RE: Trailer Trash 60, 60 pt 2

    “Far from the imperial palace… a young woman named Mulan was busli—busi—um, bus-i-ly, busily writing. Notes. On her arm,” Hannah read out loud. “Today was the day for her meeting with the Matchmaker! And, she wanted to be prepared. If she proformed well—”

    “—Performed,” Tabitha corrected in a quiet voice.

    “—If she performed well, she—” Hannah paused to find her place in the sentence again. “She would bring honor to her family, by making a good match in marriage!” 

    “Good job, Hannah,” Tabitha said.

    “Sorry,” Hannah let out a deep sigh. “I messed up. Again.”

    “It’s okay to mess up,” Tabitha assured her. “You don’t have to be sorry for—”

    “But I knew those words!” Hannah threw out her hands in aggravation, causing the paperboard cover of the Mulan Disney Classic Storybook in her hand to flap closed. “I even knew those ones already. Just, when I got to them I still messed them up. ‘Cause I’m stupid.”

    “You’re not stupid,” Tabitha said with a bitter smile. “You’re reading very well. Above your grade level! If—”

    “Yeah, by one grade,” Hannah retorted. “As if it’s even—”

    “Come here, Hannah,” Tabitha patted the couch cushion next to her. “Let’s… take a break.”

    “Ugh!” Hannah let out a grunt of frustration as she bounced onto the couch. “Ugghh!”

    Her seven-year-old ward was in a mood, today. Tabitha found the change worrying—she feared that now that Hannah had broken decorum and shown her a tantrum, that some subtle pretense of good behavior had fallen away and now the real Hannah in all of her flawed glory had been revealed. Things felt different. Hannah talked back more now, she argued, she possessed that strange stubborn and childish pride, and then she also fished for constant compliments and desperate validation at every chance.

    “Next page?” Hannah asked.

    “Let’s… take a break,” Tabitha sighed.

    “Fine,” Hannah huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t care.”

    Now, Hannah was pouting.

    She wasn’t really upset, but Hannah was trying very hard to display her obstinacy, because that might let her get her way with things. It was as if the dam had been broken last night, and now all sorts of issues were just pouring out. Most of it was juvenile enough that Tabitha could regard Hannah with a wry smile of amusement and shake her head, but… Tabitha had also had a very, very long day at school. She felt exhausted, and she’d hoped to come home and just have a huggable Hannah to sit with and decompress for a bit. The two girls sat in silence for several minutes, the smaller one fuming in apparent anger and the other simply staring off into space with a vacant expression.

    “Next page?” Hannah prompted with impatience. “Tabitha?”

    “...I got into a fight today at school,” Tabitha said. “With some girls.”

    “You—what?” Hannah sat up, forgetting her moody act. “What?”

    “Yeah,” Tabitha sighed. “I—”

    “Are you okay?!” Hannah exclaimed, tugging at Tabitha’s arm to examine her. “What happened?!”

    “I… threw my own tantrum, I guess,” Tabitha said, allowing Hannah to check her over for injuries. “It felt like. Like, everyone just kept pushing and pushing and pushing me, and finally—I guess I pushed back.”

    “I’m sorry,” Hannah blurted out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I—”

    “Sh-sh-shh, I don’t mean you,” Tabitha let out a small laugh. “Here. Hug. Please?”

    “Sorry,” Hannah said, lunging in to tackle Tabitha in a rather crushing hug. “Sorry…”

    It hurt—Tabitha felt like she might find a nasty bruise on her side later where a blunt seven-year old cannonballed into her ribs—but, she hid her grimace and maneuvered her cast out of the way so that she could wrap a comforting arm around the little girl. She did still really need a hug right now, even if it hurt. It hurt a lot, though. It was at times like these Tabitha really discovered the consequences of losing all of the weight over the summer and adopting the vaunted skinny girl physique—an emotional first-grader crashing into her side really felt like getting whacked by a sledgehammer.

    Never ever thought I’d miss the uh… well, having some ‘padding,’ there, Tabitha thought to herself, blinking away tears. Geez oh man that hurts. Next thing you know, Coach Baylor’s gonna find black and blue marks and think the cheerleaders are beating me.

    “You, ah, you had your tantrum, and then I had mine,” Tabitha said in a soft voice. “I think… I think the pressure has just been getting to us. To both of us.”

    “The pressure?” Hannah asked. “What do you mean?”

    “Yeah,” Tabitha gave Hannah’s back a pat. “The pressure of… everything. It, um, over time it builds and it builds and it builds, and then…”

    She had to hesitate for a moment in trying to convey her thoughts here, because Encanto’s song about pressure didn’t exist yet back here in the late nineties—so, Hannah wouldn’t know that one. Tabitha had a bunch of vague memories of different old cartoons depicting boilers becoming overwhelmed and then blowing, but it took her a few seconds to latch onto one to present in analogy.

    “Well. It’s like Belle’s father Maurice, his invention,” Tabitha tried to explain. “Maurice’s machine. When his contraption was um, was building up steam, pressure, and then it just… exploded.”

    At least, I THINK that happened…? Tabitha pursed her lips. Or am I thinking THE GWEAT WEAPON from An American Tail? Or one of the other ones? I’m sure something like that happened in The Great Mouse Detective, too. Just, pinpointing which exact scene is which from Hannah’s many video tapes is… difficult. In THAT regard, I think Hannah’s memory is much better than mine. Encyclopedic, almost.

    Hannah was still and silent, and Tabitha couldn’t tell if she agreed or disagreed.

    Maybe Tabitha had gone overboard in finding a Disney abstraction to explain something as obvious or common sense as the concept of pressure, and seemed like she was talking down to her. Hannah was probably no stranger to feeling pressure—it was just difficult to tell sometimes, because sometimes Hannah was shockingly astute and perceptive, and other times she was childish and immature.

    “I was… in a bad mood today, and just so tired of girls at school pushing me around,” Tabitha admitted. “It gets so exhausting. I—I don’t mean to say I was in a bad mood because of you, because of your. Because of you getting upset last night. I just, I worry so much about this situation. Being here, and then what my mom’s going through, and. Stuff with my dad. The future. I didn’t have my usual patience to… put up with being pushed around at school, today.”

    “I thought those girls got espelled,” Hannah grumbled in a quiet voice, still hiding her face against Tabitha’s shoulder.

    Espelled? EXpelled? Tabitha couldn’t help but smile. “The very mean girl did get expelled. Sort of. The one who hurt me at the party—”

    “Erica Taylor,” Hannah hissed with surprising vehemence. 

    “Yes, her,” Tabitha sighed. “But… truth be told, none of the other girls at school ever liked me very much, either. A lot of them wanted to push me around, or test me. Put me in my place, I don’t know.”

    “Why?” Hannah demanded.

    “I… I wish I knew, Hannah,” Tabitha lied. 

    How could she describe the inane complexities of high school hierarchy to a seven-year-old girl? How could she convey the effects of hormones and moodiness that turned boring, mundane classroom settings into a powder keg of problems? The web of alliances and narratives and the intangible paradigms of social standing and popularity were so fucking stupid. Stupid and crazy. No one would ever want to try to make sense of it all unless they were infected with that same bitter madness—unless they were a teenager themselves, battling out the trials of adolescence in high school.

    She didn’t want Hannah to understand that.

    Tabitha wasn’t able to explain most of it, because most of it was nonsensical in the first place. What Tabitha really wanted right now was a return to simplicity, to spend time with Hannah or her cousins; children. When kids were under pressure, it built up and then they threw a tantrum. That outburst was their release valve, and afterwards things were fine, they could enjoy being back to normal. Hell, a new toy or a trip to McDonalds was enough to snap Hannah out of her terrible moods almost instantly.

    Teenagers were different when they reached their breaking points. Their emotions were heightened, deepened, these intense feelings steeped into every waking thought and had a tendency to poison everything. Tabitha had been seething at the two cheerleader girls all day, and she was equally furious at Amber. At that aggressive, antagonistic art class girl who was just so immensely self-satisfied with herself for stirring up trouble without regard for facts or the truth of things.

    It was just so infuriating!

    Likewise, how could she ever convey the different facets of dissension here to Hannah? The points of opposition between teenagers sometimes became symbolic of their larger ‘ideology’—the cheerleader girls snapping at Elena for being ‘gothic,’ and Elena responding with barbed words of her own simply because those girls presented themselves as ‘preppy’. Let alone the underlying issue of how everyone knew Elena was going to try out for cheer without conforming to their social distinctions. Associating culture or subculture with the petty politics and outright tribalism of high school drama honestly made things even worse. How do you explain that to a seven year old without realizing how superficial and pointless all of the conflicts really were?

    How did word even get around about Elena going for cheer in the first place? Olivia, of all people, knew before I did, Tabitha turned her weary eyes to the ceiling. I’ve found myself in the very unfortunate position of being young enough that I’m completely involved in all of this bullshit, IMMERSED, and also old enough to also see how stupid all of it is. Pray for me, hah. I really don’t care, AT ALL, about any of this stupid nonsense, and then also, at the same time—I can’t STOP myself from caring, WAY TOO MUCH, about all of this same stupid nonsense.

    “So what happened?” Hannah pressed for details when she seemed to realize Tabitha wasn’t going to spill everything on her own. “With the girls.”

    “They took my towel,” Tabitha revealed. “The neat Polar bear one we bought. I had it hanging up in the girl’s locker room, and. They took it. The coach found out right away and got it back, made them apologize. But. They didn’t mean it at all. It felt like… it felt more like they were mocking me than really apologizing. So, I—I don’t know what I said to them. I snapped at them, I guess. I was just so over being pushed around all the time. I don’t remember what I actually said. I’m sure I’ll hear about it tomorrow, though! Hahhh…”

    “Can’t they get espelled?!” Hannah demanded. “For stealing. Or in big trouble, at least. Stealing is a crime—they can go to prison.”

    “They said it was an accident,” Tabitha gave the girl a helpless shrug. “...It wasn’t really an accident, though.”

    “That’s not fair,” Hannah said, raising her head to give Tabitha a furious look.

    “I know,” Tabitha agreed. “It’s really not. But—it’s complicated. They’re cheerleaders, and I think they’re all back to just spreading around lies about me. They’re used to getting their way with everything, and everyone’s used to letting that happen, because they’re pretty and popular. That makes me so mad, too—yes people listen to my side of things now, but sometimes it feels like that didn’t even start until I lost all the weight and became ‘pretty’ enough for people to listen to. I know that’s not fair, I know I was, um. That I was to blame for a lot of it, because I was afraid to speak up, because I didn’t have the confidence to… do anything at all. I’m just. I’m so sick of it. All of it. Sometimes, I just wish…”

    Tabitha didn’t know what she was wishing for.

    She wanted to be pretty and popular, but she was maybe realizing that the difficulty and stress involved with making that happen undermined or hollowed out any possible result she might achieve, there. Being the cool girl everyone liked was nice as an idle dream, but the process of making it happen really drained all the nice out of it, and turned it into something else entirely.

    But, at the same time… I still want it, Tabitha thought to herself with a sour expression. Guess I’ll always want it. Because—because I’m twisted, because I had a previous life of regret and longing for the pretty perfect high school years full of fun and friendship and romance that I missed out on.

    “Are you gonna tell mom?” Hannah asked, searching Tabitha’s expression.

    “I… don’t know,” Tabitha said. “I don’t think I want to worry her with everything. Coach Baylor has a handle on it all, I guess. It’s all sort of stupid and pointless to begin with, I just… I can’t help but stew in it, sometimes. Let it get to me. Talking with you helps a lot though, Hannah Banana. You’re a good listener! A great listener. I feel a lot better, about everything, just because you’ve let me vent things out a bit.”

    “Mom says I’m a terrible listener,” Hannah pouted. “But, I’m not terrible. I listen.”

    “I know you do,” Tabitha couldn’t help but smile and pat Hannah’s adorable head. “...Sometimes.”

    “I do listen!”

    “Well, when you do listen, you’re a great listener!” Tabitha was trying hard not to sound condescending. “The best. Thank you, Hannah.”

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/// I have not forgotten about the bread crusts Tabitha put in her hoodie pocket. Tabitha, however, has.

Sorry for going so long without posting up a RE:TT section, recovering from burn out and have been super stressed lately. Will fix guide page and links later.

/// Have had appointments with a new dentist... and the outlook is pretty grim. All my old fillings are fucked, my previous dentist was cheap for a reason and did real shitty work, apparently. Some are MIA, some are cracked or damaged. Some are still sealed over and look fine on the outside, but panoramic x-ray shows cavities forming beneath them. New dentist very thorough and gave me an in depth breakdown on everything he'd like to address and how much everything should cost, and... whew.

It's looking pretty rough. Both for how many visits I'll be putting myself in the chair for a suffering session, and the sheer cost of it all. I kind of knew my previous dentist wasn't super thorough, but I guess at the time I didn't stop and realize how much that could cost me later. Well, and back at the time he was what I could afford, so. I don't know. Hard not to feel angry and frustrated about it all. Root canal scheduled in a couple days, have never had one before and very very not looking forward to it.