinely surprised.

“That’s what . . .” I began, and all of the guys burst out in laughter.

“No . . . just, no,” Chris said as he shook his head.

“You should write more. You have a real talent, sweetheart.” I could have melted under Tucker’s gaze.

I shrugged, embarrassed at the attention, especially since it didn’t feel warranted.

“We have a meeting with a potential manager in half an hour. We should get ready.” Tucker kissed my temple before sliding out of the booth and stretching.

The band scattered as they took care of personal business before the meeting. Tucker smiled as he held out his hand to me. I took it, letting him pull me from the booth. His hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me