RE: Trailer Trash 53 pt SA (Patreon)

Tracy then turned away in clear dismissal, flicked off the light for station eight, and continued ringing up the last customer who was waiting on them there.

Relieved to be done observing checkout line work—but finding herself more stressed than ever—Mrs. Moore disengaged her focus on their single area and forced her awareness back to the larger context of the entire grocery store. It was strange, and it felt like being startled awake from a fitful, restless nightmare. She took one uncertain step away from the checkout, and then another, and then was forced to hurry forward several more to move out of a person’s way, nearly clipping the bulging grocery bags the guy was carrying.

In a daze of confusion, Mrs. Moore picked her way back across the sales floor towards the back office, weaving around customers with their shopping carts and passing by a young worker crouched along the dairy coolers who wore the same kind of Food Lion apron she had on.

He gave her a brief should I know you look, before losing interest and returning his attention to the jugs of milk in the milk crate he had carried out. Mrs. Moore felt herself flush with embarrassment, feeling like an imposter. She hadn’t been introduced to anyone except Tracy, and she knew from the brief orientation that the jacket she was wearing beneath the apron wasn’t up to code for their required employee uniform. She didn’t even have a nametag!

I’m—I’m not actually on the clock! Mrs. Moore reminded herself. I shouldn’t even be in their system, yet. I don’t REALLY work here, not until, until—I don’t know! I can’t believe the manager just… LEFT. Did he just FORGET about me?!

It took a moment of steeling herself before she worked up the courage to push past the employees only door in the back. Was she allowed back here? It felt like she shouldn’t be back here, but she did need answers as to what on earth she was supposed to be doing, or what was going on—because she felt completely lost in whatever part of the hiring process this was.

The back hallway was empty, but in the break room area across the way, a young cashier woman and a tall, thin stock boy of some sort were conversing. Too timid to approach them, Mrs. Moore crept over to peek into the office where assistant store manager John had spoken with her—it was empty.

“What’cha lookin’ for, sweetie?” The cashier woman called over. “You lookin’ for Bob?”

“Um,” Shannon froze. “I might… maybe? John, uh, the store manager John, he was havin’ me through the hiring stuff, and then he had me watching…um…”

In a sudden and shocking betrayal, the name of the grumpy cashier woman she’d stood with for most of the morning and part of the afternoon momentarily vanished from recollection. Panic flooded her veins as she realized she’d lost part of what she had intended to say. The two employees were both staring at her with bemused expectation.

“—had me with, um, she was—it was one of the cashier clerks—”

“Tracy?” The teenage stock boy supplied with a grin. “Think I saw you over there shadowing Tracy.”

“Tracy! Yes, I, I lost her name for a moment, hah,” Shannon gave them a cringing smile, so embarrassed she could die. “Tracy. But, she said that store manager John had already left? I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next?”

“Ah, yeah, Tracy’s real nice,” the young cashier woman finally nodded in understanding. “Probably just wait here ‘til manager Bob’s back on through—or, if you want I could call him?”

“Oh, I can wait here I guess,” Shannon flushed.

“I’ll call him,” the cashier woman stood up and slipped past her into the office.

“Brandon,” the stockboy introduced himself, offering Mrs. Moore his hand. “An’ that’s Cindy. You’re just starting?”

“Shannon,” Mrs. Moore hurried to take his hand. “I, well, I hope so? I feel like John just… forgot about me? Hah ha…”

“He’s a real asshole,” Brandon leaned in to confide in a low voice, never losing his grin. “Manager John.”

Mrs. Moore didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—the first impressions she personally had ran directly contrary to what each of these associates told her. Assistant store manager John had seemed super friendly and personable but apparently he was an asshole; Tracy was supposedly ‘real nice,’ but had in actuality been standoffish and cold towards her.

“Manager, line one,” Cindy’s voice resounded—both from the office next to them, and crackling over the store intercom. “Manager, line one.”

When Shannon whirled to look back through the door, she saw Cindy was holding a phone above the messy desk there.

“Should just be a sec,” Cindy promised, looking pleased with herself for grabbing a chance to show off using the intercom. “He’ll either pick up over in bakery, or just head right on back here.”

“Th-thank you,” Shannon said, trying to recollect herself. “Thank you so much.”

Thus far, everyone save for Tracy appeared to be younger than Mrs. Moore, but it was difficult to determine by how much. Tracy had possessed a stout figure and bulldog face with drooping jowls, but sported the most artificial burgundy-red shade of dyed hair Mrs. Moore had ever seen. Cindy here was a slightly dumpy young twenty-something with dull blonde hair—her first assumption was ‘young mother,’ and then Brandon here from his height and gangly stature she would guess  was perhaps eighteen or nineteen.

So far, no one had seemed to judge Shannon for being too old to reenter the workforce, or too fat, or questioned why she had the gall to think she could work here. Certainly no one had recognized her as previously being Shannon Delain. Part of that was comforting, but then the cynical side of her—still frantic with stress from the past few hours—insisted that it was simply because she was no one to them. Invisible, an absolute nobody that no one had any cause to care about, for better or for worse.

The idea was liberating in a very depressing way.

“Who called?” A balding middle aged man leaned through the employees only door.

He wore a vest and tie instead of an apron, which meant he was a person in charge, so this must be the store manager Bob.

“I did,” Cindy said. “Manager John started gettin’ this lady set up an’ had her with Tracy, but then he took off without leavin’ her any instructions or nothin’ on what to do.”

“Great. Figures,” Bob said with a frown, stepping the rest of the way into the back and offering Mrs. Moore a handshake. “Bob. It’s usually me or Phil managing at night. Did John get you set up with a file, yet? What was your name?”

“Shannon,” Mrs. Moore said, quickly wiping her clammy hand against her apron so she could shake. “And—I, I’m not sure. I was just first in for my interview today.”

“Huh. I guess it went pretty well, then?”

“I—” Mrs. Moore gave him a helpless laugh. She really wanted to start crying. “I guess?”

*     *     *

“You guys went to the mall without me!” Alicia accused into the phone handset.

“Yeah…” Elena replied through the little speaker. “Sorry.”

“I mean—c’mon, what the hell?” Alicia grumbled. “I totally would’ve gone with you.”

“I know. Just…” Elena let out a sigh, and Alicia felt a surge of panic.

Was Elena about to launch into a difficult explanation for why they would no longer be friends? What did her and Tabitha talk about? Did they talk about her? About her maybe having weird feelings for Tabitha? What was going on? The sudden exclusion from something like a mall outing stung, and Alicia’s biggest fear was that this was just the beginning of the end for her halcyon high school days with a pair of close friends.

Halcyon is such a cool word.

Alicia grit her teeth as she wrestled back the urge to tell Elena to quit with the dramatic pauses and just spit out whatever it was she was about to say. The friendship insecurity that always surged back up was getting so exhausting, and she felt stupid for falling back into it over and over again. After all, she’d spent the past several days playing the cherished atomic purple Gameboy Color Elena had gifted her for Christmas, immersed deep in Pokemon. The Gameboy itself was proof of how solid their friendship was. Alicia’s team was led by her badass Gyrados—incidentally named Halcyon—with a supporting roster of a Pikachu, a Ponyta, a Ghastly, and a Vulpix. Between her own research and some tips from Casey, Alicia had only the most absolutely awesome monsters, but her last slot remained empty until Casey could trade her a Meowth to evolve into a Persian.

“Just what?” Alicia finally demanded.

“I guess I kinda… messed up,” Elena admitted. “I did something stupid, it was about Tabitha, and we—we needed to talk about it with just the two of us.”

“Stupid how,” Alicia’s temper flared for a moment. “What did you do?!”

“I… went to my mom with some of the future stuff,” Elena said. “Sort of. Not all of it, and not even really the ‘future’ parts. Just, I—I thought maybe Tabitha was trying to, uh, to say something with the way she was telling us all of that. I guess. I thought we had to make sure she wasn’t being… abused or molested or anything.”

“You snitched?!” Alicia found herself in disbelief. “And, and—what happened? What did your mom say? What did Tabitha say?!”

“My mom doesn’t know about the future stuff,” Elena clarified. “Just, I told her Tabitha told us that she knew a girl named Julie who was being abused. So that we could make sure that if that was something really happening, something would be done about it. Okay?”

“Except, Julie is negative two years old right now,” Alicia remarked with a dry laugh. “So—”

“Negative one, right?” Elena interrupted. “Since it’s 1999, now.”

“Oh, yeah. Negative one,” Alicia growled. “Still, to go and like, snitch about it? What were—”

“It’s not like snitching,” Elena defended herself. “I thought someone was in danger from things I heard. Maybe it was this Julie girl, maybe it was actually code for Tabitha just trying to talk about herself without like, actually talking about herself. How am I supposed to know? It’s like—better safe than sorry. Right?”

“I dunno,” Alicia refused to agree. “You should’ve talked through it with Tabitha first.”

“Yeah,” Elena sighed again. “Maybe. I don’t know. Tabitha believes the time traveler stuff, though. So I—I don’t know. It didn’t feel like she was the reliable person to go to, in case someone really was being abused.”

“And you told Tabitha all of this?” Alicia pressed. “Are you two okay?”

“We are,” Elena said. “She wasn’t very mad, she mostly understood. She still thinks she’s from the future, I still don’t think so. We just… agreed to disagree, on that. We’re still friends, though.”

“Okay,” Alicia finally allowed herself to slightly relax her shoulders. “Okay. But, like. Still.”

“Yeah,” Elena said.

“Yeah,” Alicia grunted back while she felt a smile forming. “Sooo—have you been playing Pokemon Yellow? What’s your highest level?”

“Oh, God,” Elena snorted. “Not even twenty, yet. I’ve only been playing a bit. Tabitha’s already beaten the whole freaking game, I think. She went on and on about strategies and theories and stuff for a while. She’s really into it.”

“I figured,” Alicia said. “Buuut—I’ve got a Gyrados, so. There’s no way in hell she’s beating me. Not a chance.”

“Gyrados?”

“Yeah. It’s this giant badass oriental dragon looking thing,” Alicia boasted. “I named him Halcyon. My dad said it’s Chinese for clear waters after a typhoon.”

“Huh. I have… a Butterfree.”

“What’d you name it?”

“Uh… it’s just called ‘Butterfree.’”

“Are you not naming any of your Pokemon?!”

“No? Should I have?”

“I mean. Yeah?” Alicia laughed. “I thought you of all people would’ve come up with something I dunno, super cool and goth for each of them?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Something cool!”

“Like what?!”

“I don’t know! Butterfree. Bitterfree? Beetlejuice? How… about… ‘Chaos?’ Like ‘cause he’s a butterfly, and the chaos theory thing with butterflies flapping their wings? Neat reference to sneak in. ‘Chaos’ is pretty cool. What’s the Chinese word for ‘Chaos?”

“Oh, sure. Let me just whip out my Chinese-English dictionary I keep on hand.”

“Pfft, well—I don’t know. I’ll ask my dad?”

“How about I name him… ‘Sushi?’”

“‘Lena, that’s Japanese, not Chinese.”

“Alicia—” Elena paused again. “You do realize Pokemon is Japanese, right?! It’s from Japan.”

“Oh, shoot,” Alicia froze. “You actually might be right?!”

“Of course I’m right!”

/// Yes, Halcyon is Greek etymology-wise. Fabricating knowledge is a privilege all 90s dads enjoyed, and it doesn't help that Alicia Emily Brooks is just gonna buy it right away when he tells her something like that.