RE: Trailer Trash, 66 pt 5 (Patreon)

    After styling her hair and doing her makeup and then going through the house like a whirlwind tidying things up at what felt like the last minute, Tabitha forced herself to sit on the Macintire’s couch to still her nerves. Since committing to wearing the pushup bra for the first time she had chosen the burgundy top, which was now somewhat hidden as she hugged one of the large throw pillows tight. From here she could see everything—the front windows, where no cars had pulled up to potentially deliver friends. The handset phone resting in its charging dock upon the counter, which had remained silent. And the digital clock built into the VCR, where each mocking moment elapsed to the steady internal metronome blink of the colon separating hours and minutes.

    Tabitha waited.

    And waited.

    Those boys all rode my bus home, and that made me SO SURE that meant they were coming to my get-together today, Tabitha thought as her spirits sank. As if the world revolves around me. They probably don’t even remember. I’m sure they’re having a great time playing basketball over at Gary’s today—why would they even spare a thought towards my random weird non-event thing? It’s not like it’s a birthday or anything. I was celebrating for no real decent reason. Getting a cast off? Of course no one would bother.

    Knowing this sudden and dramatic sense of teenage fatalism for what it was didn’t help her keep it at bay. Being fourteen years old and enjoying the youth and vitality meant she was also just along for the rollercoaster ride that was her sudden and uncontrollable swings in mood. All she could do was hang on as best she could and try not to cry.

    She’d put too much work into her feline flick makeup today to ruin it this early.

    Just need to not think about it. Gotta just not think about the um, the GUT PUNCH I’ll feel, if the only person to show this afternoon will just be Elena coming back by. We’ll sit together in awkward embarrassment and try to watch the Willow movie, I guess. And then I’ll never try to host a get-together ever again.

    Maybe even Elena would call off—it was plausible to imagine the girl would be too tired out after their first try at running.

    No! No, bad brains. Stop doom spiraling! Let’s uh, let’s think about—cookies. We made cookies!

    Last night with Hannah they had baked a single tray of sugar cookies. This was Tabitha’s ‘test batch’ for art show concessions, and so they were large. Typically she used somewhere around two tablespoons of wadded dough to make a three inch cookie—this time she used a slightly heaping ⅓ cup measure to produce five inch cookies. These seemed to be just about the right size and heft as a snack to hand off to theater performance patrons in a napkin or slip of wax paper. Although, Tabitha had no idea how to calculate what should be charged for them or what prices would be sensible here in the nineties, and would leave that to Casey.

    The real beauty of opting for the much larger five inch plain sugar cookies was that they could each be decorated with art, in the form of icing. Which should be a strong selling point when she pitched these to the club next Thursday, as these were ostensibly for the Art Club’s art show. It would make no sense for the sugar cookies to be plain and unadorned. Unfortunately, the Macintire kitchen had a small tub of frosting but no icing, and experience taught her that those were not the same thing when it came to decorating. She would have to ask her mother tomorrow if she knew anyone in the Food Lion bakery who might sell them a set of icing packs in a spread of different colors. Which would also be a point to raise at the next art meeting, because surely someone there would have to do some actual basic  math-on-napkin accounting to ensure that they didn’t spend so much of their budget on materials that they failed to make any profit.

    That is—if they even go with my cookies idea in the first place, Tabitha thought with a glum sigh. There I go again. Getting WAY way ahead of myself. When I can practically guarantee Casey and the others aren’t even thinking about the concessions stuff there at all, yet. They’re probably still focusing on the grecian column or roman pedestals or whatever they were brainstorming to replace the cement buckets, still.

    There was the rustle of footsteps, and then the sound of the master bedroom door opening—Tabitha looked up to see Mrs. Macintire step out in slippers and a blue bathrobe.

    “Good lord—you weren’t up all night, were you?!” Mrs. Macintire teased. “I’m trying to remember. Were you sitting right there in that same spot, when we went to bed?”

    “Ugghh, no,” Tabitha showed the necessary eye-roll of exasperation she felt was expected of her. “I’m just… anxious! I invited so many people. When, probably no one will even show up today.”

    “Didn’t I hear the door earlier?” Mrs. Macintire asked. “I thought somebody came by already.”

    “Elena,” Tabitha said. “But, that was uh. We’re running, in the early mornings, now. We decided. As soon as I was cleared for physical stuff, and allowed to be active again. We did um, we did half of a loop around the neighborhood. It went okay. The first time back at it is always kinda rough.”

    “How were the new shoes?” Mrs. Macintire fiddled with the coffee maker. “You tried out your new running shoes?”

    “Oh, I did!” Tabitha perked up. “They were wonderful. I did remember to thank Elena again. The Air Maxes were great.”

    “Well, good,” Mrs. Macintire nodded and then turned to gesture towards the kitchen windowsill. “And, on that note, when’s the last time we watered poor Barb?”

    “Not yet!” Tabitha said. “The little slip that came with her said every three to four weeks in the winter time. It hasn’t been that long, yet. Cactuses are used to super dry environments.”

    “Cacti?” Mrs. Macintire quirked her lip.

    “Both are correct!” Tabitha insisted. “Cacti and cactuses both work, I swear. Cacti is the original Latin plural, and cactuses or even just cactus is acceptable as the anglicized plural! English is a complicated language!”

    “If you say so, kiddo,” Mrs. Macintire said. “My teachers always told us cacti.”

    “Do you say octopuses, or octopi?” Tabitha asked. “Because technically because of the Greek origin, that one should be octopodes—”

    “I don’t, really?” Mrs. Macintire laughed, giving her a look of amusement. “I’ve never had to. We well, Tabitha we don’t get enough of them slippery octopus buggers around these parts of Kentucky that I’ve ever had to refer to more than one of them at once?”

    “Y-you know what I mean, though!” Tabitha harumphed. “Sheesh.”

    “So, if and when some kids do start showing up today, should I take Hannah on over to the Williamses?” Mrs. Macintire asked. “So that she’s not all up in your hair when you’re with your friends. I have a friend from work coming by for drinks later on, and Hubby has off today as well, but I think he’ll mostly be holed up back there watching TV today.”

    “Oh, um—it’s up to you?” Tabitha said. “I checked the box on the tape he gave me, and the movie says it’s rated PG. Probably blood and violence? Since it’s like a sword and sorcery movie. Bobby said it might be too scary for a seven-year-old, but um, but I haven’t seen it yet, so I can’t really say. Willow.”

    “Willow,” Mrs. Macintire repeated, pursing her lips as she tried to remember. “I remember it’s Val Kilmer. I know I’ve seen it, but I don’t remember too much about it. Probably lots of blood and guts? I’ll ask Hubby dearest once he rolls his fat ass out of bed.”

    There was a distant performative groan from the bedroom to show that Officer Macintire could hear them.

    “Hup, there he is,” Mrs. Macintire winked. “I’ll go ask and see what he thinks. Willow?”

    “Willow, yeah.”

    “Be right back~!” Mrs. Macintire sang, disappearing back down the hallway.

    With a slow sigh, Tabitha released the pillow that had been hugged tight in her insecure clutches, gave it a few quick pats to fluff it back into normal shape, and then placed it back on the couch next to her. Mrs. Macintire had recognized her anxiety, and immediately set out redirecting her attention to the gifts her friends had given her. And then even teasing out one of those etymological diatribes it was so easy to bait Tabitha into! It was embarrassing to acknowledge how simple it was for someone else to manage her moods, when her own personal control over her feelings was so… slapshod. 

    Before Tabitha could sink back into her thoughts, the phone rang.

    “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Tabitha jolted up off of the sectional and dashed to pick it up. “Hello? Macintire residence, this is Tabitha speaking.”

    “Hi Tabitha, um,” A girl’s voice responded. “This is Grace. From school! The uh. The thing today you were having, that uhh. Were you still having it? Because—”

    “Yes, absolutely!” Tabitha blurted out. “You’re welcome by whenever!”

    Grace sounds super awkward on the phone, and then in turn I sound super desperate. What a perfect pair of friends we make?

    “Okay cool,” Grace made a sound of relief. “Cool, cool. Well then uh, then my dad and me, we’re gonna pick up Tiff, and then we’ll be on by as soon as we get there. If that’s cool. Oh um—should we bring anything? It uh, it feels weird just uh. Showing up, empty-handed?”

    “You’re not empty-handed, you’ll have Tiffany!” Tabitha assured her. “The uh, the plan was just to chill and maybe watch a movie. I guess if you bring anything, maybe something to snack on? I baked some cookies last night.”

    “Oh, cookies!” Grace said. “Cool. Cool. Uh, okay. We’ll bring snacks! Chips? Popcorn? Or something. If chips is okay? Tiff will have stuff. I’ll uh, we’ll see you soon, then. Bye!”

    “Bye!” Tabitha said.

    The call disconnected before Tabitha could remember to ask the athletic Grace about running together in the mornings, but that was okay, because it meant they would have something to talk about later. Her mind was just suddenly racing all of the sudden and she needed to try to slow her thoughts back down to normal. She hadn’t meant to feel like anyone was obligated to bring food, but mentioning snacks was what came out when she was babbling for something to say, and so now it felt like she was strong-arming everyone into providing snacks. But, that was okay! Someone was coming over today, at least. Someone was coming!

    The sinking angst she’d felt before was flooded in by relief, which continued to rise and rise until it was burbling excitement and Tabitha couldn’t help but dance in place. Tiffany and Grace were coming by! They could sit and talk—with Tiffany arriving, conversations would flow guaranteed. Because in truth once they got that girl started, it was almost impossible to shut her up. And, they could have cookies and watch a movie together!

     This is going to be so much fun!

    “Who was that?” Mrs. Macintire yelled across the house. “On the phone. Was that the power company?”

    “The—what?”Tabitha started to answer. “No, it was—”

    “Because, they keep calling asking about our refrigerator,” Officer Macintire spoke up this time. “Asking if our refrigerator is running...”

    “Don’t you dare!” Tabitha felt her face color.

    “Well then, we’d better go catch it!” Mrs. Macintire hollered. “Hah!”

    “You guys are such dorks!” Tabitha exclaimed. “I literally can’t even. Who even uses that joke any—”

    Before she could finish her sentence, the phone began to ring again.

    “Hup, there they are again,” Officer Macintire called out. “That’s the power company.”

    “You want us to get it?” Mrs. Macintire teased.

    “I’ve got it!” Tabitha responded, snatching up the phone again. “Hi, this is the Macintire residence, Tabitha speaking?”

    “Tabbyyyy,” Alicia crooned. “We’re gonna be on our way over in like—what? How far away is he?”

    A mostly inaudible voice on the other end of the line answered her friend.

    “Okay, we’ll be there in like—twenty. Jaye’s driving, we’re gonna pick up Bill and Ethan. Are there a lot of people there already? Wait, don’t answer. We gotta go, Jaye’s givin’ me that death glare, ‘cause she wants to roll. Byyye!”

    “W-wait, who’s Jaye?” Tabitha blurted out, more than a little dumbfounded. Bill? Ethan? Is Alicia just messing with me?

    “Jaye, you remember Jaye,” Alicia spoke in a hurry. “Janaye. Painter? Works in oils? And like, you met Bill right, I know you met Bill. I guess Ethan flaked on Art Club last time, but you’ll get to meet him today, he’s cool. He’s single? Maybs. Shit, Janaye’s-actually-gonna-leave-without-me-gotta-go-bye!”

    “Um,” Tabitha said to the already disconnected line. “Okay?”

    She did remember Bill—William—as the other guy in Art Club who’d shown off his binder full of artwork, and Tabitha definitely remembered Janaye. What she didn’t understand was why or how or who would have even convinced them to come to her random get together today. To say that she barely knew the Art Club group was by no means any kind of exaggeration.

    I guess maybe between Alicia and Casey, they just wanted to try to drum up some sort of show of support? Tabitha felt a little bewildered. I mean, I’m super flattered, I’m moved, okay I’m actually kind of stunned, but uh. Why would JANAYE even agree to come? She didn’t seem like she cared for me much. Apparently she’s been giving Alicia rides? I know Casey would drive Alicia around places sometimes.

    Moving past her initial shock and thinking about it a little more, Alicia inviting art people did make some sense. Although the girl got along okay with Elena, from what Tabitha remembered from the past week Alicia had never really warmed up much with Clarissa and Ashlee, and likewise all of the other girls Tabitha told them she was inviting were people Alicia didn’t know—Alicia didn’t want to feel isolated or pushed out by this sudden influx of other teenagers who might be there. Somehow that must have turned into Alicia insisting upon the art club members that they should be there today and going out and inviting them.

    Shoot, maybe I should have baked more cookies? Tabitha let out a giddy laugh. I guess at least I can show them today rather than waiting until the next meeting. I mean, REALISTICALLY SPEAKING, between Hannah and her parents the first little batch of cookies wasn’t even going to survive the whole way to next Thursday. So, good? I guess? This actually works out. If—

    The Seelbaugh’s silver minivan pulled up in front of the house again, and this time she could see that Vanessa was with them. Overwhelmed, Tabitha hurried to return the handset to its dock and then rushed to the front window. She didn’t know why she was in such total disbelief right now—it was like her expectations for today’s turnout had been ephemeral hopes and dreams yesterday, and then this morning they had contracted and contracted in fits and spasms of fatalistic realism as she tried to temper those expectations so that she didn’t wind up feeling devastated when no one showed up at all.

    Only, now it suddenly seemed like everyone was showing up. Even people she hadn’t dared to invite like Janaye, or kids she hadn’t even met yet, like Ethan!

    “Good news, I hope?” Officer Macintire shambled out into the kitchen wearing just his boxers. “Hah.”

    The sight brought up Tabitha short because who DOES that, just walk around in their underwear?! It felt like she was seeing something that wasn’t appropriate for her to see, even though he looked pretty good. Not action movie star ripped or anything, but pretty nice? It was hard for her not to stare at the puckered dimple of his bullet wound right there in the middle of his chest and actually see him as an attractive half-naked adult man. Who was ambling around the house like that, even though some of her friends were already here!

    “Uhhh,” Tabitha made a show of covering her eyes. “My um. My friends are here? Elena, she and her mom and uh, Vanessa. They just pulled up out front. You might want to get dressed? I’ll—I’ll run out and talk to them? So that you can—?”

    “Oh, cool, cool,” Officer Macintire smirked at her, taking his time to instead open up the fridge and lazily survey the prospects there. “Huh.”

    “Sandra—my friends just pulled up, and your husband’s trying to put on a show!” Tabitha tattled. “They’re already here!”

    “What? Pssh,” Officer Macintire laughed. “I am not, who’s—”

    “Darren Macintire, bring your sorry buns back here to this bedroom!” Mrs. Macintire shouted—although it was just as plain from her tone that she was teasing. “You leave them poor teenage girls alone, we don’t need them swooning all over the place into fainting fits. Who d’ya think you are, Conrad Birdie?”

    “What’s going on?” Hannah, still in her Disney princess pajamas, arrived from down the back hallway with a sleepy pout. “Why’s everyone—”

    “Uhhh—Hannahbug I’ve got to go greet my friends, I’ll be right back!” Tabitha promised her. “Brush your teeth, please! Wash your face. Good morning? There’s—”

    The phone began to ring again, and Tabitha stumbled a step, because this time she’d already made it the whole way to the front door.

    “I’ve got it!” Mrs. Macintire announced from the bedroom. “One sec!”

    “No way, I’ve got it here!” Officer Macintire leaned over the counter to grab the kitchen phone and brought the handset up to his face before anyone could stop him. “Roadkill Cafe, you kill it, we grill it. Cletus speaking.”

    “St-stooop!” Tabitha groaned, thrusting an accusing finger in his direction. “Hannah, go make your dad stop, he’s being bad! Go make him get dressed, some of my friends are already here!”

    “OoOoh, dad’s in trouble~!” Hannah mocked—but instead of going and chastising her father, the seven year old turned and went in the other direction, disappearing back down the hallway towards the bathroom.

    “Hannah!” Tabitha pleaded, hand hovering above the doorknob. 

    “Yep yep, we’re open all day,” Officer Macintire said into the phone. “Come on by whenever. Tabitha’s here. You’ve got the address? Uh-huh, that’s us! Don’t worry ‘bout food, I can fire up the grill. Oh yeah! Yep! Okay, see you then. Thanks a bunch! Bye.”

    “Who was that?!” Tabitha demanded.

    “Huh?” Officer Macintire blinked at her with a guileless face. “Oh, nobody. Solicitor, you know. Wrong number. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

    “It—It was not!” Tabitha protested with a manic giggle. “Stop. Stooop! Sandra, you better come get your husband! Put a shirt on! Put some pants on!”

    “Put some pants on!” Hannah echoed from down the hallway. “Sheesh.”

    “Sheesh!” Tabitha agreed, taking a deep breath and finally wrenching open the front door. As she did so, the phone had already begun to ring again.

( Previous, 66 pt 4 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 66 pt 6 )