FortySixtyFour
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RE: Trailer Trash 8: 8 pt 2
🕑 Added 2021-07-27 20:11:05 +0000 UTCA lifetime ago
“Happy Thanksgiving, Honey,” Grandma Laurie welcomed Tabitha into the apartment with a weary smile.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Mr. Moore greeted, giving his chubby daughter a nudge to prompt her to do the same. “Say Happy Thanksgiving, Tabitha.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Tabitha croaked, fidgeting in the doorway.
“No Shannon this year, either?” Grandma Laurie asked, beckoning them inside.
“She’s not feelin’ too great about leavin’ the house right now,” Mr. Moore explained with an awkward expression as he shuffled Tabitha inside. “She does wish she could be here with us.”
“Well, I hope she feels better,” Grandma Laurie gave him a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll put together a big dish of leftovers for you to take over, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds great,” Mr. Moore said. “Love you, Mom.”
“Tabby Honey—your cousins are all in the bedroom playing their video game,” Grandma Laurie said. “I’m sure you remember all the boys.”
“Uh-huh,” Tabitha said with reluctance.
Her grandmother’s apartment reeked of the unfamiliar—it was too nice. The furnishings were simple but tasteful with curio cabinets, an overstuffed sofa, a modest television set, and old lamps that lit the room with warm light. In contrast to the decor there was a pile of grubby-looking boys’ backpacks in a small heap by the door, worn plastic action figures were strewn about the periphery—Ninja Turtles, a Megazord missing an arm, a Batman sans his cape, a half dozen small Happy Meal Transformers toys that seemed to turn into fries and ice cream cones and sandwiches.
Both extremes made Tabitha uncomfortable. The toys were violent boys things with swords and guns and whatnot. The tastefully-appointed Grandma aspects of the room were a leap from what home was like and that put her on edge even worse.
Do I havta take off my shoes? Can I just sit on the couch and watch TV by myself? Tabitha couldn’t help but hunch her shoulders a bit as she glanced around. I don’t want to play with my cousins. Why can’t I just stay at home like Momma does? It’s not fair that she doesn’t havta come for stupid Thanksgiving.
“They’re right on in there, playing their games,” Grandma gestured in amusement, apparently of the mind that Tabby would just love to hang out with other kids. “Go on and say hi.”
“Okay,” Tabitha said with a blank face, mechanically stumbling down the indicated hall.
The hallway was lined with framed photos, mostly of Dad and his brother Uncle Danny when they were younger. There were several pictures of the cousins when they were toddlers, there was an embarrassing blown-up yearbook photo of a pudgy Tabitha attempting a dour smile from last year at Laurel Middle school—and as if to taunt her gross inadequacy, for some reason there was an astounding beautiful red-haired young woman with a gorgeous smile in the picture frame just above her.
She gave that one a lingering look, wondering just like when she had visited last year who that one was and which side of the family she was on. Maybe one of her mother’s relatives? She looked familiar in a weird, difficult to place way. Momma didn’t talk about her family. It was a bad subject to bring up, and this was probably why—her Momma probably felt just as rotten seeing this girl as Tabby did.
Her four cousins were all gathered around the bed in Grandma’s room playing a Nintendo 64, and none of them looked up when she came in. The TV screen was split into four different views, each one displaying a hand with a gun in it and dizzying blurs of walls and corridors and stairways and doors as each boy apparently controlled a different character to race around some weird-looking complex in search of something. A person appeared on one of the screens— no, the blocky polygons of two different sprinting people with guns appeared, one on each of the diagonal divisions of TV screen, and suddenly the multiplayer game erupted into a cacophony of wild gunfire that made made Tabitha want to flinch back.
“Hah! Gotcha gotcha gotcha gotcha!”
“No you—damn, stop, stop—”
“He’s cheating, Aiden’s screenwatching—”
“Gotcha! Hah-hah, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re—”
“I’m not even looking at your stupid—”
“Well now I’m gonna kill you though.”
“Nuh-uh you’re not.”
“I know where you are and your health’s like, all gone.”
“Ohhh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap—”
“Hi,” Tabitha interrupted with a half-hearted wave.
“It’s Tabby,” One of the boys—she knew all their names but didn’t know who was who— gave her a brief glance before turning back to the game.
“We’re playing Goldeneye,” the youngest one proclaimed. “Do you wanna play?”
“She can’t play. There’s only four controllers.”
“Yeah, stupid. Are you gonna quit so she can play?”
“No, you are.”
“Pfft, yeah right. You are.”
“Nuh-uh. I have first controller, so I’m first. Nick has fourth controller so he’s last—he should quit.”
“I’m not gonna quit.”
“Whoever dies next has to quit.”
“Oh crap oh crap wait oh crap oh crap—”
“It’s alright,” Tabitha frowned. “I don’t play Goldeneye.”
“Good, ‘cause we’re already playing.”
“Yeah, we’re already playing and there’s only four controllers anyways.”
“We should play Facility next.”
“No way, Facility’s dumb. We should do Bunker again next, but with proximity mines.”
“Bunker’s dumb.”
“Proximity mines are dumb. They’re basically cheating.”
“Yeah, you only want proximity mines because you suck at shooting!”
“Well, you’re just mad because you suck at proximity mines.”
“You can’t suck at proximity mines. All they do is blow up.”
“Yeah, when you play proximity mines it’s like the proximity mines do all the work.”
Having been immediately forgotten about, Tabitha was more than content to fade into the background and be invisible to them. She remained quiet and found an uneasy perch on the far edge of the bed so she could watch. This Goldeneye seemed to consist entirely of them just murdering each other over and over again with guns. The screens were tiny, they lit up with olive wreaths of red and blue squares for some reason whenever they were about to die, and trying to keep up with what was going on when everyone was running around so fast felt like it was just going to give her a headache.
Video games in her mind were for rich kids—she was interested and curious, but the whole experience was also intimidating and complex and she didn’t imagine her parents would ever buy her anything like that. Glancing at the oversized controllers perplexed her even more, because each of the smooth plastic contraptions in her cousins’ hands had three handles, a joystick, and an incomprehensible array of different colored buttons in strange groupings. Tabitha did want to try playing a Nintendo 64 sometime, but not here and not like this. She wanted to play something that looked actually fun like from the Banjo Kazooie commercials that played on TV, or get into that Pokemon thing that she overheard everyone else at school always talking about.
Tabitha watched on with a bored expression as the younger boys continue to violently murder each other in the game for the better part of an hour. She didn’t have to speak up or try to get to know them, so that was nice at least. She was free to sit back by herself with no one paying attention to her and daydream of someday having her own friends to play cool-looking Nintendo 64 games with. After all, someday—someday she’d have a bunch of her own friends to have fun with, and it’d be amazing.
Somewhere in her bitter thirteen-year-old heart, she already knew it was never ever going to happen.
“Booooys!” Grandma Laurie yelled over from the kitchen. It sounded as though she was very used to having to holler. “Tabby, boys—turn that thing off and c’mon out, Thanksgiving supper’s ready.”
Mismatched chairs had been requisitioned and set up for the additional two guests and everyone took places at the table, with Tabitha sitting next to her Dad while the boys all clambered haphazardly into their seats. They didn’t have much in the way of manners, with two of the cousins rising up to sit on their knees so they could put their hands on the table and peer across the ‘lavish’ spread of food.
Thanksgiving dinner was baked beans with hot dogs mixed in, as well as instant mashed potatoes and coleslaw and stuffing. Tabby remembered the year before there had been a big turkey they baked in the oven, but it apparently wasn’t worth the effort with Uncle Danny and Aunt Lisa gone to… well, wherever they were. The boys were picky eaters and wouldn’t eat turkey, it came right from a roasted dead bird and that was weird. Much like Tabitha, they were raised on processed meats like bologna slices and ninety-nine cent hot dog packs—actual turkey was too bizarre. Grandma Laurie had done her best to make an occasion of it, but still nothing looked all that appetizing to Tabby.
“I was gonna buy a big ham and carve it up, but…” Grandma Laurie sighed and gave her son an apologetic look. “I figured the boys might not eat it, and I might as well save the extra money for their Christmas instead.”
“Everything looks great, Mom,” Mr. Moore promised her. “There’s more here than we can eat anyways, we’ve gotta be thankful. Tabby, boys—doesn’t everything look great?”
“What’s that?” One of the boys stabbed a finger at one of the dishes. “It smells gross.”
“That’s coleslaw, we had it here last year,” Grandma Laurie reminded the boy. “You won’t eat it—we have beans and hot dogs for you boys.”
“Beans, beans, the magical fruit,” one of the other boys sang, “the more you eat, the more you toot!”
“Samuel, enough,” Grandma Laurie warned. “Sit properly at the table. Do you wanna say grace?”
“No way,” the boy made a face. “Nick can say grace.”
“I’m not saying grace!”
“Yub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!” The singing boy chimed in again.
“Hey now, we have company,” Grandma Laurie sighed. “Behave yourselves.”
“Boys, sit,” Mr. Moore commanded in a stern voice. “Mom, I’ll say grace.”
Tabitha obediently bowed her head and clasped her doughy hands together over the swell of her protruding stomach. It was a constant reminder of how fat she felt, especially when they were about to tuck into a big meal like this. Other girls seemed to simply be skinny and it was natural and effortless for them, and the frustration of that made Tabitha just want to shrink back into herself and disappear like always.
“Dear heavenly Father, we thank you for this meal you’ve given us. We thank you for looking over us—for watching over these boys, for looking after my daughter. We thank you for all of your blessings, and we’re thankful that we’re able to sit and eat together as a family. Amen.”
* * *
Now
Tabitha sat sandwiched between her mother and father on the bench seat of his truck, staring down at the cast she held on her lap. She was nothing like that Tabitha of old—she was slender enough now that she appeared frail, but she carried herself with confidence and poise. Mrs. Moore was joining them, this time, not only having likewise lost weight, but having overcome the agoraphobia that kept her from ever leaving the mobile home last lifetime.
Aunt Lisa was riding along with them, lounging back there behind in the open air bed of the truck, a bony elbow propped up on the side. The sheer amount of differences between this Thanksgiving and the one from her previous life just completely overwhelmed whatever scant few similarities remained. So much had changed that there wasn’t even any point in ruminating over it anymore—there was no meaning to be gleaned from examining subtle changes. There were no subtle changes. Everything had changed in drastic ways, from the cast of actors to the relationships to the present narrative. It wasn’t even November twenty-fifth today. They were having their family Thanksgiving a day early, so that the Moores could join the Macintires on actual Thanksgiving.
“Boys’re sure in for a surprise,” Mr. Moore remarked. “Seein’ their Mom again for Thanksgiving.”
“Uh-huh,” Tabitha stared forward out the windshield, doing her best not to scowl.
To her father’s dismay, silence once again pervaded the cab of the truck. Whenever Lisa got brought up, Mrs. Moore sealed her lips and held her peace, either because she had nothing to say about the matter, or perhaps in show of solidarity with Tabitha’s obvious growing animosity for the woman. Shannon Moore had never had much of a rapport with any of Alan’s side of the family, and it was only in recent months that she’d started to be on better terms with even Grandma Laurie.
Tabitha hadn’t known any of them well in her first life. Though circumstances here in this one had at first pushed Tabitha towards her Grandma only for help squeezing out from beneath her mother’s obstinate thumb... by this point Tabitha had bridged strong familial connections between both of them. Her mother and father, her Grandma, the four cousins— these were all her family now. Uncle Danny and her Aunt Lisa were not. As far as she was concerned lines had been drawn, and they just grew more and more solid every time Aunt Lisa opened her mouth and something ignorant popped out.
“Heeeey booooys!” Aunt Lisa yelled out the moment Mr. Moore made the final turn through the development and Grandma Laurie’s was in sight. The boys were out playing in the yard as usual, and each one of the cousins looked stunned as Aunt Lisa rose up into a half-standing position in the bed of the moving vehicle so that she could let out a loud wolf whistle.
“MOM!” Aiden squealed, breaking into a teary-eyed sprint across Grandma Laurie’s front yard towards the truck.
Mr. Moore slowed as the boy ran in front of the truck, and the chassis rocked as Aunt Lisa hopped out of the back, waving proudly with both arms like this was the parade for a returning hero. Aiden ran into his mother with such force that he nearly bowled the woman off her feet, while Tabitha watched on in mounting frustration. I should have—I don’t know what I should have done. Prevented them meeting again, somehow. Some way.
“Awww, Aidey Baby!” Lisa crooned, splaying her long false nails and patting the boy’s back with her palms so as not to break her acrylics. “Aidey Baby—did you miss yer Momma?!”
Of course he missed his fucking mother you stupid TWAT, Tabitha seethed as she followed her mother out of the truck and stepped to the curb. ‘Mother’ is the name for God in the hearts of little children. You’re their Mom—at that age, you’re EVERYTHING to them.
How could she prove to her parents that Aunt Lisa was getting into heroin, and that she had only returned for the money? She felt sure that Aunt Lisa had drugs in her purse, and that that was why she was guarding it so closely. Who would believe her if Tabitha claimed to know there was heroin in that purse, though? She hadn’t been into Aunt Lisa’s purse—there’d been no opportunity, Aunt Lisa didn’t let it out of her sight for a moment. There might not even be drugs in the purse, for all she knew Aunt Lisa could just be paranoid about letting anyone near the last of her stash of saved money or something.
Even if I pull a bunch of needles out of her purse and wave them around—how can I prove it’s heroin and not insulin or something? Tabitha grit her teeth and shifted her weight from foot to foot and then turned and took several steps back and forth to bleed off her restless annoyance. It’d be my word against hers.
Me, the emotional teen. Accusing her of being a drug addict out of nowhere, for no discernable reason to them. When they already feel I’m at odds with her. Lisa’s already slippery, and probably already has alibis and excuses and whatever reasoning thought up for being called out.
Watching Aiden bury his face against that awful woman, and seeing her carefully sink her talons back into him made Tabitha furious. Was that a cold, calculative glint in Lisa’s wretched eyes, or was it just her imagination getting the best of her? Tabitha had half a mind to stomp over there and lean in close to see, to make some dramatic display of pointed accusation, to confront this terrible truth that everyone else must be willingly blinding themselves to.
There were too many gut-wrenching feelings to deal with right now, and more than anything Tabitha just wanted to immediately leave and go back home. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to feel betrayed by how her cousins gathered around Aunt Lisa with wet eyes, but Tabitha felt betrayed anyways. She refused to believe she was jealous, she was not jealous, but anger at Lisa and sympathy for the boy’s misplaced love for their mother wrestled with one another within her, and she didn’t stand to benefit from either of them winning out.
“Mom—Mom,” Joshua vied for his mother’s attention.
“Mom, where did you go?!” The hurt in Samuel’s eyes seemed to devastate only Tabitha, because everyone else was smiling as if they were touched by the happy reunion.
“Moooom!” Aiden wailed, refusing to let go of the woman.
It’s just me—of course it’s just me, Tabitha grit her teeth. I’m the only one poisoned by future knowledge. Knowing that she didn’t come back for THEM, that she’s just, just this filthy fucking parasite scurrying back at the smell of money. I wish I didn’t know. I wish I DIDN’T know. Fuck. I need to—I need to calm down. Calm down.
“Well,” Mr. Moore let out an uneasy chuckle, looking up past the tearful reunion in the front yard to where Grandma Laurie was stepping out onto the porch. “Surprise?”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Grandma Laurie gave the family a strained smile. “Shannon, it’s good to see you. Tabby Honey—I’m glad you could make it.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Grandma,” Tabitha forced out, trying—and failing—to put on a smile.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Shannon called, pointedly glancing past the scene Lisa was making from her mother-in-law to her daughter and back again as if to ignore some unspoken unpleasant truth.
“Well o’course it is!” Lisa snorted. “Momma’s back, aren’t ch’all thankful?! We’re gon’ havta break out the beer an’ celebrate Thanksgiving proper this year, you hear me?”
All at once, Tabitha felt like she was completely done with the whole do-over. She was sick and tired of it—she just wanted the ignorance and naivety of a thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old girl again. That time in her first life having Thanksgiving with Grandma Laurie and the boys, hadn’t that been pretty okay? Had all this future knowledge really made her any happier?
The future sucks. It sucks! It’s completely shitty and awful and depressing and I’m, I’m sick of having it just hang over my head, Tabitha scowled, feeling the swelling surge of emotion get the better of her once again. Sick of having it Loom over me with inevitability. Everything I want to change for the better seems to just take HERCULEAN effort, shifting any stone of obstruction in the path of my past reveals a serpent sleeping beneath I never knew about. There’s so many frustrating things I CAN’T change—and I’m just hurting and exhausted, all of the fucking time. All of the fucking time!
( Previous, 8 pt 1 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 8 pt 3 )
/// The previous life / current life contrast will hopefully make sense with the next few sections. Gonna go make lunch, will come back and fix guide page links and all that in an hour or two.
Comments
Same thing here. I thought I'd just see what this other story was about, read 1 chapter, then go back to waiting for more AnimeCon Harem. This is way more engrossing than I ever expected.
J Alberto Abreu
Yeah, now I just want moar!
martin Silsby
Don't you just hate when that happens?
TeamAONN.Com
Is truck Kun an actual truck? And would she be standing in front of it when it's rolling down a hill at 100+ miles per hour?
J Alberto Abreu
Damn! I subscribed to this Patreon a couple of days ago to get more weird nerd porn, and instead I find myself immersed in a gut wrenching time-travel-do-over story. I read the whole thing in one go! Great writing!
ZeroCross
Isekai NIMBYism.
Too Much Sanity May Be Madness
Why would you wish such a person upon an innocent isekai universe?
ZeroCross
I hope Aunt Lisa has a hot date coming up with Truck-kun.
