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“No silly! I mean, yes, the trailer is small but we haven’t done a spin through the whole thing.” Then, Christy stands and skips over to the bathroom before throwing the door open. She flicks on the light, which is nothing but a single bulb attached to the ceiling.
“Bathroom,” she says in a gracious tone. “Complete with a shower stall, commode, and sink.”
I smile despite myself.
“Commode? That’s a very genteel way of putting things.”
She smiles right back.
“It’s because I’m a genteel lady,” she says in an arch tone. “But come on, Bart. See, it’s not so bad! The glass of the shower stall is even frosted a bit for ‘mystery,’” she says with air quotes.
I laugh because there won’t be much mystery in this trailer, seeing how we’re basically living on top of one another. But Christy is emboldened by my chuckle, and she skips through the living room before doing a spin.
“This is our family room,” she says in a determined tone. “It’s filled with boxes right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be fine. I’ll spruce it up with some cheery curtains and colorful flowers, and it’ll be just like home.”
I nod. To be honest, the place is pretty tacky with its fake-wood walls and laminate countertops. But my stepdaughter’s always been an optimist, and I appreciate her spirit in these down times.
Then, Christy takes a few steps to the far end of the trailer and opens the door to the bedroom.
“And this is the bedroom,” she says. It isn’t much. There’s a lumpy queen-size mattress pushed against one wall, and ugly brown bedstands on either side. The one window is cracked open slightly, and the glass pane is dim with dust. But Christy looks confused. She peers through the doorway as if looking for something, and even steps into the room, doing a survey of the space.
“Pretty small, isn’t it?” I call from my place on the couch.
My stepdaughter reappears, a frown on her forehead.
“Yes, but I’m confused, Bart. I thought that there would be two twin beds for us to sleep on? Or a second bedroom in addition to this one?”
My heart clutches because that’s the problem. Although we technically can afford a bigger trailer, we had to move out of our house in a hurry, and this small one was the only one available.
“Christy, let me explain,” I begin.
My stepdaughter nods, still very serious.
“Sure, of course.”
I take a deep breath and get up before peering into the lone bedroom myself. Yep, it’s pretty fucking awful with the puke-colored drapes and deep brown shag rug that’s seen better days. But right now, beggars can’t be choosers.
“Sweetheart, you know we were evicted from our home by the bank, right?”
She nods, her pretty face confused.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with this? Surely, the trailer park has a two-bedroom available.”
I sigh, running a hand through my black hair.
“Well, that’s the thing,” I mumble, ashamed again. “I knew we were going to be evicted because I’ve been unemployed for a while. I stopped paying the mortgage on our old house at least nine or ten months back, and we were getting notices from the bank. The kind with big red letters on the front that say URGENT in all caps. But I hid them from you,” I confess. “It was my problem to deal with.”
Christy looks at me.
“And…?”
I swallow hard, trying to contain my shame.
“What I’m saying is that you deserve better than this,” I say in a rush. “You deserve much better than this, and I’m going to make sure you get it. This is only a way station in the journey called life. But I was paralyzed and embarrassed about my financial situation, and so I ignored the notices from the bank until the last minute.”
“What do you mean, you ignored them?” she asks in a quiet voice.
I shrug and feel even worse.
