RE: Trailer Trash 7 pt (Patreon)

/// This one still needs a lot of refining, but I was loath to sit on uncompleted sections for both of my fictions so I'm going to post this bit up with the disclaimer that it's still getting a lot of work done to it

   “Well?! What did you think?” Ziggy asked, leaning in close over the Hot Topic counter. “How many of them did you get through?”

   This was Elena’s fourth visit to the dark haunt of Fairfield’s Hot Topic store, and in essence this trip was solidifying her shaky friendship with Ziggy, the mall’s other resident goth chick. Conversing with the older teen was awkward at first, both because of the five-year gap in their ages, and because crossing the boundary of their relationship as customer and employee just felt weird. Ziggy seemed eager to connect with her ever since she’d come back with her dyed hair and Hot Topic apparel, and Elena definitely had mixed feelings about that.

   “I listened to all of them,” Elena said, setting the borrowed plastic cassette cases on the surface between them. “But… I don’t know if any of it’s for me.”

   Elena was at first hesitant to interrupt the girl’s work, but then on the other hand Ziggy also made a point of being as unprofessional as she could get away with, to ‘express her rebellious individuality’ and ‘stick it to the man.’ It certainly helped that the store owner Mr. Gary was her stepdad, a genuinely nice older guy who seemed to see their socializing as some sort of subculture networking that would be great for business.

   “Really?” Ziggy seemed incredulous. “Nirvana didn’t do anything for you? Pearl Jam? Soundgarden?”

   “I liked Soundgarden, kinda?” Elena tried to compromise. “Nirvana didn’t really… uh, speak to me, I guess. I didn’t like Alice in Chains at all.”

   “I mean, well duh you can’t not love Soundgarden,” When Ziggy shook her head in disbelief, the green spikes of gelled hair adorning her head swayed back and forth. “But you don’t like Nirvana?”

   “It’s just—I dunno?” Elena shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Didn’t really feel anything.”

   “Okay then, what about the poser bands?” Ziggy challenged. “On the second tape—Candlebox, Bush. Collective Soul. Were they more your speed?”

   “They were alright, I guess?” Elena shrugged. “Just, none of it like, jumped out at me, or anything? It was just kinda there. I don’t know.”

   “Well, you’re definitely not ready for any of the bitchin’ local bands, then,” Ziggy frowned, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Level with me, here—what kinda music did you listen to before? Like, what CDs do you own?”

   “I don’t have a lot of CDs,” Elena admitted. “Most of the ones we have are my parent’s stuff.”

   “Spice Girls?” Ziggy made a face. “Hanson? Madonna?”

   “Um,” Elena winced. “Spice Girls, yeah. LeAnn Rimes, Jewel. Avalon, Point of Grace, Mariah Carey…”

   “Okay—stop, stop, stop,” Ziggy quickly motioned Elena to stop and took a quick glance around to make sure no one had overheard her apparent blasphemies. “All of those are the absolute worst. I mean, Avalon—Jesus, isn’t that Christian music? Throw all of those out. Break the disks into pieces first before you put them in the trash.”

   “Okay, yeah,” Elena gave a noncommittal shrug. She wasn’t actually going to do that—she felt indifferent about most of that music now now, having moved her small collection of CDs out into the living room and putting them in her parent’s CD rack already.

   “I mean, geez—from remembering how you looked that first day we met I figured you’d at least be into like, No Doubt, Smashing Pumpkins, or—”

   “I do have Smashing Pumpkins,” Elena protested weakly.

   “Well, whatever. Your Mom still said no way to trying Marilyn Manson?” Ziggy inquired with a mischievous look, tapping a lacquered black fingernail against one of the tape cases.

   “Yeah, still no on Manson,” Elena nodded. “I listened to a little of it anyways, but yeah… he seems like a bit too… I don’t know. It’s not for me.”

   “Doesn’t that make you like him even more, though?” Ziggy whispered. “Knowing that she’s against it for no reason other than her religious brainwashing makes the music more meaningful. I mean, Manson, he’s a badass dude—have you ever seen what he looks like? His eyes? The guy once bit off the head of a live bat onstage.”

   “No he didn’t,” Mr. Gary called over his shoulder from where he was doing inventory across the store. “That was Ozzy.”

   “Yeah, okay,” Ziggy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Like you know anything about music, old man.”

   I’m really not against my parents at all, though, Elena thought to herself, feeling even more alienated than before. I love my dad, I love my mom—I love my mom more than anything. Does that make me less goth? Or more of a poser? I went for the goth thing because it felt right, and it moved me outside the highschool hierarchy bullshit and off into my own thing. It still feels right, SORT OF, but then sometimes it’s like it never fit me at all. And if I don’t belong here, then—where the fuck DO I even belong?

*     *     *

   That Sunday, the Moore family joined them at the First Presbyterian Church of Springton for the early service. Elena was surprised at how thrilled she was to see her friend, and chasing right after that excitement was guilt, bitterness, and a strange feeling of discomfort that left her feeling speechless. Tabitha was wearing a modest long-sleeved dress that seemed tailor-made for her—both in that it was flattering, and that the sleeve on one side had a healthy allowance for the girth of her orthopedic cast.

   Mr. Moore looked reserved and polite, and then Mrs. Moore managed to look mildly terrified at being around so many other people, but hid it behind a mostly-convincing but also very strained smile. Everyone in the congregation was happy to meet them, and family after family stepped forward to introduce themselves and shake hands before everyone took their seats in the pews—except Elena, Elena didn’t know what to do.

   I should—no, WE should go say hi, Elena turned a helpless look towards her Mrs. Seelbaugh. Right? I mean, we’re still friends, but also… I need her to know I’m not okay with her time travel nonsense still, need to express that there’s a distance between us there. Distance that I’m not going to just bridge over and forget about. Just… God is it awkward just standing here, like this.

   Elena found herself filling with tension as Moore family worked their way a little further down the aisle through the church-goers intent on welcoming them to the community and finally they chose a pew and all went to sit down. Tabitha seemed distracted by her mother’s anxiety and was mostly leaning in to whisper something to the woman, but when she did notice Elena on the other side of the church she offered a wave.

   Out of reflex, Elena immediately waved back, feeling more stupid and out of place than ever. Mrs. Seelbaugh gently patted her back as if sensing her troubles, but Elena wasn’t able to take any comfort from the gesture.

   What am I DOING? Elena thought, smoothing out the modest floral-print Sunday dress she wore. Jesus. The MATURE thing to do would have been to just run over and make up with her already. Or at least make some kind of effort. That’s what Mom would have done. Not be… stupid and petty about her silly whatever. Ugh, GOD!

   As per her agreement with her parents, Elena didn’t wear anything black or gothic to church, so she felt even more out of her element bereft of her gothic trappings. Wearing her old dressy church outfit now felt like a lie, because this just wasn’t who she was anymore. When she wore her full gothic getup complete with makeup to Hot Topic—that felt like a lie, too, like she was a poser mall goth just going through the motions for appearance’s sake alone. Going to school was wrapping herself up in that cold persona to separate herself from who she didn’t want to be, but left her at a loss as to who she was anymore.

   The service began, but Elena was swimming helplessly in her own head. She stood and held the hymn book for songs, she sat and stared during the sermon, and she mechanically bowed her head during the prayer, all the while her psyche seemed to be working overtime to disassociate herself from everything she tried—or tried not—to be. What does that even leave behind, what’s left over then? What do you even CALL this kind of crisis?

*     *     *

   When it was over and everyone was standing and beginning to file out of the pews, Elena rushed over join Tabitha as soon as she could. When she stood in front of her friend, however, her mind blanked and she had no earthly idea what to say.

   “Elena honey, why don’t you show Tabitha around the church?” Mrs. Seelbaugh supplied, almost as if those borderline supernatural Mom senses of hers were detecting Elena’s distress. “While we talk to her parents for a little bit about some things.”

   “Yeah,” Elena said.

   Tabitha smiled at her, and Elena felt relief and shame tugging at her from different directions. With a small wave, she led her friend out of the Sanctuary and down the hallway towards where the choir rooms, fellowship hall, kitchens and Bible study rooms were. The First Presbyterian Church of Springton was large but over the past few generations the congregation had significantly thinned—there were several daycare rooms but they only kept one in operation, and the youth group had disbanded before Elena was old enough to join it, rendering those rooms without a purpose as well. The large building and outlying structures were intended for twice as many people as currently attended, and each year the church areas seemed a little more empty than the last.

   “Are you still mad at me?” Tabitha finally asked, glancing around at everything with interest.

   “I—no,” Elena said, scrunching up her face. “Sorry if I seem standoffish. I still don’t believe you about the whole… thing. Just, I don’t know what to do about that. I’m not mad. I don’t know what I am.”

   “Okay,” Tabby nodded. “How can I help?”

   “Uhh,” Elena offered her an expressive shrug. “I don’t know. You seem kinda different since the hospital.”

   “I am different,” Tabitha grinned. “I feel different. Everything’s changing!”

   “Yeah,” Elena agreed—but in contrast to Tabitha’s new apparent upbeat attitude, all she felt was a formless sort of dread.

   Tabitha was different, too. Before the events of the Halloween party, Tabitha had seemed hesitant and a little listless all the time. Now, it was as if nearly getting killed had put a bounce in her step, as if her near-death experience had instilled within her purpose and drive. The pangs of jealousy that appeared at that realization weren’t easily stifled, because before that same transformative series of events, it was Elena who had been full of that special focused tenacity and enthusiasm for everything.

   “Are CDs still around in the future?” Elena blurted out.

   She still didn’t believe Tabitha was actually from the future.

   But, Elena decided she needed to understand the story, to have a better grasp of it so that she could figure out what to do with it. If it was a fanciful game of make believe, Elena needed to tear it down so that it didn’t continue to cloud the air between them. If it was a delusional coping mechanism or metaphor for dealing with trauma, then helping Tabitha unravel it would be good for both of them. Posing a question about CDs of all things wasn’t on her prepared collection of weak points to attack, but it came to mind and was out of her mouth before Elena could stop herself.

   “Hah,” Tabitha laughed. “No. Not at all. They’re very much a relic of this time period.”

   “So, what’s next after CDs?” Elena mused, trying not to fidget. “Little microchips?”

   “Sorta,” Tabitha quirked her lip. “But, not like you’d think. Music goes digital pretty soon, in two or three years you’ll be downloading songs onto your computer and loading them into an Ipod. Little handheld device. That really kicks off music piracy—Napster and BitTorrent and all of that, which I actually kinda missed out on in my first life and only found out about in retrospect.”

   “There’s music piracy now,” Elena countered, the memory of Ziggy first waggling a mixtape for her still vivid in memory. “Tape cassettes, CDs. My friend Ziggy knows a guy who pirates CDs with a disk burner. Music piracy is already a big thing.”

   “Ehhh, no,” Tabitha shook her head. “That’s different, that’s more of an isolated case, something of an outlier. The kind of piracy I’m talking about is extremely widespread, along the lines of forty percent of the entire market basically just deciding to never pay for music ever again. Just download copies from wherever for free instead.”

   “That’s… okay, that’s a lot I guess,” Elena made a face. “Maybe too much, in fact. Forty percent? How do they wind up putting a stop to it?”

   “The long answer is a complicated mess and I don’t remember all of it, and the short answer is; they never really manage to put a stop to it,” Tabitha explained. “Nothing effective, anyways. Pirating media—movies, games, music—and assets for stuff like 3D printing was still a common everyday thing right up ‘till I came back to the past.”

   3D printing...? Elena wondered. Seems like another term to note down. I think Mom had an article in one of her magazines about how 3D stuff works—the red and blue lensed glasses that make it look like pictures pop out—I can do a bit of research and find a way to corner her on something and finally stump her.

   “Okay,” Elena pursed her lips. “So, should I wait? Like, should I not buy music now, and just wait until piracy just makes everything free? Or, is that a real bad thing to do?”

   “That’s a tough one to answer,” Tabitha said. “To be completely honest with you, I don’t think I ever bought music in my life period. When I was this age we didn’t have a stereo or anything at home, and I didn’t really get into music until I was in college. You have to remember, I wasn’t a ‘cool’ kid in my first go-through. I didn’t know music.”

   “So, you pirated music later, when pirating isn’t illegal anymore?”

   “Well, no, pirating’s always illegal,” Tabitha appeared to be conflicted on how to explain. “But, less like shoplifting and more like jaywalking? I never pirated anything, though. In college I had a Pandora account but I just had the free version, so they played advertisements in-between the music. Then most of the rest of my adult life I was just abusing Youtube playlists whenever I wanted to listen to things, and it was free, too. Well, free with ads that would randomly play.”

   “I’m not really sure I get it,” Elena said. “How are either of those things any different than just turning on a radio? Radio stations have free music with commercials.”

   “Complicated,” Tabitha tried to explain. “They’re roughly equivalent in operating on that premise, but they use the internet instead of radio, so—no geographical limitations.”

   “Radio’s in way more places than the internet is though,” Elena countered. “Internet still requires a phone line—right? Radio is broadcast by radio waves or by satellite, even— it’s everywhere. So, the geographical limitation argument doesn’t hold water.”

   “You’re right and you’re wrong,” Tabitha frowned. “Radio waves are limited in that you can only pick up so many different bands before the stations run into the danger of overlapping. Satellite and AM radio aside, FM stations also have a fairly limited range they can broadcast to—no more than fifty or so miles, I think. Whereas via internet connection, there are no limits—so, the selection and variety of what you can listen to increases exponentially.”

   “Does that mean you’ve listened to a lot of music?” Elena asked. “Ziggy has it in her mind that I need music to build my identity around, or I’m not really goth. Like without the music culture parts of it, I’m just a poser. If you’re really from the future, you must have a bunch of bands you can recommend me. Right?”

   “Are you kidding me?!” Tabitha lit up. “I was just thinking about this the other day! Specfically, getting you out to see a certain gothic rock group before they make it huge.”

   “Gothic rock?” Elena sounded skeptical. “Ziggy never mentioned gothic rock.”

   “They might’ve categorized things differently back in these times,” Tabitha said. “Alternative rock, I guess? Emo is still a few years away, for sure. I mean, I wasn’t super proud of it back then... but I can definitely recite pretty much every Evanescence song, and even do the opening bits of My Immortal if we can get access to a piano.”

   “Goth rock makes it huge,” Elena couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “To who, exactly?”

   As far as she could tell, she was one of only three in the entire student body at Springton High who affected any sort of gothic style, and she was the only freshman. Every interaction she’d had with Ziggy in the Fairfield Hot Topic indicated that their kind were loners and outcasts. The idea that a goth song would enter mainstream appeal seemed oddly counterintuitive to her, and the more she thought about, the more certain she became that Tabitha was simply feeding her a line of bullshit.

   “Everyone, really,” Tabitha couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Evanescence. They get huge, and I mean huge like, fifty million albums sold. Well, by 2040-ish. They went platinum quite a few times. “Bring me to Life was pretty much freaking infamous for being overplayed on the radio back in... ‘03? Maybe ‘04? But, right now? I don’t even think they’re on anyone’s radar yet.”

   “Wait, so... they exist now, but they’re not big yet?” Elena pressed. If they’re a real band, she had to have heard them somewhere. If they don’t become famous in the next few years, what, will Tabitha just claim that the timeline must have just changed? Make some sort of excuse? More and more, I’m just doubting everything she says.

   “Yeah. Right now, I think they’re just performing in tiny little venues in Little Rock, Arkansas,” Tabitha revealed. “Tiny like, coffee shops. Maybe still under a different name, I think it was Childish Intention or Stricken. Hell, Amy Lee probably isn’t much older than us right now. She must be... sixteen, or seventeen, here in ‘98?”

   “Arkansas,” Elena repeated, some of her skepticism fading away as the wheels began to turn in her head. “That’s… okay, that’s not that far away. What are you saying, like—if what you’re saying is true, then how would we even take advantage of it?”

   Tabitha—what’s the point of your make believe story, here?

   “We don’t,” Tabitha said, holding up her hands in a helpless expression. “Absolutely no way. I know it’s kinda ironic, in that they’re one of the few things I remember well enough that I could like, steal their songs and everything with future knowledge. But, I’m absolutely not going to. I love Evanescence, and no one else can sing those tracks with the kind of oomph that Amy Lee put into them.”

   “I’m not saying steal anything,” Elena clarified carefully. “Just, there would have to be some way or some angle to do something with future knowledge there, if you already know they’re going to have hits. Right? It could probably even benefit them, somehow.”

   “Why don’t we see if you even like them, first?” Tabitha suggested. “We can… make some calls, or something—ugh, not having real internet makes everything such a headache. Figure out when and where they play, take a trip down to see Evanescence live sometime soon. Do you want me to try to sing a little bit for you?”

   “Sure,” Elena jumped at the offer. “Of course. There’s a piano over in the fellowship hall we can probably use, even. Over this way.”

   “Uhh,” Tabitha blanched. “Okay. Yeah. Just to warn you, though—I don’t actually know how to play piano. Just white keys, and I only learned to play random easy catchy bits—the opening bits of My Immortal, the real basic Swan Lake riff. Stuff like the super simplified Dojacat’s Say So, and Tattletale’s theme from Worm. Those are the total extent of my piano-playing abilities. So, I’m just saying—lower your expectations way, way down. I haven’t practiced any of them in years.”

   “But, you can sing?” Elena questioned.

   She guided her friend into the large community room where the congregation gathered for the much less formal occasions. It was a wide open space today, with dozens of tables folded and wheeled out of the way and several hundred chairs neatly stacked ten high in the nearest corner and a stage area that took up the far wall.

   “I think so,” Tabitha shrugged. “I wasn’t bad at singing, per se, but I don’t think I was anything special, either. Hopefully I’m good enough for you to get the gist of how things go.”

   Elena watched with interest as Tabitha plunked away at the piano keys in an experimental way, making odd but not very musical noise for several minutes.

   “Okay, I lied,” Tabitha said with a grimace. “It’s been too long—I can do the My Immortal opening, and a bit of Tattletale’s theme. If I had a few hours, I could probably figure out the Swan Lake thing again. Say So’s off the table, I only remember it started with three fingers here like this, and then with my right hand I kinda did… something like this? But, I don’t remember it all that clearly anymore. Apparently. Hold on, lemme see if...”

   “Which one’s the goth rock one that’s gonna be big?” Elena asked, unable to tell if Tabitha was just stalling or not.

   “My Immortal,” Tabitha answered, taking a sheepish glance around. “Am I, um. Am I allowed to sing in here? It might get a little loud.”

   “Just sing it kinda softly,” Elena shrugged. “How does it go?”

   “Hah,” Tabitha shook her head ruefully and awkwardly placed her fingers back on the keys. “Well, I can sing My Immortal, but I can’t sing it softly. That’s not how ballads work, I can’t not really belt some of it out.”

   “Go on, try it,” Elena said, checking out the room. There were only a few adult women loitering over near the door separating the fellowship hall from the kitchens, and they didn’t seem at all interested in what her and Tabitha were getting up to. “If they tell us to stop, we’ll stop.”

   “Okay. Okay,” Tabitha took a deep breath. “Here goes!”

   Clearing her throat and stretching her slender fingers one last time, the redhead carefully positioned them back on the ivories and began to play. The music wasn’t familiar to Elena, but it sounded good, and Tabitha seemed to be playing with more confidence this time, measuring her cadence and now taking appropriate pauses that elevated the piece well above those previous practice attempts. Doesn’t sound very ROCK, though, does it?

   “I'm so tired of being here—”

   The slowly drawn out words sounded across the entire fellowship hall, forcing Elena to do a double take and again mentally reevaluate her friend. Each syllable felt inexplicably heavy, full of sadness and pain, and when they fell in time with the piano notes any doubt that Tabitha was making up this particular song on the spot vanished. She was definitely drawing knowledge of this from somewhere, The lyrics and notes complemented each other too well for this to be any sort of fabrication. Across the room, both of the adult women stopped their conversation and turned towards them. Tabitha was singing at volume already and the change from her normal speaking voice to one she was pouring emotion into was stunning.

   “Suppressed by all my childish fears”

   “And if you have to leave”

   “I wish that you would just leave”

   “'Cause your presence still lingers here”

   “And it won't leave me alone—”

   In the very last few syllables Tabitha began to project her voice, and the weight of emotion she’d been infusing into the song was thrown out to fill the air to become power. A thrilling tingle traveled through Elena’s body that made the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. THIS is...

   “These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real”

   “There's just too much that time cannot erase—”

   Tabitha had apparently reached the extent of her piano knowledge by this point and simply dropped her hands into her lap as she continued to sing. The piece seemed to carry on well enough without the accompaniment, though, simply because Tabitha was able to pour so much of herself into the lyrics, so much passion. The girl’s eyes were squeezed shut as she focused herself entirely on vocalizing this impressive ballad—and to Elena at least, it sounded incredible.

   “When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears”

   “When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears”

   “And I held your hand through all of these years”

   “But you still have—all of me”

   That somewhat haunting piano melody began again, and Elena realized both of the church ladies had approached. The women wore stunned expressions as they came closer, looking from Tabitha to Elena and back again, and neither appeared inclined to interrupt the unexpected performance. Across the room and well behind Tabitha’s turned back, Elena spotted Mrs. Moore opening the door and poking her head in, seeming completely bewildered at the sight of them.

   “You used to captivate me by your resonating light”

   “Now I'm bound by the life you left behind”

   “Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams”

   “Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me”

   “These wounds won't seem to heal—this pain is just too real—”

   “There's just too much that time cannot erase—”

   Elena watched on with her own expression of shock, but for different reasons— the piece Tabitha chose to play spoke to her, it gave her chills just hearing it. Whatever the song was, whoever it was really by originally, Elena felt a connection to it, the connection she’d hoped to feel spring into place when listening to the mixtapes Ziggy prepared for her. Those bonds had failed to materialize, this one, this song took hold of her soul in that complete embrace she longed for.

   By the time she snapped to her senses, Tabitha had sung through the rest of the song, and Elena stood there for a moment in a daze as Mrs. Moore, the two women from before, and another family that had wandered in at some point were congratulating Tabitha.

   “Well—Elena, what do you think?” Tabitha asked her with a beaming smile. “I think that might’ve been my best try singing… ever! Still definitely falls well short of Amy Lee, and my piano playing is, uh, yeah the less said about it the better, but can you kinda get the vibe of—”

   “Tabitha that was amazing,” Elena carefully emphasized. “Who’s the—Amy Lee? How can we get her music? I need to hear it, hear the original. If that still fell short of the original…”