Miss Trailerhood

by Carina Taylor

  Forgetting my anger at her desertion and silence, I pointed to her foot.

  “What did you do? Are you all right?”

  Riley nodded but didn’t speak. She stared at me with what I was beginning to think was a permanently surprised expression.

  I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me, angry, or wanted me to go away. Slamming the door could have been a reflex rather than a thought-out action. I would pretend that her flight from the grocery store was a reflex as well. Of course she would be thrilled to see me. I mean, it had been two years.

  I brushed past her into the trailer. It was light and bright inside. White wood paneling, a cream table with bench seats, and light-green—what my mother would call mint—kitchen cabinets.

  This was not your grandparents’ travel trailer. This was some place I could comfortably live—and, apparently, so could Riley.

  I saw that she had a first aid kit sitting out on the counter already. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the kitchen after me. It took two steps to get there, and her movements were stiff and delayed. “Let me look at that foot.”

  “No, really, it’s okay.”

  I looked up and met her eyes. There were tears there.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice softening toward her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to cry. I’ve missed you, too.”

  She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand and clenched her jaw. “I’m not crying because of that, you idiot. My toe hurts.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Some things never changed. “Fine. Be that way.”

  I placed my hands around her narrow hips and lifted her to sit on the little table with wood chairs surrounding it. She squawked and latched onto my wrists.

  “No—“

  I released her and turned to grab the first aid kit. A loud crash had me spinning around quickly.

  Riley was sitting on the floor, and the small table was on its side.

  “I told you to stop!” she scolded me as she climbed to her feet.

  “Well, excuse me for trying to help.” I yanked the box from the counter and righted the table with a little more force than necessary.

  “You’re always crashing everything down around me!”

  “Oh, yeah? When?”

  “Sophomore year, you—“ She stopped herself as if she’d said too much.

  I knew exactly what she was referring to. We’d been backstage for a high school pep rally. She’d been sitting on a tower of chairs. I’d tried to scare her, but it ended up being like every other prank a kid has pulled in high school—not very well thought out. She didn’t get away unscathed. I’d accidentally toppled the entire stack of chairs over. She’d been covered in bruises.

  I hadn’t slept for a week out of guilt and fear. I still slept with one eye open, worried she’d pay me back for that stunt. I guessed her revenge-less revenge was well thought out. It had been nine years, and I was still waiting for her to pay me back.

  “You know I didn’t mean for that to happen. I also didn’t mean to cause your table to crash down. I’m trying to help bandage your toe. You’re dripping blood everywhere. You’re making a mess.” I pointed to the drips of blood on the floor.

  She cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s okay.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “It is?”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you for your help, but you should go.”

  I didn’t roll my eyes, even though I wanted to. It would have been immature. And I was trying my best to not appear like the same annoying best friend’s little brother she was used to me being.

  It was hard to undo the damage of someone witnessing you go through puberty. I didn’t know if it was something you could recover from, but I was definitely willing to try.

  I pulled a chair away from the table. “Sit down.”

  She looked at me with wide eyes. Much to my surprise, she sat down and held her foot out toward me.

  I knelt down and guided her dainty foot to rest on my thigh. She’d always been on the shorter side, and her shoe size was laughable next to Nola’s. Her foot looked like a child’s next to mine.

  She let out a surprised squeak when my thumb dragged along the arch of her foot. “Still ticklish, I see.”

  I smiled, remembering all the times I’d tortured her by pinning her on the couch and tickling her feet. I’d reserved those times for when she teased me about girls in high school.

  I grabbed the alcohol swabs from the first aid kit and roughly held her ankle while I wiped away the blood. She hissed when the alcohol hit the scuffed part of her toe. It wasn’t that bad of an injury—only a skinned-up toe—but it gave me an odd sense of satisfaction to hear her hiss.

  I was a terrible person, and I wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  She’d put me through a lot of pain over the past two years. I was pretty sure she was due a little payback.

  “You left.”

  Silence. I opened another alcohol wipe.

  “You didn’t say anything. To anyone.” I scrubbed away the debris from the skinned toe then taped the gauze on. I wrapped it about three layers too thick, making it look like she had broken her toe and it was swollen excessively. I remained kneeling and released her ankle then planted my hands on either side of her chair. There was nowhere for her to escape to this time.

  “You’re alive.”

  Riley sighed as she looked down at her lap. Her thick blonde lashes shuttered her eyes. “Yes, I’m alive.”

  “You’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. You haven’t been kidnapped or trafficked. You are in Burnside, of all places.”

  “Yes, your point?” Her eyes sparkled dangerously.

  “You could have called! You could’ve let us know that you were okay. Nola and I have searched everywhere for you. Why did you disappear without a word?” I gripped the chair hard enough that it creaked.

  She held my gaze, not even remotely intimidated by my anger. “I can’t tell you, Nate.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are things that you don’t understand,” she explained. “You should go. Please don’t tell Nola you’ve seen me; it’d break her heart.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself from lashing out at her. She was right; I didn’t know why she left. I didn’t know what circumstances had caused her to run and not tell anyone where she went.

  But it still hurt. It didn’t matter if she had a reason. She’d left a gaping hole in our lives. I hadn’t realized how much a part of our lives she was...until now, having her close again. It felt so right—even if I was mad at her.

  We’d been inseparable—Riley, Nola, and I—and now it seemed like all that time had meant nothing to her. Taking a deep breath, I rubbed the back of my neck as I looked her in the eye. There was a hardness there that hadn’t been there two years ago. There was something else, too. Longing.

  Taking a deep breath, the scent of her shampoo wafting around me, I tried to speak calmly. “I’ve missed you, Riley.”

  “Yeah sure, there’s no one else you can harass as much as you do me,” she said with a mocking laugh.

  “You’re right; no one is as fun to tease as you. No one loses their temper like you do. Nola just forgives me. My girlfriends just break up with me. But you...you lose your temper like a volcano,” I answered with a grin.

  “I’ve changed, Nate. I’ve grown up. I’ve learned to control that temper. The one you loved to poke and prod all of our growing up.” She raised her eyebrows and gave me a knowing look.

  “I’m sad to hear that,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t think I liked the idea of a subdued Riley. She shouldn’t be subdued. She was too perfect being herself to the fullest. “Come see Nola. She’s living in Riverly. It’s practically right around the corner. She misses you.”

  Riley shook her head. “I already told you we can’t tell her.”

  “Why not?” I leaned down until I was looking straight at her blue eyes.

  “You know I can
’t hurt her like that,” she said in exasperation.

  “Like what? Like disappearing for years only for us to find out you’ve been living close this whole time? Do you realize she’s been telling herself lies? Dreaming and praying that someone offered you an amazing job you couldn’t resist and that you barely had time to pack your bags? She’s even suggested you’re off saving a third world country. No matter why you left, Nola will never make you the bad guy.”

  “But you will,” she whispered.

  I sighed and leaned back on my heels, needing the space between us. “Maybe. I really wish I could think of a reason you would do this to us—but I have nothing.”

  We stayed there, frozen in our swirling thoughts. My mind ran through any reason I could think of for her to disappear like she had. To just pack her bags and leave an empty dorm room in her wake. I watched as Riley’s expression changed from sad, to confused, to stoic.

  Finally, she stood up and hobbled to the door, opening it with a thump. “You need to leave. And understand this: I don’t want you in my life. I don’t miss you or Nola. Just go.”

  Glancing around the trailer, I noticed a framed picture of Nola, Riley, and me, sitting in a prominent place on her open shelf.

  On my way out the door, I stopped in front of Riley, looking down at her eyes that were stubbornly focused on my collarbone. I leaned down and whispered, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

  Then I left the same way I came.

  Chapter Three

  Riley

  Chocolate chip cookie night had been a bust. Wren ended up staying at her best friend Macy’s house overnight. It reminded me of Nola and me when we were in high school. Wren and Macy were inseparable just like Nola and I had been.

  When Wren texted me the night before, it had been the perfect timing.

  Nate’s “liar, liar, pants on fire” comment had ended with me sitting on the floor, crying my heart out.

  I’d then furiously scrubbed at the drops of blood still on the floor from my stubbed toe. I thought if I could erase those, then it would seem like Nate had never been there. Maybe I could erase the feeling of his warm hand on my ankle.

  Luckily, Wren’s text reminded me why I didn’t run after Nate and ask him how he had been these past couple years. It had reminded me why I had moved on from that other phase of my life.

  I had goals, things to accomplish, a half-sister to raise. Life went on, and it rarely turned out like you planned. But I wouldn’t change the life I had now.

  I’d dragged out my light and tripod and made a makeup tutorial to upload to my social media. I didn’t bother to wash my face before bed.

  The setting spray I’d bought from the local grocery store worked like a charm. My eyeliner was still in place the next morning when I sat down with my morning cup of coffee and day planner. I repainted my nails the nude color and let them dry as I scrolled through my social media planner.

  After consulting my posting schedule, I washed my coffee cup and wiped up the spilled coffee grounds from my coffee pot.

  Next, I filled a cup of water from my kitchen sink and poured it in my aloe vera plant that sat on my windowsill. I grabbed an ice cube from the freezer and set it in my orchid pot.

  I picked up my cell phone off the counter, snapped a picture of my plants, and posted them on my Instagram stories. Next, I filled a small pitcher to water my pots that lined the windowsill inside my bedroom—time for a selfie for my stories. I snapped a picture of myself as I leaned over a pot, watering it carefully.

  A text from Wren chimed.

  Wren: Macy and I are going to hang out with Mason today.

  Was fifteen too young for a boyfriend? Because I was pretty sure it was. Wren had never bothered to ask me for permission. She simply started dating a boy that was in her class. He was nice enough, but there were times when I wished I was more intimidating and could scare Wren’s boyfriends. Hopefully, he wouldn’t last long. That might be a selfish thought on my part, but Wren had had far more boyfriends than I’d had in our time of living together—and none of them measured up to Wren, in my opinion.

  A loud pop and the sound of a backfiring motor caused me to jump as I dumped the rest of the water into my basil pot. I glanced out the window as I erased water plants off of my small dry erase board hanging on my wall.

  Johnny rode by on his motorcycle. He slowed to a stop next to Eldon, who was working on his lawn mower across the street. ’Twas the season.

  I glanced around at the trailer park. The single-wides and travel trailers each had their own driveway and a small space to call a yard. Some yards were made up of gravel, some were dirt, while others actually had a small patch of grass on them—and when I say small, I mean small.

  I slid my phone into my shorts pocket and headed outside. I wanted to find out why Larry and Patty’s was so quiet next to Eldon’s.

  “Hey, Riley!” Johnny called as he stepped off his motorcycle. I waved and smiled as I crossed the street, heading straight for him.

  He was a good-looking guy, like stare-at-all-day good-looking. Slightly awkward, though, as though he didn’t know he was attractive. It made me like him even more.

  He’d only been in the trailer park for two months.

  He was an undercover cop.

  Of course, he didn’t know that the rest of us knew that, so we just let it slide. Despite him being a cop, he fit in well at the trailer park. He wasn’t afraid to jump in and lend a hand. He’d even helped jump Dean’s ride—which was probably stolen in the first place. I’d also seen Johnny stand up to Kristin’s ex. Kristin was a single mom in the trailer park who had divorced her abusive ex-husband. I still wasn’t sure how many kids she had because she was always babysitting other people’s. Johnny began checking up on her regularly, which turned out to be a good thing. Kristin’s ex thought he could come back to their trailer and push her around. He hadn’t counted on her next-door neighbor (Johnny) coming over and knocking him unconscious three weeks ago.

  Now he could scare off Wren’s boyfriend. I’d have to keep that in mind for when I spoke with Mason again.

  I pursed my lips as I debated about asking him to look into Wren’s current boyfriend. Maybe I could convince him to come hang out at the house sometime when Wren brought Mason home.

  "You okay?" Johnny asked again.

  I’d been standing there admiring the scenery too long. “Yeah, fine. Busy thinking."

  "Hey, guys!" Tony walked over to stand by us, his camera hanging around his neck. "I've got my camera if you need me to take any pictures, Riley!"

  "Thanks, Tony. I could use your help tomorrow, probably."

  "That sounds great,” he said with a thoughtful look on his face. He took his photography seriously, even if he wasn't the best. He also always demanded a fee. If he took a picture of you that you didn’t know about, you’d probably still get a bill in the mail.

  “Hey, did I see that Larry and Patty moved out already?" he asked about the neighbors that lived next to Eldon across the street from my trailer. They'd been slowly packing up. They'd bought themselves a trailer in Arizona. They said they were tired of the Oregon rain and planned on living happily ever after in a dry climate. They said their joints couldn't take the change in barometric pressure anymore.

  But I hadn't even seen a moving truck today. It was already getting closer to noon, though, which meant I’d spent more time working inside than I thought.

  "Yup!" Eldon burst out as he stood up, waving a wrench around. "Some feller came in and bought the place from them as they were loading up the last of their stuff this morning. Paid upfront. In cash."

  Eldon dropped to the ground and went back to work on the lawn mower.

  Tony looked thoughtful. “What do you suppose he does?”

  “Drugs?” suggested Johnny.

  “Not this feller,” Eldon chimed in. “Too cleaned up. Maybe a booster. He had a fancy rig. Like yours.”

  He clanged around on his lawn mower engine. They’d successfu
l piqued my interest. Who would my new across-the-street-ish neighbor be? I always worried when there was a turnover. I wanted to keep Wren safe, and not everyone was as harmless as Larry and Patty.

  Something beeped, and Johnny pulled his phone from his pocket to look at the screen. "I've got to run, but I'll catch you later." He waved and jumped on the motorcycle. He was going to be late for his weekly meeting with the police chief. Someone needed to tell that boy he was a terrible undercover cop. His face was too honest.

  Tony snapped a picture of him driving toward the sun on his motorcycle. It would be a great picture. Johnny would definitely get a bill later.

  "Hey, Eldon, who bought Larry's house?" I looked at the abandoned single-wide which sat diagonally across the street from my trailer. Usually, the trailers would sit empty for a while before someone bought them and moved in. This would have been the quickest turn around I'd ever seen. It made me curious about who would be my new neighbor.

  Hopefully, they wouldn't mind me standing in their driveway for some of my photoshoots. It was a great angle to capture the entire trailer and outdoor sitting area I'd created. I had to keep my pictures updated, especially with seasonal decor.

  Eldon stood up and tossed the wrench into an old metal coffee can. "I ain't met the feller yet."

  "Fellow," I whispered to myself.

  "What's that?"

  "I said—“ An engine revving interrupted me. I turned around to see a Jeep driving down the narrow street. It was my Jeep.

  Except it wasn't.

  It was a Jeep identical to my Jeep, and it pulled into the driveway of the empty single-wide.

  "No!" I gasped when I saw who the driver was.

  Nate Mercier.

  He couldn’t possibly have bought the single-wide. I wouldn’t let him.

  “Oh yeah, that’s the feller with the cash. My new neighbor.” Eldon nodded to Nate.

  "Louis Nathaniel Mercier!" I called when he stepped out of the Jeep. He hated it when I called him by his full name. "What are you doing here?"