mARch flash tale #2 - "Bright"

Lafayette Mobile Home Village

Courtney makes a U-turn ten seconds after passing the sign. Enough time to decide that this is her best bet for finding her way back to civilization. She curses the cellular dead zone she’s found herself in and parks her Toyota Echo at the entrance to the trailer park.

She walks past the first trailers, conscious of her appearance, a lost young woman with a Kate Spade purse and Sumisurra pantsuit. She may as well paint a target on her back.

The dilapidated properties surely look as good as they ever will in the spring sunshine. But she just needs someone with phone signal or sense of direction, she just needs the briefest of favors.

And yet, the park seems deserted.

She turns the corner of a double-wide and spies a child, barefoot and crouching in the dirt, who looks up at the sound of Courtney’s footsteps.

Courtney smiles, and then her smile falters.

She is dismayed to discover that the child is a woman, probably in her twenties, around Courtney’s age. But there’s something in the woman’s blank expression, her open mouth and dull eyes, that says she is mentally disabled. The idea is backed up when the woman beams at Courtney, holds out her hands and says something unintelligible.

“Fuss-wumma-nah-seen.”

Courtney almost takes a step closer, and then looks down at her tailor-made clothes and reconsiders. She raises her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?” She feels for the disabled woman – what kind of life is this, scrabbling around in the dirt outside a trailer? Who is caring for her? – but she’ll settle for directions, so she can get to her new life, new job, new start.

The woman, dusty black hair falling around her face, says it again, slowly and insistently, with the tone that suggests she thinks Courtney is the dim one.

“Fuss wum uh-nuh see-sun.” She walks towards Courtney, holds out her cupped hands further.

Courtney suppresses a shudder when she sees the live worm. She thinks of the Lysol wipes in the Echo. With effort, she brings back her smile. “You found a worm,” she says blandly.

The woman nods, she repeats her nonsensical phrase, and the third time is the charm.

Courtney laughs. “First worm of the season?”

The woman giggles, as the worm wriggles on her palms. Her grimy T-shirt says Pray Big, Love Big.

Courtney makes a show of looking at the worm without any plan to get any closer. The woman’s fingers suggest that she spends most of her time scrabbling around in the dirt.

Courtney glances at her own polished nails, thinks back to the mani-pedi she treated herself to a couple of days before, and she can hardly keep the pity out of her voice. “Good job. I’m Courtney, what’s your name?”

The woman sniffs. “Budder-cuh.”

Courtney makes a guess. “Buttercup?”

Buttercup nods. “Budder-cuh!”

Which isn’t a real name, which is more like something you call a toddler. And isn’t that what this woman’s life amounts to? A never-ending journey of confusion and dependency?

Courtney thinks back to something her mom used to say. Suck it up, buttercup.

And then she looks at the disabled woman with the dirty hair and worm habit and decides to find somewhere else to ask for directions. Because there’s something wrong here. Something altogether broken. She’ll get back on the road, driving fast in either direction is the plan, and when she finds a phone, she’ll make a referral to Protective Services. Because come on, why is there no one here to look after such a vulnerable woman?

The woman suddenly produces a brilliant smile. “Daddy!”

“Hey, Buttercup, you making friends?”

A man’s voice behind them, and Courtney turns her head.

She doesn’t see the man; she only sees the brightness. Like the flash of an old-fashioned camera.

Courtney cries out, reflexively shields her eyes, while Buttercup giggles.

The voice, deep and amused, says, “Angel, that ain’t gonna help.”

After the brightness, there is darkness. Courtney falls, slipping through space, and she is breathless, out of screams and cries. This will end eventually, she will blindly hit the ground, dead on arrival.

“Angel, we got a visitor. Show your manners and say hello.”

Angel opens her eyes. No, her eyes were already open. She is relieved, because the bright has gone. She is even more relieved because all her fear has gone as well.

Angel looks at the visitor. A pretty lady in fancy clothes. She’s holding a little computer and looking intently at Courtney.

Angel looks down at herself. Barefoot and dirty, she looks just like her sister. She reaches for Buttercup’s hand, and there’s comfort in swinging back and forth.

The lady turns to Daddy. “You said on your application that you had one disabled daughter.”

Daddy scratches the back of his neck. “Reckon I got the form wrong.” He laughs, gestures at the two women. “But you can see for yourself, I got two of ‘em, and they both need watchin’.” He chuckles. “Can’t take my eyes off ‘em for a second!” He looks fondly at them. “Ain’t that right, ladies?”

Buttercup giggles, and Angel follows her lead. They’re both such silly girls, Daddy says so. Daddy always says so. But that’s okay because Daddy does all the hard thinking.

The fancy lady looks back at the two giggling women. “Well, I’ll need to test them, of course, but this doubles your check.”

Daddy nods humbly. “Appreciate you.” He pulls his girls to him, kisses their heads. “Means I can get to work and know they’re being looked after.”

And then he winks at them, so subtly that the fancy lady misses it. And Buttercup and Angel know that Daddy won’t go to work, he’ll stay home with them, and they’ll be a perfect little family.

THE END

A woman gets lost and stumbles upon a trailer park where looking after the mentally handicapped gets you a steady welfare check.- Byron