FortySixtyFour
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RE: Trailer Trash 7 pt 8
🕑 Added 2021-03-03 15:53:14 +0000 UTCLoud, insistent banging sounds startled Tabitha awake and she jerked against her covers, staring without comprehension into the darkness of her room. It seemed to be the dead of night, and being so suddenly roused had her blinking in a daze. There was a moment of silence, just long enough for her to doubt herself, and then—bang bang bang bang bang resounded out again. This time she could identify the unpleasant noise, someone was outside their trailer and knocking repeatedly on the aluminum of their front door.
At this hour…? Tabitha half-rose, unwilling to throw back the covers once she felt the chill in the air. What—what time even IS it?
Again the bang bang bang of someone’s fist rattled their front door, and Tabitha turned back her covers and sat up in alarm, pulling her legs free and preparing to— she paused as she heard Mr. Moore swearing under his breath and opening the door down the hall. Unfounded fear and a bit of adrenaline wiped away the last traces of her drowsiness and all at once Tabitha was completely alert— but frozen in place, straining her ears as she heard her father’s footsteps stumble past her door and out towards the living room to see what the late-night commotion was.
Who would bother us this late at night? Tabitha wondered. The neighbors? The POLICE? Did something bad happen? To who?! What could be so important that—
Her disoriented mind raced from possibility to possibility. Could one of the boys have gotten hurt somehow? Or had something happened to Grandma Laurie? To Elena or Alicia? Nothing much stood out in memory from this time period in her last life except Uncle Danny being arrested and the South Main shooting. But, that didn’t mean anything anymore, either—Tabitha blundering around through this timeline had potentially changed anything and everything.
Beneath her bedroom door a strip of light shone as the living room light was flicked on, and she heard the front door open.
“Oh thank gawd,” A grating but unfamiliar woman’s voice jarred Tabitha out of her thoughts. “Christ, Alan, lemme in! I’m liable to freeze my tits off, out here! Y’all are even lockin’ your door, now?! Things sure do change fast!”
“It’s—it’s almost midnight,” Tabitha heard her father say.
“All yer lights were off, I was ‘fraid y'all’d packed on up and moved someplace else without tellin’ me a word!” the woman complained. “What were y’all doin’, didncha hear me knocking?! I was fixin’ to break a window just to get in! Hold on—I gotta take myself a piss.”
To Tabitha’s bewilderment, the unfamiliar woman’s voice was closer now, as if Mr. Moore had let her into the living room. Which surely couldn’t be possible. Tabitha couldn’t make any sense of what was going on. In her shocked silence, she listened on as unsteady footfalls sounded just outside her bedroom door, and she heard a hand smack against the hallway wall as if someone was using it to catch their balance. She’s—who IS this— she’s just letting herself in to use our bathroom?!
“Lisa, it’s almost midnight!” Mr. Moore rebuked the woman in a harsh whisper.
Lisa—AUNT LISA?!! Tabitha leapt to her feet at the realization, immediately overcome by white-hot anger. This can’t be happening. This CAN’T fucking be happening.
“Hold on a second Al, I gotta piss!” Lisa loudly announced.
“Lisa, it’s just about—it’s eleven forty-five at night,” Mr. Moore didn’t sound any happier than Tabitha was about the unwelcome intrusion. “You can’t just—”
The sound of the toilet seat slamming down had Tabitha gritting her teeth, and hearing the clink of her Aunt undoing her belt—it was all too easy to picture the enormous COUNTRY GIRL belt buckle the woman sometimes sported, with its machine-stamped confederate flag motif—threw Tabitha into a fit of rage. How DARE she come back here. At this time of night, at ANY TIME, EVER!
“Lisa—Lisa, you realize how late it is?” Tabitha’s father was standing just outside the bathroom door and seemed to be struggling to lower his voice.
“What?” Aunt Lisa called back at her same obnoxious volume. “Were y’all asleep?”
Tabitha smashed her good hand into the lightswitch beside her door, flooding her bedroom with light. The air was frigid, but she didn’t feel the cold right now. In the mirror she saw a teenage girl that she didn’t recognize at all, a hateful glare framed by a mussed tangle of reddish-gold hair, the oversized sweatshirt she’d been sleeping in and her winter pajama bottoms. Tabitha searched her tiny room in desperation for a moment for something to strangle, and in no time at all settled in the plush Flounder pillow from Halloween. She crushed it awkwardly between her hand and her cast, but it offered no respite.
She’s here for the money, Tabitha bit down hard to keep herself from grinding her jaw. Of course she’s back for the money. The newspapers all went on and on about the lawsuits. About the settlements. Why the fuck else would SHE come back? She didn’t come back last lifetime, no, not this early. She sure as FUCK didn’t come back for her four fucking children. No—she’s here for the money.
Cradling Flounder against herself with one arm, Tabitha opened her door and stepped out into the hall. Her father was in long johns and gave her an apologetic look colored by his own aggravation, and past him Tabitha caught a glimpse down the hall of a furious Mrs. Moore hurriedly changing into a nightshirt. Satisfied that both of her parents were almost as pissed as she was, Tabitha turned on her heel and stalked out towards the living room.
Oh, we’re all going to have a lovely talk about this, Tabitha seethed. This is just like the stories from people who win the lottery—at first it’s all fantastic. Like living a dream, because all of their money problems are over forever. But then comes the greed, the wretched fucking UGLINESS, then the family or friends or what have you come crawling out of the woodworks, expecting generosity. DEMANDING it. As if Aunt Lisa is entitled to our good fortune, after she fucking abandoned all of us when we were suffering through hardship. Abandoned her fucking children! UNFORGIVABLE!
Mr. and Mrs. Moore followed her as far as the kitchen, where they paused to speak with each other in harsh whispers, while Tabitha continued on and took a seat on one end of the couch. It wasn’t easy to contain her fury, and Flounder once again deformed beneath her squeezing hand as she rushed to put her thoughts into order. Aunt Lisa was here. Aunt Lisa was going to play every card in her hand, every dirty trick she could, to worm herself into this family and leech off of their apparent new wealth.
The thought of it made Tabitha so incredibly angry that she thought she might be sick.
“Whew my damn, it’s cold-as-can-be inside, even! BrRrRr!” Aunt Lisa chuckled as she swung the bathroom door open and plodded down the hall towards the Moore family. “Thought fer sure y’all’d’ve had some heat runnin’, didn’t ch’all come into all that money?!”
Hearing the woman even mention money had Tabitha’s frown turn into an immediate scowl, and the sight of her Aunt almost sent Tabitha into a belligerent rage.
Aunt Lisa was trashy.
Despite the temperatures outside, the peroxide-blonde was wearing a sleeveless top with a plunging neckline that revealed an unhealthy amount of cleavage. As always, the woman’s bra cups were visible, and nothing seemed to fit—she had crammed herself into that top, and the ragged blue jeans were pinching her midsection into a pronounced muffin-top. Rather than the confederate flag belt buckle Tabitha recalled seeing Aunt Lisa wear in the past, this one was an oversized buckle featuring two crossed pistols and a tacky assortment of stars.
“Lisa—what’s going on?” Mr. Moore demanded.
“Y’all weren’t asleepin’, were you?!” Aunt Lisa seemed amused as she glanced at each of them. “If I’d’ve known I wouldn’ta been hollerin’, y’all shoulda said somethin’!”
The woman waltzed past Mr. and Mrs. Moore where they stood in the kitchen and helped herself to the living room chair across from Tabitha. The light cast from the lamp here was even less flattering—Aunt Lisa was trashy.
Her hair looked greasy, pit-stains were visible upon her shirt, her face appeared both oily and caked with makeup at the same time, and a prominent pair of cold sores on her lip weren’t quite hidden beneath the cosmetics. She was clutching a handbag against herself with both hands—immediately prompting Tabitha to suspect she’d already stolen something—and the combined smell of body odor, cigarette smoke, and stale urine wafted across the living room, as if someone had left open the door of a truckstop’s restroom to air out.
No. No no no no. NO, this is NOT happening, Tabitha was livid, and she pointedly glared daggers towards her parents. She is NOT family!
“Well yeah we were all asleep, it’s damn near midnight,” Mr. Moore groused, putting his hands on his hips. “What on earth’s going on, here?”
“My word, I’m so sorry!” Aunt Lisa pursed her lips into a pout. “I woulda been more quieter if-ins I’da known! I didn’t reckon y’all’d’ve gone ta bed this early! I heard all ‘bout all yer family’s troubles from my girl Tiffany in Fairfield, an’ I rushed over to come help soon as I could get myself here—sure ain’t easy without a car!”
Aunt Lisa turned in her seat and looked Tabitha up and down with that false smile of hers that never failed to draw out revulsion.
“Lookit you, though! Tabby girl you must sure be on the mend, ‘cause you look prettier than I’d a ever thought from all that goin’ on on the news! You look prettier than ever! Just look at you!”
Please don’t, Tabitha carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression so that her disgust wasn’t as blatantly obvious. Please just—don’t.
“I been workin’ the Wild Wings up in Shelbyville—good money there!—but, I up and dropped everythin’ the minute I heard the word ‘bout all what y’all been through!” Aunt Lisa drawled out. “Tabby, yer damn near famous! You been on the news and everything, even all the way out in Shelbyville we heard about all this nasty business. You gettin’ pushed around at school, then this boy attackin’ you right there in the middle of a Halloween party?! Unbelievable! Unbelievable!”
Tabitha used all of the acting she’d learned in the past few months to approximate a hesitant smile for her Aunt.
“Well y’all don’t need to worry ‘bout a thing anymore, ‘cause yer Auntie Lisa’s here!” the woman crooned, taking a moment to check and make sure her handbag was still held in close against her body. “Ain’t no one messin’ with my baby girl Tabby while I’m around, no nuh-uh!”
Now that Tabitha took a closer look, there was a smattering of acne across her Aunt’s brow that the woman’s makeup couldn’t conceal, and something about the set of her eyes now made her immediate impression come off as more haggard than Tabitha remembered from seeing her last. The tells were all present—from the unhealthy skin, her slightly-too-loud voice, the twitchy way she was completely unable to relinquish her grip on her purse. It only took a moment for Tabitha to remember the rather storied end of Aunt Lisa from her past lifetime and spot the puffy pink puncture mark on the inside of her Aunt’s arm. When she knew what to look for, there was another obvious scab on the woman’s left hand, apparent just between her thumb and forefinger.
Great, Tabitha forced a warm smile as her Aunt continued rambling on. Great! Looks like our uninvited guest brought heroin into our home. She’s not staying. She’s NOT family—and she’s not welcome here. We’re getting rid of her. TONIGHT.
( Previous, 7 pt 7 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next: To be Continued... )
/// This one's been a struggle (obviously) but in the end I've decided to bring this particular plot thread forward a bit to help balance out the lack of tension in the past few chapters. While keeping things relatively believable. Originally intended to be a Sophomore year plot thread for a more mature Tabitha to deal with, but after a lot of soul-searching I decided it's a lot more cathartic if a less mature Tabitha fields this one.
Do-over protagonists coming into sudden wealth is a major theme I wanted to do something interesting with, because few authors explore this ugly realistic side to that. Honestly, who would even want to? Am I an idiot? Stay tuned to find out. The previous bit with her and the cousins will still make it into Chapter 35, but a lot of stuff may still be rewritten or moved around or even put through a different POV.
Comments
Myob Myob
Actually it is simple to fix if you are cold-blooded enough. Give her a twenty for her next fix - if she signs custody papers for the boys to grandma and get her to tell you where she needs to go for her fix. Offer to drop her off near that spot, telling her you will contact her in a day or two with the legal papers. Then call the cops on her and the dealer. They get arrested. As part of the court hearing raise her unfitness as a mother and ask the court to assign custody to the grandmother. There is a 'Choice B' but it doesn't fit this story.
Too Much Sanity May Be Madness
"She’s NOT family—and she’s not welcome here. We’re getting rid of her. TONIGHT." Too bad it's never that easy. Not to resolve a plot complication in a story, and certainly not to deal with family issues.
