Fancy White Trash

by Marjetta Geerling

  What is surprising is when Dad says, “Good for Kait for turning down the money.”

  I laugh. “She took the money and used it to buy baby clothes. He was furious. I think that’s why he was out of town the weekend Stephanie was born.” And also so he could screw around on my mom, but I don’t say that part.

  “This new guy Kait’s with, this Gustavo. You like him?” Dad has a row of three finished beers in front of him. He pops open a fourth. I’m still on number two.

  “Well enough. I don’t think she would’ve moved in with him so soon, though, if you hadn’t . . .” It’s rude to tell your dad he pushed his child out of the house, but I see he gets my message.

  “I thought they were in love,” he says.

  “One of them is.” Gustavo had it bad, as far as I could tell. I wasn’t as clear how Kait felt. Relieved to be out of here, probably. Shouldn’t you move in with someone because you love them? Not just because your family drives you crazy and you think your baby needs a dad?

  Dad leans forward and rests his head against his forearms. This is his resting-between-drinks pose. I toss my cans in the trash and head back to my room. Our room. And I can’t help wishing Kait and Stephanie would move back in and Dad and the Guitar Player would move out.

  Chapter 16

  “Look, Abby, I really don’t think you should ask Brian to homecoming.” Cody is too lazy to walk over. He’s harassing me over the phone. Apparently, an entire day at school has worn him out. I’m tired, too. After only a few hours of sleep last night, classes seemed to drag on forever. And I’m not so sure the Heinekens with my dad helped too much with the weekly Tuesday quiz in Computers today, either.

  “It’s not like you’re going to ask him.” I am trying to get the last bit of stubborn nail polish off my big toe. I’m so over purple nails.

  Dad opens the door without knocking. Why should he? He lives here. He sighs loudly, kicks off his shoes, and sits on the edge of Kait’s bed. His bed. I can tell he wants to talk.

  “Cody, it’s a done deal. I just got off the phone with him, like, three minutes ago.” I am lying. Cody probably knows it.

  “You know what you are, Abby? A coward.”

  “I’d be careful with words like that. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I toss the used cotton ball toward the trash. It hits the rim and lands on the floor. Dad stares pointedly at it. I flop backwards on my bed and look at my ceiling. Right above me is a series of cracks that has always reminded me of a crushed skull. I find it comforting.

  “Abby? Hello? Don’t make me come over there.” Cody’s voice is agitated.

  “There’s no room for any more people in this house.” This time I glare pointedly at my dad. A private moment to talk on the phone would be appreciated.

  “Abby, we need to talk,” Dad says.

  I hold up the one-minute finger. “Cody, leave it, okay? You picked Jenna and the universe chose Brian for me.”

  “I’m not so sure it was the universe,” he says. “You must’ve been peeking. Twelve other male transfers on that board and you happen to pick him? I’m not buying it.”

  “He fits the Rules,” I say, wondering if Cody will dare bring up that Brian is gay. Then I will point out that the Rules say absolutely nothing about being gay. I roll onto my side and switch the phone to my other ear.

  “Oh, he’s got baggage, all right,” Cody warns. “Face it, Abby. You only like him because you think he’s safe.”

  My eyes narrow, which is useless since he’s not here to get the nonverbal message. “Brian’s a nice guy.”

  “A safe guy.”

  “What’s wrong with wanting to feel safe? To have someone in your life who isn’t going to possibly impregnate one of your sisters? Is that too much to ask?” I squash a pillow under my head with such force that the other pillow, the one that usually ends up on the floor by the end of the night, bounces in place.

  “He doesn’t like you like that,” Cody says.

  Interesting. “How would you know?”

  Cody is silent. I hear his slow exhale of breath. “We’ve been talking.”

  “Oh, really. Isn’t that fascinating? What could the two of you possibly have to say to each other?” The crushed skull smiles down on me.

  “We talk about speech class,” he answers too quickly. “What else?”

  Dad points at his watch, like that is supposed to mean something to me. Still, it’s not like I want to talk with him listening to every word so I say, “Gotta go. Maybe I’ll come over later and we’ll continue this intriguing conversation.”

  We hang up. When I look over, Dad is standing.

  “That was rude,” he says.

  “Wasn’t it? I mean, blatantly eavesdropping on someone’s private phone calls? What are you? The government?”

  He doesn’t get ruffled. “I don’t have much time and I needed to speak with you.”

  I am slightly alarmed by his formal tone. “What’s up?”

  “Your mom and I have been talking.” He sits back down and loosens his salesman tie. “About you girls.”

  Since they are our parents, this shouldn’t be shocking news. “And?” I prompt.

  “Shevon’s getting her own place. I’ll be moving back to my house in a few weeks and . . .”

  “A few weeks? What happened to a few days?”

  “Abby, focus here. What I’m saying is that we’ve decided when I go, you should move in with me. I’ve got another bedroom. You’ll have it all to yourself.”

  Flabbergasted. I am completely speechless.

  “I’ve seen how tight it is here, how hard this situation is for your mom. I just want to do what’s right.”

  Since when? He takes over my room, rifles through my stuff, tries to bring in a desk like he’s a permanent resident, and now he’s taking off, back to his old house, old life, and the right thing is for me to go with him?

  “No.” It’s the only word I can think of. “No, no, no.”

  “You’ll like it,” he goes on like I haven’t spoken. “You’d have your own bathroom.”

  Now that is some bait. Imagine a bathroom where I don’t have to worry that someone else has used my towel to wipe places on their body I don’t want to think about. A bathroom where no one uses the last of my conditioner and then refills the bottle with water. I am so tempted by this vision of paradise.

  “You’ll still be able to go to Union and see Cody there every day.”

  Not live next door to Cody? How shallow am I that I’m willing to desert him for unlimited hot water and hair accessories that stay where I leave them?

  “I have a better idea,” I say. “Why don’t you actually make your child-support payments so Mom doesn’t have to worry about money so much? In fact, why don’t you offer to pay a little more? I’m going to need some cash for a homecoming dress.”

  “Abby!” he says in this shocked voice. “I have always paid your mother child support.”

  Yeah, when the court ordered him to. When he didn’t need it for something else, like his honeymoon to Hawaii with Shevon or the down payment on his house. When Mom paid extra money, which she didn’t have, to get a lawyer to file complaints against him. Like I said, you can’t count on this guy.

  “Forget it,” I say. “I’m not moving out. Just pay Mom what you owe her.”

  He rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe you don’t want to live with me. Think of it, Abby. Your own room. Maybe even a car?”

  “A car?” I ask, because Cody would understand that kind of temptation. And with a car, I could always be at his place and it would be like I never moved out.

  Dad clears his throat. “Well, eventually. We’d have to see how it goes.”

  Even an eventual car is better than the no car I’m getting now. I’m not saying it isn’t tempting, but who will take care of Hannah when everyone else is working? Who will make sure Shelby doesn’t siphon gas out of Mom’s car and sell it to her friends for cash? I have to live here. They need me.


  A concept my dad clearly doesn’t get. “Are you sure? You’re always complaining about how crowded this place is.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want to move out.”

  “Kait did.”

  “Well, I didn’t just possibly give birth to my stepfather’s child, so I’m not in as big a hurry to relocate.” Kait sure had been, though. I hadn’t heard a word from her since she took off with Gustavo. Mom says they talked on the phone and she and Stephanie were fine, but I guess I’ll have to go to Blockbuster if I want to see my sister again. I wonder if she’s checked in with her alterna-teacher yet and if she turned in that Bell Jar essay. It took me forever to type that thing into Cody’s computer. It better have gotten an A.

  “If you’re sure,” Dad says, interrupting my thoughts and looking more than a little relieved. That’s when I realize he’s trying to make amends. He actually made a grand gesture for me, and although he was scared I might say yes, he did it anyway. I almost choke up. Almost.

  I decide there are other ways he could make things up to me. “I really could use some money for homecoming. I need to pay Cody back for my tickets and get a dress.”

  “Can’t you wear one of your sister’s dresses?” This is the one thing my parents always agree on. Why buy Abby something new when we can just give her a dress that’s years out of date?

  There should be some benefit to spending so much time with my usually absent father. I give him my most pitiful look. “Please, Dad.”

  He breaks down and reaches for his wallet. “Okay, Abs. Will this do?”

  He holds up a few bills. It’s not as much as I would’ve liked, but better than wearing Shelby’s hand-me-downs.

  I shoot across the room, from my bed to where he sits on his, taking the cash and hugging him in one smooth move. “Thanks!”

  He pats my back. “Glad I could help, pumpkin. I want to see you in that dress, you hear?”

  “We’ll take lots of pictures.”

  “Well, now that’s settled. I’ll tell your mom what we decided.”

  I step away. We didn’t decide anything. My eyebrows crunch together. “What?”

  “I’ll stay on here until Shevon moves out. Maybe Shelby and Hannah will want that room in my house.”

  Why does he insist on ripping our family apart time after time after time? Sure, Shelby’s a pain in the butt, but what chance will Hannah have in life if the only people raising her are Shelby and Dad? This is so like my father, never thinking beyond the moment. Like Rule #4 says, Don’t Need Him. Because you’ll always be let down.

  Two hours later, Cody and I are in our tree with a bag of Cheetos and a six-pack of Diet Cokes. This is our comfort ritual, and we are both in grave need of comfort.

  “Dad’s not buying it,” Cody tells me. “He keeps popping into my room unannounced. Like he expects to find me doing something gay.”

  “Like what?”

  “Wild monkey sex with male models? I don’t know.” He stuffs five Cheetos in his mouth and crunches down.

  “But you told him about Jenna. What more could he want?”

  “Maybe I have to sign some kind of declaration. I, Cody Jennings, in order to form a more perfect family, establish my straightness, insure Jennings family domestic tranquillity, provide future generations of Jenningses, do ordain that I am a card-carrying heterosexual.”

  I crack up. “Thomas Jefferson would die if he heard you mangle the Constitution like that.”

  “What’s it to him? He didn’t even write the thing. But he was kind of a control freak, so I guess it’s good he’s already dead. I’d hate to give one of the founding fathers a coronary.” Two swigs of Diet Coke, two Cheetos. “Not that he was in any position to judge others. I’m doing this paper on him and, man, did he have some issues.”

  I snake my hand in the bag and grab some Cheetos for myself. “But about your issues, Cody. What’re you going to do?”

  “My driver’s-license test is in two days. If I pass and he hands over the keys to my car, then I’ll know I’m in the clear. If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Tell him he’s right?”

  “Abby, we’re talking about my car! Imagine, driving and driving until we’re out of Cottonwood, out of Arizona, heading east toward the Big Apple. I thought you were with me on this?”

  “You said we didn’t have enough money yet.” I lick Cheeto dust from my fingers, then dive in the bag for more.

  Cody crushes the soda can and drops it to the ground. It lands with a thunk against the others we’ve been piling up for the last hour. “We don’t have nearly enough cash, but getting the car’s all part of the master plan, right? We need jobs and we can’t get jobs unless we have wheels. So I’ve got to do everything I can to convince my dad that I’m straight, straight, straight.”

  “Aside from dating girls, which you are already doing, what else can you do? Either he believes you or he doesn’t,” I point out.

  “Maybe we could have sex in front of him and then he’d know for sure which team I’m on.” He winks at me.

  “Gross!” I cannot for one second think of having sex with Cody. “You know I’m saving myself. But maybe one of my sisters . . .”

  He laughs. “If only life was as easy as your sisters.”

  I wiggle my back against the bark of the tree for a good scratch and suck more cheese dust off my thumb. Cody is not a finger licker. Orange fingerprints decorate his new Diet Coke.

  “You gonna tell me why you’re scarfing Cheetos like they’re about to be put on the endangered list?” Cody asks. “Or do I have to guess?”

  So I tell him about my father and the desk and Shelby and Hannah maybe moving out and before I know it, I’m crying. “Why’s he such a jerk? Why?”

  Cody puts an arm around my shoulder, a tricky maneuver up here in the tree. He rubs his chin on the top of my head.

  “I don’t know. It’s not fair. You’re such a great person. It’s hard to believe you came out of that house.”

  “Hey, you know I’m the only one allowed to rag on my family.”

  “I know.” His chin bumps up and down on my head as he talks. “I’m just saying not to take it so personally. It’s not your fault he is who he is.”

  “What if I turn out like them? Any of them? The Rules are working so far, but what if they’re not enough?”

  Cody knows this is my biggest fear. He knows it’s why I have the Rules. In his usual way, Cody takes a long time to answer.

  “Here’s the thing, Abs. I don’t think the Rules are good for you.”

  “What? They’re working great.”

  “If by great you mean keeping you from having any kind of romantic relationship, then yeah, they’re great.”

  I squirm away from him, but he hauls me back against his side.

  “The one thing your family’s good at is taking risks. You know, they just put themselves out there with no thought for the consequences. In a weird way, it’s kind of cool. They’re fearless.”

  “They’re humiliating,” I say. “You know better than anyone what a mess my family is.”

  “I’m not saying you should be like them, but I don’t think the Rules are keeping you from turning out like them. I think they’re keeping you from being. Period.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No, Abs, you need to hear me. Love is risky. The Rules don’t allow for that. Maybe you shouldn’t ask Brian to homecoming. Maybe you should take a risk, ask someone you really want to be with.”

  Like Jackson, who’s been avoiding me since the night I stayed with him. Outside of the rides to and from school, chaperoned by Cody, we haven’t seen each other at all. Which is how I wanted it, but somehow I can’t get those two homecoming tickets out of my mind. One for him and one for someone else. Not that I’ve asked or anything, but who needs to? One plus one always equals two.

  “Brian and I are all set,” I say. “I told you I already asked him.”

  “A perfect example of how the Rules aren’t worki
ng. You’re going to the dance with a gay guy. How’s that going to get you closer to True Love?”

  “It’s not getting me further away.” I know he’s right. I stuff more Cheetos in my mouth.

  Cody gets intense, puts a hand on my cheek, and forces me to look at him. Into him. “Abigail Elizabeth Savage,” he says, laying on the seriousness, “relationships are messy. People screw up. They hurt you. But when you love someone, you forgive them. That’s what a relationship is, Abby. Good times and bad. Together.”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  “Promise you’ll think about it. The dance is only a few weeks away. Anything could happen between now and then.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  He smiles and takes a swig of Diet Coke. “Enough heavy stuff. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “How about what I’m going to wear to this dance? If you pass your test Thursday, will you drive me to the mall? Dad gave me some money for a dress.”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Of course. Why do you think I want my license so much? It’s only so I can chauffeur you around, cater to your every whim, especially on my birthday.”

  “Cody!” I slap his arm, but not very hard. “You know you’re dying to pick out my dress. What better present could I give you than total control over my wardrobe?”

  “It’s true I probably won’t get much else, since my parents already gave me the Camry. Dinner and a cake is all I’ve got goin’ on that day.” He’s grinning, though, because the car is the only thing he wanted anyway.

  I flip my hair, Shelby-style. “Sweet-sixteen shopping, then? You’ll find me a dress that doesn’t make me look like a wannabe bride?”

  He looks at me with a critical eye. “You know I’m going to say red.”

  “You know that’s Shelby’s color.”

  “Blue?”

  “Kait.” That’s the problem with too many older sisters. There’s nothing new for me.

  Cody claps his hands together. “Don’t worry, I’m going to find you the perfect dress!”

  I swallow my last Cheeto of the night. “Finally, some good news! What’re you thinking?”

  “Let’s go to my room later,” he says. “We can go online and check out the latest Betsey Johnson collection.”