FortySixtyFour
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RE: Trailer Trash 58, 58 pt 6
🕑 Added 2024-06-29 15:29:17 +0000 UTCWhile Officer Macintire seemed intent on them having only steak for dinner tonight, Tabitha was certainly not. She knew the contents of the Macintire kitchen better than anyone, and had insisted on adding greens to the cart during their impromptu shopping trip today. Right after hurrying through the sliding glass door and over to the kitchen, Tabitha grabbed a pot and the colander from the drawer beneath the oven and set them up in each side of the sink.
The pot she started filling from the tap, their salt container was grabbed from the overhead cabinet, and while the pot filled with water Tabitha crossed the kitchen to grab glasses from the other cupboard. She rounded the counter and started to set five places at the dinner table, and when she returned, she shut the water off and tilted two shakes of salt into the pot. The pot of water was set upon the stove and the heat turned to high—Tabitha knew from the progress of the steaks on the grill outside that she didn’t have much time.
Oh, shoot. Lid, lid—where’s the lid?
With her hand still in the cast opening the silverware drawer, Tabitha was also crouching down below the stove to find the lid for the pot so that it would boil faster. She was no stranger to multi-tasking in the kitchen, but she was also feeling a little flustered and out of sorts tonight while her mother was here visiting. The lid was discovered and applied to the pot, and simultaneously Tabitha’s good hand was scooping a handful of forks, and then knives out of the tray in the drawer.
Another dash over to the table and Tabitha pulled napkins out of the holder in the center, then she swooped around the table setting utensils on top of napkins at each seat. When returning, a peek through the glass door showed Hannah was still standing over the steaks with diligence—then the bag of fresh green beans and the water purifier pitcher was withdrawn from the fridge. Green beans were dumped out into the colander, pitcher placed on the counter for her next trip in the direction of the table. Instant potatoes box grabbed from the pantry shelf above where the cereal boxes were lined up. Stack of plates acquired from the cupboard, whose door was still hanging ajar. She remembered to close it, nudging it shut with her elbow in passing.
The green beans would be washed of any dirt or pesticides in the colander, then briefly put in the pot boiling water, and then Tabitha could simply rinse the colander and pour ice cubes into that to finish blanching the green beans. She would then also already have boiling water from the pot to put instant potato mix into. Dinner rolls were absent, but perhaps she could substitute a few of the hamburger buns they had on hand? Tabitha mulled it over with a serious look as she mixed and turned over the green beans beneath water from the spigot with her good hand.
“Tabitha?” Mrs. Macintire had pulled the sliding glass door open and peeked inside. “Did you need a hand setting the—oh. Oh, I see you’re also preparing an entire banquet. Hmmm.”
“It’s just side dishes for with the steak!” Tabitha protested with a smile. “Umm. It’ll all be ready, I promise. Just give me until the water boils, plus… three minutes?”
“Hon!” Mrs. Macintire called over her shoulder. “Keep an eye on Hannah, we’re gonna help Tabitha cook. Shannon?”
“Oh! Of course, I’ll help.”
“Cook?! Whaddya mean cook, we have enough big steaks for—”
“They’re just little side dishes!” Tabitha called with a giggle. “I’m going to be quick.”
“We don’t need side dishes, we’ve got the grill goin’—hey, hey wait Hannah, not you too! You can’t all be abandoning me?!”
“Turn those as soon as they’re ready!” A stern seven-year-old voice instructed him.
Then it seemed like everyone was bustling inside to join Tabitha. With the greens washed, she tried to bring the plates and pitcher over to the table, but the mothers intercepted her and took everything off her hands to carry over. By the time Hannah also scampered inside eager to help, there wasn’t much of anything left to even do. With an exasperated smile, Tabitha brought the step-stool over towards the stove and prepared a wooden basting spoon there, so that Hannah could mix the instant potatoes as soon as it was time for them.
“Just look at her go,” Mrs. Macintire teased, exchanging a glance with Mrs. Moore. “Was she always like this?”
“She did almost all of the cooking for us,” Mrs. Moore admitted, looking both proud and embarrassed. “We’ve certainly missed her!”
“I bet,” Mrs. Macintire chuckled.
The praise—and the admission that she was missed—made the moment feel terribly awkward for Tabitha, all of the sudden frantic for some kitchen busywork to fill her hands with.
Ice! For blanching the green beans.
The Macintires had an automatic ice and water dispenser set into the door of their fancy fridge, but no one ever used it. The trigger for ice was loud and crashing and more often than not threw cubes across the tiled floor rather than into an offered cup, and the thing for water gave only tap water—dog water, according to Sandra—when the family here typically used the filtered water from a pitcher instead. Still, the contraption in the top of the freezer always dumped ice into a bin-like tray until it was full, and Tabitha eased the whole thing out and then set it on the counter beside the sink.
Navigating her way around so many neglected luxuries here at the Macintires was a culture shock long since behind her, but it did cause Tabitha to pause and wonder just what impression the huge house with all of its nice furnishings was leaving on her mother. Was she intimidated? Would she be looking about at everything in a total daze?
A glance over in that direction was even more startling—because, Mrs. Moore was just watching her, and didn’t seem to even notice anything else around. She was here visiting, but only seemed to have eyes for her daughter. The proud but wistful look her mother was giving her felt like a slap to the face, it smacked away any of the preconceptions around stark difference in class Tabitha wanted to build up, and it in no way allowed Tabitha to frame this situation around her trailer trash mom as a shut-in paralyzed by social anxiety.
Because… Tabitha swallowed back her unease. She’s not, anymore. She’s working a SERVICE POSITION job. Somehow. Working with people all day. Which still seems impossible. If—wait WAIT HANNAH NO—!
“No no, hold on!” Tabitha intervened just before the little girl could dump a cup of instant potato mix into the pot. “Hannah honey, we’re going to use that for blanching the green beans, first. And, it still needs to boil. Remember, we have to add the instant potatoes after the water boils?”
“Oh yeah, boil,” Hannah pouted. “I forgot.”
They had worked together making instant potatoes for dinners before here, and Tabitha was very proud that Hannah had picked out a measuring cup and even seemed to pretend to read the box for the suggested serving size. Was Hannah anxious to show off how useful and helpful she was in the kitchen, since they had a guest over?
Or, wait, Tabitha wanted to flush in embarrassment. Am I the one anxious to show off? I was really gripped with the sudden urge to rush in here and, yeah—get a bunch of stuff done, all of the sudden. Even when I’m pretty sure no one else cared whether or not we’d be having side dishes to go with steak tonight.
“Good job being helpful, Hannah,” Mrs. Macintire praised. “Shannon—just about every night, Tabitha’s been with Hannah, teaching her to cook. Those two are just adorable, Hannah sticks to her like glue. Do you want to see—”
“I do not!” Hannah protested. “Not like glue.”
“—Do you want to see some photos we took?” Mrs. Macintire rolled her eyes. “I got them developed, but we haven’t sat down and fit them into an album yet. Karen wants to get me into her whole scrapbooking nonsense, all those ladies get together and go nuts over that stuff.”
“I’d love to!” Mrs. Moore agreed, lighting up. “You have photos already?”
“Y-you what,” Tabitha found herself just as surprised. “Since when?!”
“I’ve snapped a few here and there,” Mrs. Macintire said with a smirk. “I’m sure you remember some of them—don’t you remember getting pictures taken when you two were painting up that bookshelf?”
“Oh,” Tabitha’s shoulder sagged, because now she did remember. “Right.”
So, while Sandra ducked off into the master bedroom to grab photos, Tabitha closely examined the pot of water on the stove for bubbles or steam as if that endeavor took her full attention. Mrs. Moore stood near the dining table as if struggling to broach conversation or think of something to say, while Hannah seemed to soak up the awkward atmosphere and translate it into fidgeting and discomfort of her own.
You should say something, Tabitha told herself. She’s lost more weight, I think. She’s—yep, she’s still pregnant. Still weird, I guess I figured she would just gain everything back and then some. She’s working. She’s OUT OF THE HOUSE.
“You’re back to school, now?” Mrs. Moore broke the tense silence first.
“Yes,” Tabitha answered, relieved at an easy topic. “It’s different, this time. It’s going to be different. I’m, um. Paying attention to the people, this time. Not just the assignments and schoolwork. Forcing myself to talk to people, get to know new people. Maybe make friends.”
“We bought a towel,” Hannah added. “Show her your towel.”
“Oh, I, uh, yes we bought a towel, too,” Tabitha winced. “I have Personal Fitness. For first period. I already took it into school, though. For the locker room. It’s a Coca Cola towel—with a polar bear on it. Like in the commercials.”
“It’s cool,” Hannah said. “I helped pick it out.”
“Personal Fitness?” Mrs. Moore asked, looking concerned. “Do they—”
“I have a doctor’s note,” Tabitha quickly assured her. “I’m not doing anything active, yet. But—yeah. Soon. Coach Baylor is very nice. I have some friends in that one—Vanessa. Marisa, Grace, Tiffany. Bobby.”
“Bobby is her boyfriend,” Hannah confided.
Tabitha couldn’t help but shoot a horrified look down at Hannah for that betrayal, but Hannah seemed oblivious and instead gave her a supportive nod of the head.
“Bobby is a friend,” Tabitha hurried to clarify. “You, um, you might have met him at—shoot. No, I guess you haven’t met him, yet. He’s a friend from school. He’s nice. His brother works at the gas station just above the trailer park.”
“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Moore remarked with interest.
“Bobby’s in her same league, though,” Hannah insisted. “Big leagues. She said she actually likes—”
“Hannah!” Tabitha hissed.
“Photos!” Mrs. Macintire saved the day with her return, waving a small stack of four by six inch prints. “You’re gonna love these.”
( Previous, 58 pt 5 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, To be Continued... )
/// Et tu, Hannah?
Short post today, slowly getting back into the swing of RE:TT after writing over on the other side for most of the month. Good to be back!
Comments
576QAM
Digital video camcorders were a popular consumer item in 1998. Why doesn't Mrs. Macintire seem to have one?
Cano Mendez
I think Hannah would say, "Show her the towel," not "your". Feels a bit too polite and specific with its grammar.
