A lifetime ago

“Happy Thanksgiving, Honey,” Grandma Laurie welcomed Tabitha into the apartment with a weary smile.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Mr. Moore greeted, giving his chubby daughter a nudge to prompt her to do the same. “Say Happy Thanksgiving, Tabitha.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Tabitha croaked, fidgeting in the doorway.

“No Shannon this year, either?” Grandma Laurie asked, beckoning them inside.

“She’s not feelin’ too great about leavin’ the house right now,” Mr. Moore explained with an awkward expression as he shuffled Tabitha inside. “She does wish she could be here with us.”

“Well, I hope she feels better,” Grandma Laurie gave him a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll put together a big dish of leftovers for you to take over, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Mr. Moore said. “Love you, Mom.”

“Tabby Honey—your cousins are all in the bedroom playing their video game,” Grandma Laurie said. “I’m sure you remember all the boys.”

“Uh-huh,” Tabitha said with reluctance.

Her grandmother’s apartment reeked of the unfamiliar—it was too nice. The furnishings were simple but tasteful with curio cabinets, an overstuffed sofa, a modest television set, and old lamps that lit the room with warm light. In contrast to the decor there was a pile of grubby-looking boys’ backpacks in a small heap by the door, worn plastic action figures were strewn about the periphery—Ninja Turtles, a Megazord missing an arm, a Batman sans his cape, a half dozen small Happy Meal Transformers toys that seemed to turn into fries and ice cream cones and sandwiches.

Both extremes made Tabitha uncomfortable. The toys were violent boys things with swords and guns and whatnot. The tastefully-appointed Grandma aspects of the room were an enormous leap from what home was like and that put her on edge even worse.

Do I havta take off my shoes? Can I just sit on the couch and watch TV by myself? Tabitha couldn’t help but hunch her shoulders a bit as she glanced around. I don’t want to play with my cousins. Why can’t I just stay at home like Momma does? It’s not fair that she doesn’t havta come for stupid Thanksgiving.

“They’re right on in there, playing their games,” Grandma gestured in amusement, apparently of the mind that Tabby would just love to hang out with other kids. “Go on and say hi.”

“Okay,” Tabitha said with a blank face, mechanically stumbling down the indicated hall.

The hallway was lined with framed photos, mostly of Dad and his brother Uncle Danny when they were younger. There were several pictures of the cousins when they were toddlers, there was an embarrassing blown-up yearbook photo of a pudgy Tabitha attempting a dour smile from last year at Laurel Middle school—and as if to taunt her gross inadequacy, for some reason there was an astounding beautiful red-haired young woman with a gorgeous smile in the picture frame just above her.

She gave that one a lingering look, wondering just like when she had visited last year who that one was and which side of the family she was on. Maybe one of her mother’s relatives? She looked familiar in a weird, difficult to place way. Momma didn’t talk about her family. It was a bad subject to bring up, and this was probably why—her Momma probably felt just as rotten seeing this girl as Tabby did.

Her four cousins were all gathered around the bed in Grandma’s room playing a Nintendo 64, and none of them looked up when she came in. The TV screen was split into four different views, each one displaying a hand with a gun in it and dizzying blurs of walls and corridors and stairways and doors as each boy apparently controlled a different character to race around some weird-looking complex in search of something. A blocky polygon person appeared on one of the screens— no, the figures of two different sprinting people with guns appeared, one on each of the diagonal divisions of TV screen, and suddenly the multiplayer game erupted into a cacophony of wild gunfire that made made Tabitha want to flinch back.

“Hah! Gotcha gotcha gotcha gotcha!”

“No you—damn, stop, stop—”

“He’s cheating, Aiden’s screenwatching—”

“Gotcha! Hah-hah, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re—”

“I’m not even looking at your stupid—”

“Well now I’m gonna kill you though.”

“Nuh-uh you’re not.”

“I know where you are and your health’s like, all gone.”

“Ohhh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap—”

“Hi,” Tabitha interrupted with a half-hearted wave.

“It’s Tabby,” One of the boys—she knew all their names but didn’t know who was who— gave her a brief glance before turning back to the game.

“We’re playing Goldeneye,” the youngest one proclaimed. “Do you wanna play?”

“She can’t play. There’s only four controllers.”

“Yeah, stupid. Are you gonna quit so she can play?”

“No, you are.”

“Pfft, yeah right. You are.”

“Nuh-uh. I have first controller, so I’m first. Nick has fourth controller, so he’s last—he should quit.”

“I’m not gonna quit.”

“Whoever dies next has to quit.”

“Oh crap oh crap wait oh crap oh crap—”

“It’s alright,” Tabitha frowned. “I don’t play... Golden Eye.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re already playing.”

“Yeah, we’re already playing and there’s only four controllers anyways.”

“We should play Facility next.”

“No way, Facility’s dumb. We should do Bunker again next, but with proximity mines.”

“Bunker’s dumb.”

“How can you say Bunker’s dumb? You’re dumb.”

“Proximity mines are dumb. They’re basically cheating.”

“Yeah, you only want proximity mines because you suck at playing!”

“Well, you’re just mad because you suck at proximity mines.”

“You can’t suck at proximity mines. All they do is just blow up.”

“Yeah, when you play proximity mines it’s like the proximity mines do all the work.”

Having been immediately forgotten about, Tabitha was more than content to fade into the background and be invisible to them. She remained quiet and found an uneasy perch on the far edge of the bed so she could watch. This Goldeneye seemed to consist entirely of them just murdering each other over and over again with guns. The screens were tiny, they lit up with olive wreaths of red and blue squares for some reason whenever they were about to die, and trying to keep up with what was going on when everyone was running around so fast felt like it was just going to give her a headache.

Video games, in her mind, were for rich kids—she was interested and curious, but the whole experience was also intimidating and complex and she didn’t imagine her parents would ever buy her anything like that. Glancing at the oversized controllers perplexed her even more, because each of the smooth plastic contraptions in her cousins’ hands had three handles, a joystick, and an incomprehensible array of different colored buttons in strange groupings. Tabitha did want to try playing a Nintendo 64 sometime, but not here, and not like this. She wanted to play something that looked actually fun, like from the Banjo Kazooie commercials that played on TV, or to get into that Pokemon thing that she overheard everyone else at school always talking about.

Tabitha watched on with a bored expression as the younger boys continue to violently murder each other in the game for the better part of an hour. She didn’t have to speak up or try to get to know them, so that was nice at least. She was free to sit back by herself with no one paying attention to her and daydream of someday having her own friends to play cool-looking Nintendo 64 games with. After all, someday—someday she’d have a bunch of her own friends to have fun with, and it’d be amazing.

Somewhere in her bitter thirteen-year-old heart, she already knew it was never ever going to happen.

“Booooys!” Grandma Laurie yelled over from the kitchen. It sounded as though she was very used to having to holler. “Tabby, boys—turn that thing off and c’mon out, Thanksgiving supper’s ready.”

Mismatched chairs had been requisitioned and set up for the additional two guests and everyone took places at the table, with Tabitha sitting next to her Dad while the boys all clambered haphazardly into their seats. They didn’t have much in the way of manners, with two of the cousins rising up to sit on their knees so they could put their hands on the table and peer across the ‘lavish’ spread of food.

Thanksgiving dinner was baked beans with hot dogs mixed in, as well as instant mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and stuffing. Tabby remembered the year before there had been a big turkey they baked in the oven, but it apparently wasn’t worth the effort with Uncle Danny and Aunt Lisa gone to… well, wherever they were. The boys were picky eaters and wouldn’t eat turkey, it came right from a roasted dead bird and that was weird. Much like Tabitha, they were raised on processed meats like bologna slices and ninety-nine cent hot dog packs—actual turkey was too bizarre. Grandma Laurie had done her best to make an occasion of it, but still nothing looked all that appetizing to Tabby.

“I was gonna buy a big ham and carve it up, but…” Grandma Laurie sighed and gave her son an apologetic look. “I figured the boys might not eat it, and I might as well save the extra money for their Christmas instead.”

“Everything looks great, Mom,” Mr. Moore promised her. “There’s more here than we can eat anyways, we’ve gotta be thankful. Tabby, boys—doesn’t everything look great?”

“What’s that?” One of the boys stabbed a finger at one of the dishes. “It smells gross.”

“That’s coleslaw, we had it here last year,” Grandma Laurie reminded the boy. “You won’t eat it—we have beans and hot dogs for you boys.”

“Beans, beans, the magical fruit,” one of the other boys sang, “the more you eat, the more you toot!”

“Samuel, enough,” Grandma Laurie warned. “Sit properly at the table. Do you wanna say grace?”

“No way,” the boy made a face. “Nick can say grace.”

“I’m not saying grace!”

“Yub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!” The singing boy chimed in again.

“Hey now, we have company,” Grandma Laurie sighed. “Behave yourselves.”

“Boys, sit,” Mr. Moore commanded in a stern voice. “Mom, I’ll say grace.”

Tabitha obediently bowed her head and clasped her doughy hands together over the swell of her protruding stomach. It was a constant reminder of how fat she felt, especially when they were about to tuck into a big meal like this. Other girls seemed to simply be skinny and it was natural and effortless for them, and the frustration of that made Tabitha just want to shrink back into herself and disappear like always.

“Dear heavenly Father, we thank you for this meal you’ve given us. We thank you for looking over us—for watching over these boys, for looking after my daughter. We thank you for all of your blessings, and we’re thankful that we’re able to sit and eat together as a family. Amen.”

Now

Tabitha sat sandwiched between her mother and father on the bench seat of his truck, staring down at the cast she held on her lap. She was nothing like that Tabitha of old—she was slender enough now that she appeared frail, but she carried herself with confidence and poise. Mrs. Moore was joining them this time, not only having likewise lost weight, but having overcome the crippling agoraphobia that kept her from ever leaving the mobile home last lifetime.

Aunt Lisa was riding along with them, lounging back there behind in the open air bed of the truck with one bony elbow propped up on the side. The sheer amount of differences between this Thanksgiving and what she remembered from her previous life completely overwhelmed whatever scant few similarities remained. So much had changed that there was little point in ruminating over it anymore—there was no meaning to be gleaned from examining subtle changes. There were no subtle changes. Everything had changed, in drastic ways, from the cast of actors present to their relationships to the present narrative. It wasn’t even November twenty-fifth today. They were having their Moore family Thanksgiving a day early, so that the Moores could join the Macintires on actual Thanksgiving.

“Boys’re sure in for a surprise,” Mr. Moore remarked. “Seein’ their Momma again for Thanksgiving.”

“Uh-huh,” Tabitha stared forward out the windshield, doing her best not to show any emotions.

To her father’s apparent dismay, silence once again pervaded the cab of the truck. Whenever Lisa got brought up, Mrs. Moore sealed her lips and held her peace, either because she had nothing to say about the matter, or perhaps in show of solidarity with Tabitha’s obvious and ever-growing animosity for the woman. Shannon Moore had never had much of a rapport with any of Alan’s side of the family, and it was only in recent months that she’d even started to be on better terms with Grandma Laurie.

Tabitha hadn’t known any of them well in her first life. Though circumstances here in this one had at first pushed Tabitha towards her Grandma—only for help squeezing out from beneath her mother’s obstinate thumb—by this point, Tabitha had bridged strong familial connections between both of them. Her mother and father, her Grandma, the four cousins— these were all her family now. Uncle Danny and her Aunt Lisa were not family. As far as she was concerned, the lines had been drawn, and they just grew more and more solid every time Aunt Lisa opened her mouth and something ignorant popped out.

“Heeeey booooys!” Aunt Lisa yelled out the moment Mr. Moore made the final turn through the development and Grandma Laurie’s was in sight. The boys were out playing in the yard as usual, and each one of the cousins appeared stunned as Aunt Lisa rose up into a half-standing position in the bed of the moving vehicle so that she could let out a loud wolf whistle.

“MOM!” Aiden squealed, breaking into a teary-eyed sprint across Grandma Laurie’s front yard towards the truck.

Mr. Moore slowed as the boy ran in front of the truck, and the chassis rocked as Aunt Lisa hopped out of the back, waving proudly with both arms like this was the parade for a returning hero. Aiden ran into his mother with such force that he nearly bowled the woman off her feet, while Tabitha watched on in mounting frustration. I should have—I don’t know what I should have done. Prevented them from meeting again, somehow. Some way.

“Awww, Aidey Baby!” Lisa crooned, splaying her long false nails and patting the boy’s back with her palms so as not to break her acrylics. “Aidey Baby—did you miss yer Momma?!”

Of course he missed his fucking mother you stupid TWAT, Tabitha seethed as she followed her mother out of the truck and stepped to the curb. ‘Mother’ is the name for God in the hearts of little children. You’re their Mom—at that age, you’re, you’re EVERYTHING to them! And you fucking left!

How could she prove to her parents that Aunt Lisa was getting into heroin, and that she had only returned for the money? She felt sure that Aunt Lisa had drugs in her purse, and that that was why she was guarding it so closely. Who would believe her if Tabitha claimed to know there was heroin in that purse, though? She still hadn’t been into Aunt Lisa’s purse—there’d been no opportunity. Aunt Lisa didn’t let it out of her sight for a moment. There might not even be drugs in the purse, for all she knew Aunt Lisa could just be paranoid about letting anyone near the last of her stash of saved money or something.

Even if I pull a bunch of needles out of her purse and wave them around—how can I prove it’s heroin, and not insulin or something? Tabitha grit her teeth and shifted her weight from foot to foot and then turned and took several steps back and forth to bleed off her restless annoyance. It’d be my word against hers.

Me, the emotional teen. Accusing her of being a drug addict out of nowhere, for no discernable reason to them. When they already feel I’m at odds with her. Lisa’s slippery, and probably already has alibis and excuses and whatever reasoning thought up for being called out.

Watching Aiden bury his face against that awful woman, and seeing her carefully sink her talons back into him made Tabitha furious. Was that a cold, calculative glint in Lisa’s wretched eyes, or was it just her imagination getting the best of her? Tabitha had half a mind to stomp over there and separate them, to make some dramatic display of pointed accusation, to confront this terrible truth that everyone else must be willingly blinding themselves to.

There were too many gut-wrenching feelings to deal with right now, and more than anything Tabitha just wanted out, wanted to immediately leave and go back home. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to feel betrayed by how her cousins gathered around Aunt Lisa with wet eyes, but Tabitha felt betrayed anyways. She refused to believe she was jealous, she was not jealous, but anger at Lisa and sympathy for the boy’s terribly misplaced love for their mother wrestled with one another within her, and she didn’t stand to benefit from either of them winning out.

“Mom—Mom,” Joshua vied for his mother’s attention.

“Mom—where did you go?!” The hurt in Samuel’s eyes seemed to devastate only Tabitha, because everyone else was smiling as if they were touched by the happy reunion.

“Moooommy!” Aiden wailed, refusing to let go of the woman.

It’s just me—of course it’s just me, Tabitha grit her teeth. I’m the only one poisoned by future knowledge. Knowing that she didn’t come back for THEM, that she’s just, just this filthy fucking parasite scurrying back at the scent of money. I wish I didn’t know. I wish I DIDN’T know. Fuck. I need to—I need to calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

“Well,” Mr. Moore let out an uneasy chuckle, looking up past the tearful reunion in the front yard to where Grandma Laurie was stepping out onto the porch. “Surprise?”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Grandma Laurie gave the family a strained smile. “Shannon, it’s good to see you. Tabby Honey—I’m glad you could make it.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Grandma,” Tabitha forced out, trying—and failing—to put on a smile.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Shannon called, pointedly glancing past the scene Lisa was making from her mother-in-law to her daughter and back again as if to ignore some unspoken unpleasant truth.

“Well o’course it is!” Lisa snorted. “Momma’s back, aren’t ch’all thankful?! We’re gon’ havta break out the beer an’ celebrate Thanksgiving proper this year, you hear me?”

All at once, Tabitha felt like she was completely done with the entire do-over. She was sick and tired of having future knowledge—she just wanted the ignorance and naivety of a thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old girl again. That time in her first life having Thanksgiving with Grandma Laurie and the boys, hadn’t that been pretty okay? Had all this baggage from the future really made her any happier?

The future sucks. It sucks! It’s completely shitty and awful and depressing and I’m, I’m sick of having it just hang over my head! Tabitha scowled, feeling that familiar swelling surge of emotion get the better of her once again.

Sick of having it LOOM over me with inevitability. Everything I want to change for the better seems to just take HERCULEAN effort, shifting any stone of obstruction in the path of my past reveals some serpent sleeping beneath I never knew about. There’s so many frustrating things I CAN’T change—and I’m just hurting and exhausted, all of the fucking time. All of the fucking time!

Lisa... you’re dressed like a street walker, for crying out loud! Laurie’s rigid smile felt more strained than ever. It’s Thanksgiving. Is that how you want your kids to see you?

Laurie sighed, deciding to rest her old bones on the steps while her grandchildren swarmed their mother with tears. She couldn’t say she was thrilled to see Lisa. She’d honestly never been thrilled to see Lisa. Both her sons seemed to turn soft in the head when confronted with a pretty face, Alan completely enamored by their small town starlet-to-be Shannon, and Daniel falling head-over-heels for—well, Lisa was a harlot. To Laurie’s constant consternation, Lisa got pregnant with the first of the boys while still in her teens, and then the girl just kept on getting knocked up, over and over again. Neither Lisa nor Daniel seemed to have the slightest restraint. Neither ever felt inclined to stop and consider the consequences—that each of these children would need raised up and taken care of.

The sour looks Tabitha and Shannon were wearing told her with certainty that Lisa sure wasn’t going to be staying with them, and that meant Laurie had yet another mouth to feed. As upsetting for the boys as it had been when Lisa took off without a word and disappeared on them... Laurie couldn’t deny that it had been for the best. The woman wasn’t a proper mother, and often it felt like every cross moment she had with the boys led right back to the same problem—their upbringing with Lisa.

While the four boys had been with Lisa, the woman had made no efforts to keep them out of trouble or teach them right from wrong. She barely paid any attention to them at all, because at her core, Lisa seemed a self-centered woman and everything had to revolve around her. The only times Lisa scolded them at all were when the boys did something that would inconvenience her. Back when Aiden had scraped his knee bloody and was bawling his little heart out, Laurie remembered that Lisa had been annoyed rather than concerned.

“What the fuck were y’all doin’?! Lisa had snapped. Sammie—why’s yer brother bleedin’? Huh? Why aren’t you watchin’ out for yer brother?!”

“Everything looks nice,” Tabitha remarked upon surveying her grandmother’s apartment.

“Aw, thank you dear,” Grandma Laurie gave her a wry smile and patted the girl’s shoulder as if Tabitha was simply being polite.

It really did look nice to Tabitha, but with memories of her past life some forty years distant it was hard to put her finger on exactly what had changed. The atmosphere was very different—Grandma Laurie seemed less frazzled than Tabitha remembered, the four boys seemed a tiny bit better behaved. Or, maybe it was just personal bias influencing how she perceived them now that she knew them better?

The apartment was small but cozy, and had been tidied up prior to their arrival for early Thanksgiving, with four children’s backpacks hung up next to each other on the pegs of the coat rack. Rather than toys being strewn about the floor everywhere, the carpet was clear and sported the telltale clean lines of having been vacuumed recently. The boys had obviously been put to task with picking up their things, because many of the toys appeared to now be on the bottom shelf of the entertainment center. A fold-out Bruce Wayne Manor playset was one one side, and all of their action figures were standing in close formation next to it—power rangers, ninja turtles, and the exaggerated plastic musculature of WWF wrestlers all arranged in display as if waiting for a presidential address from the balcony of the batcave.

“I’m so glad everyone could make it,” Grandma Laurie stepped in to accept the glass dish of scalloped potatoes Mrs. Moore had brought. “Oh, this looks lovely, Shannon.”

“Tabitha and I made them fresh this afternoon,” Mrs. Moore said. “Well, I mostly just followed her directions, she’s still got her arm in that awful cast. Might’ve baked too long, the cheese turned a little darker than—”

“It looks lovely,” Grandma Laurie repeated, “and it smells delicious. Glad I bought that ham, now! Don’t think baked beans and hot dogs would’ve been enough for everyone.”

“What, we ain’t havin’ turkey?” Aunt Lisa sounded miffed. “Are you for serious? The hell kinda Thanksgivin’ is it without turkey?”

“Lisa, you know the boys won’t eat turkey,” Grandma Laurie reminded her in a soft voice.

“Well who gives a flying fart what they wanna eat?” Aunt Lisa scoffed. “They’re six years old, they havta eat whatever’n it is we say they do. An’ if they don’t finish what’s on their plate they can sit there at the table ‘till they finish! I ain’t raisin’ up no picky eaters.”

You haven’t been RAISING any of them, Tabitha was once again forced to grit her teeth so that she didn’t launch into a furious tirade. None of them are six years old. Sam’s almost ELEVEN years old, now. Lisa, you’re freeloading food, here. You haven’t provided anyone ANYTHING. You want turkey, why don’t you fucking—

“Tabitha, boys—why don’t you all go on and play your video game in the other room,” Grandma Laurie proposed.

From the dirty look the old woman shot Lisa, Tabitha could tell that Grandma Laurie didn’t approve of Lisa’s assertion or the foul language used in expressing it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Moore looked embarrassed to have brought Lisa here, but also— what else could they have done? This was supposed to be a touching reunion for her and the four boys, but Aunt Lisa was already hopping on the sofa and fishing for the remote control. Samuel, Nicholas, Aiden, and Joshua were milling about beside Tabitha, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued.

“Sure,” Tabitha spoke up, fighting to put on a smile for her cousins. “C’mon, guys. Why don’t you show me your game?”

The young boys seemed to grasp at someone finally giving them attention like it was their lifeline, and quickly clamored to tug Tabitha on down the hallway towards Grandma’s room where the other TV and their Nintendo 64 was set up. Despite visiting her cousins semi-frequently over the past half-year, Tabitha had yet to sit down and actually watch them play video games. Whenever she came over, she was bringing them to the playground to play. At best she’d gone in to check and make sure the game console was turned off before they ran outside with her.

Besides enjoying a few random mobile games like Peggle back in her college years, Tabitha’s only real experience with video games were android ports of Pokemon games, and then later dabbling a bit in ‘classic’ titles re-released on the Nintendo Magi. Most of that was simply to see what all the fuss was about with the new holographics—once companies were investing upwards of a billion dollars into development, games and gaming supplanted cinema and television as the more common cultural touchstone.

“The only racing game we have is Ten-Eighty Snowboarding, so if—”

“All-star Basketball or Goldeneye. I bet Tabby’d be really good at—”

“We don’t have any girl games, but—”

“Tabby’s not like like a girly girl, though,” Samuel interjected. “She’d be good at snowboarding.”

“No way, we should play wrestling!” Nicholas whined. “NWO-World Tour is—”

“What do you want to play?” Joshua asked. “We have four controllers, so—oh, look!”

“Yeah, look,” Aiden chimed in. “Gramma put up your picture.”

“My picture?” Tabitha asked.

Turning to see the photographs hanging along the hallway wall, Tabitha discovered that beneath the young glamour shot of her mother was a framed picture of herself clipped out from the newspaper—the somewhat fuzzy shot Alicia had somehow managed to take of her running towards Officer Macintire moments after the shooting. Likewise Tabitha found another picture beside it of a flushed but skinny looking Tabitha about to leap down from the playground equipment in the park while two of the boys were fleeing in the foreground with huge grins.

That’s me—that’s from THIS timeline, for some reason Tabitha was shocked. That’s the current me. Well, from a few months ago or so maybe, there’s no cast. I look… like a pretty cool little brat. When did she even—does Grandma Laurie own a camera?

No one in this world knew how important the new memories she was making in this life were to Tabitha, but the fact that some of these moments seemed just as important to Grandma Laurie was touching. In her last time through, Tabitha barely even knew this part of her family at all—Grandma Laurie and the cousins only existed at Thanksgiving and Christmas. She hadn’t valued them, they’d simply been there in the far periphery of her life.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Joshua had his arm hooked through her elbow and was trying to pull her back towards the bedroom while his brothers were already turning the game system on back there.

“Coming, sorry,” Tabitha murmured with a wistful smile. “Did I hear you say you had a game about snowboarding?”

Unlike last lifetime, and even despite the improbable return of their own mother, Tabitha was the center of their attention. They weren’t willing to let her fade quietly into the background sitting on the other side of the bedspread—they sat her down on the edge right in front and pushed a Nintendo 64 controller into her hands as the CRT TV slowly fuzzed to life.

“What the…?” Tabitha turned the plastic controller over in her hands, having a rare moment where she felt completely like an old lady again.

Am I supposed to bop it or twist it? Tabitha joked to herself. There’s three handles here, and I’ve only got two hands. There’s a joystick here where I can’t reach it, and buttons and triggers spread all over the place, so how are you supposed to even—

“You hold it like this,” Samuel instructed, correcting her hold on the gray controller. “Ignore this whole side. Except for this button, you need this one.”

“Ah, I see,” Tabitha nodded in amusement, feeling like a pro gamer already. “When you put it like that— this must be so that left-handed people can use it the other way around?”

“Left-handed people?” Aiden looked confused.

“This way’s right, and this way’s left,” Joshua demonstrated proudly, turning in place to face the other way and pointing the wrong direction each time. “No wait, this way’s left, and this way’s right. Left is west and right is east. Right?”

“Left-handed people are born using the wrong hand for everything,” Samuel explained to his youngest brother. “It’s like a disability, or being handicapped sorta. You can get a handicapped parking tag for it when you grow up, one of the kids in my class has it.”

Their childish take on everything was refreshing—in the pre-internet era, conjecture and misinformation was situation normal, and the entire world around them was decorated with tall tales they’d heard from seemingly reliable older kids. Tabitha was still fish-out-of-water enough herself that the first association she made with left and right was democrats and republicans—which may as well not even exist to these elementary schoolers—and it helped the last of her anger at their mother drain away.

Their mother, who’d rather sit out there watching Jerry Springer and Judge Judy than spend time with her own kids. Her own children, who she hasn’t seen in months and each of them must have a billion things to tell her and show her and go on about. They’re growing up fast, and she’s missing it—she doesn’t even care that she’s missing it. All four of them are just DESPERATE for a mother figure, and Grandma Laurie and I can only do so much.

The boys were louder than ever as they talked over each other attempting to give Tabitha advice as she guided a blocky polygon snowboarder down a snowy half-pipe on the screen. It was fun despite the pixel antialiasing and janky graphics that seemed prehistoric to her, and mostly because of how enthusiastic the boys were to teach her how to play. Samuel was crouched on his knees on the bed behind her, looking over her shoulder and occasionally pointing out which button was which on the controller. Nicholas turned into a chatty backseat driver criticizing her every move, and Joshua and Aiden stood on either side of television gesturing wildly and trying to show her what cool moves she could do.

I need to talk to Alicia about games, or maybe even Casey, Tabitha decided, the boys all jumping and cheering as she steered her snowboarder up one side of the curved slope and then mashed buttons until some kind of trick was performed. It’s—wow, that was kinda neat—um, Christmas is coming up, and I want to get the boys each something special.

I think Casey said the Gameboy Color was coming out soon—there’s no way we can afford four of THEM, but surely that means the price of the original, regular Gameboy has gone down. Right? They could each have one of those, and… play Pokemon against each other, or, or… something. I KNOW that Pokemon gets to be really big. You can’t put a price tag on memories at this age, on this sheer childlike wonder they have for new things, this excitement. It won’t be like this for them forever.

“Aiden. You put that on your plate, now you better eat it. No child o’ mine’s gonna be wastin’ food on Thanksgivin’—you better eat it, or so help me God,” Aunt Lisa threatened, pointing a finger across the table right in her son’s face. “That goes for all of you’ns. If them plates ain’t clean, none of y’all are gettin’ any dessert. You hear me?”

He DIDN’T put the ham on his plate, you did, Tabitha seethed. My dad asked if they wanted to try any ham, and they each POLITELY refused and I was so proud of their table manners! So, what do you do? You yell at them, insist they’re insulting Grandma Laurie who made it for them, and slapped a cut of ham on each of their plates. With your filthy fucking unwashed FINGERS, when there’s a pair of tongs right there in the dish with the cuts of ham!

“There’s dessert?” Aiden dared to raise his head.

“No, there’s no dessert—it’s a figure of speech Aiden, don’t be a smartass,” Aunt Lisa growled. “Jesus H. Christ, y’all act like fuckin’ animals. And they wonder why I didn’t want y’all around, it’s been nothin’ but sass and backtalkin’ me since right the minute I got here.”

There was a clatter of silverware against a dish as Tabitha rose up out of her seat in a blind, sickening rage, and only Grandma Laurie’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Glaring pure venom at Aunt Lisa, Tabitha slowly—reluctantly—eased back down into her seat. Her temper seemed to be on a hair-trigger now, and although she didn’t know what she would actually do if she dived over and tackled Aunt Lisa, she knew it wouldn’t be good.

“Lisa—please,” Grandma Laurie tried to mediate. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s just try to—”

“No, nuh-uh,” Lisa forked another helping of scalloped potatoes into her mouth and then used the fork to gesture with. “I ain’t puttin’ up with any shit. You’ve been mollycoddlin’ these boys an’ been soft on ‘em, but all that shit ends right here, right now. You hear me, boys?”

What a joke—they haven’t done anything at all worth scolding them for! Tabitha felt nauseous simply sitting at the same table as her Aunt. You’re going WAY out of your way in an attempt to assert dominance, trying to posture your way back into a family hierarchy you have NO fucking place in.

Tabitha could only look around the table in disbelief, because it appeared to be working. Her father looked uncomfortable and wore a slight frown as he chewed his food, but didn’t seem like he was planning on speaking up. Mrs. Moore almost seemed to be glowering but rarely looked up from her plate and seemed to retreat back into the background once any conversation with Lisa started, because of the social anxieties she still seemed crippled with. Grandma Laurie seemed to think it wasn’t her place to intervene between the mother and her children and was simply putting up with it.

But—I CAN’T put up with it, Tabitha felt sick, her appetite was gone, and she glared down at her dish and idly rearranged food she no longer intended to eat with her fork. Seeing each of the boys—MY boys— just taking the abuse, like beaten dogs—I can’t. I can’t. I’m going to speak up. I’m going to cause a fit. And, and, if no one else takes my side? Then—I, I don’t know. But, I can’t keep putting up with this. If she says ONE more thing to them—

“Nicholas,” Aunt Lisa snapped. “Use yer goddamn napkin, you’re gettin’ food on your fuckin’—”

“Aunt Lisa—stop,” Tabitha shot out of her seat. “What is wrong with you?”

“You sit yer ass down and shut your mouth,” Lisa’s voice rose. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me how to raise my goddamn kids—”

“Lisa, please—” Mr. Moore put his fork down onto his plate with a clenk.

“You’re not their mother!” Tabitha stammered, feeling her throat constrict and fighting back tears of panic—she was NOT adept at these kind of verbal confrontations. “You walked out on them. You walked out on them. You walked out and abandoned them, and th-that means you forfeit any say—”

“I did what I hadta do, and now I’m back, right here where I belong, because I’m a great fucking momma! I’m the best goddamn momma in the world, you hear me, and what do you know about being a mother? Huh? You sit yer scrawny ass down! You don’t know shit ‘bout what I’ve had to do, or where I been, an’ it’s none o’ your business no matter where I been in the first place!”

“Mom—” Joshua tried to speak up.

“Where, doing what?!” Tabitha demanded. “You didn’t even—”

“Alan—I swear to God, you better put her in her place, ‘fore I do it for you,” Aunt Lisa warned, slapping a hand down on the table loudly enough to make Joshua flinch. “I swear to God I will. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Mom—” Joshua tugged at Aunt Lisa’s arm.

“Get offa me, ya little turd!” Aunt Lisa backhanded him across the cheek with enough force to rock the young boy back in his chair.

Tabitha was so stunned she didn’t realize she’d risen back up to her feet again until she heard her chair tip back and totter down to the ground behind her. Watching her hands grab out at the back of her mother’s chair, and then her father’s shoulder made her see that she was racing around the table. She was in motion, but she didn’t even know what she was doing—either making sure Joshua was okay, or tackling his mother to the fucking ground and beating her to a goddamn pulp. She didn’t know what she was doing. Rather than thinking or deliberating or planning, Tabitha felt like a puppet that had been yanked up and into jerky, violent motions by strings of white-hot rage, because her emotions had completely taken control.

“Ya don’t go all hangin’ on people like yer some kinda fuckin’ animal—”

Aunt Lisa was all but snarling into the face of her wet-eyed son when Tabitha stole him away, taking her small cousin awkwardly with her cast and her good hand and lifting him out of his seat into an awkward embrace. It hurt, Joshua was heavy—at eight years old he weighed maybe sixty pounds—but Tabitha’s muscles were screaming out in pain to completely deaf ears as she cradled the boy’s face against her and hauled him away. She was running away with him—she didn’t know where to, and in a blur of motion further distorted by her own tears, Tabitha discovered she’d wound up back in Grandma Laurie’s bedroom.

“I’m, I’m okay,” Joshua protested, trying to struggle free and down to his feet. “I’m—”

Fumbling with the doorknob quite a bit, as she was not willing to let Joshua out of her arms for even an instant, Tabitha finally managed to move the door and then shoulder it closed behind them. She locked it. Then, she carried Joshua over to the edge of the bed and sat.

“I’m okay,” Joshua repeated. “It’s—don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It is NOT okay,” Tabitha managed out before she felt her throat closing up.

“It—it didn’t hurt,” Joshua insisted. “I’m okay. It didn’t even hurt.”

Tabitha couldn’t argue with him, because anything she would have said was choked out with sobs. She was in no shape to have attempted lifting him and she’d strained what felt like everything in her back, but the nauseating pit of anger and hatred in her stomach overwhelmed anything and everything else she might have felt. She pulled Joshua close and hugged him tight as she cried, and outside the room the voices of Aunt Lisa and her parents arguing back and forth out in the dining room continued to rise.

Forty minutes passed before her father realized he was going to have to unlock the bedroom door from the other side with a screwdriver, and Tabitha watched the knob finally twist open with detached interest. She felt completely drained. She’d cried and cried and cried, and despite whatever tough little Joshua might tell his brothers later, she knew he’d cried, too. Most of the heated emotions that had strangled out all rational thought finally did drop away, but as they receded her mind felt cold, bitter, and hateful.

Her eyes felt swollen and puffy, her throat felt raw and sore, her entire body ached, and Tabitha simply stared at Mr. Moore as he entered Grandma Laurie’s bedroom and sat down beside them.

“You okay, Josh?” He asked, tousling the boy’s hair.

“I’m okay,” Joshua nodded, glancing at Tabitha. “It’s—I’m okay.”

“Why don’t you go on out there in the living room and watch the TV with your brothers,” Mr. Moore suggested.

Joshua slid off the edge of the bed, but looked first to Tabitha for permission to leave. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, not knowing what to say and finally simply giving him a nod. When her cousin left, giving her one last lingering look, the room seemed to close in on Tabitha in a crushing way, and she had to hunch up her shoulders and retreat into herself just to fight it back. She was exhausted.

“Tabby honey…” Mr. Moore cleared his throat. “I don’t know what got into your Aunt Lisa tonight. We’ve talked an’ talked with her, an’ she’s out on the porch coolin’ her head a bit. I… know you and your Aunt Lisa don’t quite really get along, but no matter what—she is family.”

“Oh, she is?” Tabitha stared ahead at the door, refusing to face him. ‘Cooling her head a bit?’ Please. She’s probably out there lounging on the porch swing, smoking a cigarette and feeling QUITE pleased with herself. If she feels anything at all.

“She is, sweetie,” Mr. Moore said in a firm voice. “She’s your Aunt.”

“Family—by marriage,” Tabitha pointed out. “So, if an awful or really untrustworthy person marries into the family, they’re still family? We just have to, to stiffen our chin and put up with them no matter what? Ignore their mistakes, no matter what? Forgive and forget? Give them money, support and enable them to continue being awful people who don’t ever have to face the consequences of their mistakes? Because they’re family?”

“Now Sweetie, your Aunt Lisa isn’t awful or untrus—”

“Dad, she abandoned her children,” Tabitha said. “She left them. No notice, no heads-up, no contact information—she was just gone. Gone. That’s not okay. That’s not okay. That’s not something family would do. She’s not family. I mean, the minute Uncle Danny gets locked up, she just disappears from their life? That’s—”

“Tabitha, this whole thing has been hard on your Aunt Lisa,” Mr. Moore rebutted. “You know she was having trouble finding work where—”

“She came back for the money,” Tabitha gave her father a helpless shrug. “Not for family. She’s not family, Dad, she just isn’t. I don’t care whatever fucking sob story she’s sold you, or what excuses you make for her. If you want to ask me if I’m okay with her borrowing money from the settlements—I’m not. Period. End of story.”

“If this is about your—your I don’t know, this phase you’re going through—”

“Dad.”

“—that gives you a problem with the way she talks or her being a more down-to-earth kind of person—”

“Dad, she struck her child, right in front of us. She’s not down-to-earth. She’s fucking trash. She’s a rat who abandoned ship at the first sign of stormy weather, here. She’s a parasite, a parasite who only slunk back here for the money. She’s a terrible fucking mother, and she’s a drug addict. A junkie. She’s doing drugs.”

“Honey,” Mr. Moore let out another slow sigh as he paused to gather his thoughts. “Your Aunt Lisa... isn’t doing drugs, you can’t say things like that. Just because you think she—”

“She’s got heroin in her purse,” Tabitha shrugged, satisfied at least that he didn’t dare to refute her other points. “She won’t let it out of her sight. There’s drug-use puncture marks at the vein on the inside of her arm. They teach us to watch out for these things in school—that’s what the whole D.A.R.E. program is all about, Dad.”

“Your Aunt Lisa wouldn’t do heroin, Tabby,” Mr. Moore shook his head in exasperation. “Tabitha… you know she’s smarter than that.”

“Check her purse,” Tabitha insisted, crossing her arms. “Leave some cash laying about, see if it disappears. Again—check her purse. Ask her if she’s been in our medicine cabinet—you know, I had three of those strong codeine tablets left over in that little orange prescription bottle. Where’d that little pill bottle go, Dad? Why did she come to us, instead of here, stopping by to check on the boys first? Her own children? She could have walked over here any time today, it’s just a few blocks away.”

“Tabitha, stop,” Mr. Moore shook his head. “It’s more’n a few blocks, and you know she don’t have a vehicle to get around no more. The—”

“Sorry, no,” Tabitha rejected his excuse. “Grandma Laurie and the boys aren’t that far away from Sunset Estates. If I can walk over here to visit them, so can she.”

“Your Aunt Lisa isn’t you, Honey,” Mr. Moore argued. “She knew we could drive her over there, and, it’s not a problem for us to give her a hand. She’s family, Tabby. You don’t just—”

“‘Family’ isn’t some magical free pass, Dad,” Tabitha held her ground. “I’m sorry, Dad, it’s just not. You’re not going to change my mind on this, and, apparently, I’m not going to get through to you. I’m done talking about it, because I’m done with Aunt Lisa. I’m sorry for all the swearing. I—I want to go home, now.”

“I’m so sorry about all this,” Grandma Laurie fretted, hovering over Tabitha and helping straighten the hoodie Tabitha had donned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your Aunt Lisa’s head, acting that way. I’ll make sure to keep a close eye on her.”

“No, she’s not staying here with the boys,” Tabitha stated with finality. “She’s coming back to the trailer park with us. You need to tell her there’s not enough room, or, or suggest that she stay with us a few more nights because it’s crowded here with the boys. Tell her as if you’re going to have the boys move around furniture and make space for her here—but don’t actually do that. You won’t need to. I’m going to take care of everything.”

“Tabby, honey…” Grandma Laurie paused.

“I just,” Tabitha’s expression was one of resignation. “I hope you won’t think less of me for what I have to do.”

“Well, of course I won’t,” Grandma Laurie gave Tabitha’s shoulder a squeeze. “But—well, what are you going to do?”

“I love you, Grandma Laurie,” Tabitha stepped in to wrap her arms around the old woman. “I love you, and I love the boys—and I’m going to protect my family.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Grandma Laurie sighed. “Please don’t make that sound so ominous, though. Promise me you won’t go an’ do anything dramatic, okay? Whatever all how you must think of her now, Lisa is still their mother, and with some time things’ll settle back down with everyone to how they used to be. You’ll see.”

“No,” Tabitha shook her head. “No. No, she isn’t, and no—they won’t. Sorry.”

“Matthew baby, could you get the gosh darn phone?” Karen Williams hollered. “It’d be so gosh darn nice if you would, please.”

Her husband’s mother and sister were here in town with them visiting before Thanksgiving—Granny June and Auntie Carol, while here she herself retained the coveted title of Momma Karen—and that meant sipping wine and gossiping late in the warm light of her tastefully-appointed den late into the night. Mostly, discussion kept wandering back towards Matthew and this young girl he thought he could date in secret, with each of the ladies obviously having their own input and advice and anecdotes to share.

“I just don’t like that he’d keep it secret,” Granny June shook her head in dismay. “Keepin’ it secret certainly means they were up to things they were too ashamed to talk about, and—”

“Mum, it’s his first relationship—of course he’s not gonna talk to us about it,” Auntie Carol argued. “You think I kept you in the loop on all the boys I was seein’? Why, when I was that age—”

“Well, of course you did,” Granny June tittered, knowing full well how untrue it was. “I raised you up good an’ proper, and you weren’t courting any boys until Roger. We—”

“Oh, please,” Auntie Carol rolled her eyes. “Don’t even bring up gosh darn Roger. He had his head stuck so far up his ass that he—”

“Carol,” Granny June chided her with a half-hearted smack on the forearm. “Watch your gosh darn language.”

“Sorry, he had his head stuck so far up his you know what that he didn’t know which cheeks were which.”

The constant gosh darns were a joke that never got old—they were drinking and as the night went on and lips loosened they knew each of the Williams ladies could and would swear like sailors. To poke fun at each other they’d correct one another with gosh darns and giggle at each other like much younger women. Mrs. Williams was only partway into her first glass of wine tonight, and determined to not slip and say her first dirty word in front of her hilarious in-laws. Not after last year, at least—that had gotten so out of hand it’d even made her husband blush.

“Ooh, I never heard about Roger,” Mrs. Williams leaned in with delight. “I thought your first guy was... gosh darn, what was his name? Jerry? Went on to manage that—”

“My first boyfriend was Jerry,” Auntie Carol laughed. “I didn’t start seeing Roger until—”

“Oh, shush,” Granny June waved dismissively before taking another sip from her wine glass. “Roger was the first one that counted. Dating before high school isn’t real courting, it’s—it’s children’s games. Like playing at being doctor, it’s not real.”

“My son is in high school, though—he’s a sophomore already,” Mrs. Williams sighed. “They grow up so gosh darn fast. So, is this with this Casey girl a real thing I should worry about, or is it—”

“Real doesn’t mean forever,” Auntie Carol snorted. “Now, I don’t mean to make light of him an’ his feelings, havin’ his first puppy love, but if you think about—”

“Real should mean forever,” Granny June frowned. “I don’t like all this playing around at it I see on television. Why, it’s just terrible what they teach kids these days, the state they treat relationships these days.”

“It is the nineties,” Mrs. Williams chuckled, taking another sip of her own glass. “The times, they are a’changin’.”

“For the worse, if you ask me,” Granny June huffed. “Why, if this thickheaded dummy here had married that gosh darn Roger, she’d—”

“Oh, please,” Auntie Carol rolled her eyes. “Married Roger?! Even if we had, we’d have never lasted. I know you never believed in divorce, but—”

“I don’t believe in divorce,” Granny June agreed. “It goes against God. Marriage is a sacred institution, and the more people just—”

“Uh, Mom?” Matthew approached to interrupt the older women with reluctance, presenting the cordless phone to his mother. “It’s—”

“Who is it, dear?”

“Tabitha Moore,” Matthew replied. “She asked for you, said it was an emergency.”

“Now I’m not defending divorce, but—” Auntie Carol stopped as Mrs. Williams held up a hand.

“Hello?” Mrs. Williams felt her hackles raise up as she imagined what the emergency might be. “Tabitha honey?”

“I… I hate to impose, so close to the holidays,” A small voice said through the phone. “But, Mrs. Williams—there’s, um. I really need help.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Williams demanded, rising up out of her comfy seat in alarm. “Where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Tabby has it in her head to be all dead-set against Lisa,” Mr. Moore grumbled. “Can’t seem to even stand the sight of her.”

He and his wife were settling into bed after that fiasco of a Thanksgiving dinner over his mother’s apartment. Against expectations, Lisa came back with them rather than staying over there with her kids, and that sure didn’t help the tense silence between everyone any. True, Lisa had gone a little overboard disciplining her son there right at the table, but he’d never thought seeing it would affect Tabby quite so much. She had to understand that things were different—she’d grown up ‘till now as a only child, and a girl, at that. He certainly wasn’t gonna raise his hand against her, but she’d mostly always been a good kid. Boys were different, rowdy, and there were four of them. Some loss of patience on Lisa’s part and occasional corporal punishment in spanking or smacking them here and there was understandable.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Moore let out a thoughtful hum and buried her cheek deeper in the pillow. “Well, Lisa did wake us all up at twelve in the morning.”

“Twelve at night,” Mr. Moore said.

“That’s the same thing, and you know all of us are cross at her,” Mrs. Moore muttered. “So, what is it? What’s wrong now?”

“I’m worried about Tabitha,” her husband admitted. “‘Bout her and… y’know, all that money. That’s a whole lotta money to go to a young girl’s head all at once.”

“You’re worried it’s gonna go to her head?” Mrs. Moore blinked one eye open.

“Hasn’t it already?” Mr. Moore sighed. “She’s got it in her head for a while that anything from—well, you know, humble origins is all low class, and she gets herself all set against it. Lisa just seems to really rub her the wrong way, and Tabby isn’t even willing to give her a chance.”

“Alan—you know I’m not exactly thrilled with Lisa, either. Hitting her son like that—that was out of line.”

“I know, I know,” Mr. Moore mumbled. “But, she is goin’ through a rough patch right now. With Danny bein’ where he is and all. And, she is family.”

“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Moore responded with a noncommittal grunt. “So, what are we gonna do about her?”

“Lisa asked for help, and she’s family, so... I think we’ve gotta do what we can to help her.”

“She asked for help—she asked for help how, exactly?” Mrs. Moore asked, her sleepiness subsiding.

“We’re just about to come into more money than we’ll know what to do with, and Lisa sure could use some of it to help gettin’ back on her feet. Tabitha’s hospital bills’re already just about all taken care of, and leavin’ all that money for a thirteen-year-old girl to do who knows what with—that’s irresponsible.”

Leaving the money to TABITHA is irresponsible? Shannon Moore said nothing to that, but she was now fully awake and alert. Tabitha, who was talking me through home repair and all the specific expenses she had planned here? SHE’S irresponsible? According to who? LISA? Did Lisa just repeat TABITHA’S THIRTEEN AND IRRESPONSIBLE to Alan until he started getting suckered into believing it? TABITHA, IRRESPONSIBLE? Are you fucking kidding me?

“I think we should take out some to help out Lisa an’ the boys, maybe a tiny bit of spending money for Tabby to do whatever she wants with. And the rest? Needs to go into a college fund or a trust fund or somethin’ ‘till she’s older and can right make up her mind on what’s best to do with it. When she’s older and we explain what we did—she’ll understand. Lisa’s family. She didn’t run off ‘cause she wanted to, an’ she sure as all heck isn’t a druggie or anything like that.”

“Alan,” Mrs. Moore sat up in bed, shucking off the covers so that she could glare at her husband. “What part of our Tabitha is any less responsible than Lisa? Huh?”

“Now you know that’s not what I meant,” Alan rose up onto one elbow. “Tabitha, she’s—she’s still a child. She’s thirteen years old, she doesn’t know what from what.”

“Fourteen in a little over a week, and you know damned well she’s more mature than that,” Mrs. Moore growled. “She’ll always be our baby girl, okay—but, Tabitha is not a child anymore. She’s a young woman, an’ there’s no way you can say otherwise! Listen to yourself, Alan. In what freaking world is Lisa or your lousy brother Danny more mature and responsible than our daughter? Who’s to say Lisa isn’t a druggie? Huh? Who’s to say where she’s been or what she’s been up to these past months?”

“Now, hold on—” Mr. Moore protested. “I’ve sat down an’ talked things through with Lisa. She’s been workin’ where she can, things haven’t been easy on her, alright? No matter what, she’s family and we’ve gotta do what we can to look out for her.”

“Just a few months ago we gave her all that money for a car that don’t run!” Mrs. Moore pointed out, growing angry. “What all happened to that, huh? We’re the ones who look after her boys when your mother doesn’t. Where’s she been all this time? She kept sayin’ she was livin’ with a friend— she never made no mention of a name or that it was a woman. Who’s to say she isn’t living with some other man now that your brother’s locked up? Huh?”

“Lisa definitely wouldn’t—”

“Alan, I love you to pieces, but your heart’s so much bigger than your head that it’s not even funny,” Mrs. Moore let herself fall back against the pillow and then turned onto her side so that she was facing away from her husband. “If Tabitha doesn’t wanna support Lisa’s mistakes with that settlement money, then that’s that. It’s Tabitha’s money. Not ours. Not Lisa’s. Our Tabby doesn’t owe her one goddamn red cent. Tabby’s got no obligation to throw pearls before swine, and as far as I’m concerned, neither do we.”

“Mistakes?” Mr. Moore frowned. “That’s not what I’d—”

“Goodnight, Alan,” Mrs. Moore called over her shoulder.

Nervous tension had filled Tabitha’s room until it became absolutely suffocating, and it wasn’t until after her parents had gone to bed that the sign she’d been waiting for finally came. Her Aunt Lisa started up the shower after having dickered around in the bathroom doing who-knows-what for almost a half hour. Having been pretending to be asleep already, Tabitha had simply been waiting in the darkness for the sound of the shower. Waiting, with the flathead screwdriver from the kitchen’s junk drawer in hand, waiting for the right moment to strike.

With her heart in her throat, she quietly opened her bedroom door and tiptoed out into the hall. The only light here was coming from beneath the locked bathroom door, and it was dark enough that she couldn’t see the little line in the center of the doorknob—she had to feel it out with the head of the screwdriver. It made a small noise as metal met metal, but Tabitha didn’t freeze. The sound of the shower spray in there would drown that out. She was committed, now. The tab swiveled, the doorknob turned, it was unlocked. The screwdriver was dropped down to the floor where it would be out of the way, because she only had one good hand, and she was going to need it.

Tabitha opened the door and burst into the bathroom.

“Hey—what the hell?!” Aunt Lisa crowed from the other side of the shower curtain.

There. The woman’s purse was up on the counter, yawing wide open and unattended. Beside it was a worn and faded Batman thermos, of all things, likely borrowed long ago from one of her son’s plastic lunch boxes. On the porcelain lip of the sink lay a disposable lighter, a blackened, filthy spoon, and yes, the real smoking gun itself—a syringe.

“Tabitha?” Aunt Lisa called. “Hey—Jesus, I’m in here a’showerin’, you know?”

The woman pulled back the edge of the shower curtain, just in time to peek around and discover Tabitha hurrying to pluck the syringe up with careful fingers and toss it into the open purse.

“Hey—HEY!” Aunt Lisa shrieked. “What the fuck do ya think yer doin?!”

The spoon and the lighter followed the syringe into the purse with the quickest snatching motions she could manage, and then Tabitha grabbed up the Batman thermos and shoved it inside, as well. The thermos was one of those squat, cylindrical ones with a little plastic handle for the cap so that it could double as a tiny cup, and thankfully it had already been screwed shut. She could feel the contents of the thermos shift in the brief instant it was in her hands, but it didn’t feel like liquid inside—it was as if Aunt Lisa was keeping clumps of dirt in the thing. Heroin, obviously. Hopefully. If this was her Aunt’s stash of instant coffee grounds, then—then Tabitha didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DO YA THINK YER—” Aunt Lisa yanked the vinyl curtain back hard enough that the several curtain rings separated from the rod.

Completely naked, with wild, frenzied eyes, Aunt Lisa jumped out of the shower and lunged for her.

The plan had been to also gather up Aunt Lisa’s abandoned clothing there so as to forestall the woman’s pursuit, but there just wasn’t enough time. Tabitha bolted out of the small enclosure with the purse pinched closed with her good hand and held against her. She ran down the hallway in what felt like an instant, but she could hear Lisa’s heavy footfalls, chasing her anyways, and then the light coming from the open bathroom door was blocked and she knew the woman was right behind her.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit—

Terror and dread were freezing up her movements and locking them up in raw panic, but Tabitha managed to hold the purse against her and wrench open the front door of their trailer. In the periphery of her vision, she saw Aunt Lisa, naked and soaking wet, was just behind her, mere feet from catching up with her at the door.

“HEY!” Aunt Lisa shrieked. “HEY!”

To Tabitha’s immense relief, a car waiting outside flicked its high beams on as Tabitha raced outside. From the sound of her Aunt’s continuous hoarse screaming, the trailer trash had paused in the front doorway, unwilling to run out naked into the night air in the midst of November.

I-I made it. It worked. It worked. I have the evidence, I think, and— I made it.

“Get in, get in!” Mrs. Williams looked absolutely furious, and the police officer’s wife started slamming the horn on her Ford Taurus to drown out Aunt Lisa’s screaming and hollering. “Jesus Christ, we’re gonna—are you okay? Are you okay?”

“I have it,” Tabitha confirmed as she hurried into the vehicle. “I’m okay, just—let’s get out of here.”

“Close your door, let’s go,” Mrs. Williams slammed her foot on the gas pedal and they plunged forward and past the trailer down the street, putting Lisa out of sight. “Get your seatbelt, honey.”

“I, I—thank you,” Tabitha choked up. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t, I didn’t know anyone to, to go to about this. All of this. I didn’t—”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh, you’re fine, you’re fine, honey, let’s just get you out of here, okay? Are you okay?”