RE, page 65
“Pfffftt—don’t get all huffy with me, girl.” Aunt Lisa rolled her eyes at Tabitha’s smoldering glare as the teenager fought to keep it all in. “Lookin’ like someone pissed in yer Cheerios. Jesus H. Christ, Alan, look at this attitude on her! Y’all need to get a handle on that big ol’ swollen head o’ hers, an’ raise her up proper. Yah right, like some suit ‘n tie lawyer was gonna hand all that money to a li’l girl barely inta her pushup bra. O’course it’s goin’ to us—yer parents. Hah!”
“Forgive me, I’ve indeed lost my composure.” Tabitha rose from her seat and gave her father a meaningful look. He should understand by now just how she was feeling when she chose her words so carefully. “Please, excuse me.”
“We’ll… talk about it when—” Mr. Moore began to promise, but he was cut off by Aunt Lisa’s boisterous mocking laughter in response to Tabitha’s apparent prim and proper dialect.
Now not wanting to talk to anyone at all, Tabitha stalked on down the hallway toward the bathroom so that she could brush her teeth and wash her face.
Okay. Calm down again, calm down again. CALM DOWN. Why is it so hard for me to calm down?! Tabitha took special care not to slam the bathroom door, despite the urgent motion of it trembling within her arm, desperate to explode out. She’s just this shitty fucking—she’s just, just getting under your skin. Keeping you off-balance. I still have all the advantages, here, right? I have all kinds of future knowledge. I have—I just need to… to calm down, to go through and remember anything I can that might be useful with this.
It was easier said than done.
She swiped her toothbrush out of the holder, glared at the dab of toothpaste she applied atop the bristles, and then bared her teeth in a snarl toward the mirror so that she could angrily brush her teeth. With each passing month, it became more difficult for her to detach herself from situations and manage that numb robotic act, where with her eloquent manner of speech, she could pretend she was more of an observer than a participant in this second life. She was involved now, she was mired in this trailer trash shitpile life, and now she was going to have to get both hands into the muck if she wanted to somehow climb out of it someday.
Furious, Tabitha spat into the sink before she meant to, wasting some of her toothpaste.
Damn. Do I have, what, latent anger management issues I never discovered? Tabitha paused for a moment to regard her foaming-at-the-mouth reflection with a glare and then spat again. Just never even found out if I had a temper or not last time, because I always kept my head down and shied away from those situations? Maybe?
Her psychological issues were complicated and increasingly hard to self-diagnose, and she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to sort out relevant factors from misleading ones. She knew why Aunt Lisa got her so riled up; the woman was one hundred percent pure, undiluted trailer trash. Soon-to-be or already a heroin junkie, and a shameless parasite uncomfortably close to worming her way back into the small group of people she cared a lot about.
At least, I care a lot about them THIS time, Tabitha glowered as she viciously resumed scrubbing her teeth. Yeah. That’s probably it. Probably why I never got angry at much of anything in my last life—I wasn’t real close to anyone. Or anything. Not here at this age, at least. To me, me and my immediate family were trailer trash, and then that whole side of the family over there with Uncle Danny and Aunt Lisa were worse, just… garbage, petty criminals. Convicts and drug addicts, and their drug addict and dropout kids.
Not relatives she wanted to associate with, but ones that certainly lingered on in her mind all throughout her life. Because, while she always personally felt like trailer trash, at least she had these other people in her life to prop up as examples of worse trailer trash.
Okay. Doesn’t feel great to admit, but that’s what they were to me, I think. Tabitha spat again into the sink. Uncle Danny, Aunt Lisa, all of the cousins. They weren’t FAMILY, they were just… examples, some idea for me to cling to. Because I could look at their lives and then console myself with ‘well, I may have always been trailer trash, but at least I was never THAT bad.’
It was another tough pill to swallow, but since she’d begun to make progress in bettering herself in this life, it was getting easier to recognize her own shortcomings. As for what she was going to do about it—Tabitha just had to start drawing lines. Her four cousins were still young, and swerving their paths onto a better future was entirely possible. Uncle Danny was already in jail; that ship had apparently sailed and there was nothing she could do about it. As for Aunt Lisa…
If I’m completely honest with myself, I just don’t even WANT to help her. Tabitha made a face as she rinsed her mouth. I can’t stand her, and that’s just a fact. Maybe with some kind of brilliant 4D CHESS, JUST AS KEIKAKU plan, I COULD get her to clean up her act and be a proper mother, and maybe that WOULD be the ideal best outcome for the boys. MY mother seemed just as rotten just a few months ago—and look how far she’s come.
I just… Tabitha grimaced at her reflection as the weight of difficult choices seemed to press down and smother her once again. I’m a planner, but I’m not some kind of super schemer. I don’t know if I can put in that kind of effort for Lisa. I mean, I know I could try—but more and more, I don’t think I will. I’m a good person, or I try to be, but maybe I’m not THAT good of a person. It’s easy for me to be flippant about it, I guess, until I stop and really think about how much NOT helping Lisa change into a different person might cost the boys. But then, on the other hand… some people can’t be helped. Right?
* * *
Shortly after Aunt Lisa finished applying her falsies and seemed all fancied up to go out somewhere—the woman crashed, settling in on their couch with her newly-made-up face smooshed in against the armrest to sleep. Tabitha could see the cosmetics smearing into their worn upholstery, and she regarded the unwelcome guest in their living room with confusion and bewilderment, finally turning toward her father with an are you seeing this expression. All she got in return was a slow sigh and him asking her to try to keep her volume down today while her aunt was sleeping. Then, Mr. Moore left for work.
She still stinks too! Tabitha scowled as she quietly crept as close as she could. So—she didn’t shower last night.
Lisa had passed out with her purse squashed protectively beneath her one armpit, and despite hovering over the woman for a long, tense moment, Tabitha didn’t see any way she could tug it out from under her aunt without waking her.
Worst thing is, she maybe DOESN’T have heroin in her purse right now, Tabitha fretted, crossing her arms. Maybe she’s not actually into heroin yet. Maybe she is, but she’s already used whatever she had. That seems likely. Heroin probably isn’t cheap—or is it? I honestly don’t know, and again—no Google here. Maybe she only came to us because she was out of options and couldn’t afford to pay her dealer, or whatever.
There’s no way of knowing for sure, and if I cry wolf now and her purse turns out to be empty, it damages my credibility toward further attempts to remove her. And I NEED to remove her sooner rather than later if I’m going to. Or this is all going to become unbelievably messy the further she entangles herself back into the family. Make a choice, Tabitha, make a choice. Help her, or get rid of her. Help her, or get rid of her, c’mon, think, think, think. I don’t know how to help her. I also don’t know how to get rid of her. Either way, I need to come up with something smart, real soon.
Torn with indecision, Tabitha was still drawing a complete blank as to how she even could hypothetically help Aunt Lisa. There didn’t seem to be any way to. The woman was crass and stubborn and would laugh off any attempts to get her to turn her life around. In fact, the more she thought about it… if Aunt Lissie were to reintegrate into their lives, she would negatively influence everyone in Tabitha’s close family—starting with the boys. Under Aunt Lisa’s continued careless ‘parenting,’ the four cousins’ relatively thoughtful and considerate behavior Tabitha had grown proud of would unravel, and in a matter of time, they would revert back to being the absolute shitheads they were in Tabitha’s previous life.
Aunt Lisa’s reappearance would once again drive a wedge between Mrs. Moore and that entire side of the family, cutting off that fledgling avenue of growth. As an anxious and agoraphobic shut-in weighed down with repressed issues that was only now in early stages of healing and recovery, Tabitha’s mother wasn’t really psychologically equipped to handle a loud and outspoken personality like Lisa. Grandma Laurie and Mr. Moore would both suffer in silence, bending to Aunt Lisa’s whims if they were able to rationalize that it was for the sake of the four boys or whatever excuses Lisa cooked up. After all, those two were used to it, to an extent—just a few months ago, Mrs. Moore had been just about as toxic and intractable.
It’s oh so very humbling. Tabitha’s stare turned more and more grave the more she considered the implications. That almost all the changes wrought in the people around me could be undone so easily. All the blood, sweat, and tears, all the STRUGGLE that went into changing things for the better, healing people, mending relationships—and almost all of it can collapse and go back to the way it was with the reappearance of just one Aunt Lisa. Putting aside whether or not it’s even POSSIBLE to help her—can I let her presence destroy all of this?
I think… I think I need to make Aunt Lisa disappear.
The realization—no, the decision hit Tabitha like a pang to her stomach, and for a moment, she felt sick. Hugging her arms tight across herself, Tabitha hurried away from her aunt and retreated back down the hallway to her room. It was one thing to be affected by her teenage emotions and feel anger and outrage that made her think some dark thoughts. It was something else entirely to coldly deliberate removing someone like that.
I’m not going to kill her! Tabitha wanted to swear at herself, angry all over again at that all-too-familiar wash of nauseating guilt. It’s not like the thing with Jeremy Redford.
I didn’t even kill him! He just, well, he just died and I was technically at fault for it. I was at fault for it because I made it happen, but not like, like, I’m not PERSONALLY to blame. It did happen because of me, but I didn’t kill him. He almost murdered a cop anyways, so what if he even DID just happen to get his, his comeuppance this time through? Right? I didn’t kill him. Karma came along. I didn’t kill him. I’m not going to kill Aunt Lisa either—I just need to, to, I don’t know. Make her disappear off somewhere, out of our lives. To prison or somewhere. I don’t know. Anywhere but here.
Fuck me, this isn’t fair. Tabitha discovered her good hand wouldn’t stop shaking, so she crossed her arms tighter about herself and tried to squeeze her arms into stillness. Why is this so hard?
* * *
The morning hours passed by in a whirl of indecision and abortive attempts at rationalizing various courses of action and inaction. Tabitha was upset, and she knew why she was upset. All of her hypothetical solutions were unrealistic and oblique to the point that her common sense rejected them. The route for helping Lisa change predicated upon being able to sit down with Lisa for a serious conversation and convince Lisa herself that she was a problem. Which, based on what she knew of Lisa’s personality, and the lack of confidence Tabitha possessed for her own persuasive ability and finesse in dealing with the woman in a heated argument… meaningful dialogue with her Aunt Lisa was somewhere between improbable and impossible.
Getting rid of Lisa seemed to require the opposite—convincing her parents that Lisa was a problem, but not their problem. Not a burden their family should attempt to shoulder. Tabitha would have to convey the severity of a problem that Lisa had become, and then illustrate to them how their attempts to help or support Lisa would in fact enable Lisa to become more and more of a problem. Paring down her thoughts and feelings on the issue and sorting everything out, however, did remarkably little toward solving anything. To Tabitha’s endless frustration, she honestly didn’t believe she could convince Lisa or her parents of either narrative. She knew she’d made major strides in this lifetime toward better expressing herself and communicating with others, and having a sense of that progress made it just as clear to her how much she fell short here.
Certainly doesn’t help that I’m so AFFECTED by all of this, Tabitha thought, lifting her elbows up and attempting to roll the stiffness out of her shoulders. Spent most of my morning here just pacing back and forth in my room, going in circles in my head. Yes, I’m smart and I can think things through—eventually—but in the heat of the moment, actually out there with Lisa? My temper flares up right away, and it’s like I just get locked out of rational thought. Start to act and speak out on impulse, or get myself caught up in this psychological loop of angry thoughts that doesn’t actually go anywhere else. So, in short—I’m stuck.
It was just as easy to feel trapped in her bedroom with Aunt Lisa snoozing out there in the living room, because Tabitha wasn’t well enough yet to do the kind of morning run she needed to help bleed off some of these feelings. Likewise, she wasn’t able to power walk around the neighborhood or busy herself over the garden plot like she wanted to. Going outside at all while she was still recovering from surgery wasn’t feasible until it was mid-afternoon and sunnier out—late November was cold, colder every day, but mornings were bitter cold, with dreary overcast skies and a steady biting wind that would sap her strength.
A completely teenage Tabitha would go out anyways and damn the consequences. Tabitha quirked her lip in a bitter smile. A completely grown-up Tabitha wouldn’t feel so damned ANGSTY cooped up in here waiting for Mom to get up.
As such, naturally, time appeared to slow to a crawl and Tabitha stewed in her simmering thoughts for what felt like several eternities before she heard the door to her parents’ bedroom finally open. Listening intently, Tabitha found her mother’s heavy footsteps were treading slowly down the hall. Unable to help herself, Tabitha cracked open her door and leaned out around it as her mother passed by her room.
“She’s sleeping,” Tabitha whispered. “Out on the couch. Good morning.”
It took Mrs. Moore a moment to register what she was saying, and when she did, the hint of an aggravated scowl was visible across her face for a moment before she was able to hide it. That tiny change in expression was a merciful balm to Tabitha, and she swung her door open the rest of the way and stepped out to hug her mother.
“Alright—and good morning,” Mrs. Moore whispered back, giving Tabitha a small squeeze. “Do you know why it’s so warm in here?”
“Sometime overnight, she went and turned the thermostat to eighty!” Tabitha tattled in a hushed voice. “I already turned it back down to where it should be.”
“Hmph,” Mrs. Moore grunted, shaking her head. “Well. First things first—I’m giving your Grandma Laurie a call.”
“Grandma Laurie?” Tabitha repeated, crashing headlong through a dozen different emotions in quick succession, too fast to individually process. “Do we have to, um—”
“If we’re tryin’ to have dinner with the MacIntires on Thanksgiving day, we’ll have to do whatever little family Thanksgiving we do early, either today or tomorrow,” Mrs. Moore explained in a low voice, pausing for a moment. “And… well, I’ll need to let her know to set the table for your Aunt Lisa too, now.”
Please don’t, Tabitha just barely managed to not blurt it out, but from her mother’s knowing sigh and pat on the shoulder, she knew it was already written all across her face. It seemed inevitable that Aunt Lisa would be reunited with the boys, but at the same time, the prospect of it filled Tabitha with alarm and had her mind racing in every direction all over again.
After all—isn’t it suspect that Aunt Lisa, a mother of four, returns from wherever she was in Shelbyville not to her own children, but instead to the home of a brother-in-law whose daughter happens to be on the receiving end of a large settlement of money? Is everyone just ignoring the apparent motive that could be driving Aunt Lisa’s priorities, here? Am I in the wrong for not just giving her the benefit of the doubt because she’s family?
* * *
“Your Grandma Laurie says it’s fine with her if we move family Thanksgiving up a bit and have it today,” Mrs. Moore said, returning the cordless phone back to its dock. “She already got her shoppin’ done for it, so…”
“Did you tell them about our unexpected guest?” Tabitha asked in a low voice, glancing past the kitchen counter and dining room table over to where Aunt Lisa was still sprawled out on their couch, but questionably awake now and watching daytime soap operas.
“I did.” Mrs. Moore paused. “She said she isn’t gonna tell the boys just yet. So they can maybe have a… nice surprise.”
“‘Nice surprise.’ Or, so that they won’t have a nasty surprise if she decides not to show,” Tabitha pointed out with a sour look. “If she doesn’t want to see her children again… are we okay with her being here in our home while we’re not? Unsupervised? Or, uh, at all?”
“I’m sure she’ll go with us.” Mrs. Moore frowned. “Just—well, we’ll see.”
“Where’s she going to be staying? Sleeping? Our couch? Mom. I don’t think we should provide her a place to stay if she isn’t going to be a mother and look after her kids.” Tabitha’s voice dropped to a lower whisper. “She’s either their mom or she isn’t. And, if she isn’t family—then. Well.”
“Well, I don’t think we should even get into it.” Mrs. Moore sighed, resting her hands on the counter. “Bless his heart, your father was… very patient with me when I was going through things. For years. And he’s liable to try to do the same for your Aunt Lisa now that she’s goin’ through her problems. I… Tabitha, I don’t have any place to say anything.”
