RE: Trailer Trash 1, An uncomfortable homecoming. (Patreon)
Content
Youre kidding me, Ms. Tabitha Moore asked, casting a wary look at the colossal old-fashioned MRI. There was something familiar about the giant thing. This thing looks even older than I am.
Almost! the young nurse laughed, distractedly wafting and drifting holographic menu screens projected into the air from the ring on her hand. Her fingers danced as she navigated through the clusters. Shes about half a century old, now. Dont knock her age, thoughsomehow or other, this old girl gives us more comprehensive scans than our brand new ones.
Somehow, that seems unlikely, Tabitha chuckled uneasily. She pointedly glanced around at the hypermodern fixtures and glossy white walls of the chamber deep within the University Hospital complex. It was the year 2045, and at sixty years old, she was petite and frail, with short gray hair and weathered skin lined with wrinkles. Shed lived a rather hard, unforgiving life, and futuristic medical breakthroughs in life expectancy had plateaued in the 2020slife expectancy even slowly declining with each succeeding generation due to increasingly unhealthy modern lifestyles. Which she was as guilty of as anyone else.
Still, though Looking at this huge old machine, Ms. Tabitha Moore was even more nervous to get her recurring headaches looked at for some reason.
No, its true! the RN insisted, patting the giant old machine. Shes special. Reads extremely fine deep-tissue electrical activity, catches all the little individual neurons as theyre firing. Theres some big legal deal, with the patent-holder not releasing the rights to the technology, or... something like that. University of Louisville Hospital has some sorta loophole that lets us keep using this one for patients, though.
And... its absolutely safe?
Of course! It had some sort of issue, only like, once, forty-seven years ago, I think. the bubbly nurse assured her. Do you have your PC on you? Itll have to come off before we put you in, sadly. Not because this machines old! Even with the new ones, you cant wear your computer inside them.
Thats fine, Tabitha said, sliding her bracelet-style PC off a wrinkled wrist and watching it go dark. She set it on the offered tray and then caressed the unfamiliar absence it left behind. Its just, Ive had a bad experience in an MRI like this, before.
Oh, do you get claustrophobic? the RN asked, flicking a finger through the display of light to summon Ms. Tabitha Moores chart back up. I think we can give you a sedative, if thatll make you feel more comfortable. It just makes the whole process take a lot longer.
...No, Tabitha slowly sighed. No, lets just get this over with.
Youll be fine, the registered nurse smiled, helping the older woman up onto the examination table. Take deep breaths and lie still, and thisll all be over before you know it.
With that, she slowly slid the exam table and its reluctant old passenger into the MRI. Leaning inside to check on her one last time, the young nurse crossed a safe distance away and opened the holograph for the device with a spread of her fingertips. Indicator lights blinked into existence as it began powering up.
You still doing okay in there, Ms. Moore?
It smells like old lady in here.
Hah hah ha, well have to see what we can do about that next time, the nurse laughed, shaking her head. Alright, here we go!
Deep breath, Tabitha, deep breath, Ms. Tabitha Moore frowned, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Its fine, that was a long time ago. And this is proven technology, this time. This machine hasnt had a mishap in wait, forty-seven years? Forty-seven years wasnt that
* * *
A terrible screeching resounded from the prototype MRI device in the Emsie St. Juarez Childrens hospital. A noise like impossibly loud scraping glass, rising then to a high-pitched nails-on-chalkboard crescendo, before finally fading away with the disconcerting pop of an electrical breaker blowing out. Everyone within a quarter-mile of the facility visibly flinched, a stinging pain blossoming in their eardrums, and then the power went out across all of Jefferson county.
Thirteen-year-old Tabitha Moore was still screaming within the device when the hospital backup generators restored power to the MRI rooman enclosed space which had sharply risen over thirty degrees in temperature, and was rapidly filling with smoke. The fire alarm triggered, and the twitching and shuddering teenage girl inside the prototype MRI felt raw panic swelling up inside her just as an intense pain began to subside.
Jesus fucking Christ! The door set in the copper-lined wall shielding the room and its sensitive device from radio interference burst open. Tabithas ears were still ringing from the unearthly din, but she still heard a familiar-sounding male voice shouting out. Get her the fuck out of there!
Im never getting in one of these contraptions ever again, Tabitha resolved, quaking in fear and struggling with a lead-lined apron she found herself caught in. Where the hells did this thing come from? I dont care what she says, or how bad the headaches get. These old things are goddamned deathtraps.
Several people pushed through the billowing smoke to yank the sliding examination table out of the hulking cylindrical aperture of the scanner. It was unbearably hot now, and to her horror, in the waning light of the smoke-filled room Tabitha discovered that her fingers now appeared bloated, looking like stumpy-looking sausage appendages.
In fact, she felt grotesquely swollen all over, her tissues... expanded, like a marshmallow microwaved for too long. Terror took over. Her breath hitched into tiny, useless gasps for air as she began to hyperventilate, and as the people were trying to help sit her up she realized her entire body was now shrunken, misshapen, her center of gravity agreeing that something was terribly wrong with her.
Eyes stinging with frightened tears, Tabitha looked up, saw the worried face of her father, Mr. Alan Mooreand promptly fainted.
* * *
No, Im not in any pain, Tabitha insisted, scrutinizing the man who resembled her late father. Even her own voice sounded off, now, child-like somehow. Mister ?
You sure dont seem alright, the man said, leaning in uncomfortably close and giving her a serious look. Sweetie, youve never called me Mister, before.
Sweetie? Did she know this young man? She seemed sure they had never met. A relative of hers? He was in his mid-thirties, and definitely from the paternal side of her familya cousin, perhaps? The similarities to her long-dead father were simply uncanny.
Did your goddamn piece of junk give her... what, amnesia, or somethin? the man turned to the doctor standing in the room again, his familiar-looking face filling with anger. Shes sure as hell never called me Mister before today.
Mr. Moore, theres no, um, obvious indications of memory loss of any kind, the doctor shook his head, and no way of knowing for sure, without taking her to the University of Louisville for another reading, on their MRI.
The first man snorted at that, clearly indicating that wasnt an option for consideration.
But, shes been through some trauma with this whole experience, so if she was experiencing short-term memory loss, it would be understan
All of the myriad clues seemed to fall into place, and the breath shed been taking seemed to seize in her chest as Tabitha froze up. It cant be. Im not shrunken, or mishapen. Im... YOUNGER. Im a fat and useless trailer trash little girl, all over again. TUBBY fucking TABBY. Youve got to be kidding me...
Trauma? Dr. Powell, that goddamned piece of junk almost had my ears bleeding, and she was stuck in there right in the ground zero of it! Mr. Alan Moore shouted. If you think
Theres no problem with my memory, Tabitha interrupted with a sense of finality, staring across the room with a blank face. Just with my comprehension of this current situation. Mr. Moore, am I to understand this is not the University of Louisville Hospital? Her powers of observation had apparently flagged in the midst of this ordeal. She was only now wryly noticing that the hospital walls here were terribly outdatedsterile plastic panels, rather than the glass-like enamel resin typical of hypermodern medical establishments.
Sweetie sweetie, no, the man who seemed to be a younger version of her father blanched, looking at her with concern. We drove to the childrens hospital, St. Juarez. Remember, it has the big, pretty sculptures in the fountain? Emsie St. Juarez?
...I see, Tabitha nodded, struggling to keep disbelief from her expression. She turned to the doctor. Then, may I ask what the current date is?
Thursday, May the doctor flipped the corner of a page on his clipboard and glanced at the date on her patient chart. May seventh. Nineteen ninety-eight.
Nineteen ninety-eight. Having her ridiculous suspicion confirmed stunned her into silence, and Tabitha stared down at her small hands and their now chubby little fingers in incredulity.
Forty-seven years. I knew that hulking goddamned piece of shit machine looked familiar. IT WAS ME. I was the one who was in their precious multi-million-dollar MRI when it went haywire, forty-seven years ago. So, in twenty forty-five, it sends my mind back to the past one that went berserk? Back to ninety-eight, when that infernal machine was at the childrens hospitalwhen *I* was at the childrens hospital?
Time travel seems so impossibly well, improbable. Nineteen ninety-eight. Dads still alive this is really, actually him. Hes alive. Mom, too, probably. Im in, what? Eighth grade? Ninth? I hope to God this isnt real. That this is just some... electrical signals frying my brain into some death seizure in this MRI piece of shit. Please, ancient fucking machine spirit of the MRI, just let me die.
I dont think I have the strength to do this all over again. Please, dont make me go back to being this fat fucking useless trailer trash. Im so tired of hating myself, I cant do it all again. I really cant. Letting out a choked sob, the overweight girl gripped the front of her hospital gown until her fists were shaking, and she rocked forward.
Sweetie! Mr. Moore leaned over her, alarmed. Sweetie, whats wrong?!
No, Tabitha cried, shoving him back with flabby thirteen-year-old arms. No, please, no!
* * *
I said I was sorry, Tabitha repeated, once again breaking the awkward silence within the cab of her Dads truck. I was upset. I didnt mean to be melodramatic. They were headed on the long drive home, after an ineffectual round of tests on her and some additional angry indignation from her father, who was threatening the staff with a malpractice lawsuit.
You dont have to be sorry, Sweetie, Mr. Moore said again. Im just concerned, cause youre still talkin funny. Youve every reason to be upset. Im still upset. Im not gonna feel better bout any of it till I hear back from that lawyer. That piece of doo-hickey they shoved you in couldve cooked yer noggin for good. Buncha psychos, is what they are, puttin a little girl in a prototype, where anything and anywhat could go wrong. Buncha crooks.
Do I still have to go to school, then? Tabitha probed, trying to sound petulant.
Having been living forty-seven years in the future as of... just earlier this morning, her grasp of exactly when that original MRI mishap had occurred in 98 was shaky. When, as in, what had been going on in her life at that point. Shed remembered that shed hit her head taking a bad tumble off a friends trampoline, way back thenthe name of that friend had since then escaped her, but bruises on her head seemed to corroborate that memory.
Am I still in middle school, or am I already in high school? It being May would indicate that an academic term is concluding, and summer is starting. Right? Fortunate, because Im rather unlikely to remember the names of any classmates. Or... even where my classes were.
Well, I dunno, Sweetheart, Mr. Moore said, uneasy. Youve got yer finals left to do yet and you seem to be up and about okay, thinkin clearly. Tell you what, how bout I call yer counselor and have you off for tomorrow, and well see what kinda shape youre in come Monday morning?
...Fine, Tabitha grumbled, genuinely unenthused. Just finishing out middle school, then, I suppose. The thought of having to repeat high school all over again, from the beginning, was a nightmarish prospectall of her absolute worst memories were from that period.
Sighing, she gazed out the window at all of the antiquated-seeming models of car that seemed to fill the roads. Nineteen ninety-eight. What happened back in nineteen ninety-eight? The only major event she recalled from those years was the big plane-hijacking, that terrorist attack on the twin towers. And, for the life of her, she couldnt recall if itd happened in the year two thousand, or the years just after that. It was, after all, a lifetime ago. The phrase nine-eleven stuck out in her head. Maybe September, of two-thousand and eleven? Thats further off than I expected.
Not like Id know where to even begin preventing that, she sighed. Or if I even should. Lets see. I never memorized lottery numbers, and I was always too poor to pay attention to stock market trading. So, I guess getting rich quick is out of the picture. Im not AMAZING at anything in particular, just... mediocre at dozens of things. Why ME? Whats the use in sending ME, of all people, back to the past?
She dreaded the thought of being forced to live it again, to be thirteen years old and be the fat, unattractive girl without friends all over again. Trailer trash, from the LOWER park. The social pariah who smelled kind of funny, who wore yellowed T-shirts that never quite looked clean, and never really figured out how to take care of herself, until it was too late. The dumpy young woman who forced herself on dates with asshole guys of the worst sort, simply because she was terrified of winding up alone. The Tabitha who made one, single genuine close friend in her entire life, a woman fifteen years her juniora brilliant, talented young woman who wound up committing suicide.
Went to college to teach, but it seemed too difficult. Tried to become a fantasy writer, instead, and published two books of a trilogy before they terminated my contract. Then, I just gave up on writing. Worked at the Safety plant to pay the bills till I was out of debt from school, which took... most of my goddamned life. Julia killed herself. And then, I became a county clerk in Town Hall office for years and that was it. Tabitha held a blank stare, feeling hollow and disappointed. Not much of a fucking life.
She shook her head, turning to watch the profile of her fathers face as he drove. Dad, you look so young. I have to watch you die, all over again. And Mom. I dont know if I can do this.
Almost home, Pumpkin, he said, misreading her concern. He pulled past a familiar liquor store, and his pickup truck made a turn down the hill, passing the sign for the Lower Park. There had been an Upper Park, at one point, mobile homes filled with retirees and the elderly, but it had been bulldozed and replaced with convenience stores, a gas station, and parking lots. The already low property value of the Lower Park neighborhood plummeted even further as a result, more or less hitting rock bottom in their area. The truck lurched over the speed-bumps ever-present throughout the narrow lanes of the parka measure to keep reckless and impatient drivers from speeding through the confined spaces and the familiar sight of their trailer came into view.
Her childhood home; a sun-baked and graying double-wide tucked into the rows of mobile homes, actually looked less dirty and decrepit than she recalled. There were no gaps in the paneled skirting around their trailer right now, and the ugly hedge hadnt grown in yet, either. The tree shed remembered seeing last, back when she moved out in her late twenties, was still a scrawny little thing, not much more than a thin sapling. Uncle Dannys car wasnt there, eitherin her past life it had been a permanent fixture of their yard for most of her time there, up on cinder blocks and wrapped in a faded brown tarp. Wonder when hell be dropping THAT little beauty off, so that he can go be in prison for the rest of his life.
Are you okay? Her father asked one again, as the truck finally rumbled to a stop in front of their trailer. He gave her another look, and she guiltily stopped peering around at everything as though seeing it for the first time.
I She froze when she met his eyes. Never appreciated how much I actually missed you. I dont want to lie to you, Daddy, and I dont think I can pretend to be a child. Wouldnt even know where to start. Im fine.
Uh-huh, he murmured doubtfully, reaching over to tousle her hair. He hadnt done that inwell, it certainly felt like forty years. Tabitha fought to keep her eyes from watering again.
* * *
Her homecoming was appalling, as shed expected. Her mother, Mrs. Shannon Moore, was still fat in a fresh, plump way, only just beginning to bulge at the seams. Nothing like the bloated, gigantic obese mass she would become in a few years, and Tabitha pondered on the most tactful way to ask if shed been diagnosed with diabetes yet. Still, her mothers knee problems didnt appear to have surfaced yet, and she was getting around under her own power right now, at least. Even if she didnt get out of her seat to welcome her daughter home from the hospital.
The trailers interior was cut off from outside sunlight by both curtains and blankets over the windows, dimly lit instead by the yellow light of incandescent bulbs. It was cluttered with mismatched, tacky, and worn out furniture, and it smelled. Body odor and greasy cooking. The carpet hadnt met a vacuum cleaner in well over a year, black mildew was accumulating in the corners of the ceiling, and dirty dishes were everywhere.
Tabitha begged off dinner on the excuse of a nausea that was becoming very real, but rigid family tradition dictated that she sit with them at the table while they ate all the same. Baked beans and toasted breadwhy toasted bread?was the fine meal that she passed up.
Nothing about the intermittent silence and small talk seemed real to her. Her stomach turned itself into knots as she warily eyed her surroundings in the trailer, because everything was half-familiar and half-horrifying. She could never determine which was specifically which, either.
Hope youve learned yer lesson bout those trampoline jumpers, Mrs. Moore finally shook her head. Yer lucky you didnt break yer neck.
Yes, Mother, Tabitha nodded politely.
Yes, Mother? the woman asked incredulously. She glared daggers at Tabitha, as if warning her daughter not to sass her.
Yes, Tabitha repeated dispassionately. What, did I normally say... Yes, Momma? I may have never amounted to much, but I WAS an English major. Im not going to be able to keep up some ignorant kid charade, anyways. I have too many other things to deal with, right now.
Ive learned my lesson. I wasnt being sufficiently responsible at that time, and the consequences of my actions were unexpectedly severe. In the future, I will mindfully endeavor towards more appropriate courses of action.
No need for attitude, Tabitha Ann Moore, Mrs. Moore warned with a laugh, forking more baked beans into her mouth.
Tabitha found that her mother smelled. Mrs. Moore was gross, disgustingly fat, and petty, and Tabitha was beginning to hate her, all over again. Mom, when you died, I came to terms with everything I could, and buried the rest. So that I could just focus on the GOOD memories, and leave it at that. Why am I being made to go through this again?
Kidsre getting smarter every day, Mr. Moore joked, not looking up from his own plate. Sweeties so smart she broke their brain-scannin machine. Guess she was clean off the charts. No one had actually suspected anything of that sort. From what Tabitha had overheard, everyone was blaming the MRIs apparent failure on an electrical fault that came about from a surge during the power outage.
Shame they never get any more respectful, Mrs. Moore frowned, pursing her lips.
With the wisdom and grace sixty years had given her, Tabitha kept silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She stared instead at the yellowing floral wallpaper, and patiently endured the sounds of her parents eating.
Afterwards, she found her cramped bedroom was stuffy and strange-smelling, and she could only resign herself to accepting that some of the body odor this trailer was rank with belonged to her previous self. There was a brief but potent mixture of nostalgia at seeing all of her long-lost childhood toys, and repulsion, in really realizing her past living conditions. Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she finally turned to face the mirror sitting atop her dresser.
Shed studiously avoided her reflection on the doors out of St. Juarez, and the windows and mirrors of her fathers truck. She feared the impact this sight was going to have on her psyche, and most of all... she simply didnt want to believe. Because she already knew what she would find. Shed spent most of her life detesting and struggling with this.
A hefty thirteen-year-old girl scowled back at her in the mirror. Pudgy enough, at that age, to already have a protruding stomach paunch. Despite having just started puberty and growing taller, her breasts looked like fat, not like boob. They were the unappealing fleshy contours a fat man would have, moobs, not feminine assets she could push together to form cleavage. Her neck was fat, her chinfat, fat cheeks, her entire face was wreathed in it, swaddled in layers of fat. She clutched the edges of the counter and dry-heaved. She pressed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Okay. Okay. Its not that bad. I knew I had a complex about my weight, my appearance, I just well, nothing was ever going to make me ready for this all over again. Never thought Id miss the OLD LADY physique.
It wasnt until her late fifties that she would drop all of the weight, mostly because of stomach ulcers that turned into a cancer scare. Not being able to eat certain foods without a trip to the hospital had finally transformed her into a rather normal-looking, even scrawny, gray-haired old woman. Her diet drastically changed, and on the orders of the nutritionist on her insurance, she enrolled in the local Taekwondo program for basic daily exercise. And that was when I became a martial arts grandmaster
...Hah, as if. Another prime example of her mediocrity. As the only elderly woman in that Taekwondo school, shed been exempted from actual sparring, and never laid a finger on anyone. More often than not, she spent the classes corralling the younger ones, or resigning herself to practicing warm-ups, stretches, stances, and exercises with some of the girls who hated fighting. In the end, Tabitha felt about as qualified in Taekwondo as an amateur yoga instructor.
Although. I wonder, if Out of a nascent whispering of curiosity, Tabitha carefullycarefully set her feet into a forward stance. Then, she shifted into a back stance. Dropping into a horse-riding stance, rising up into a tiger stance. Crossing her legs in a forward cross stance. Twisting into a backward cross stance. So, I CAN use future knowledge in my past body. At least that means those forty seven years werent some... absurd hallucination. Actually, these moves seem kind of easy?
She let herself fall forwards in the scant space of her room, keeping her back rigid and catching herself with only her palms. It was a loud crash and an ugly struggle, but she just barely kept her nose from violently meeting the floorand even managed to do a single proper pushup, before her protesting arms seemed turned to jelly and gave out on her.
Okay... doing that was dumb. But, also completely impossible, back when I was sixty. Guess it can be nice to be young. I could... actually get in shape. Not in my room, maybe. I could practice katas out in the yard?
I dont HAVE to be fat, this time. Already, Im disgusted at the thought of eating fattening garbage like my parents always did, here. I... know how to cook, now. I can actually JOG now that Im young again, basically whenever I want to! High school starts in, what, August? September? I can be in AMAZING shape by then! Everything can be different! All at once, the idea of changing her life began to brighten her perspective, illuminating all of the opportunities shed been too distraught to see earlier. Her skillsets from the future may have seemed unimpressive then, but couldnt she still apply them to the problems from her past? Shed had a lifetime to regret and dwell on all of them already, after all.
I can write my story all over again. GOBLINA, and GOBLIN PRINCESS, but with all the feedback and techniques Ive learned since about the story structure and pacing. AND, I can get it out there and published before the markets oversaturated, this time. Tabitha thought, her mind racing. Julie I can save Julie, I can fix things for her. Make everything right, so that she never even THINKS about taking her own life. I can save Mom and Dad from themselves, somehow! I can I can do ANYTHING.
As night descended on the aging and worn mobile home lots of the Lower Park, the bright, beautiful laughter of a young girl resounded from one of the compact little rooms within.
Im never going to be trailer trash again.