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1
Bart
Goddamn. I didn’t want this to happen, yet here we are. I’m ashamed and don’t look up when I enter the trailer, my heart pumping in my chest. But my sassy stepdaughter glances towards me and smiles.
“Hey,” she says. “Is that my stuff? Just dump it over there,” Christy gestures, pointing to an unoccupied corner of the combination living-dining room.
I slink to the corner before setting the cardboard box down. It’s labeled “winter clothes” and bulging against the packing tape. I straighten, even as embarrassment causes harsh streaks to color my cheeks.
“Sorry about this,” I rasp, still not looking up. “As soon as I find another job, we’ll move, I promise. This place is a dump.”
Christy merely shakes her head, her voice gentle.
“It’s fine, Bart,” she says. “I’ll be perfectly happing living at Sunset Views. Besides, you know that the closing of the Portnoy meatpacking plant wasn’t your fault. You’ve been there for ages, and no one thought they were going to layeveryoneoff.”
I nod, still embarrassed.
“Yeah, but I should have seen it coming,” is my gruff reply. “Like you said, I’ve been with Portnoy a long time. More than twenty years in fact. I should have known this was coming down the pike.”
The beautiful brunette merely smiles again, her expression gentle.
“Maybe, but what could you have done? There’s only one meatpacking plant in this area, and that’s Portnoy. Plus, it’s been your life since you were eighteen. All of your friends work there too.”
I snort.
“Yeah, but I could have moved and found another job,” I say in a raspy voice. “I could have been prepared, instead of getting the axe along with everyone else. This was a long time coming, you know. We all knew it was only a matter of time.”
But Christy merely tilts her head at me, her brown eyes forgiving.
“I know, but I also know that you were thinking of me when you decided to stay put,” she says in a pointed voice. “I was in high school, and you didn’t want to pull me out in the middle of it. So we stayed here in Hartsville, and what’s happened has happened, Bart. It’s okay. I don’t blame you one bit, and besides, I have a job now so we’re going to be fine. We can afford the rent on this trailer on my salary.”
The statement only makes me feel worse because after graduating from high school, Christy picked up a full-time position at the local five and dime. She’s working the counter, and I have to say that I’m secretly grateful for her job. Sure, she doesn’t make much, but forty hours a week at the store is just enough to cover our rent and some basics.
Still, I hate the fact that I’ve put the beautiful girl in this position. After all,I’msupposed to be taking care ofher, and not the other way around. When her mother passed away, Sharon made me promise to take care of Christy, and I have to the best of my ability. But I’m sure Sharon never envisioned her daughter working her fingers to the bone to support me.
The thought makes me drop onto the couch and put my head in my hands. Fuck, this is so messed up. I’m a grown man, and I’ve always seen myself as a provider. Hell, I’mproudto be a provider. I take pride in putting food on the table, and a roof over our heads. I want Christy to live the carefree life of a teen girl, but instead, we had to give up our small brick house and move to this trailer park on the outskirts of Hartsville. It’s embarrassing, frankly, but Christy doesn’t seem bothered. I feel, rather than see, the curvy girl sink next to me on the couch, and one small hand strokes my shoulder.
“It’s okay, Bart,” the caring woman murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. I swear. And I quite like Sunset Views Trailer Park. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there actuallyisa beautiful view of the sunset from our window. Come, look,” she urges, her voice persuasive.
I manage to lift my head and glance towards the small, slotted window in front of us. It’s pretty sad because at the moment, my stepdaughter and I live in not more than three hundred square feet. There’s a bathroom to the right, and then the bedroom in the back. We’re currently sitting in the combination living-dining room with a small kitchenette along one wall. Obviously, space is tight and the two of us are crammed like sardines in something that could pass as a closet, or a shoebox. Yet Christy’s smiling at me as she gestures to the aforementioned sunset.
“See?” she murmurs while taking in the brilliant oranges, reds, and pinks that streak the sky. “Gorgeous.”
I don’t say anything at first, merely staring at the teen girl. After all,she’sthe one who’s gorgeous. When Sharon and I got married years ago, Christy was a mess of frizzy brown hair, knobby knees, and thick glasses. But during high school, the girl changed. She grew, matured, and most of all,developed curves. The frizzy hair is now gone, transformed into lush, chestnut waves, and goddamn, but she’s put on weight in all the right places. Christy’s got large Double D breasts that are often showcased beneath tight baby T’s, and a lush bottom that’s encased in skintight jeans. But it’s her winsome smile that always makes me melt inside. She’s gorgeous, and even I, her stepfather, have noticed the transformation.
But that’s the problem. I’m the man of the house and I shouldn’t be thinking these things. Back when her mother and I were married, it was no big deal to live with a little girl. But then Sharon tragically passed away from the big C a couple years back, and I lost it for a while. It was a terrible time for everyone, and Christy and I clung to each other through the ordeal.
“Yeah, real pretty sunset,” I grunt, staring at my hands again.
Christy merely laughs gently before pulling at my forearm.
“Come on, Bart. Let’s do a tour of our new place.”
I shoot her a wry look.
“Tour? Honey, I think we’re looking at all of it. This is the entire kingdom.”
She giggles then, her brown curls bouncing.
