Free Love's Learning Curve by Felicia Lynn Page A

Run.  Run.  And run some more then just keep running.
    I push my body harder than it is accustomed to.  Running, which I was once able to use as my therapy to relieve some of the stress, has now taken on a whole new trend, and it’s not positive.  Instead of releasing stress and pent-up frustrations, the adrenaline is somehow fueling the anger.
    Taking the next turn off my normal route, I decide to do a lap around the block that leads to George’s and my favorite park.  When the fields of sprouting green grass come into my view ahead, my body begins to scream for a little rest.  The park looks like the perfect place of retreat for a moment to catch my breath.  Even I have to admit that I’ve run myself into exhaustion this morning and need the breather.
    The empty playground with colorful slides and jungle gym is calling my name.  I love the swings, so I sit in the one at the farthest end and sway lightly.  The thick branches shield me from the sunshine overhead, and the shade feels nice.  Taking in the bright green leaves sprouting the signs of spring, I feel myself relax.  I take in my surroundings while also glancing around for a possible hired stalker.
    Finding the courage, I pull my phone out of the hidden pocket in my running shorts.  As much as actually reading the rest of the words from my mother pains me, I know I must do it.  I flip the Do Not Disturb setting off and allow any additional messages to filter through before I scroll to the first of many messages.
     
    Mother: What has gotten into you, young lady?  A party?  Drinking?  This had better be a sick joke.
     
    Well … I’d like to know how you actually found out , I think to myself.  I’m not sure what she heard, but it really wasn’t that bad.  It was two hours of my life, and no one died.
     
    Mother: Charlotte Maryland Baker, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to call me right away.  I’ve seen the pictures of your little tirade.
     
    Pictures?  I didn’t see anyone snapping pictures.  How exactly could she have gotten photos?  Who’s the one with the sick joke again?
     
    Mother: You know what’s at stake.  Is sabotaging your father’s reputation and campaign your way of thanking us for giving you a perfect life?  I’m so ashamed to be your mother.
     
    Perfect life?  Are we kidding?  She must have forgotten who she was texting.  I could describe my life as many things, but perfect wouldn’t even make the list of possible adjectives.  Incomplete.  Broken.  Corrupt.  Fake.  Unloved.  I’d use those words.
     
    Mother: If this makes the newspaper, you’ll destroy the family.  I’m disgusted with you.
     
    I didn’t even do anything major.  How could a photograph of the evening be that damaging?  Playing back the events of the evening, with the worst being me taking a few sips of beer while playing the game, I can think of nothing that would justify her response.  But this is not a normal mother, and we aren’t a normal family.  I’m twenty-one years old, and you’d think I was sixteen.
    I cringe at the viciousness of her words, but I’m not at all surprised there weren’t any to make sure I’m actually okay and survived the evening.  I knew this could happen at some point, which was why I never attempted to be adventurous.  She has always kept close tabs on me, but the distance gave me courage.  It was a stupid risk, but in the end, I don’t regret it at all.  For a short time, it was a lot of fun.
    Eyes and ears are everywhere , I hear my mother’s voice in my head.  Be careful what you say and do; you are a direct reflection of your father and me.
    My mother’s words sting, but over the years, I’ve become somewhat immune to the personal attacks.  Not that they don’t affect me at all, but after hearing them over and over, I guess her words have less power.
    I’m frustrated.  I’m overwhelmed.  I feel like no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to live