Taylor Lynne: The Women of Merryton - Book Two Read Free Page B

I looked like I had my act together. I was
college educated with a good job. I raised the most amazing kid ever. I ate
right and worked out. I owned a house and drove a nice car. I pulled off normal
like no one’s business. It was how I avoided dealing with things I should have
dealt with.
    I was determined to lead
a normal life because growing up all I knew was instability. I learned early on
how to hide my problems. I didn’t want anyone to know that my home life was
less than ideal, but as I grew older, I knew it was no secret, especially living
in this town where everyone knew everything about everyone. And hiding the
problem, or at least thinking I was, only made it worse. I became an enabler
along with my sweet mother. That was, until the night I couldn’t take it
anymore. I had begged my mother to leave Frank, but she said she loved him and
we were a family. It didn’t matter that he came home drunk every night and he
couldn’t hold down a job, or that he was emotionally and verbally abusive to my
mother, she still loved him. It didn’t matter to her until I had finally had
enough and intervened one night.
    For all of Frank’s faults,
he had never once hit my mother or me. But that night in his drunken rage, he
tried to hit me as I did my best to protect my mother against his verbal
assault. My best wasn’t good enough. My mother took the brunt of my failure. It
wasn’t until then my mother took action. At fifteen I was sent to live with my
grandparents while she stayed. I begged and begged her to come too, but she
wouldn’t. She said Frank was sorry; he never wanted to hurt me or her. He loved
me. He promised he would go to rehab and AA and all of the other things he
always promised, but never did.
    Grams and Harry did their
best to heal my wounds. They provided me with the stability I had craved. I
missed my mom, but I was happy not to have to deal with the never-ending
uncertainty. I didn’t have to worry anymore about getting woken up in the
middle of the night by the sound of fighting parents. I didn’t have to worry
about whether the utilities would be on when I woke up, because Grams and Harry
always paid their bills. There was always food on the table and clean clothes,
and new clothes even. I didn’t have to lie to my friends anymore about why they
couldn’t come over to my house or why I wouldn’t go to theirs. I didn’t have to
be embarrassed anymore.
    In an attempt to overcome
and forget about my past, I became an over achiever. I was determined to never
have that life again. I was determined that if I ever had a family, it would be
perfect. I would be perfect. So I graduated early from high school and received
a scholarship to UAB. I achieved my goal of graduating at twenty-one and was
offered the internship of my choice at the University Hospital in Birmingham. It
was there I met Mr. Perfect. He was in his first year of clinical rotations. He
was everything I wanted in a husband: ambitious, intelligent, stable, handsome,
kind, and he loved me.
    And I loved him. I loved
him so much I lost my head and we eloped. One minute I was sitting in a
laundromat parking lot with him waiting for his clothes to dry, and the next
minute I was at the courthouse saying, “I do.” We didn’t have rings; we didn’t
even dress up. We only wanted to be with each other and so we thought, why
should we wait? It broke my grams’ and my mom’s heart, for that I felt bad, but
I had never been happier. At the time, I foolishly thought everything would
stay perfect. In reality, I probably had no business getting married at twenty-one.
    It didn’t take long for
me to learn that marriage was hard, but again, I was determined to be perfect.
Even if I wasn’t happy about certain aspects of our marriage, I pretended to
be. I didn’t want Easton to think any less of me. I wanted to have what I
didn’t have growing up, but that was exhausting. It was exhausting working two
jobs while Easton finished medical school