RE: Trailer Trash 58 pt 5 (Patreon)

    “Would you mind carrying this for me?” Tabitha asked, offering the Ariel costume to Hannah.

    The little girl accepted it with a solemn nod, and she followed Tabitha out of the cramped little bedroom and back down the hallway. The spare clothes collected into Tabitha’s arms were transferred into a grocery bag for ease of carrying, and Hannah cast uncertain looks about the kitchen and then regarded Mrs. Moore with a wary look when the woman joined them. Mrs. Moore had changed into a comfortable but somewhat frumpy pair of sweatpants and an oversized red and green holiday sweater, and her rigid smile began to falter beneath Hannah’s attention.

    “I left a little note,” Mrs. Moore told Tabitha. “By the bedside. For your father.”

    “I grabbed some clothes,” Tabitha reported, hefting the bag.

    “Of course! Of course.”

    “I guess we should get going?”

    “Sure, yes. Of course.”

    Tabitha felt mortified by the way Hannah’s brow furrowed at their awkward exchange, so she quickly ushered them forward as if to move past their clumsy difficulties. She didn’t know why it was so difficult to interact normally with her mother. Their halting, mechanical dialogue felt unnatural to the extreme. Mrs. Moore was acting as though she had forgotten her lines and was waiting for someone off-stage to prompt her, while Tabitha was like a caffeine-addict writer who had suddenly switched to decaf—her words were tenuous stabs into the fog of incomprehensibility.

    With my mother here, it’s like I’m in writing burn out. Way past where I can pour heart and soul or even real proper thought into what I’m saying. Just—yeah, squeezing out words, forcing some out. Like I’m trying to draw blood from a stone.

    The three went out the door and down the steps, Mrs. Moore pausing behind them to wiggle the handle of the front door to confirm it had locked behind her. The bag of clothing was placed upon the hood of the police cruiser for now, and after a moment it was joined by the Ariel dress, Hannah lowering it into place to fold over itself with careful reverence so it would not drape over the hood and down the side of the car.

    “Hands,” Hannah reminded with a stare, reaching out towards both Tabitha and Mrs. Moore.

    “Right,” Tabitha felt a flash of relief and grasped the little offered hand. “Mom—c’mon. I think he went just this way, down the street. Officer Macintire. We have to hold hands.”

    “Oh—okay?” Mrs. Moore took Hannah’s other hand, linking them all together. “Alright.”

    Then, they walked side by side through the trailer park together, savoring some silence as a respite from the awkward situation. Tabitha’s eyes darted across the lower area of Sunset Estates in active search for distraction. She had left her family after what now felt like a series of rather dramatic confrontations, and now none of the different tacts she chose felt right. Being too polite felt like she was forcing distance between them, denying any familiarity. Acting close and pretending nothing had happened would feel like just as much of a lie.

    “I used to walk this way,” Tabitha finally said, giving the young girl at her side a glance. “The trailer park is a little loop, so I’d go around and around and around.”

    “Why?” Hannah turned a baffled look from the aging rows of mobile homes to Tabitha and back again. “Like, around in circles?”

    “Yes. I walked so that I could run,” Tabitha explained. “I was running away from who I used to be, or running towards who I wanted to be. I miss it—I’m looking forward to being able to run again, soon.”

    “I’m so proud of you,” Mrs. Moore surprised her by speaking up. “I, I gave you nothing but grief when you started going around. But, you went around anyways. And look at you—look how far you’ve come. You’ve grown so much. I’m so proud of you. I—I could never do what you’ve done. I just hid myself away from everything.”

    “No—you needed time, and then you needed help,” Tabitha said. “To, um, to get you back going again. To get you out of the rut you started to get trapped up in. We all need help, sometimes. I spent years hiding away from everything, too. I’m no different. I had help.”

    Silence fell between them again.

    That was Mike’s trailer, there, Tabitha observed. The little barefoot kid I kept running into this past summer. Whatever happened to him? Would Mom even know who he was, if I asked?

    They found Officer Macintire standing there with his hands in his pockets in the distance, staring across the barren breadth of dead grass beside the road where he had almost lost his life.

    Little had changed here since October—the shoulder of the road there was the same black grime and gravel. The stretch of vacant land beside it wasn’t a wide enough plot to park a mobile home on, and there weren’t bushes or shrubs or even a fence to delineate where Sunset Estates ended. It was just a forgotten, neglected place without much of a purpose at all, shaggy with weeds. The road on the other side where Officer Macintire had pulled that white Lincoln Continental over wasn’t a particularly important one, or vital access to anywhere, so no one in the trailer park loop ever bothered shortcutting through the empty lot there with their vehicles.

    Nothing ever happened here except the South Main Shooting, Tabitha walked with Hannah and her mother over until they were standing just a few feet away from the officer. A nowhere, meaningless spot, notable for only one single event, and now more or less forgotten by almost everyone.

    “Doesn’t look like much, does it?” Officer Macintire let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

    “This is where it happened?” Hannah asked.

    “Yep, far as I can tell,” Officer Macintire said, crouching down. “Musta been… right about here?”

    “Alicia and I were right over… there,” Tabitha pointed. “I was going to show her how I did butterfly kicks.”

    “Butterfly kicks?” Hannah asked. “Like—is that for swimming?”

    “Taekwondo, actually,” Tabitha smiled. “I was, um. Trying to teach myself some of the forms. It’s kind of silly.”

    “I remember that day,” Mrs. Moore said. “I was rude to Tabitha. Right in front of her friend. I think I embarrassed her, so she took her friend and they went out to play. I don’t know what I was thinking, back then.”

    “Well,” Officer Macintire chuckled to himself. “...Guess it’s probably good that you did?”

    “We heard the shot, and it was so loud,” Tabitha said for Hannah’s benefit. “And then, when we looked over, the bad guy was already driving away.”

    “The bad guy?” Hannah asked.

    “Mm-hmm,” Tabitha nodded. “We ran over to see—and somehow Alicia snapped a picture with her camera. Thankfully. Rather than waste her film on me doing stupid kicks—and I, I tried to stop the bleeding. Just by putting my hands over the wound. I, um, I don’t think I really knew what I was doing?”

    “Saved my life,” Officer Macintire murmured.

    “And, um, then Alicia helped me call it in,” Tabitha finished. “Since I, uh, yeah. Hands weren’t free. The little radio he wears on his belt, I think it was? We reported it, and then Officer Williams showed up after just a little bit, and—then yeah. All the rest is a big crazy blur. Paramedics took over. My hands were all, hah, they were. Bloody. Officer Williams had a jug of water in his trunk, he helped me wash everything off. Reporters showed up. I was just sort of in shock, and it got dark out and I was just staring at everything and maybe babbling and I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a lot.”

    “Tabitha,” Officer Macintire said. “You saved my life. Scott and some of the others were tellin’ me—if I’d lost another liter or so of blood, would’ve been a preterminal event and they’d have had a real hell of a time keeping me alive.”

    “A liter is a lot,” Tabitha winced. “You uh, maybe would have—”

    “Liter’s not a whole lot when you’ve got a couple holes in you,” Officer Macintire grinned. “Well, anyways—thank you. I mean it. It was a big and bloody ordeal, you saved my life—so let’s celebrate with some of those big bloody steaks. Yeah?”

    “Daaad—gross!” Hannah giggled. “Gross.”

  * * *

    Meat sizzled upon the grill in the Macintire’s backyard, and together Tabitha and Hannah squinted through the streamer of steam and smoke to watch it, each of them wearing aprons and ready with their own pair of tongs. She’d never actually cooked on a proper grill before, and the apparatus wasn’t pristine shining metal lattice like she imagined from seeing people grill in commercials and such. The interior of the grill was caked with grayish white ash residue, the bars were a bit cruddy with old char. She had briefly attacked the surface with a wire brush, but her efforts did little to clean everything away.

    “So—you were almost a movie star, you must know some big name actors,” Officer Macintire remarked.

    “Turn it?” Hannah motioned to poke at the steak with her tongs.

    “Not yet,” Tabitha cautioned.

    “Oh, um,” Mrs. Moore sat upright in one of the loungers. “I met a few? But it was just meeting them very briefly, I doubt any of them would remember me.”

    “Oh, c’mon—who, who?!” Officer Macintire goaded her on. “These’re celebrities we’re talkin’ about.”

    “I shook hands with Charlie Sheen?” Mrs. Moore blushed. “He was, of course, he was very handsome, back then. A big heartthrob.”

    “Hey, I’ve got Red Dawn, I’m poppin’ it in the VCR tonight for sure,” Officer Macintire chuckled. “Great movie. Charlie Sheen’s a big deal.”

    “I, um, on the set honestly I didn’t talk with the boys there, much,” Mrs. Moore admitted. “I hung out with the other new girl there, and we talked together.”

    “Kerri Green?” Tabitha asked. “Okay Hannah—I think you can flip it now.”

    “Flipping it!” Hannah reported, rising up on her tiptoes as she grabbed the steak with her tongues and turned it over.

    “Good job!”

    “Kerri Green—she sounds familiar,” Officer Macintire muttered. “The Goonies?”

    “Um, well, yes, but I never met her,” Mrs. Moore hurried to say. “Kerri was after me, um, she actually was brought in to replace me. When I left. The one I hung out with on set was Winona. She was a lot like Tabitha! I keep thinking that, lately.”

    “Wait—Winona? Winona Ryder?” Tabitha stopped and turned around to stare. “You knew Winona Ryder?!”

    “I did,” Mrs. Moore winced. “I had her phone number, even. We, uh. I didn’t keep in touch. After everything, after leaving all that behind. She was nice, though? Very young. Shy, she loved to read. Struggled to fit in. She was from Southern California, I think? Ryder wasn’t her stage name then, it was something—oh, shoot. Something that ended with a witz. Berkowitz? Maybe?”

    My mother knew Winona Ryder, Tabitha fell into a daze for a moment. Holy shit. BEETLEJUICE. Edward Scissorhands. Stranger Things. Oh, shit—right in the 2000s is when she has that shoplifting scandal, isn’t it? That set her career back. If mom still has her number somewhere, she should call, maybe? HOLY SHIT.

    “She’s pretty famous,” Officer Macintire laughed. “Wow. She was just in a big one not too long ago. Alien Resurrection?”

    “She is,” Tabitha agreed, a little perturbed. “She’s super famous.”

    “I doubt she’d even remember me,” Mrs. Moore let out a bitter laugh. “I only even knew her for a few weeks. We were the newbies on the set of Lucas.”

    “Has Hannah seen Beetlejuice?” Tabitha asked.

    “Ah, no way,” Officer Macintire shook his head. “Bit too scary for her, I think.”

    “What is?” Hannah asked.

    “Hmm,” Tabitha frowned. “Maybe. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if she watched it with me?”

    “We don’t want her having nightmares,” Officer Macintire shrugged. “She had—what was it, The Neverending Story? She watched it, and we had to put that one away for good, gave her nightmares. You remember, Hannah?”

    “Yeah,” Hannah pouted. “With the wolf. Who hunted them across Fantasia. But, I was six. I’m almost eight, now.”

    “Think your momma had to fast forward through that ugly bit with the horse sinking into the swamp, too,” Officer Macintire shook his head. “That bit was makin’ everyone choke up. They weren’t messin’ around!”

    “When’s your birthday?” Mrs. Moore asked. “Hannah?”

    “March fifteenth!” Hannah reported. “I’m gonna be eight. It’s already almost March.”

    “Uh-oh,” Officer Macintire straightened. “You know what I hear?”

    “What?” Hannah asked.

    “I think I hear Mommy.”

    “You’re gonna be in so much trouble!” Hannah gloated.

    Turning to look, Tabitha saw movement beyond the glass door. A moment later it was pulled open, and then Sandra leaned out with a stern face.

    “What in the world’s going on out here?!”

    The woman’s voice was angry but also a little teasing—Tabitha put on a bemused smile and allowed her eyebrows to rise as she pointed her tongs towards Officer Macintire. Hannah immediately followed suit, and the man managed to look incredibly aggrieved by them throwing the blame for their impromptu cookout squarely on his shoulders. Before Mrs. Macintire could continue performing her outrage however, she noticed Mrs. Moore—and her face lit up with surprise at their unexpected guest.

    “Oh! Hello there,” Mrs. Macintire stepped the whole way out and offered her hand. “I guess my husband dragged you out here, too?”

    “They um, they ran into me when they were picking up everything to grill,” Mrs. Moore explained in a fluster. “I hope I’m not a bother!”

    “Of course not, just—” Mrs. Macintire shook hands with her but turned and arched an eyebrow at her husband. “What do you think you’re doing, grilling?! You’re supposed to be eating soft foods, buster!”

    “I am!” Officer Macintire laughed, holding up his hands. “I told the girls—I said girls, cook ‘em nice and tender for me, please.”

    “Flip?” Hannah elbowed Tabitha.

    “Is it my turn?” Tabitha checked the other steak. “Ooh, this one’s ready to flip. Okay. Thank you.”

    “I see you got your cruiser back,” Mrs. Macintire sounded exasperated. “So, I suppose you think you’re all better, now? Huh, mister?”

    “I parked in the street,” Officer Macintire sounded defensive. “So you could park in the drive. I thought—you know, maybe we could celebrate?”

    “Hmm,” Sandra shared a glance with the girls.

    “Hmmm,” Hannah agreed.

    “Hmmmm!” Sandra finally let out a laugh. “Okay, fine. But, you should have called! I would’ve grabbed some wine on the way home. Shannon, can we get you anything? Water? Beer?”

    “Oh, no, I’m fine!”

    “I can get everyone glasses,” Tabitha offered, passing her tongs to Hannah. “Can you watch those for me, please? Thank you. I’m going to go set the table.”

    “If you’d waited another week, we could’ve been celebrating Miss Tabitha getting her cast off,” Mrs. Macintire reminded her husband, crossing the patio to give him a kiss on the cheek.

    “Shoot, you’re right,” Officer Macintire gave her a lopsided smile. “But, y’know what? We covered our bases, freezer’s got a whole bunch more stuff we can cook. This is uh, this is our test run. Gettin’ Tabby all familiar with the grill. Figure for when she celebrates, she’ll want more notice so she can invite some of her friends over. Right?”

    “Hmmmm…” Mrs. Macintire teased.

    Dang, Tabitha froze partway through the motion of removing her apron. That actually DOES sound like it could be a lot of fun. Willow watch party, and then barbeque?

( Previous, 58 pt 4 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 58 pt 6 )

/// Will fix links and guide page soon. Had to cut quite a few moments here that didn't fit, and extend a long moment that did need to fit, so that things aren't tonally... choppy? Or as choppy. The cut bits will be put back in a bit later for when it's better for Tabs and Mrs. Moore to have a more personal heart to heart about... everything. I'm still struggling a bit with a planned Hannah bit, because she's going through some complex emotions right now but I can't write her as too self aware about them.