Authors: Lucy H. Delaney
I'm Not Who I Was –
Brandon Heath
When Tatum makes her rules and stands up for herself and becomes a woman of strength and mystery, because of the boy who broke her heart.
Thunderstruck –
AC/DC
This is the song I imagine playing on the radio when Tatum drives to work after Justin changed her station.
Rude –
Magic!
Another inspirational song for a scene in the story that didn't make it to the final version. This is when Cole comes back and asks Tatum's dad if he can date her and he shuts him down. Then, of course, Cole- the-persistent comes back and permission is granted.
All She Wants to do is Dance –
Don Henley
‘Cause I couldn't have two exhibitionist characters like Cole and Tatum and not have them dance to this in front of a crowd of fans. And, anyway, it's perfect for that third inning sing-along!
Better Together –
Jack Johnson (but only the harmonica version w/ G. Love will do)
When the boy who gets what he wants finally gives in and gives Tatum what she demands—the perfect dance.
Redeemed –
Big Daddy Weave
When Tatum finds her redemption in the arms of a heartbroken Airman.
Almost Lover –
A Fine Frenzy
For the season of Tatum's life when she loses both Justin and Cole. This was another song that haunted me, like a muse, from the first time I heard it and it demanded me to write for it.
Hello, My Name Is –
Matthew West
I don't know; it's kind of the song I hear when the two of them finally, at long last, say “I do.” I think it's the best way for them to end their courtship, which is filled with memories of regret, and say “hello” to a new life together.
Every day loved ones are lost to the tragedy of suicide but awareness and fast action can help save a life. QPR Institute trains people to recognize emotional cues and other warning signs that a person is in crisis in much the same way CPR trains them to help a person in cardiac crisis.
What is QPR?
QPR stands for Question, Persuade, and Refer
– Three simple steps that anyone can learn to help save a life from suicide. Just as people trained in CPR and the Heimlich Maneuver help save thousands of lives each year, people trained in QPR learn how to recognize the warning signs of a suicide crisis and how to question, persuade, and refer someone for help. Each year thousands of Americans like you are saying "Yes" to saving the life of a friend, colleague, sibling, or neighbor. QPR can be learned in our Gatekeeper course in as little as one hour.
In one hour, you can become a Gatekeeper.
According to the Surgeon General’s National Strategy for Suicide Prevention (2001), a gatekeeper is someone in a position to recognize a crisis and the warning signs that someone may be contemplating suicide. Gatekeepers include parents, friends, neighbors, teachers, ministers, doctors, nurses, office supervisors, squad leaders, foremen, police officers, advisors, caseworkers, firefighters, and many others who are strategically positioned to recognize and refer someone at risk of suicide. As of 2014, over 2,000,000 people have been trained to be gatekeepers.
As a QPR-trained Gatekeeper you will learn to:
For more information visit:
www.qprinstitute.com
I remember seeing a Sexual Exposure Chart in a doctor's office several years ago and the math behind the calculations astonished me. Just a handful of partners could expose a person to so many dangerous infections and diseases. It shocked me and has stuck with me. Here are some STD awareness facts.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), April is STD Awareness Month. In the CDC report,
Incidence, Prevalence, and Cost of Sexually Transmitted Infections in the United States
(February 13, 2013), citizens can find some troubling numbers. Consider the following summary of sexually transmitted infections (STIs):
20 Million
– Annual New Sexually Transmitted Infections (incidence)
110 Million –
Total Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs, new and existing – prevalence)
$16 Billion
– Annual Total Medical Costs (the lifetime cost of treating eight of the most common STIs contracted in just one year)
Half of all new STIs occur in young people (15-24 yrs.), mostly in the 20-24 yr. age range.
Are you curious how many people you, or someone you know, may have been exposed to by having multiple sexual partners? Google the Sexual Exposure Chart from the CDC.
Did you know that the majority of high-school students (grades 9-12, combined) in the U.S., have not had sex?
Learn more at:
http://www.citizenlink.com/2013/04/03/cdc-april-is-std-awareness-month/
For the full CDC STD reports visit:
http://www.cdc.gov/std/products/syndicated.htm
Be abstinent, be monogamous, wait to have sex, and when you do, be SAFE and have fun!
I FELL IN LOVE
with Justin when I was seven years old, and I have loved him ever since. I knew him forever, but before that night he was nothing more than a really cool big kid. He was eleven, and when you're seven an eleven-year-old is pretty much an adult. I suppose he was in my life even before I knew how to make a memory because as far back as I can go in my mind, he's always been there, protecting me, loving me silently.
Justin was the most amazing boy I had ever known, even before I decided I loved him. Some people said he was worthless and good for nothing, a loser and a punk. Clayton, Justin's dad, even said he wasn't worth the oxygen he breathed.
His hair was dirty blond and usually a little long. I remember once my mom cut it into a raggedy mohawk and then never kept up with it. Eventually the sides grew out, and the top and back were so long I almost couldn't tell he ever had a mohawk until he turned his head really fast; then the top hair would fly up and the shorter sides were obvious. Honestly, it looked ridiculous, but he liked it and kept it that way for a real long time.
When I look back at his fifth grade picture I can see how young he was. His chubby cheeks, his uncombed hair, and his favorite Power Rangers shirt all showcase his youth. But I swear, when I was a kid I couldn't see anything but a grown-up when I looked in his green eyes. He was a man, and he watched out for me.
We knew each other before we fell in love because our parents ran in the same social circle. By that, I mean that they partied and drank with the same people, and occasionally got high. I know now that it was more than occasionally, but when you're young, hours, days, and weeks are stretched out, and it feels like forever is between them.
I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but his parents split up when I was in kindergarten. Clayton kicked her to the curb, and that's when our parents got together. I don't know what Clayton and Karina's love story was all about—that's their story to tell—but I'm sure in their addicted, co-dependent ways they could have loved each other at one time. But love is never enough, and their love ran out. And so did my dad. I don't know anything about him except that by the time Karina was gone he was already ancient history. The only thing my mom ever said was that he was no one I needed to bother knowing, so I never bothered, and neither did he.
Justin's mom and my mom had been friends since they met in high school. They liked to go to grown-up parties, and they got into grown-up kinds of trouble. My mom was the good one, I guess you could say. Karina, not so much. She started sleeping around in high school and got knocked up her sophomore year by Clayton. My mom felt sorry for her, and they both agreed Mom was practically the only friend Karina had who didn't desert her when she decided to keep the baby and left the regular school to finish at the alternative high school. She dropped out before Justin was born, though. Clayton graduated the summer before Justin was born and went right out to get a job to feed the kid. He started his career mudding, taping, and sanding drywall and worked his way up to painting by the time he and my mom got together. For all I know that's what he does to this day. Our moms stayed close, and when I came along four years later, the young mothers let their kids play together while they partied and Clayton yelled.
Karina was kind of mental from what Clayton says; I don't remember too much about her. She got into heroin and started shooting up and chasing the high. Clayton wanted nothing to do with someone who stuck needles in her arms (and legs), and that's why he got rid of her.
After my mom and Clayton got together, Karina would sometimes find them and ask for a place to crash or money for “food.” If the parents were feeling benevolent, they would let her couch it for a day or two until she started fiending again, in other words, she wanted the high more than anything, even her son.
Justin loved it when she came. He tried so hard to be good when she was there, as if he could be good enough to make her want to kick the habit for good. It kind of creeped me out the way she would fold him up into her skinny pock-marked arms and hug him, rocking him for too long until it was awkward for us all to watch. Even when he was bigger she talked to him like a baby. “Mama loves you so much, honey,” she would say, swaying him back and forth, or grasping his face between her hands, usually before she bailed again.
She always took off after a day or two. She left the same way every time: we would leave for school, and when we came home she was gone. No note, no good-bye, just gone.
I think it made my mom feel bad for Justin and guilty about being a lousy mom herself because she would be real good to us for a long time after that. On the days Karina bounced, my mom would be waiting in the car at the end of the road when the bus dropped us off after school. Clayton had a pick-up he drove to work, but Mom had a rattly black Accord with rusted fenders. It was barely street-worthy, but it got us around. We kept the inside clean—Clayton hated it dirty—but the cleanliness didn't hide how broken down it was.
Mom only met the bus when Karina disappeared, and before too long we were used to the pattern. I got in the habit of watching Justin's face. He tried to hide it, but you could see it there plain as day, something that said,
“She left me again
.” I felt sorry for him but happy that we got to go out to eat. Mom usually took us out to McDonald's, where my friend Lizzie and I would play on the playground while Justin sulked.
That's when my mom was the best kind of mom. I would stop playing long enough to see her rub her hand down Justin's arm to comfort him. Sometimes he would pull his shirt up to his cheek and wipe away a tear or two. He could take a hit from Clayton easy, but take away the kid's mom and he was mush. I guess Mom tried as hard as she could in her own way to make it better for him. For days after that she would be way too happy and meet us at the door after school. She would turn on MTV and dance and sing to the videos with us. She would ask for the book Justin was reading, and we would sit at her feet and listen to her read it. I liked it when she read to us because she did the voices, something Justin refused to do. It was goofy and ridiculous, but it helped Justin forget that his mom didn't want him. I thank my mom for that, and I thank Clayton for mostly not yelling on those days.
My mom and Clayton never dated or had a love story that I know of; they just kind of merged together. One day Mom and I were living in a tiny, cramped Section Eight apartment, and the next we moved into Clayton's place. It was a surprise, but then again, so was everything back then. My mom never told me what we were doing or how my life was about to change; she just did stuff, and it changed how I lived. I rolled with it; kids are resilient like that. I had to be prepared for anything because sometimes Mom and Clayton could go for what seemed like weeks being normal parents around the house, then BAM! they were off and partying, and we were home alone for a day or two. Once it was three days in a row—Labor Day weekend, if I remember right.
It didn't bother us. Justin and I preferred being alone. We were better at playing house without our parents there to ruin it for us. Justin liked to fix all the broken things when his dad was gone. He never dared to do it when Clayton was home, and he made me promise not to tell. When I asked him why, he told me that one time when he was tightening a table leg Clayton accused him of stealing the screwdriver and thumped him good for it. There was another time too: my mom's car had a flat tire and he tried to change it for her, but the bolts were too tight and he couldn't loosen them, so she went inside to tell Clayton. He came out laughing, but he wasn't happy—he was mad and drunk. He pushed Justin out of the way hard and told him that boys shouldn't do a man's work, that he was sick of him trying to be the man of the family. So Justin learned to keep a list of things to fix when Clayton was gone. If Clayton or Mom noticed what he did, they never said a word.
I was the chef when they were out and would make breakfast and dinner with whatever food we had. That was another good thing about them: they always made sure we had something to eat. It wasn't a lot, but it was food. Sometimes I think they must have planned ahead of time to leave but didn't tell us because the only times we ever seemed to have Captain Crunch in the cabinet were the mornings they didn't come home. When I was really young I made mostly cereal and sandwiches, but as the years went by I got quite good at a number of breakfast dishes. Omelets were my specialty, though, and still are to this day.