3
Iwas just a girl, a young neglected girl with issues. I was a mess. A mess he wanted nothing to do with. He knew better. But I didn’t. All I knew was that I liked what I saw.
I first met him when I was just fourteen. Although it was about twenty-two years ago, it feels just like yesterday.
I remember everything about that fateful day; the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, the sound of Linkin Park drifting from Jake’s room, the cool night air as I stepped outside, the goosebumps on my arms, the stars up in the dark sky, the pesky black flies, the damp ground under my sandals, and the fireflies in the distance.
My dad was on another bender, almost dead to the world, but alive enough to hurl insults at the three of us, me and Jake and Nick. Unlike me, my brothers didn’t take that shit, and they did a disappearing act anytime he got like that.
“Get your useless fat ass in the kitchen and get me another beer,” he scoffed. “What do I pay you for?”
“You pay me nothing, Dad,” I pointed out, reaching into the refrigerator. I didn’t want to enable him, did not want to encourage his drinking, but if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d hurl more verbal abuse at me, and I could only take so much. I wasn’t even fat… a little chubby perhaps. I hadn’t quite come into my womanly curves yet, and I was still growing. I didn’t like my body then, and it was probably because of my father. When I look at old photos of myself at that age now, I see a cute young girl, not the ugly nuisance my dad made me out to be.
Jake and Nick had developed a habit of either leaving or holing out in their rooms in our double wide trailer. Nick, being the oldest had the biggest room, and Jake and I were stuck in shoe boxes. My twin bed took up half the room, and the built-in closet had very little storage space. Thankfully I didn’t have too many belongings.
I, on the other hand, chose to stay close by, taking my father’s verbal punches like a pro boxer. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I’d already lost my mom, I didn’t want to lose my dad too. When he finally shut up and passed out, I always tucked in a large towel under him, and turned him on his front, so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. And when he did hurl, I was always the one who cleaned it up. Thankfully, they’d made me with a strong stomach.
I suppose I’ve always been a caretaker, just like my mother, who was a nurse and a wonderful person before alcoholism took her away from us.
The night was cold and damp. It had rained earlier in the day. The black flies were bugging me something fierce, but still, it was better than staying inside and being a punching bag for my father. I’d begun to really like my special spot on the bench by my dad’s garden. It was the one good thing we had left. He’d hurt his back seriously years before at his job as a forklift operator, and had been unemployed and collecting disability ever since. He did nothing all day but drink, but he still loved to garden. Despite the fact that he supposedly had a bad back, he was still well enough to garden.
The week before had been tough on us, Mother’s Day and all. We all missed her. But better times were ahead because spring had started and Dad was always happier in the summer season. The smile on his face was always priceless when he presented us with a big bowl of strawberries, fresh from his garden. He grew everything from carrots, cucumber and zucchini, tomatoes, radishes and so much more. The more he gardened, the less he drank.
Covered in sweat pants, tall boots, and a thick hoodie, the black flies could only get at my face as I stared absentmindedly at Willy, standing there in the middle of our garden.How’s it going tonight?I asked him silently. He didn’t answer me of course. Willy was our scarecrow, made out of dried leaves and twigs and dad’s old clothes.
I heard rustling in the yard next door. All the lots at the mobile home park were very close to each other, but still spacious enough to afford us the space for gardens, and for some people, lots of junk, mostly broken down vehicles.
The place next to us was a mess ever since the new guy moved in. I knew nothing about him as he was pretty reclusive. I’d seen him working on his old car and his four wheeler which he occasionally took out on the road, annoying my Dad to no end. I enjoyed spying on him for no other reason than I had nothing else better to do. He’d moved back in January, and we never saw him out save for when he plowed his driveway. He even plowed ours as a neighborly gesture. Did my dad ever thank him? Of course he didn’t.
“The guy’s probably just going to ask for money if I go thank him,” he’d complained.
“Maybe not,” I’d said. “Maybe he’s just being nice.”
“Oh, Abby girl, you’re so naive. You need to grow up.”
I knew nothing about this mysterious man, save for his name: Gavin Foster. And apparently, he had killed a young girl and had spent some time in jail, as the rumor went. “I don’t ever want to see you talking to that man next door,” Dad had warned me. “He’s nothing but bad news.”
I knew how rumors spread so easily around the park, and they were usually false. There had been a rumor about my brother, Nick, and how he was gay. He wasn’t. Well, not as far as I knew. I’d spied some nudie magazines at the bottom of his dresser, and they were all pussies and big perfect round tits. I’d studied myself in the mirror after that, wondering why my boobs weren’t nearly as full and round. Well, they still have time to grow, I’d told myself.
So I took this rumor about Gavin being a murderer with a grain of salt. I’ve always given people the benefit of the doubt. And he had this dog, a gorgeous black lab he called Magnum. Anyone with a dog can’t be all that bad, I thought. I’d heard him call out the dog’s names dozens of times because Magnum was never on a leash and liked to explore. Half the dogs weren’t on leashes and people were too tired to complain. I personally loved it because I love dogs. And I especially liked it when Magnum would come and visit. He was a friend.
I checked my watch. It was past ten. I wasn’t technically allowed out past ten but Dad was dead to the world. I was wondering what Izzie was up to. I was considering heading over to her place when Magnum surprised me. I scratched his head. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” We were new friends, having just met the week before.
He happily rubbed his nose between my knees, such a friendly dog. “What are you doing out so late?” I asked. “I’m just trying to get away from my dad,” I told him. “He’s a mean drunk.”
“Magnum!!!” I heard Gavin call out, as he often did.
Magnum was not a good listener. Instead of heading to his owner, he settled at my feet. I smiled at the sight. “Your Daddy wants you home,” I told him. “You should probably go, buddy. Or is he a mean drunk like mine?”
“Magnum!!!” Gavin called out again.
“He’s here,” I yelled, and my heartbeat quickened a little. Dad had told me that I was to never ever speak to the man. And if I did, there’d be consequences. What those consequences were, I had no clue. But then again, Dad was passed out on the couch.
First, I heard him approaching loudly, and my pulse quickened. It was dark, and there was no one here but us and the dog. What had I been thinking? I was too young to die. I hadn’t even been out of Michigan. I was still a virgin. Heck, I hadn’t even been kissed. I could already see the headline.
Young Virgin Found Murdered at Trailer Park. Strange Mysterious Neighbor Main Suspect.
He finally came into view, and I couldn’t breathe. I watched him approaching with a hurried step. I sat up straight, ready to face this strange man.Should I mention my yellow belt in karate?
