RE: Trailer Trash 56, 56 pt Drive Thru (Patreon)

“Mom!” Hannah sat up straight in the back seat of the Acura in sudden panic, pressing both hands against her window. “Mom, wait! You missed the turn-off, we’re passing it!”

Tabitha watched with a wry smile from the other side of the back seat as the iconic golden arches of McDonalds was passed by and began to recede into the distance of Sandboro’s crowded main strip which was already thick with signs sporting the logos of various businesses and restaurants. The sheer sudden alarm that took hold in the little girl when she seemed to realize they might not be getting the promised Happy Meals was cute and also made Tabitha want to sigh and shake her head. After all, if there was one thing in this world that did make Tabitha feel old, it was comparing herself to Hannah.

“Mom—Mom what about McDonalds?!” Hannah cried out in a fluster.

“Calm down, shoebug,” Sandra placated her daughter in a calm voice. “That’s the Sandboro Micky-dees. We’ve gotta stop over at the Springton Micky-dees, because Tabitha’s boyfriend Bobby might be working there tonight, and we need to tease and heckle both of them as much as we can.”

“Oh,” Hannah’s near-tantrum receded almost as quickly as it had surged up. “Yeah. That makes sense. Tabitha—is Bobby your boyfriend?”

“Oh, no no no,” Tabitha played along. “Bobby? He’s way out of my league, he’s too good-looking and popular for me.”

“Bobby is?” Hannah asked in surprise, her adorable features already turning into a predictable frown.

“Yeah, for sure,” Tabitha continued. “I wouldn’t have a chance with someone as handsome and charming as him. Having a crush on the cute guy or being infatuated is one thing, but I need to be realistic. I’ll have to settle with someone that’s more on my level, right?”

“Ha haaah,” Mrs. Macintire made an amused sound of exasperation. “Oh, is that right?”

“I’m just being realistic!” Tabitha played out a shrug and sad shake of her head.

“Bobby’s not out of your league!” Hannah was already outraged on her behalf. “You’re already in like, the top leagues. The very top of ones.”

“The big leagues,” Mrs. Macintire said. “What do you think, Hannah—wouldn’t Tabby and Bobby be cute together?”

“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “They’re not different leagues. I think they fit in the same, right?”

“Oh, no,” Tabitha lowered her head pitifully. “I’m from a poor trailer park—I grew up poor as a church mouse! Not to mention I used to be Tubby Tabby. At school, I’m infamous, rather than famous! Plus—look, and I’m still a cripple. I have my bad arm, and then my head—all sorts of medical issues, and, and poor health, I’m practically sickly, and—”

“Nuh-uh!” Hannah giggled and stuck her tongue out, apparently deciding that grappling with each one of those individual arguments would be silly and pointless. “Nuh-uh, Tabitha. Because—Because, I say so.”

“Oh, because you say so?” Tabitha chuckled. “Well… huh. I guess you’re right, then.”

“I am,” Hannah nodded. “I’m right. You’re not—you’re not all that stuff, you’re big leagues. Because, I say so. Big leagues.”

“You tell her, Hannah!” Sandra teased. “So—we definitely do still want McDonalds?”

“Yes, yes!!”

The pavement rolled on beneath their wheels as Sandra took them back on the familiar road bridging the city of Sandboro and the much smaller town that was Springton. The atmosphere in the car Tabitha shared with Mrs. Macintire and Hannah was bubbly and fun in that way she found positively addicting. With them, things could just be pointless happy fluff; they chatter about nothing, banter, with none of the tension or awkwardness Tabitha remembered experiencing around her actual parents.

There were occasional MOMENTS, but that was it, back then, Tabitha thought with a wistful smile as she joked around with Hannah. How is it that I can be so comfortable here, and feel like my own family are the strangers? That doesn’t seem like it should make any sense.

In most of her memories still, her mother was the authoritative one; crabby, stern. Critical of everything. Things had changed between them in the recent months, but somehow that original impression kept lingering on. With the Mr. Moore in her mind, Tabitha thought of her father as someone she simply had difficulty relating to or carrying on any long conversation with. He wasn’t interested in her interests, and had never had much to say about them beyond vague words of encouragement, or that ever-familiar hmm, we don’t have that kind of money wall that brought their talks up short.

No, looking back—his words of encouragement always seemed to lack substance, while the discouraging ones he would put some meat to. Find reasons, or explanations, Tabitha remembered with a stinging flash of bitterness. As though childhood aspirations were to be kept to myself and blown out in the smoke of birthday candles, taken as pure fantasy while wishing upon a star. Not something to engage with seriously—no, when talking seriously about the future, dreams must be given a sobering dose of reality. Is that why I always felt things were so helpless?

I remember way back when, we were going on about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I think I was eight or nine, and had just watched an episode of the cartoon TaleSpin, and so of course I said something about wanting to be a pilot, or to have my own cargo plane business. Instead of playing along with a childish impulse, instead of taking it as a random eight-year-old fancy, he took it seriously and frowned, said he didn’t think that was a good idea. Because, owning my own plane would be so ridiculously expensive, and pilot school and fuel and managing to make money off of that kind of business would just be too difficult and costly.

Tabitha glanced at Hannah with envy and also a sudden strange protective impulse.

Was my dad just, well, too much of a simpleton? Tabitha wondered. Too simple and straightforward to step back from a situation and realize that no, I probably wasn’t seriously gearing up to become a pilot or own a plane from that age?

Certainly not a cartoon bear businesswoman like Rebecca from TaleSpin like I was picturing, back then. But, the little seed of a future dream he was so quick to stamp out could have grown up into something else, some other beautiful future. Instead, I really did mature with a bunch of random inferiority complexes, and then fever dreams about running an aviation scrapyard out of a trailer park. I’m to the point now where I can joke with Hannah about me needing to settle, or be realistic, or stay in my lane, but even getting to this point where I can poke fun at it was… yeah, a long rough journey.

Thinking about it made her want to spoil Hannah rotten with no restraint just like the Macintires already were, it made her want to spend lavishly on getting her four little cousins video games and movies. Gave her the compulsion to be there for them, to be present in their lives and supportive and uplifting. To ensure that someone in their childhood was there to encourage even silly or unrealistic dreams. Because, they were all so young, and Tabitha felt like some very early reality checks had stunted her own growth.

Or, maybe I’m just looking anywhere for excuses again? Tabitha sighed, trying to push the heavy introspection out of mind. Looking for anyone or anything to point fingers of blame at, for how my last life turned out. I’m not being fair to either of my parents—I’m cherry-picking bad memories, because I’m still so upset with both of them about things. And, yeah, also because living with the Macintires is just SUCH a contrast. Yes, they absolutely do spoil Hannah too much. I just… find it harder and harder to fault them for it.

When they finally pulled in to the Springton McDonalds, it was during their busy dinner rush. The parking lot was just about full, and Sandra steered them into a line of cars waiting at the drive thru that was now five vehicles long. Tabitha was hungry, and she was excited about maybe happening to spot Bobby, and also there was a welcome playful energy inside the car as Mrs. Macintire and Hannah worked to hatch their plans for teasing the teenagers.

But, now there was also something else—a bad feeling in the pit of Tabitha’s stomach.

“What should we say?!” Sandra grinned. “Whaddya think, Hannah Josannah? Should we say ‘Bobby’s girlfriend is here, can you please send Bobby up to the window?’”

“H-he might not even be working tonight,” Tabitha gave them a weak protest. “I don’t know if—”

“Yeah!” Hannah bounced in her seat. “We should say—we need to ask him if he thinks he’s in Tabitha’s same league, or if—”

“Wait, wait,” Tabitha found her voice turning serious. “I, um. I actually just don’t really feel good about this. Seriously.”

“Seriously?” Mrs. Macintire paused to turn back and give Tabitha a look. “Tabitha—hon, we’re just kidding around! C’mon.”

“No, I mean—yes, you can tease me about it, that’s fine,” Tabitha hurried to explain. “I just—I just got really suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of you guys teasing Bobby? I, I mean, if he’s working tonight, then that means he was there all day at school, and then went right to work, and spent all day kind of—busy, not able to even relax or have time for himself. It, um, it suddenly feels so very frivolous to, to be flippant and teasing with him like this, just because we’ve been having fun with our day. Does that make sense?”

“Whew, lordie,” Sandra’s grin only widened, and the woman slipped her aviators down with a finger so she could more seriously evaluate Tabitha. “Tabitha kiddo, I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t realize you had it this bad.”

“I uh—I just, I’d feel bad!” Tabitha blushed. “We, we shouldn’t just assume Bobby’s having a great day, and that he’s cool with us—”

“But, can we ask him what league he’s in?” Hannah didn’t seem to quite be getting her meaning, but it was in that subtle smug seven-year-old way that suggested her ignorance was intentional. “Like, can we ask him if he thinks he and Tabitha are on the right level together? Hypothetically.”

Tabitha really regretted explaining hypotheticals to Hannah, right now. Because, of course it was one of those grown-up words that made her want to facepalm when Hannah threw it back at her with that enormous adorable smile. What was I thinking?!

“Hmmm—maybe we’d better just keep our heads down, ask for our Happy Meals,” Mrs. Macintire teased. “Tabitha’s getting all self-conscious! Look, her face is going red!”

“I, I, you can rib me about this, that’s fine,” Tabitha couldn’t stop smiling despite the situation. “But—please, don’t play with Bobby about it! I’m—I’m actually not comfortable with that. Not when he’s been at school and then at work all day long. Please?”

“What can we say?” Hannah pouted. “Can we at least say, like, ‘oh and Tabby says hi!’”</>

“Yes, that’s totally fine,” Tabitha said. “You can embarrass me, I kind of deserve it. But, uh, yeah, Bobby’s cool and I like him a little, but we’re not really that close yet. For us to, to like, roll up and just start messing with him, when we don’t know how his day has gone?”

“Didn’t you say you went and messed with him when you were with your friends the other night?” Mrs. Macintire countered. “With Alicia and—oh, shoot. What’s her name. That other girl.”

“Um, Casey, and yes,” Tabitha felt even more blood rush to her face. “That was… it felt different. I, looking back, I don’t think we should have, uh. I’m repenting, alright? Th-there was—there was peer pressure and stuff. I have no excuse, I was in the wrong!”

“So—we can tease him?” Hannah seemed thrilled by how flustered Tabitha had grown. “Mom?”

“Do you really think Bobby will mind?” Mrs. Macintire arched an eyebrow at Tabitha’s theatrics. “From what little I’ve seen of him, he’s very, uh—”

“Very what?” Hannah asked with interest. “Cute? Handsome? Big leagues?”

“Well, he seemed like a real joker,” Mrs. Macintire finally said. “That’s why this is so fun—who would have ever thought that was Tabitha’s type?! But, hah, not like I can even talk. Look at the guy I wound up with!”

“You mean dad?” Hannah grinned. “Yeah… dad’s not very big leagues.”

“Hannah!” Mrs. Macintire almost did a spit-take as she burst into laughter herself. “Good lord—”</>

“I’m—I’m just going to shut up now!” Tabitha mumbled, absolutely mortified. “Do as you will! I’m, um, I’m going to duck down and pretend I’m not even in the car. Do as you will!”

“Oh, well okay then—we will,” Mrs. Macintire sounded smug. “Hannah?”

“Ah-heh-heh-hem,” Hannah dramatically cleared her throat. “Bobby and Ta-bi-tha, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

Wow, oh wow, Tabitha crushed herself against the car door, face buried in her hands. I could actually die. Dunno if it’s hormones or endorphins or just the actual act of being a teenager, here—

“Oh—kiss me through the window, Bobby my sweet!” Mrs. Macintire sighed, putting the back of her hand to her forehead as though she was fit to faint away. “Give thee thy fairest hand—ooh, and with a side of fries, should thee please?”

I MUCH preferred it when the misunderstanding was that I spoke like a robot under stress rather than a Victorian duchess! Tabitha grimaced. I don’t sound like that. I never sounded like that!

“—First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage—”

I’m so embarrassed I could actually die. I’m dying. DEAD. DEAD! My mind’s all like ‘hey, let’s be cool, calm and collected, show them how unaffected I am!’ Their jabs aren’t even that clever! But then, my body is like ‘HEY WHO CARES, HAVE SOME ADRENALINE!’ Why don’t we give you an involuntary response to high levels of PERSONAL CRINGE that makes you too flustered to speak or function! GREAT! THANKS! PERFECT!

As it turned out, Bobby was not in fact scheduled for a shift that night.

A salad and two Happy Meals were ordered as Tabitha struggled to recover her composure, they pulled up to one window and then the next to pay and pick up their food, and then Tabitha ate her fries with a sullen smile as they drove on towards home. Hannah and Mrs. Macintire both appeared extraordinarily pleased with themselves—but Tabitha swore to herself that she would have her revenge.

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/// These were another couple ideas I wanted to try out and squeeze in to help set the stage for Tabitha having that dream about Bobby later on in the night. I think it's vital to illustrate not just the good sides of being that age again, but really deliver the full brutal picture.

May keep this section, might cut, just like the beach towel shopping bit. Will have to see how well these bits contribute to the actual chapter theme when I can see it all laid out.