Ana Robbins
Well, it wasn’t the first time I had been stuck in the middle. My stepdad’s truck bounced, rattled, and shook as he simultaneously kept us on the shrubbed-over forest road and shifted gears with the stick between my legs. Since the vehicle was a pickup with only one row of seats, my stepdad Ted sat in front of the wheel, my mother got the passenger space, and I got the 8 inches of seat in between. In order to make the setup work, I had to have my rear squished by my respective parents’ buttcheeks, then allow my legs to straddle the stick shift while trying desperately to keep my knees out of Mr. Driver’s way. Yes, the truck had seatbelts. Had. All that were left of those little stabilizers were chewed tufts of nylon strap on either end of the truck cabin.
As my self-proclaimed highbrow mother stewed on my right, incensed at having to sit within such trash, the stepdad to my left calmly hummed a Hank Williams tune while looking through the scratched windshield. The low-hanging, thick trees on either side of the practically invisible trail hit the glass every second or two. Entirely unphased, Ted stared straight ahead into the green, somehow seeing a clear path neither of his two passengers could even sense. As the branches tried in vain to buff out the nicks on the front glass by adding as many new ones as possible, I sat wondering how long a leg can stay asleep before it falls off. The truck radio/clock didn’t work, so I had to try and figure out how long we had been on the road in my head. Right when I was close to closing in on the correct number of months, Ted’s imaginary road suddenly curved, and his truck dutifully complied. My body became pressed against his side, while my mother kept herself upright by the sheer force of her own indigence. By the time the centrifugal force released its hold on me, the truck had rolled into a clearing, revealing evidence of human infestation. Tree stumps dotted the small hole of forest, allowing for a wild trailer to sprout from concrete block seeds. Angered by the intrusion, trees grew up from below the dwelling, cementing their existence on, and at some points through, the particle board/sheet metal walls. Undaunted, the inhabitants of the caged in trailer strung white Christmas lights from one tree trunk to the next, to the next, about seven feet above the ground. The lights stretched across the house to almost every tree still standing within the thinned out area. Taking some design sense into account, the lights were double strung above a large wooden hot tub situated between two half dead evergreen trees and five tree stumps. The tub sat, uncovered, on an old slat porch, no longer attached to its house. Perhaps its building went to seed; hard to know for sure.
We parked the truck next to another pickup, a tractor, two rusted red cars, a 4-wheeler, a windowless van, another 4-wheeler, and a stationary bike. Perpendicular to all that was a “white” car up on blocks with a visible beehive hanging off its ceiling over the back seat. I tried to ignore the implications of that as I tumbled out of the truck behind Mom, who still looked like wires had been hooked on the insides of her top and bottom lips, then connected to her inner sphincter and pulled tight. I saw a few young men putting large rocks into circles and carrying large logs in preparation for the three bonfires we would light in a few hours, once dusk came. Ted came around the truck and gave us a quick glance before striding right up to the door of the trailer. I followed him while trying to keep Mother in my general sights. I caught up with long-stride Ted just in time to have him open the front door for both of us. As the white metal door swung open weightlessly, my face was met with a warm blast of humid, stale, thick white air that smelled like a rotting rat had been rolled up in poison ivy leaves and smoked. Two tall teenage blondes played with their new flip phones in one corner, actively ignoring the four little boys with feather headbands on running from room to room in the tiny house, shooting each other with Nerf guns. In the opposite corner from the silent, morose puberties was a group of three adult ladies, all with drinks in their hands. They, too, ignored the commotion in the house, and certainly didn’t treat our entering with any fanfare. But Ted didn’t seem to mind, and I soon found out why. He put his hand on my back and led me forward into the room, over to where a full-sized bed was pushed unceremoniously against the wall. Sitting on the end of the mattress was Mary, the woman who most people there were related to. Later in the night, she would remark how each person there had come out of her in some way. I think the concept of shame had left her a long time ago. She had light brown, short straight hair, a stale-smelling cigarette in one hand, an ashtray on the bed, and an oxygen tank on the floor with tubes running from its top to around her neck and into her nose. One eye always stared at the wall next to her, while the other focused onto me and my third stepdad. But all these things were not what made her intriguing. That honor went to her size. Sitting at the foot of her bed, she took up the entire width of it. At 750 pounds, she was the largest person I had ever encountered. Turns out, she could not fit through any of the house’s doorways anymore, thus why her bed was in the living room. She gave me a huge, jovial smile.
“Oh, my goodness! Well, aren’t you the prettiest girl! Ted, you lucky buck! Just turned 13? She’s the cutest! I bet he spends every minute he can with you, right? Do you look just like your mama? I bet you do. Do you want some food? Can’t wait ‘til the fires get started to get some food in ya! Have you met everybody yet? I’m sure they’re gonna love you—here, here’s a box of cookies. Come, sit next to me! So, what do you like to do? Draw? Write? I bet we have some paper around here somewhere…”
This woman was by far the most wonderful, sweet, caring, and comforting human I had ever been in contact with. I was used to being ignored at my biological family’s events, pushed aside or even pecked at by underhanded jabs from the mouths of old hens I hated being related to. I felt at ease being next to her and her non-judging tone and kind gaze (from one of her eyes, at least). Ted went outside to find my mom, who apparently hadn’t felt the need to enter any building that might have been on the property. I stayed inside with my new favorite person, who had just offered to show me pictures of my “new family” from some of her albums.
Two hours later, I was grinning from ear to ear as I listened to Mary tell me story after story while making sure I always had a snack in my hand. Ted poked his head into one of the open windows to tell me that the bonfires were going and hot dogs and s’mores were being served. Mary softly shooed me outside, assuring me that everyone would love me and to enjoy myself as much as possible. I reluctantly stepped outside, where I was greeted by an amazing scene. The bonfires lit up the whole yard, illuminating fifteen or so people mulling about, drinking beer, poking the Christmas lights with sticks, and throwing marshmallows at each other. Two citronella torches had appeared in front of the old hot tub, allowing me to see three pasty old men sitting in the now-full tub, drinking out of off-brand Solo cups and letting their white beards tickle the top of their wet beer guts. Mosquitoes congregated above the flames of the torches, making their grey bodies shine silver.
I finally caught a glimpse of Ted and my mom sitting on a log next to one of the bonfires, Ted leaning forward to talk to the people on the other side of the heat, and Mother sitting up as straight as possible, as if she could levitate over the dirty log if only she stretched upwards enough. I walked over and almost sat next to her, but decided to take my chances with an at home lecture about “abandoning” her rather than facing her current state. I sat next to Ted.
From this vantage, I could finally make out some of the people in our little cornered circle. Two middle-aged women sat on the log next to ours on the left, nearest Mom. On my right was another log, this one covered in what looked like mushrooms, and two older men plus a younger man sat on that one. I sat silently, wishing I could be back in the house with the nice lady, when I felt eyes on me. I looked to the right, and the younger man was looking at me, leaning in, and smiling. I smiled back and turned to look at the fire. Whatever conversations were going on around our little powwow were lost to me; their voices just seemed to blend into the cicada songs and frog croaks in the background. A few of the kids, still awake and full of energy somehow, ran through the yard, past the hot tub, over a dog asleep next to the car on blocks, then nearly dogpiled onto themselves when the leader tripped over an extension cord in the tall grass. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed the bright orange electrical snakes before; they ran all over the ground, going from the grill to the hot tub to an outdoor outlet on the trailer, and even right through one of the open windows. Intrigued, I decided to follow them to figure out where they came from. My eyes traced them over the ground, past the fires, under the porch with the tub, into the bushes, up into the trees, and finally…directly into the electrical box at the top of a telephone pole. I grinned in disbelief at the sheer illegal genius. In the middle of wondering if they got cable from that box too, I noticed the young man’s eyes on me again. He got up and asked if I’d like a burger. I said sure, and followed him to the grill. We chatted on the way, him saying hello to family as we passed by. He got me a burger, asked if I wanted cheese (I did), put it all on a bun, and handed it to me. As we walked back, he said hello to an older man who was significantly thinner than the hot tub gentlemen. He asked who I was, and my escort responded that I was the daughter of his uncle Ted. We continued on, and it only hit me after I sat back down that he hadn’t said “step-daughter.” He took the spot of log next to me, and started talking with Ted over my head, trying to include me in the conversation, too.
After a few hours, when all the burgers and hot dogs had been consumed and everyone was goodly sloshed, Mother decided it was about time to head back home. I was standing under a canopy of lights near the now-empty hot tub, smiling and standing in the middle of about five jovially drunk men, plus Ted and his nephew. Seeing my mom approaching, I sensed the position of the moon in the sky and poked Ted’s arm. “I think it’s time to go,” I whispered. From my other side, I felt a poke on my arm: it was the nephew. He asked if I had a cell phone. Before I could answer, Ted had his arm around me and walked me away from the circle. I was confused, but didn’t question him. We went inside the house to say goodbye to my new favorite person before we left. She gave me the best hug I’d ever had, and sent me on my way with some paper, crayons, and another cookie.
I found out on the car ride home, in no uncertain terms, that the young man did, indeed, think that I was his biological cousin. He also thought I was 14 and quite attractive.
He was 28.
