I contemplate not sending the monthly payment forthe debt that isn’t minebut quickly disregard it—they need the money more than I do, and I knowshe’llfind a way to get her green if I miss a payment, and I honestly don’t want to see it happen. I get a full-body shudder as I remember the first timeshecame to demand the payment—the whole trailer park was shaken, and we’re not an easily shaken bunch.
I remember Marina has an old bike—it could be good cardio, pedaling miles upon miles from my secluded location to town through the mountain. Fun times. Or I could move the trailer somewhere closer, but I quickly abandon that thought, because I don’t want people to know about my problems. Or about my living situation. Which is still a trailer, just at a different location—one that’s turning out to be a huge disadvantage, considering now I don’t have wheels.
It’s not the same trailer I used to live in with my mother and sister; this one I bought on my own. Iboughtit. It’smine.It was run-down and needed a lot of work, but I fixed everything on my own.Idid it, and I’m proud of the home I’ve made. When Jake or Justin Attleborough calls me trailer trash, they don’t know what they’re talking about.
I didn’t park the trailer with everybody at the park. Instead, I found the perfect spot on the other side of the mountain—so technically, I don't live in Little Hope, but I belong there. My special spot is located on the line between a field of wildflowers and a pine forest. In the morning, I sit with my beautifully mismatched dishes, have breakfast, and watch the sunrise between two twin hills across the field. And it’s easy for Frank to visit me anytime he wants to.
The trailer is small but very roomy, especially for one person, and very mobile if hooked up to a car. It’s more of an RV than an actual trailer, but I like to think of it as a trailer: it has all the attributes and resonates with my upbringing. I’m not sure my Jeep can handle anything heavier than a kid’s stroller, but regardless, my wings aren’t clipped by a house rooting me to the ground.
There is a tiny kitchen, a hybrid of a living room and a corridor, and a decent-sized bedroom. The kitchen has a loveseat and a tiny coffee table; no dining table, though. Instead, I use a two-person island connected to the kitchen structure. My bedroom fits a queen-size bed and a small nightstand. My shower is a stall with a microscopic sink and a shower. Everything is small, but it works for me. So, in my fantasy, whenever I’m ready, I’ll hook this bad boy to my Wrangler (If it’s still alive and stillmineby then, which I’ve begun doubting), and we drive off into the night.
“You know you can always take my car,” Marina offers as expected the moment I step over the threshold. “I live nearby and can walk, no biggie.”
I attempt a smile. “No, it’s fine, but if you could give me a ride home today, that would be amazing.”
“Sure, hon.” Her smile is understanding. She won’t pressure me into taking her car or her money. She knows enough about pride; in the end, she refused Freya’s help in restoring the diner and caved only when she didn’t have any other options when the bank refused to give a loan. I feel like I might be in the same boat very soon. It’s probably time to put my pride aside and look at my options.
JUSTIN
“Hey, Justin,” Paul calls out from the front of the garage. “Can you come here for a sec?”
I’m buried under piles of invoices, so any distraction at this point is welcomed. I run my hand through my hair, pulling on the strands, trying to escape that haze I get into every time I see a page full of numbers. “Comin’,” I holler back, then take a sip of piss-cold coffee and head to the front. Bobby, the owner of the only towing company in town, is chatting with Paul. “What’s up?” I ask, walking up to them.
Bobby’s glancing around and nervously biting the inside of his cheek.Huh.
“What happened, Bobby?”
“I—” His head swivels as he shoots another look around the space. “Do you think we can talk in private?”
“Sure.” I nod to Paul to give us a minute, but he’s already made himself scarce. “What’s up?”
He fidgets with his keys. “Not my business to say this, but—” He cuts himself off again, shaking his head.
“You can say anything. It’ll stay between us.” I nod in encouragement.
“Alright. I just saw Jake.” He swallows. For fuck’s sake, he needs to hurry the fuck up with his story before I die of old age. I bite my tongue so I don’t scare him off with my snippy remark. Bobby’s a good guy—kind and quiet, if not a little soft—and for him to voice his opinion means a lot, so I wait. “So, I was towing this car. Kayla’s car.” Oh, fuck. I know where this is going. "For tickets or some shit. I don't know; Jake had a paper. But I feel like he's pushing too much. I've seen him around town hot on her heels, and I think he’s using his position to harass the girl.” The last sentence is so fast I barely register what he’s saying. “And it’s not only me who’s noticed it. I’ve heard people talk.”
I clench my jaw; Bobby thinks it’s because of him and rushes to placate me. “Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you did the right thing. I’ll deal with it,” I say through gritted teeth, trying hard not to punch the wall over this new information.
“Good.” He nods, looking relieved. “Good.”
“Do you have her car hooked up?” I glance outside but don’t see his truck.
“Yeah.” He points down the road. “Around the bend. Part of me thinks I should have towed it straight to the junkyard. The poor girl's going to meet her maker trying to get around in it one of these days."
I heft a sigh. “Agree with you on that one. Hey, I’m about to cash in that favor of yours.” I smirk at him.
Bobby pales and swallows nervously. “Look, I can’t do much—”
“Relax, Bobby, I just need to fix something in her car, but it’s gotta stay between us. Feel me?” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he nods.
“Yeah, we can do that.”
“I need to finish some stuff here, then I’ll stop by later. Does it work for you?” The favor he owes me is big, so I know he’ll agree to help me out here.
"Yeah. I'll leave you the key. We'll be good after that, though, right?” He licks his lips with agitation.
