1- She Wasn't Fun Anymore

*WARNING* This book is purely a work of fiction, any semblance to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental. The book contains violence, adult themes and language, graphic sexual content and possible triggers for sexual assault. This book is strictly intended for a mature audience. 

~This is a two part story, this is Rae's story~

My name is Rae Jansen, welcome to my crazy life. 

The earliest memories of my mother were just the "normal" things: making cookies, going to Girl Scouts, having sleepovers with cousins and tons of food. If nothing else, mom always made sure we ate good. 

Everything from the outside looked completely normal, and that's exactly how my dad wanted it. The picture perfect family, blending in and being accepted in the community. The four of us were extremely close. 

My family was the only mixed race -- scratch that, the only family -- with any color, within a 2-hour radius. But, no one treated us any different even though we were an anomaly in northeast Pennsylvania. Kids wanted to be our friends because they thought we were cool. 

My brother Erik, was the typical jock and seemed to excel at everything. He was three years older than me, and there was a slight resentment on my part because I felt I could never measure up to him. 

My mom, Mae, was raised in the South and grew up very poor, she was the grandchild of sharecroppers, and had numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. 

Mom didn’t even make it past eighth grade. She had a hard time concentrating, she would get frustrated and get lost in distractions. I was quite sure she just had a learning disability or was possibly dyslexic, but it was one of those things that wasn't discussed. 

My dad, Levi, was from a large Catholic family and he barely graduated high school. He was smart but not book smart; he was a simple guy and had a good paying factory job. Both of my parents were incredibly friendly, outgoing people that could talk to anyone. 

They met while my dad was in North Carolina visiting one of his army buddies. Mom claims he swept her off her feet, but he says he had to work for it. My mom was twelve years older than my dad and yet despite all of their differences, they fell in love. 

Somehow, my dad managed to convince her to move up north, where there was literally no one that looked like her. But mom didn't seem fazed by it, and her only complaint was about the weather. 

She held her head high no matter where we went, no matter what kind of stares we got … and boy, there were stares. But people knew my dad and respected him and I don’t remember there ever being any outward comments. But I knew we were different.

I think I first noticed my mom was different from other moms when I was around ten. She was always doing very spontaneous things which I just took as fun. I was too young to realize they were not good decisions and my parents often fought about it. 

They were pros at keeping their fights from me, but Erik knew and he kept the secret too.  

Mom would randomly show up at school and want to take us out for the day. Of course we didn't mind, but the school certainly did. Dad freaked when we suddenly had pets showing up at the house. He would have to become the bad guy and rehome them. 

Mom would get us random instruments to play, but we would just make noise and nothing that resembled actual music. Dad would then throw them out, hoping we wouldn't notice. 

Mom would let us go anywhere, eat whatever...there were no rules and she didn't tell us ‘no’ to anything. Dad hated having to be the bad guy, he wanted to do fun things too but someone had to be the adult. 

I was a complete math nerd and my mom did everything to encourage me. She even let me write in marker on the walls to work out my problems. She said it would be easier for me to have it in big writing on the wall and then copy it onto my notebook paper. 

Dad would be furious but he wouldn't yell at me -- he would wait until I went to bed and then yell at her. One day when I was thirteen, I got home from school and mom wasn't there. 

Dad said that she needed a little break from us and she would be back soon. But she ended up being gone for a couple of months and I internalized it immensely, believing it was my fault. 

If I just behaved better and didn't make messes, if I only listened, then she would not have left. Erik seemed to be happy she was gone, he said that she needed to get some help. Help for what? I was too young to understand the problem.

My entire life, everyone treated me with kid gloves. If they kept me in a bubble, I wouldn’t get upset, and so that’s what they did. Don’t tell Rae anything.

When I would press for more information he wouldn't offer much else. I started to focus more on math and science. I don't know what it was about it, but it just clicked for me and it came easy. I did so well, after a couple months in eighth grade, I got bumped to ninth. 

I could just remember things, dad said my mind was a steel trap. The serious downside to skipping a grade, now I was in the same school as Erik. Since he was popular and I wasn’t, I was only known as “Erik’s sister,” I had no identity of my own. 

I felt like I was always in his shadow. In middle school, I had been smart, people had a high opinion of me, but in a bigger, more crowded school, and at the bottom of the food chain, I was a nobody who was just in the way.

When mom finally came home, she didn't seem like herself at all. She seemed depressed and all she wanted to do was sleep. I couldn't understand why she wasn't fun anymore and why she didn't want to play with me as much. 

Dad would go out of his way, as much as possible to distract me. He started pushing me to hang out with my cousins more, and make friends. But friends … yeah I didn’t really have any and I was the most horribly awkward moron in social situations. 

My cousins were my sort of ‘friends’ because well, that’s what your cousins are early in life. It was like dad was trying to substitute my mother, but I could never let him do that. I felt like a charity case, and like girls only let me come over and hang around out of pity. 

I was the girl with the screwed up mother, the mother who wasn’t perfect like theirs. This cycle seemed to go on and on; there would be spells where she would be gone for a week, or a couple months at a time. 

Dad's co-workers started taking turns bringing us homemade dinners. I never knew when mom would be back and I never knew where she went. I often fought with Erik about it, it was like he wrote her off, and was done with her behavior. 

Her moods would be all over the place, sometimes she would act like a child, other times she was serious and I never knew what personality I was going to get. Either way I didn't care, because when it was good, it was good and I had her love. 

For some reason, I kept the clarinet mom got me and really took to it. I practiced all the time, much to Erik’s annoyance. But I wanted to see it through, to have something other than math to get excited over, since sports were not even remotely on my radar. 

The night of the annual band concert came, and I was a nervous wreck. Mom was gone again and dad brought two of his sisters instead. I knew my songs by heart and I could probably play them perfectly in my sleep, but I was still freaking out. 

I hated being the center of attention, I'd rather hide in a book. I had huge glasses (I was blind as a bat without my glasses) and my hair hadn’t been right since mom left. Dad didn’t know the first thing about my hair and often joked about shaving it. 

Sometimes, it seemed like that would have been easier. 

We were halfway through our second song when I saw mom. She held a bouquet of daisies and a smile instantly went across my face -- until my eyes dropped down and saw that her dress was filthy and ripped. 

She was also not wearing shoes and her feet were covered in dirt and bloody scratches. She looked like she'd lost thirty pounds and was a walking skeleton! She sat quietly and swayed to the music. 

I quietly thanked the universe for letting her come in during someone’s solo so I wasn’t playing for a few minutes and I could collect myself. I looked at dad who wobbled his head around to see what I was gawking at -- and he immediately looked pissed. 

Once the last note finished, mom was the first to jump up and cheer. My aunts immediately ran to me and tried to rush me out of the auditorium while my dad tried to do the same to mom. I broke down sobbing, calling out to her. 

Mom broke down too, yelling out to me. 

"They just don't I understand us baby, we're special! I'm always here, momma's always here even if you don't see me! I’ll always be there when you need me the most!" 

"Mommy!!! Mommy," I yelled.

I didn’t care what anyone thought ... not dad, not any of my classmates.

She was my mom.