Diesel fumes hung over the trailer park like a cloud, courtesy of Interstate 95, as the tractor trailer convoys rumbled through the night. It was as close to hell on earth as Mike Stone could ever have imagined, yet here he was...
Corporate downsizing during this infinite recession had robbed him of a cushy advertising job. Just two years out of college, he had neither the experience nor the contacts to survive. The unemployment checks had run out, and he was forced to go to plan Z.
Sharing the smelly run down trailer with him was his wife, his college sweetheart, Annabelle. She was the only daughter of a Memphis minister and the love of his life. He had nabbed her at a fraternity mixer as a freshman, before she had blossomed. At 18, Annabelle had a short bob hairdo, mousey glasses, an overabundance of pimples, a plump ass, but a beautiful personality. Mike instantly recognized from their first real conversation, as she batted her eyelashes, that she was shy and sweet and had an angelic face.
Mike had been on the swim team in high school and had a well developed chest and arms, to go along with his charm and dimples. As he handed her that first cup of punch, touching her arm in the crowded living room, Annabelle knew that Mike was the one. Her skin tingled and her lips pulsated as they shouted to each other over the beats. Dates followed. Conversation flowed about politics, religion, sex, the future, and the second Mike put his tongue on Annabelle's clitoris, she was certain that they would be together forever.
Shortly after graduation they became involved in a ritualistic ceremony which involved swearing absolute fidelity to one another and licking icing off each other's face. Later that night wearing only a white veil, Annabelle screamed, "Sweet Jesus! Fuck me.....harder....fuck.....me!" as her toes pointed towards the ceiling.
Mike Stone was a hard worker, an achiever, and Annabelle knew her future was secure. His advertising job in the big city allowed them to rent a beautiful condo in suburbs, drive new cars, and play with the latest electronic devices. They ate out every night and spent their evenings visiting with friends or leisurely making love.
Annabelle became a beautiful woman. Contacts, skin creams, and hours at the gym had transformed her body. She let her honey blond hair grow out, so that it now cascaded halfway down her back. In Mike's eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. They talked of starting a family. They were deeply in love. And their wonderful idyllic life disappeared in an instant.
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The true measure of a person's character is the way they handle adversity, and Mike searched frantically to find another job. Nobody was hiring, as consumers held on tightly to every dollar in the dying economy. He applied everywhere, but the advertising job market was dead. Finally, as their money ran out, he took a part time job in a warehouse driving a forklift for $10.50 an hour. He didn't care, money was money and he and Annabelle needed to survive. There would be no welfare or food stamps for Mike Stone and his bride.
Annabelle was supportive at first, but as the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, she became depressed and bitter. She took a part time job as a cashier at a local department store to help, but hated it. Dealing with the public all day tried her patience, and in the evenings she was short with Mike. They started to argue about small things. She remembered her Great Grandmother talk about how they "lived on love" during the depression. Annabelle was not, as many of her generation, mentally or emotionally prepared to live with less.
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The trailer reeked of bug spray and bleach. Build in the 1960's, its seals broken, its faucets dripping; the trailer was home to not only Mike and Annabelle, but a parade of cockroaches. Splotches of blood lined the walls and ceiling from smashed flies and mosquitoes, making the trailer seem like a giant Rorschach test. Annabelle's hands were constantly wrinkled and red from a chlorine rash, the result of wiping down the kitchen and bathroom and walls every day.
Mike continued to search for something better and listened endlessly and patiently to his wife's complaints. "She's absolutely right," he thought, "I did promise her a good life. I've let her down."
At night he held her close in the stale air of the ramshackle trailer, the vibrations from the Interstate shaking the ill fitting windows. "I'm sorry." he told her a thousand times and then told her again.
"Somehow, someway, we'll make it out of here, I promise," he whispered in the dark.
They stripped themselves of almost all modern conveniences in order to try to make ends meet. The television had rabbit ears. Communication was a land line with an answering machine. There was no computer, no cable, no internet, no cell phones, no dishwasher, no washing machine, no dryer, no microwave.
They lived on ramen noodles, generic brands of spaghetti and sauce, and Food Club tomato soup. Mike was determined no matter how poor they were to keep his Mr. Coffee. Caffeine was too important when you had to work multiple jobs to survive.
The only thing that Annabelle insisted on was a night out, one time every week. "I need to escape this hellhole once in a while," she begged, "I need to feel like we still have a life." Mike nodded in understanding looking deep into her eyes. "I need something to look forward to...," she cried in his arms.
So in spite of the financial hardship, every Tuesday they dressed up and hit the town. A restaurant, a dance club, a bowling alley, an art gallery, Mike didn't care as he tried desperately to keep Annabelle's spirits up. But as any observant husband could tell, she was slowly slipping away...
At the beginning of the third year, Mike was working 3 part time jobs totaling almost 80 hours each week. His work ethic and commitment to Annabelle were unwavering. He had almost saved enough to escape the trailer park and move into a decent apartment. It was going to be his anniversary surprise to his wife.
Work and sleep. Work and sleep. Work and sleep. But their sex life suffered greatly. Where once there had been affection and passion, the few hours they spent in bed together, Annabelle would silently listen to Mike snore in the darkness. Some days they would barely speak to each other unless to say a strained "I love you" as they passed.
"We need to go out. I NEED to go out. We haven't been out in four Tuesdays, Mike. Please, please, please don't be late. I'm going to lose it if we don't get out, baby," she sobbed as he got dressed for work.
"I know, honey, I know. I'll be home by 7:00pm. Be ready to go," as he gently kissed her cheek and she was alone again in the trailer with the red polka dot walls and ceiling.
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