RE: Trailer Trash 49 pt 3 (Patreon)

“You didn’t open your other presents,” Hannah remarked, peeking over the lip of the bucket in Tabitha’s room. “Are they for Christmas?”

“No,” Tabitha admitted, turning from where she was laying on the bed. “They were for my birthday.”

Tabitha had been too quiet this morning, and Hannah once again felt like she was on full alert trying to figure out what went wrong. They’d made breakfast together for everyone—bacon, eggs, and toast. Sometimes Hannah’s sunny-side-up eggs still weren’t coming out right, because you had to be more extra careful with the yolk. But, Tabitha had taught her it was okay to just scramble the ones that didn’t work out right, because scrambled eggs were still okay too. Today they only scrambled one portion, which Hannah claimed for herself.

Tomorrow I’m gonna be SUPER EXTRA careful, and none of the eggs are gonna havta be scrambled up.

There were still smiles, but they were smaller, subdued, not as cheery as they normally were. Was Tabitha unhappy? Lapses into silence felt unusual, and Hannah would look up at Tabitha with expectation—but Tabitha apparently didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering her, and unlike with her parents, Hannah was genuinely worried about trying to pester the truth out of the girl. She hadn’t had any real fights with Tabitha, they hadn’t ever argued except in silly, teasing ways full of giggles and hugs, and the idea that she might someday upset Tabitha, that Tabitha might just leave—that honestly terrified Hannah.

“Well—open them!” Hannah said, confused and bewildered by the teenage girl’s restraint. They’re your presents!

“I should,” Tabitha said. “I’m just… scared to, I guess.”

The concept of not being super excited to immediately open up presents was so alien to Hannah that the little girl couldn’t help but frown and consider things again, staring down at the still-wrapped gifts resting deep in the bucket. It was true that you couldn’t tell what they were, so they could be anything maybe, but Hannah didn’t think they would ever be anything scary. Scary like, spiders? Dead stuff? Cleaning chemicals like under the sink, or a sharp knife, or razor blades, like mom said bad people hid in Halloween candy sometimes? Drugs?

“Is it… do you think they might be drugs?!” Hannah blurted out, looking up from the bucket in shock.

“No! No,” Tabitha let out a wry chuckle. “I don’t think they’re drugs.”

“Okay,” Hannah felt flummoxed, giving up on the bucket and clambering up to join Tabitha on the girl’s bed. “Then—what?”

“Oh, Hannah banana,” Tabitha sighed, draping an arm over her. “I don’t want to put all my problems on you.”

“You have to,” Hannah insisted, giving Tabitha her most serious expression. “Because, I said so.”

“Because you said so, huh?” Tabitha gave her a weak smile.

“Uh-huh.”

They laid there for a while in silence, with Tabitha just gently patting Hannah’s back. It didn’t feel patronizing, and the teenage girl didn’t seem to be clamming up, either—it seemed like Tabitha was at a loss as to how to explain what she meant. Mom got that way too, sometimes, Hannah remembered how difficult it had been for the adults to explain what happened when dad got put in the hospital. Some topics were really big and… heavy, Hannah supposed, not knowing how else to articulate the thought. Topics that weren’t for kids to worry about, usually. Grown-ups dealt with stuff like that all of the time. The thought that her dad might die, back then? That was unbelievably heavy for Hannah, it was absolutely crushing, suffocating, and although yeah she’d been mad that they didn’t just come out and tell her, after they did finally reveal it—she sorta understood that the weight of all of that was too much for any seven year old.

It hadn’t been easy when Tabitha got attacked at the party, either.

Adults stuff was sometimes boring like taxes and bills and work, but sometimes heavy with… with hurt and stuff that wasn’t even fair to deal with, but they had to anyways, because they were grown ups. This felt like that. Maybe Tabitha turning fourteen had piled up more grown-up heaviness on her a bit, because for the past while Tabitha had seemed tired, less herself. Hannah knew what feeling sad felt like, and that made her able to recognize that whatever was weighing on Tabitha, it wasn’t sadness, exactly. It was a weary sort of… emptiness, like Tabitha was missing something.

“I think…” Tabitha whispered out after the long silence. “I think I’m afraid that I’ll open up the presents and be disappointed. So long as I don’t open them, then, they can be anything! Schrodinger’s presents. But, once I do open them—then they can’t be anything, anymore, they might just be things that, that. That disappoint me. Or, make me mad. My relationship with my parents right now is just so very, very fragile, Hannah banana. It feels like it’s hanging by this one last little thread, this string that might snap any minute. I’m just… I’m not ready to risk any more disappointment, right now.”

That was… a lot.

Hannah didn’t know what to say to that, but it did all fit with her understanding of the heavy adult stuff, and not wanting to try to put that load on one little string. Not if that’s all that was left for now to hold it all up. She knew from the things she overheard her parents say, and from how all the grown ups acted, that Tabitha’s mom and dad had messed up, big-time. It wasn’t very clear on the why or how or what they were in trouble for, exactly, but Hannah did know that it was why Tabitha was staying with them.

“I hope they’re good presents, then,” Hannah lied.

“I’m sure they probably are,” Tabitha gave a little shrug, sliding her hand off of Hannah. “I just, I’m not ready to even see, yet.”

It seemed to be like a touchy subject, but Hannah sat up on her knees beside the girl, and then dropped down on top of Tabitha to give her an extra-strength hug. Maybe it would be rude to say Tabitha should just forget about her parents and instead stay with the Macintires forever. Hannah kept wanting to hint at that, or at least strongly suggest it, but now didn’t seem like a good time—not when Tabitha was feeling vulnerable about the parents thing like this.

If I say the wrong thing, I don’t think it can be like you just scramble the eggs and they’re still okay enough for breakfast, Hannah’s brows furrowed. If I say the wrong thing, it might be… like saying something bad you can never take back. I feel like that’s what Tabitha means with the string thing, with why she doesn’t even want to open up the presents from her parents. THAT’s scary. How do dumb parents even GET like that?

Her own mom and dad were dumb, they both always gave baloney non-answers to the how long can Tabitha stay with us question, with lots of we don’t know yet, honey, and we’ll have to see how things turn out. When the obvious correct answer was that she should just stay forever. Tabitha belonged with them, she was a perfect fit. Just the right age to feel like a big sister, but she could also do responsibilities stuff, like a nanny or babysitter. Sometimes she could be like having another daughter to her mom, a teenage-aged one, and sometimes when Hannah saw those two chatting alone, it was like they both spoke to each other as adults, as equals.

Okay… sometimes it’s still weird with dad, Hannah admitted to herself.

A few nights ago at dinner, dad had really ‘stuck his foot in his mouth,’ with a joke that Tabitha was getting to be like their family’s red-headed stepchild. The lighthearted teasing atmosphere with mom had gone from amusement to full-stop actual anger in a heartbeat. Hannah had frozen up and gone wide-eyed, Tabitha had insisted that it was okay, that everything was okay, but both girls had watched from their side of the table as Mrs. Macintire helped her husband out of his seat and then escorted him back to bed. Where he was apparently grounded for the rest of the night.

That had been awkward and bad.

Likewise, when mom came back and Tabitha had hurried to apologize, that just seemed to frustrate mom even more, so Hannah wasn’t blind to how delicate weird family stuff was with Tabitha around. Last night, when they came home from Applebee’s dinner with Tabitha’s parents, mom had been excited to take Hannah aside and explain that Tabitha would be with them a little longer.

No one had ever even told her that was a risk! Or that there was a possibility of it happening so soon! The realization that Tabitha might have instead gone back to her own family that night blindsided Hannah to near tears. The idea that Tabitha might just be yanked out of her life, at any time, made her feel like she was about to go ballistic and have a total meltdown; Hannah couldn’t let it happen.

“Hannah? Oof—okay, Hannah?!”

But, what do I even DO? Hannah frowned, refusing to unlatch herself from where she’d piled herself on top, even when Tabitha kept trying to struggle her way free. How do we make sure she just STAYS with us? Stays with us forever and ever like she’s supposed to?

( Previous, 49 pt 2 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, To be continued... )

/// Wrote a bunch of the AnimeCon finale, wasn't happy with how it came out; scrapped it. Then have been feeling like I'm running into roadblocks everywhere with publishing.

Royal Guard will do audio for me but won't touch ebook or print,  they don't want to risk an Amazon take down after detecting other copies online, apparently that aspect is automated and a huge bitch to appeal. Moonquill are interested in publishing audio and ebook, but with the caveat that the AnimeCon NSFW is all removed or changed to fade to black, which I'm obv less enthusiastic about, because those are the only good bits.

So, have been slipping back into melancholy moods, which helped me put together today's short RE:TT section. Waste not, I guess. Need to keep writing, even when I feel so completely ughh about everything. Wanted to again illustrate that Hannah is very sensitive to people's moods (for her age), but that she is def still a child and has a tendency to simplify everything down into her own terms and lose a lot of the nuance of what's going on around her. Just like Mr. Moore! Hahaha jk. Maybe.