Save Me From Me
Copyright © 2013 Erika Ashby
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Photography by Toski Covey Photography-Cover Design
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My problems aren’t yours
They’re mine to bear
Save yourself the effort
You don’t have enough to spare
People think I’m in need of saving
But they got it all wrong
You can’t save me from me
Just listen to this song
“Dani Jo.” Daddy yells for me from his fishing spot. “You gonna come fish with me and Tyler or are ya gonna keep snapping shots?”
“Snapping shots?” I laugh. “Oh, Daddy, I’m taking pictures, and it’s much more fun than trying to catch slimy fish.” I scrunch up my nose.
“Whatever makes you happy, Baby Girl.” My daddy ruffles my brother Tyler’s hair as they both laugh about something. This spot will forever be my most favorite place. Daddy has brought Tyler and me here for as long as I can remember.
This purple camera is my favorite toy. Well, I call it a toy, but my mom might disagree. I’m not sure what the adult word would be. After daddy bought it for my tenth birthday, he showed me how to load the roll of film into it.
“Now, once you have it in, you can’t open it until you use the whole roll, Baby Girl.” I nodded as I watched him intently. “Because if you open it and it isn’t finished, you will ruin the parts of the film that are exposed.”
My daddy was a smart man and he took dang good care of my brother and me, even after our parents divorced. Although he moved back to the town where he grew up, forty-five minutes away, he still made sure to keep close contact with us kids. He’d come to every single sporting and school event possible, and even visit on the holidays. If we weren’t at his house, he’d come to ours. As silly as it sounds, our parents got along far better when they were divorced than when they had been married.
I was an open book with my dad. Talking to him about anything and everything was as easy as breathing. He knew my passion was photography, but he also knew how badly I wanted out of the small town life. No one else encouraged me to take off but him. I remember the day he told me it was okay to expand my wings.
“Dani Girl, it’s okay for you to leave the nest. No matter what anyone else says. I know you love that boy of yours, but don’t stick around because of him. You will always resent him for it. You will always wonder what could have been. Go make something of yourself. If it works out, great. If not, then use them same wings and fly back home. But don’t live your life for anyone else but you.”
Having gained confidence and an extra boost from my dad, I had left his house that night with a new direction in my sight. One that would hurt a lot of people, but one that I knew I had to follow no matter what.
When people die, you tend to look back on your life wanting to remember every single memory you can trudge up. That’s exactly what I did when my dad died. It’s as if you do a mental self-evaluation while you’re at it, wondering why you took the path you chose or made the decisions you did. You ponder, after the fact, if that’s truly where your life was meant to go—was that really who you were meant to be.
Sometimes it’s when we are unexpectedly yanked away from the life we made, back to the one we tried so desperately hard to leave behind, that we finally find ourselves. Anyone can fake their way through life. Being someone else is always easier than being yourself. I know this from personal experience. I didn’t follow my dreams like most people, because to me, my dreams would have held me back. But now? Now, I realize I was the only one holding myself back.
Who would have thought that, at twenty-seven-years old, this is where I’d be in life? I sure didn’t. I didn’t expect to lose my dad six months ago, and in return, lose everything I had going for me. I was a Daddy’s girl. The moment he died, a piece of me went with him. I was left to pick up the pieces of the life that he had left behind—what little pieces there were. Sure, there was my brother, but with his job, I was basically the only one left to tend to all the things dealing with my father’s death. I used that excuse right there to cease what life I had going before. I left everything to move back into the house my dad left to my brother Tyler and me. It was a couple towns over from where we grew up, the town he moved to once he and my mom got divorced. Maybe I thought I’d feel closer to him somehow by surrounding myself with his stuff. Hell, that’s exactly what I thought. But it had the reverse effect. Not only did I feel further away from him while living in his empty house surrounded by everything him, I felt further away from myself. Not only did I lose my dad, I started to lose myself.
I knew my dad would be pissed that I was drowning in sorrow. If he were here, he’d say
, “Dani Jo, what the hell, Baby Girl? Don’t you dare sit around this house and let your life fall to shit. I damn well raised you better than that! Now get the hell up and go get your life back.”
Knowing that my dad would want me to let go of the pieces I lost of him and pick up mine instead, I moved back to the small town I graduated from. The town I love to hate. The town with stupid, drama-filled, hoochie mamas and very few friends. The town with the guys you’d love to hate and the ones you will always love... and hate. The town where lots of hos have hated me since I didn’t put up with their drama. I was the girl that could put a tramp in her place in two seconds flat. Not trying to say I was a badass, but I was a badass. Hell, I’m still a badass, if I do say so myself. Growing up around Tyler with my rowdy older half bro and sis, I had no choice but to be tough. I was definitely thankful for my Chuck Norris-like skills in high school.
Having no job, no money, and no place to stay, my only option was to go back and live with my mom. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Wrong. Maybe if my mom didn’t let my tweaking half-siblings reside there whenever they damn well pleased, then it wouldn’t be a bad set up. Billy and Brandy have always been moochers; must be something that they inherited from their own father — the guy that took off after getting all he could out of our mom.
