RE: Trailer Trash 57 pt 5 (Patreon)

    Mrs. Moore watched on with a vacant expression as her own hands went through the motions of taking things from the checkout conveyor belt and presenting them to the bar code scanner for a beep. Though her movements were still far from well-practiced and fluid like Tracy’s were, she wasn’t fumbling with the items anymore. A strange muscle memory for where the bar codes might be on an item was building, such that some of the more common items like milk, eggs and bread were so familiar to her now that her hands turned them to the correct orientation in front of the scanner without her paying much attention to what she was doing.

    It seemed so strange and ALIEN when Tabitha tried to speak with diction, Mrs. Moore thought as she scanned a box of hamburger helper and then a box of spaghetti and then a box of bow-tie noodles. But, now? It makes sense. It’s the same as the ‘customer service’ voice we put on with people here.

    For all that she was terrified of working a public-facing job and interacting with people, being social again—the reality of her role was removed from most of those expectations. Aside from some of the elderly morning customers, no one came into Food Lion to chat with the employees. Shannon greeted customers with the same phrase one after the other until the rote ‘hi, how are you,’ ceased to have any meaning as words and became a mechanical reaction to addressing the next customer.

    It’s not even just ‘talking like a robot,’ though, Shannon thought as she punched register keys to confirm the weight of a bag of apples. It’s pure detachment, disassociation—it makes sense to step back into yourself and let ‘the role’ of your job take over.

    That manifested in different ways between the different cashiers manning front end, which was an interesting dichotomy to observe. Tracy was blunt and wore an impassive no nonsense mask that made it immediately clear she wasn’t interested in chitchatting with the customers. Cindy on the other hand was an upbeat person but ratched up the customer service cheery act to nauseating levels, particularly with rude customers or people bringing her problems.

    It was strange and surreal to see how much acting played a part outside of conventional screen acting, how compartmentalizing your identity became a natural process to keep your real self from being eaten away by the sawmill drudgery of retail and service jobs. Before working a wageslave job, Shannon’s perspective of the world was from high school girl politick and then her brief failed stab at Hollywood. Now, after years of unhealthy seclusion from everyone she had met hundreds of people in a row for her shifts.

    Except, meeting wasn’t quite accurate, either—the customers queuing up into lines at the checkout stations were as varied as could be, but the context of their interaction rendered them all the same. It didn’t matter how different you were, what age you were or what you looked like or how much money you made; everyone who stepped up to greet her stopped being all of those unique things and simply became a person getting their groceries. Shannon Moore stopped having to be Shannon Moore with all of the issues and baggage associated with that, and simply became a cashier at a grocery store.

    Now, what does that MEAN, then? Shannon wondered as she mechanically reported a total to the customer and watched the man fish out a twenty from his wallet. Tabitha’s proper diction—her robot talk, her slipping into that for US, her parents, whenever she started stressing?

    Did that mean Tabitha slipped into that mode of speech when the girls at school were being difficult with her? Because, wouldn’t that just make things worse? Tabitha was supposed to be back at Springton High again now, and Mrs. Moore found herself twisted into knots worrying about how things had gone. She hadn’t heard anything, yet, and was still too afraid to call them herself.

    I remember the first day she went to high school, Mrs. Moore let her mind wander as she stuffed the twenty into its compartment in her register and then read the digital display for how much change to give back.

    She came home that first day of ninth grade and went straight into the bathroom. To wash her blouse. She was already in STRESS MODE, was already talking in that robot diction voice. At the time, hearing her talk that way made me furious, made me sure she was mocking me. Now? Now, I feel like I start to understand.

    Back then, Mrs. Moore had taken too many things for granted—she had forgotten how draining dealing with people all day could be. How uniquely exhausting it was to put on an act, step into a role not because it was something you enjoyed doing, but because it was a mask you wore to survive. She now understood that Tabitha’s proper diction was her own unique customer service voice, it was a front put up to retreat behind for when there was just no way to deal with things anymore. Well, she’d always understood it to some extent—but now, she understood it, now she was experiencing it personally, now every rigid smile and hi, how are you was a stabbing reminder of what sort of state her daughter had been in.

    Today. Today I’ll call her for sure. Just to check on her. I need to know how she is—I need to know that she’s doing okay.

    “One dollar, eighty-six cents,” Mrs. Moore reported as she handed over the change. “Thank you, and I hope you have a great day.”

*    * *

    “Oh man it was so bad,” Bobby groaned into his sandwich. “The whole back part of the guy’s locker room was like, caked in piss. The floor, the walls, the lockers. The ceiling.”

    “Bobby—gross,” Elena made a face from across the table. “Can you not?”

    “Coach Baylor said the boys’ side didn’t even have toilets anymore,” Tabitha chuckled. “Because they broke them all, or whatever. Vandalized.”

    “Wait, you have toilets on the girls’ side?!” Bobby choked. “Like, in your actual locker room? Not like, the down-the-hall restroom?”

    “Yeah,” Tabitha decided to stretch the truth a little. “We have three stalls back in right next to our showers.”

    “And, it doesn’t smell like pee,” Elena scowled. “Your boys’ side stinks up the whole hall there under the bleachers.”

    “Hey, whoa,” Bobby held both hands up. “S’not like I’m pissin’ all over everything down there. I stand outside and whizz against the bleachers, like a normal person.”

    “Bobby—ew,” Elena smacked the table. “Stop.”

    “Have you really?” Alicia grinned.

    “What, have you guys not?!”

    “Elena, do you have a locker room locker?” Tabitha asked. “Ours is the first period of the new semester, so I think we got first pick maybe. My towel was the first one up on the line.”

    “Not yet,” Elena shook her head. “Gonna wait to see how try-outs even go. And—did you show Coach Baylor which towel was yours? For when it gets stolen or stained with stuff by people or whatever behind your back.”

    “Oh, um,” Tabitha blanched. “Mine’s a polar bear. Coca-Cola? Everyone saw me putting it up, so I guess she knows. You really think that…?”

    “Yeah,” Elena gave her a serious look. “Maybe keep a spare towel in your locker? Just in case.”

    “Great,” Tabitha sighed. “No—yeah, you’re right. I should. That would be smart. I need to be smart. To be a step ahead of everything, this time. Thank you.”

    “Some girl was trying to bitch her out already,” Bobby tattled. “Bitching on about how Tabitha got to sit and chill, while Baylor had the rest of us running ragged doing cartwheels and kickflips and everything.”

    “Some girl? Who?” Elena demanded.

    “Cartwheels and kickflips?” Tabitha laughed. “Uhh, I mean I saw Bobby do three-and-a-half pull-ups? Oh, and—”

    “Four, actually,” Bobby corrected her. “It was four.”

    “Was it, though?” Tabitha gave him a skeptical look. “Was it?”

    “The girl who was bitching,” Elena repeated. “Who was it?”

    “Amanda… Myers?” Tabitha struggled to recall the full name. “I think that was it.”

    “Do we know her?” Alicia asked.

    “Maybe,” Elena frowned. “Hard to say. There’s a ton of Myers that go to Springton High, like a bunch of people are related, but only by a great-great-grandfather, or something. I think Olivia might know.”

    “I, uh. I went off on her, a little,” Tabitha admitted with a sheepish look. “I didn’t mean to, but it was getting to me. And then, Vanessa stood up for me a bit.”

    “Hey—I spoke up, too,” Bobby looked crestfallen. “I was all like, ‘listen here, Amanda, you don’t—’”

    “Bobby spoke up, too,” Tabitha said with a small smile. “The whole ordeal felt strange. Bizarre? I thought the whole liposuction thing was put to rest.”

    “It was, but they’re going to try to keep bringing it up anyways,” Elena warned. “That’s how they are.”

    “Have they been bothering you?” Tabitha asked. “Since your um, your new you look. Going gothic.”

    “I can handle it,” Elena simply shrugged.

    “They totally have,” Alicia confided. “Carrie and her goons came up to us the one day at lunch, and were all trying to hassle her about throwing away her chance at being popular, or something stupid like that. She made a super stupid bet with us about Matthew. We won fifty bucks!”

    “Oh damn, yeah—I heard about that,” Bobby leaned forward and gave them a serious nod. “I heard it was like practically a big kung fu showdown. Everyone in the quad parted ways and turned to watch, and it was all shocked gasps and whoa no way and like blood was ‘bout to spill, ‘cause of all the crazy tension in the air. People are still talking about it.”

    “Don’t listen to them,” Elena rolled her eyes, but they could see a small smile forming. “It wasn’t even a big deal.”

    “It so was!” Alicia disagreed. “Elena—that was fifty bucks.”

    “Betting on Mathew?” Tabitha asked, bewildered. “Betting how? Matthew Williams?”

    “Carrie thought that with ‘Lena stepping down from, uh, the preppy girl B-S, that I guess she’d given up her claim on Matthew?” Alicia laughed. “Like Carrie could just swoop in unopposed, because ‘Lena had gone goth instead. Carrie bet us she’d have Matthew wrapped around her finger by the end of the week.”

    “Isn’t Matthew dating Casey?” Bobby looked confused. “The art club chick?”

    “Yee-up,” Alicia said. “I mean, everyone knows that now, but back then I guess word about that wasn’t too spread around. Still, though. Fifty bucks!”

    “Oooh, I wish I could’ve been there to see it,” Tabitha put on the cute pout she had practiced in the mirror, and was pleased when Bobby did a slight double-take. “I feel like I missed so much.”

    “Well hey, never too late to make up for lost time,” Bobby said, quickly scarfing down the last of his sandwich. “Speaking of—you up for catching Willow together sometime? We should uh, like pencil in a date sometime. Since you’re always so busy, and all.”

    “Hmmm,” Tabitha mused, tapping her lip. “I might have to get back to you on that? This weekend I’m getting my cast off—finally—so there’s that appointment, and then it’ll be… I don’t know, weird. For a while. I’ll be going around cradling my wrist all weird, because it’ll be super thin and weak, and feeling naked without the weight of all this stupid hunk of stuff attached to it.”

    She hefted her cast up onto the tabletop for emphasis, and everyone’s eyes turned to the faded fiberglass shell with its smudged signatures. It was strange how accustomed to it she had grown over the past few months, and there would be quite a bit of readjusting to her life once she was free of it. Tabitha had characterized her life prior to the break and fracture as a lot of exercising and work-outs, and suddenly not being able to do any of that had required a dramatic shift in all of the things she did to cope with life.

    “Damn, already?” Alicia whistled. “I guess it has been a while. Since back before Halloween, yeah? You had it when we were trick-or-treating.”

    “Mid-October-ish,” Elena grunted. “S’been a while.”

    “It’s felt like ages to me,” Tabitha remarked, hiding her cast in her lap again. “Hopefully I can run again, soon.”

    “Alright, fair, fair,” Bobby nodded. “Then—how about weekend after that?”

    “I think…” Tabitha let the sentence hang in the air with a teasing look for a long moment. “It’s a date? We can maybe meet up in the afternoon, play tag with my cousins, and then we can all watch Willow together in the evening afterwards?”

    “Cool, yeah,” Bobby looked thrilled. “Awesome.”

    “Can I come?” Elena smirked.

    “What? No, no,” Bobby frowned, shaking his head. “No way, this is our date. No Elenas allowed.”

    “It’s your date… with Tabitha. And Tabitha’s cousins?” Alicia’s face split into a huge grin. “Oh, c’mon. The more the merrier, right? Elena an’ I’ll just sorta… tag along.”

    “Yeah, just—” Elena gave Alicia a look. “It’s for real tag though. Like, Tabitha and her cousins don’t play around. It’s serious tag.”

    “Now, wait a minute, wait a minute—” Bobby protested.

    “The more the merrier!” Tabitha smiled. “Right, Bobby?”

    “Right, of course,” Bobby nodded, making a face. “That’s just what I was about to say. You took the words, ah, right out of my mouth?”

    “Pfft,” Alicia punched Bobby’s shoulder. “We’re just kidding.”

    “No, I think… wouldn’t it be a lot more fun, to make a big group thing of it?” Tabitha looked thoughtful. “I wanted to invite this girl Grace to play tag—and ooh, do you think Casey has seen Willow? What’s it rated? Could Hannah watch it?”

    “Probably too scary for Hannah,” Bobby shook his head.

    “Darn,” Tabitha frowned. “I really do just love the idea of having a big get-together. I love that. It’s such a foreign idea to me I guess, that now I’m surprised I didn’t really think of it? I loved the party, I had such a good time back when we all went to the mall together, I just. I really love having get-togethers? Being part of things? Plus, it would be less stressful than just being like a me and Bobby date. A date date. Because he’s cute, and I’m a little interested in him, but I still have a ton of anxiety about relationships and um, courting and stuff, I need some time to work through all of that.”

    Bobby had already finished his sandwich but still managed to choke—Elena’s eyebrows rose at Tabitha’s apparent candor, while Alicia continued to grin and helped slap Bobby on the back.

    “I uh—ahem,” Bobby coughed. “Yeah—yeah. Cool. Cool?”

    “I had a dream last night where we were about to kiss,” Tabitha said, feeling blood rush to her face. “But then, we were wandering through the school looking for a private spot, and we couldn’t find one, and then you disappeared, and everyone disappeared, and I was all alone.”

    “Uhhhhh—” Bobby gave her an uncertain look as if he wasn’t sure if she was kidding him or not.

    “So—what does that mean?” Alicia prodded. “That you have unfinished business?”

    “It doesn’t mean anything,” Tabitha shrugged, feeling almost giddy with the high of whatever this was she was doing. Was she flirting? She thought this might be what flirting felt like. “It was just a dream. If anything, I guess it was, like, fear of missing out? Codified into abstracts with my subconscious, or something. I’m not actually ready to have my first kiss anytime soon. I would literally have some kind of nervous breakdown.”

    “That’s literally not how you’re supposed to use the word ‘literally,’” Elena remarked.

    “Hey, uh, I mean—no pressure or nothin’,” Bobby appeared to be scrambling to put his thoughts back together. “Watching Willow with everyone’s cool. We don’t like have to kiss. I wasn’t even ever thinking about—”

    “Yes you were,” Alicia smirked.

    “You literally were,” Elena said.

    “Hey—that’s not the correct uh, usage of the word literal, either,” Bobby tried to defend himself. “I wasn’t like—”

    “No, it literally is,” Elena argued. “In that instance.”

    “I kind of like you,” Tabitha decided to bludgeon Bobby some more. “But, I ah, I have personal issues to work through before I’m ready for anything, and I’m not sure if it’s like, quite at the level of crushing on someone, or anything like that. My feelings. I’m comfortable around you, and I’m interested in getting to know you better. How does that sound?”

    “I uh, yeah,” Bobby laughed, trying to regain his bearings. “Great, I’m yeah, the same? I get it, I’m totally the same way. Interested. I kinda like you too? We’re cool. We’re pretty cool?”

    “So cool,” Alicia teased.

    “You’ve got me,” Elena shrugged. “I can’t tell if she’s messing with you, or not?”

    “She literally is,” Alicia giggled. “Literally.”

    “So, uh,” Tabitha cleared her throat. “This weekend? Cast comes off. Hopefully. Next weekend—big group watch party? For Willow?”

( Previous, 57 pt 4 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 57 pt 6 )

/// I PROMISE the Mrs. Moore subplot will tie back into the main narrative, and very soon. I'd like to have the last section of ch 57 be Tabitha discovering her mom working there, but there may or may not be other school bits here I need to finish up first.