It had been three months since my mother died, but sometimes it still felt as if it had just happened yesterday. She'd been out with one of her girl friends, Jessie, drinking at the dive bar. Her friend had been driving when they had a front on collision with a semi-truck. Jessie had died at the scene. My mom had gone to the hospital in critical condition. She spent the next two weeks in a coma with only the hope of a miracle to bring her out. But no miracle happened.
It was just me and Roy now.
Fuck. How could she leave me with nothing but her boyfriend? It really had been all she'd left. There was no money. There hadn't been much to start with, and what little there was had been drained on medical bills. There was no property. The three of them living in a shitty trailer in an even shittier trailer park.
Fuck alcohol. Fuck Jessie for drinking and driving. Fuck the truck driver for living. And fuck my mom for leaving me. I might have legally been an adult, but 18 was too young to not have a mother.
I didn't hate Roy. I didn't like him either. He was in his early 40s, but a hard and fast life made him look older than he was. His dirty blond hair disguised some of the grey that was coming in. He wasn't bad looking, at least as far as Mom's local options went. White trash attractive--I suppose I'll give him that. He usually wore ripped jeans, a wife beater, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. It wasn't my idea of attractive, but it probably wasn't far off from the type of man I'd end up with. Like mother like daughter, I suppose.
Thinking about reaching for a better life now seemed pointless. It was hard to imagine anything changing. I lost my job waitressing at the diner down the road because I had been spending so much time at my mom's bedside in the hospital. So, no more income. My grades hadn't been all that good to begin with and I'd been lucky to pass my classes--too busy grieving to study for finals. Thank god I'd graduated and it was summer now.
Roy and I were processing our grief in very different ways. His involved drinking a lot of Miller. Mine involved crying in my "bedroom." The trailer only had one proper bedroom which Roy and Mom had shared. There was a couch that turned into a bed and a small curtain to pull across for a mediocre amount of privacy. That was where I slept.
I had just started thinking I was coping with things decently and wasn't a constant crying mess, when Roy dropped a bomb on me that sent my life right back into upheaval again.
"You know, Callie, you gotta start contributing around here," he said, crushing an empty Miller.
I stared at him, not understanding what he was getting at. I was the one who picked up the empty cans he left around the trailer. I was the one who washed the dishes. I felt like I was contributing more than he was.
"Isn't cleaning up after you enough?" I said, a little snippy.
"No, it's not," he said coolly. "I'm talking about money."
"I don't have a job," I protested. Of course I would chip in if I'd had income. "Where do you expect me to work?" The only business within walking distance was the diner I'd been fired from and the gas station. I knew they didn't have any openings. I'd already checked.
"Better figure it out," he shrugged. "Gimme a beer, will ya?" He gestured at the fridge which was only a few feet away from him.
"Get it yourself," I muttered, walking out the door and slamming it behind me.
I walked around the trailer park to clear my head.
We'd sold Mom's car to pay off some bills, and now the only mode of transport was Roy's motorcycle which he drove everyday to the warehouse where he worked. Any work I found would need to be within walking distance. We lived out in the boonies, and I honestly didn't even know where the closest bus stop was, but I knew it wasn't within walking distance.
Unfortunately, the trailer park wasn't all that big and pretty soon I'd walked around it twice. Having nowhere else to go, I went back home. Roy was in his room when I got back--the door was shut and I could hear voices from the TV. Thank god. I didn't want to talk to Roy at all.
I flopped back on my own bed, closing my eyes. We hadn't eaten dinner yet, but I wasn't that hungry and I'd rather go to bed than eat a microwaved frozen dinner with Roy. I closed the curtain, giving myself all the privacy I ever had before changing into my pajamas which amounted to plain cotton panties and an oversized t-shirt. I closed my eyes, willing the sun to set faster so it would be easier to fall asleep and escape the day.
In the silence and stillness of working for sleep, the sounds coming from the TV were more audible. My stomach turned when I realized the sounds were moans. Even though it wasn't loud enough for me to make out the words, it was obvious he was watching porn with the volume on. It wasn't the first time either. He'd done it several times when he'd gotten a little too drunk. The first time it happened, I thought it was an embarrassing accident, but when it happened the second time, I started thinking it wasn't. He knew perfectly well that I was home, but it appeared he simply didn't care.
Knowing he was probably fisting his cock at that very moment made my skin crawl. It was these times that made me dislike Roy more and more. Turns out that without a girlfriend around he is even more of a pig.
I put my pillow over my head, trying to block out the sounds from the bedroom and fall asleep.
-
I made sure I faked sleep until after Roy left for work the next day in an effort to avoid him as long as possible. Between the inappropriate porn and his demands for me to contribute financially, I was in no hurry to see him.
I walked over to Alex's trailer. She was the closest thing I had to a friend there, though it was a friendship that was mostly based on location. She was 18 too and had gone to the same high school I had. Her parents were at work and we sat in the lawn chairs in front of their trailer.
Alex lit a cigarette and puffed on it while I told her about Roy's demand. I didn't smoke--it was a habit I sure as hell couldn't afford. She put her feet, clad in dirty white sneakers, up on the stump that served as both table and footrest as she listened to me. She was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top that her sizable breasts were testing the durability of.
"How does he expect you to get a job if you can't drive there?" she asked, pushing some of her wild blonde curls out of her face.
"Fuck if I know. Don't suppose the bowling alley is hiring?" That was where Alex worked. Even though she couldn't walk there, maybe they'd be able to carpool.
"Nah. Bummer too. I'd sure rather work shifts with you than Eddie," she sighed. "Such a weirdo. So, what are you going to do?"
"I literally have no idea. We've sold almost everything of value already. Short from stealing, I don't know what I can do."
"Hook?"
I laughed a little but when she didn't, I said, "Fuck, you're serious, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "I bet Creepy Ken would pay for you."
"I'm not going near Creepy Ken with a ten-foot pole, let alone with my legs spread."
Creepy Ken was our nickname for the older guy named Ken who was the worse for wear and often had very young looking girls around that everyone knew were paid to be there. Maybe if he didn't spend so much money on hookers, he could afford to live somewhere nicer.
"Well, I'll let you know if I hear of any legit jobs," said Alex.
I thanked her and went home. I was much more bitter than usual as I cleaned the trailer that afternoon. Not contributing my ass.
Roy and I seemed to be in mutually grumpy moods when he got back, and we ate our microwave dinners while watching a dumb game show on the small TV. We didn't talk much, but I was glad because I'd rather not talk at all than be asked if I'd found a job yet.
He got up after dinner and stretched, going to the fridge for a beer. Ignoring the dirty packaging of the TV dinner he'd left on the table, he headed to his room.
Irritated that I'd have to clean up after him once again, I couldn't help saying coolly, "Can you do me a favor and keep the volume down on your porn tonight?"
His reply was, "Can you do me a favor and get a job?"
"Working on it," I grunted, wishing I hadn't said anything at all.
"Maybe you wouldn't be such a moody cunt if you had an orgasm once in a while."
"I'm a cunt because I have to live with you, not because I'm sexually frustrated," I snapped.
"If you say so, prude," he sneered, closing his bedroom door behind him.
I wasn't a prude by any means. I'd had sex before. Plenty. I wasn't having any now, but I kept myself satisfied enough with my own hands. But unlike Roy, I had the decency to do it when I was alone in the trailer.
Not even 20 minutes later, I heard the sound of moans from the TV in his room. "Fucking pig," I muttered to myself, knowing that he was now doing it just to annoy me.
