RE: Trailer Trash 7 pt 3 (Patreon)

“Time to wake up, Sweetie,” Mr. Moore called softly, rousing Tabitha from her sleep.

“I was just... resting my eyes,” Tabitha protested groggily, twisting up onto one elbow from the softness of her pillow. After a moment of blinking herself awake, Tabitha saw the empty cardboard box her father was holding and her eyes lit up. “Is it time?!”

“It’s time,” Mr. Moore confirmed. “We just had our talk with the warden, and they’ve decided to let you out early on good behavior.”

“Finally!” Tabitha exclaimed, sitting the whole way up and starting to swivel off the bed.

“Hup-hup-hup, hold your horses little lady,” Mr. Moore held up a hand. “We’ve gotta talk about good behavior, first.”

“Okay,” Tabitha grinned up at him. “I’m listening.”

“The doctor said no running,” Mr. Moore began. “No strenuous exercise. No working out— that’s no jumpin’ jacks, no sit-em-ups, no pushups of no kind, not no way, no how. For the next few weeks or so, maybe more.”

“Okay,” Tabitha readily agreed.

“No long walks by yourself—nothing unsupervised at all, period,” Mr. Moore said. “No standing up for showers, you can take baths in the tub for a while. No playing tag with your cousins. No rough-horsing.”

“Rough-housing,” Tabitha corrected.

“That neither,” Mr. Moore nodded. “The doc said to keep any physical activity to an absolute minimum. An’ then, just to be mean, he also said you’ve also gotta take it easy on your noggin’. No more than an hour of TV at a time, same for readin’. Frequent breaks, whenever you’re doin’ anything that’ll make you concentrate or focus or work that head of yours too much. No hard thinking, doctor’s orders.”

“Okay,” Tabitha said with less enthusiasm, casting a guilty glance at The Unschooled Wizard, a Barbara Hambly book borrowed from Mrs. Williams that was resting on the bedside table.

“Doc says lots of rest,” Mr. Moore continued. “Naps every day, lots of quiet time. They had you walkin’ around a little bit okay, but you have any problems with your balance, or even if you just feel tired, you sit your butt right down and call for help. The boys got you a dinosaur to press for when you need anything. You need anything, and your mother’ll be right there.”

“A dinosaur,” Tabitha repeated.

“Makes a dinosaur noise when you press the button,” Mr. Moore nodded. “I’m told it is ‘way cooler than a stupid little jingly bell.’”

“...Okay,” Tabitha said with some reluctance.

“You’re not allowed to skip any meals, we’ve gotta make sure you eat everything on your plate. No using big words anymore or talking like a robot. You’re not allowed to talk back to your mother. You’re never allowed to talk to boys, and—”

“Dad,” Tabitha rolled her eyes and shook her head as her smile surfaced again. “Hand, please.”

Mr. Moore obediently assisted, holding her hand as she stretched her legs down all the way to the floor and carefully slid out of the bed. It took more conscious effort than she liked to steady herself, and after spending so much time as an invalid she felt physically weak in a way that made her heart sink. I’m not sure if I put on weight or lost it here, but… I’ve DEFINITELY lost muscle mass. Worst of all, I won’t be able to get it back for a while, seems like.

“Easy does it,” Mr. Moore said.

“I can stand on my own,” Tabitha assured him, attempting to tug her hand free.

“Nuh-uh, not ‘till your eighteen and grown you can’t,” Mr. Moore joked, not letting go of her. “Seems like just yesterday you were first tryin’ to stand up all on your own like a big girl.”

“Just yesterday, huh?” Tabitha gave him a wry smile, but stopped trying to free her hand. “Seems like quite a few yesterdays ago to me.”

“You’re also not allowed to grow up so damned fast,” Mr. Moore cautioned. “The doctor was very clear on that. Wrote it down in all capital letters and underlined it an’ everything. You need to slow yourself way down, Missy.”

“Uh-huh,” Tabitha indulged him. “Guess I’ve got no choice but to take it easy then, this time.”

“‘Fraid so,” Mr. Moore nodded, setting the cardboard box down on the bed she’d just vacated.

“Is that... real people clothing?” Tabitha asked with excitement. “You’ve gotta let me go so I can change, at least.”

“Your Grandma Laurie made you a dress to wear,” Mr. Moore said. “You hold your peace and wait ‘till your mother’s here to help you get it on.”

“I don’t need help to change,” Tabitha promised. “The little bathroom has handrails everywhere, look—by the door, by the commode, everywhere. I won’t let go of them.”

“Hmm…” Mr. Moore gave the attached tiny bathroom enclosure a doubtful glance.

“Dad, I’ve been getting up to go to the bathroom by myself for days,” Tabitha pressed. “Ever since they let me try to stand up.”

“Well… alright, go on, then,” Mr. Moore frowned. “Keep a hand on a rail. You so much as wobble, and you’re grounded here to the hospital for a couple more weeks.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tabitha assured him, lifting the dress up out of the box.

Pulling it up revealed a rather plain light gray fit and flare dress made out of surprisingly heavy fabric she imagined was perfect for these winter months. It had a modest neckline that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, long sleeves, and it looked like it would fall down just past her knee. A set of undies and familiar bra from home had even thoughtfully been placed at the bottom of the box. Tabitha found herself so enamored with the dress that when she gathered up everything and took an absentminded step in the direction of the little bathroom, she almost lost her footing.

“Sweetie…” Mr. Moore warned, taking her by the arm for a moment.

Didn’t, though! Tabitha showed her father a sheepish smile. Didn’t lose my balance. Just wavered a tiny bit. Not gonna let myself get distracted. Slow, careful steps.

After stepping in and closing the door behind her, she did reach out and take hold of the nearest rails, if only to confirm their position. Falling down for real would be no laughing matter, after all. Holding up the dress, she grew more and more pleased with it, and after admiring it for a few seconds more she gently draped it over the sink and quickly discarded her flimsy hospital gown. Wearing real undergarments again was an enormous relief, the first step to being a person with agency again.

The dress had no zipper or buttons, and Tabitha had to heave the whole thing up over her head and climb her way up into it. The fitted waist was difficult to squeeze her shoulders past, but once her arms swam up into the sleeves and she managed her head through the collar to wear it properly, it was a remarkably comfortable fit. Regarding herself in the tiny ten-by-twelve inch afterthought of a mirror the little enclosure was provisioned with, Tabitha smiled to herself and carefully pulled her tangle of reddish orange hair through the neckline. When she arranged things just right, the shaved portion along the one side of her head wasn’t even visible.

I look… frail, Tabitha quirked her lip at herself. Pale, way more pale than usual. But, the dress is very nice! Has quite a bit of weight to it, too.

“You let her go in there by herself?!” Her mother’s voice sounded along with a hearty smack. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Tabitha quickly opened the door only to discover Mrs. Moore had mostly been teasing—her mother wore an enormous smile at seeing her up and about and dressed. The small vase of flowers, Tabitha’s binder, the small teddy bear from the boys, the borrowed novel, and the somewhat morbid framed certificate of death she’d earned had already been collected into the cardboard box. Her parents stood there, waiting to bring her back out into the world with scarcely-concealed anticipation.

“Aw, just look at you!” Mrs. Moore sighed. “Here you are—your socks and shoes. How does it fit? You look just lovely.”

“It’s perfect,” Tabitha blushed. “Thank you.”

“Are we ready to go home?” Mrs. Moore asked, taking her by the hand and leading her over towards one of the nearby chairs so she could don her footwear.

“I’m very ready to get out of here,” Tabitha admitted as she bent over to tug on her first sock. “I’m ready… for ice cream. I want to go out into town somewhere—with my Mom and Dad—and just have ice cream. As a family. I think… I think that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

“Phew, that’s a tall order in the middle of November,” Mr. Moore chuckled. “And I remember both you and your Momma are tryin’ to watch your girlish figures now, so—”

“No, we’re having ice cream,” Tabitha shook her head in curt refusal. “We’re having ice cream, and that’s final.”

“You heard her, Alan,” Mrs. Moore gave her daughter a supportive glance. “Ice cream. Family. That’s final.”

“Alright, ice cream it is, then,” Mr. Moore shook his head before looking back to Mrs. Moore. “Did your talk go okay?”

“Ssh!” Mrs. Moore glared, raising a finger to her lips. “We’ll get into that later.”

Intrigued but not overly suspicious, Tabitha carefully tied one shoe and then the other, slowly sitting back up and then holding her hands out. Her father shifted the box under one arm and took one of her hands, Mrs. Moore held the other, and Tabitha drew herself up to a standing position, feeling better than she had in years.

“Let’s stop by and say goodbye to Mr. Macintire,” Tabitha proposed. “Thank him for letting Hannah visit me every day. Let them know I’m being released.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Moore frowned. “I don’t know that we want you doin’ a whole lot of extra walking around just yet.”

“It’s on the way out, almost,” Tabitha pleaded. “Please?”

“Well, of course we can stop by,” Mrs. Moore said with finality. “Alan—whatever my daughter says, goes.”

Tabitha turned a beaming smile up towards her dad, melting away the last of his exasperated expression in a heartbeat. She felt great, Tabitha felt motivated, despite knowing her arduous period of recovery wasn’t quite done with yet. Getting better enough to be out of the hospital was more than good enough for now—and Tabitha was realizing she’d been looking forward to sharing moments with her parents like this for a lot longer than she’d thought. Maybe her entire life.

We’re going to have ice cream!

( Previous, 7 pt 2 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, To be Continued... )

/// Short and sweet as I can make it without making suspicious readers think the hammer's about to drop. Gotta start building back up some reader trust, because from here we're heading back to our roots in progression fantasy! Hopefully when this is collected with the last two teaser sections into a proper Chapter 31, this'll be one of those chapters that doesn't make readers teary-eyed.