RE: Trailer Trash 57 pt 7 (Patreon)

    The last hour of the school day flew by, with Tabitha completing a somewhat accurate outline of the bottles and glasses and even starting in on filling in some details. With a parting wave and friendly goodbyes to her friends at table six, Tabitha slung her book bag onto one shoulder and headed through the crowds towards the bus loop. Overall, she felt good about today—forcing herself to be outgoing was stressful, but maybe not the terrifying and impossible endeavor it had seemed to be many months ago.

     She cast idle glances across the backpacks and shoulders of those walking in front of her and around her down the locker-lined hallway, and noticed the different faces of teens as they laughed with their friends or glowered alone in annoyance at the prospect of homework or seemed lost in their own little worlds of thought. Tabitha felt more like one of them, now. Not a traumatized, socially stunted child like in her first life, or an outsider ‘adult’ existence improbably transplanted from the future as she had been a few months ago.

    I can now effortlessly—well, ALMOST effortlessly—blend in with everyone, Tabitha thought to herself with a wry smile. What a feat! Hah. I feel like I’ve overcome a whole pile of uh, well I guess you’d call them IDENTITY ISSUES?

    In her prior lifetime, a handful of severe instances made Tabitha certain that she was a loser, a victim—a whole host of negative traits were used to define herself, and she isolated herself from attempting to make friendships, or improve herself, or even really address the damage and learn to move on from that. Years and years passed and though she grew up without maturing, Tabitha decided that maybe wasn’t so uncommon as she might have thought.

    The other men and women she worked with at the Line Safety plant were for the most part adults with the mentality of children, they simply disguised their total immaturity with a facade of adultness—like drinking, getting wasted, or boasting that all their after work hours were spent at the bar. Sleeping around, cheating on their boyfriends, or bragging about having an affair because of how frustrated they were with their terrible husbands. 

    When I got to my later years, I THOUGHT myself more mature, simply because I considered myself so much more sensible than my co-workers. They were so self-centered and vain, unable to ever acknowledge their own faults or work on improving themselves, and always oh so quick to avoid any and all accountability.

    If anything, now that felt like she had been criticizing others for struggling at a game Tabitha herself was too afraid of even attempting to play. 

    My bullies back when I first went through high school weren’t EVIL like I wanted to make them out to be, they weren’t just villains because they were stereotypical MEAN GIRLS. And, I wasn’t some saint simply by virtue of the fact that I happened to be the victim when they were lashing out.

    In fact, most of the HIGH SCHOOL bullying I was just so absolutely terrified of can basically be summed up by girls feeling the impulse to constantly test one another. We’re like a bunch of carnivorous fish all stuck in the same fish bowl together, and it’s eat or be eaten. With boys it’s all of the macho bullshit and bravado that establishes their pecking order, with girls it’s all kinds of vicious gossip and backstabbing.

    Today it felt like she had flown off the handle retorting at that Amanda girl—it felt like a different, unfamiliar Tabitha hiding inside of her had burst out on a wave of anger and indignation. Even her seemingly candid let’s just have a fresh start and try to be friends, okay where she had re-introduced herself didn’t really pass muster. Because obviously, deep down she was upset, and did not suddenly want to be genuine friends with Amanda. It had been making a flimsy show at pretending herself unbothered and on some moral high ground, while attempting to make Amanda seem petty.

    It seems so strange looking back on it—like I’m watching someone else in my body, Tabitha found herself wanting to rationalize it, to make excuses. I WANT to be popular without all of the fakeness and girl politick, but I also need to be super aware of what a slippery slope it is that I’m trying to climb now.

    Without even realizing it, someday I might discover I’M the one being mean and hurting others, just because I can find some way to justify it to myself. Someday in the following few years, I might find myself in Clarissa’s shoes back the day she stole my binder—making fun of someone, picking on someone because of some US versus THEM mentality that distorts my own perception about what I’m doing.

    She thought that maybe it would start with little things, like ‘they started it first, I was just retaliating.’ It was HARD to take abuse from others and return only goodwill and forgiveness and understanding. Most of the awful things that happened throughout high school were likely cycles of petty revenge turning endlessly because they were too difficult to break. Not to mention how amplified teenage emotions were, simmering as they were in an uncontrollable cocktail of endorphins and hormones that sometimes seemed to puppet Tabitha’s mood upon the janky strings of adolescence.

    How many unintentional slights begat bitter feuds throughout these halls? Tabitha wondered. Little things that became bigger things, just because someone felt especially hurt by them. Hell, rumors fly around like crazy, just because hearsay and drama is INTERESTING. Tiffany was a great example—it’s obvious she was just REALLY into all of that stuff. Yet, it’s so easy for half-truths to grow into complete lies, for context to be lost between retellings or even different context just made up, entirely fabricated out of pure conjecture! Until THE STORY on someone or WHAT HAPPENED WITH THIS OR THAT is far removed from reality. But, these things persist anyways and really color everyone’s perception of each other.

    “In short, it’s all a total disaster,” Tabitha muttered to herself, pausing for a moment when the buses came into sight. But, I want to have my cake, and eat it too. To be popular, but without acting like I see the popular girls behave with one another.

    It probably wasn’t even possible.

    She found the idea put her on edge, because she was frightened of becoming like the mean girls she had always despised, but then also the idea of not trying to change, not trying to be popular was a different, perhaps scarier prospect. Because she had done the not trying thing before, she had done the avoidance and isolation life before, and it hadn’t made her happy at all.

    No, it made me warped and miserable and full of issues and hangups about everything.

    “I guess, here’s to hoping my friends can help keep my grounded?” Tabitha said to herself as she stepped forward. They’ll keep me sticking to what I should, and I’ll do the same for them. Like Olivia said—JB Weld. Need to stop thinking of myself as an island, dare to rely on my friendships a bit. Elena, Alicia. Hannah. Mrs. Macintire. Hell, maybe even Bobby. Coach Baylor. The girls in Personal Fitness. Maybe.

     Tabitha skirted around the many others meandering along the curb of the bus loop in search of the bus with the J-13 taped to the front window. It was hard not to be a little anxious and grow hyper aware of her surroundings here—just like yesterday, there had been a pang of anxiety that quickened her step and had her mindful and looking out for pushers. There were no Chris Thompsons today to give her a shove thankfully, and within a minute Tabitha found her bus and then clomped up the stairs to board.

    “Sup, Tabby,” Gary called from one of the middle seats.

    “Uh—sup, Gary,” Tabitha waved.

    “You cool?” Gary asked, eyes narrowing as if in an attempt to read her expression.

    “I, um?” Tabitha flashed a big smile of embarrassment. “Man, I dunno? S’one of those days—I just can’t stop thinking. Stressing. My head’s just going around and around and around to different things, and it feels like I’m getting nowhere? Plus. I have homework. I used to be all the reclusive library hermit, so my stuff got done ahead of time, but now I spend all my time trying to be a people person, and none of those homework assignments are done? It’s all overwhelming sometimes—it feels weird. It feels so weird that I’m like, babbling at you?”

    “Hey,” Gary nodded, shooting her back a grin that either said he understood completely, or that he hadn’t been listening to a word she said. “Homework sucks.”

    “Homework sucks,” Tabitha agreed, deciding it was a better way to sum up her thoughts. “Thanks for uh, thanks for listening. Good talk, G.”

    “Good talk,” Gary pursed his lips at her and nodded his head. 

    She knew she was already blushing when she slipped into one of the seats near him, but making some effort to always chat with Gary was still good practice. It was weird that she was allowed to just vent at people, that doing so was okay and maybe even normal. Even when it was obvious Gary didn’t particularly care about her day. Tabitha dropping what felt like a random bunch of exposition on a near stranger was probably a semi-acceptable social thing to do, within certain bounds.

    Thank you, Vanessa, Tabitha thought with a small smile. I’m, well. I’m learning! It’s okay to just… COMPLAIN, sometimes. To vent. It might even make me more relatable? It’s a people thing. So long as I don’t go overboard with it, or make it into a serious habit of just complaining all the time.

* * *

    Refusing to allow herself to grow complacent, Tabitha made a point to sit down at the dining room table and finish her homework right away upon coming home from school. The particular World History worksheet itself was easy, but getting it done was more challenging than she remembered. She was the same focused and driven Tabitha who had breezed through all of her assignments several months ago, but now her focus and drive was spread out in many many different ways.

    “Done,” Tabitha said with a surge of pride, sliding the paper off of the table just to slap it back down again for no particular reason.

    “It’s out of the way, now,” Tabitha voiced her feelings to the empty dining room. “I don’t have to fret about doing it, anymore. It’s not hanging over my head, now. I don’t have to stress about this one particular thing anymore. I’ve started talking to myself, haven’t I? Like a crazy person.”

    “Homework?” Officer Macintire asked.

    “GAH?!” Tabitha all but jumped out of her seat, and her flailing hand sent her worksheet curling through the air to land on the carpet. “Y-you uh, you scared the bajeezus out of me.”

    “Forgot I lived here too, huh?” Officer Macintire gave her a grin—he was fully dressed today as if to go out somewhere, jeans and an Ohio State sweater.

    “No, I ah, no, I’m still just used to, I’ve been used to you just uh, napping around this time? I guess?” Tabitha struggled to recompose herself. “You were up and about yesterday, too. Are you—going somewhere? Are you allowed to go somewhere?”

    “Hah, listen to you,” Officer Macintire shook his head. “Am I allowed. Stevie’s gonna be on by here in a minute with my wheels. I’m gonna be back at the station and on light duty later this week! Back to the grind. Figured it was cause for a little celebration, so I was gonna swing on out and pick up steaks or ribs or somethin’ for tonight. Fancy comin’ along with to Food Lion? Since you’ve been doing just about all the cooking, seems more’n fair to let you grab whatever else it is we might need.”

    “Oh, um… sure,” Tabitha said. “I can cook steaks on a skillet? I, uh, I know you have a grill outside, but I don’t have a ton of experience using a grill…”

    “Hannah bug and I’ll show you all the tricks!” Officer Macintire chuckled. “No worries. Figure we’ll head out in a bit then, soon as Stevie rolls up with my cruiser. Then we’ll pick up Hannah from her stop, and then—porterhouse steaks. Barbeque ribs, bacon burgers. Smoked sausages, pulled pork maybe? It’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about for months.

    “Hell, I—no offense Tabby girl, I love your cooking, you’ve been doin’ great. But, you’ve been makin’ do with whatever’n it is my wife’s buyin’ at the grocery—and a man cannot live on salads, snack wraps, and turkey sandwiches alone. It’s just not right.”

    “Are you… allowed?” Tabitha winced as she tried to figure out a better way to phrase it. “I mean, um—I remember back when you were restricted to just soft foods, that wasn’t that long ago. If—”

    “Yes. I am allowing myself,” Officer Macintire insisted. “If I can walk around on my own okay and I’m okay to drive, then I’m allowed to eat like a damned human being again.”

    “C-can I call and check with Sandra?” Tabitha asked with a teasing grin. “To make sure?”

    “Honey, of course you can,” Officer Macintire nodded in agreement. “But, only after we’ve picked everything up and have it started on the grill. S’easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Didn’t your parents teach you that?”

    “...I’m calling your wife.”

    “Don’t you dare!”

( Previous, 57 pt 6 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 58 pt 1 )

/// I lied, I'm sorry. Gonna end off chapter 57 here with this, if I try to also include Food Lion, then 57 will go waaay way over twenty thousand words and I don't want to keep making ridiculously long chapters that release slowly. I need to start doing the opposite of that, serials work better the other way around.

/// I WILL be jumping into sorting out and posting the Food Lion bit as 58 pt 1 in the next two to three days though, we will remain on RE:TT throughout that and not jump back over to Renfaire Fantasy until we've finished up the Food Lion bit. The chap 57 teasers will be cleaned up a bit and organized into a proper chap around the time I post to RR on the first of the month.

/// SPOILERS, BUT. According to my tracking the content for RE:TT volume 2 is now at about 96% of what our wordcount was for volume 1. It will go on past 100% to some extent and it will be longer than the first book, it's looking like the best place to split things off is right where I was going to start timeskipping onward through the school year anyways.

/// EVEN WORSE SPOILERS DON'T READ THIS, BUT there probably won't be a horribly dramatic 'cliffhanger climax' like we had with stealing Aunt Lisa's purse, which may disappoint a lot of readers who were looking for something like that again. Those kind of things aren't fun when they're too predictable, and it's part of why I write serial style instead of trapping myself into a traditional three act story structure. I want to end off book two on an upbeat "Tabitha gets her cast off and work out / training montage set to 90s music with new friends while preparing for her next big challenges."