Love to Hate You

Part Two || Chapter One

So, it’s been a month since I was forced to break it off with the Heartbreakers. It’s also the last month of the school year. That means I’m going to be practically drowning in paint because of my mural. Every day after school, I will be working on that thing. Let me tell you what, it takes about ten times as long to recreate this thing on a wall. I guess that’s not what is really upsetting me at this point, though. It’s the tension since I’ve left the band.

The tension between my mother and me is scary. We barely exchange words with one another. The conversation we had at the gig was nothing compared to the one we shared when we got home that evening. There was yelling, and a lot of it. My dad had to intervene. Since then, nothing has been the same. She’s become very watchful of me. She clearly doesn’t trust me and takes her lunch break off to drive me home from school because she’s afraid I’ll go to practice with the boys. Even then she doesn’t talk to me and when she does it’s small talk, an exchange of maybe one or two words. It’s gotten to the point where A.J. jokes about us going to counseling. Which, I don’t blame him.

My mother is as stubborn as I am, refusing to admit she’s at fault. And yes, I do think she’s the one who is at fault here. She’s holding me back because she is living her life through me. She was an artist when she was younger and I’m doing things she wishes she could have done herself and she wants to see me succeed because it’s like watching herself succeed. She tried to live her life through Alisa once, but it turned out Alisa wasn’t very artistically talented and preferred a “clean cut” way of life, like becoming a lawyer or doctor. A.J. obviously is not a female so it just wouldn’t be the same. So, the weight of all of this is on my shoulders and I don’t want it there.

Sure, there was a time in my life when I wanted to be like my mom. Of course, that’s the only life I had ever known. I had always had the life behind the easel. I love it, I really do. I don’t deny that it’s something I’m passionate about. But, as soon as I had been introduced to performing it seemed like that passion had died down and now a new one had risen. And as a bonus, I made the decision to perform. My mother had nothing to do with it. That independence made me love performing.

Just to prove to my mother that I’m independent and I’m not going to give up on something I love, I’ve decided to become extremely rebellious. I sing on the top of my lungs all of the time around the house, even when I’m drawing I’m singing. I went out and bought more red hair dye and dyed my hair again, just because I could. I mention the Heartbreakers at the dinner table and get this overwhelming giddy feeling whenever she begins to rub her temples in annoyance. I purposefully take my time after school just so she’s late back to work after her lunch break. This of course only makes my mom twice as angry, not that I care. If she’s going to ruin my life, I want to ruin hers. I’m not her puppet after all.

“Reese.”

I turn my head to the person talking to me, my hand trailing off of the wall slightly as I look over my shoulder to see Sean standing behind me.

It’s the end of the day and I’m over at the Mural Wall, doing a rough sketch of how big I want the painting. I’m going to need a ladder.

I smile softly at him and turn around completely, leaning up against the wall.

“Hi.”

He looks around before looking at me directly and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Coming to practice?” he jokes stiffly, forcing a little laugh.

I look down at my feet and sink further into the wall, my smile disappearing completely.

“I wish.” I sigh, hugging my arms to my chest numbly.