It was a spring day, abnormally turbulent. A storm system crept up the map like a lake monster and covered the tri-county area.
I stopped to asked a neighbor if they needed help. It was clear they did. Their trailer had been hit. The place looked like a Wal-Mart junk yard. I don’t even know how many people lived in that double wide. Six or eight?
The mama came out and met me at the road. Or, I guess she was the grandma. Her kids had kids. She was dry. She kept asking for her sun visor. She looked like she hadn’t ever missed a meal. But, no. They don’t need no help.
Maybe she’d been laying in the tanning bed too long. That woman needed help bout as bad as anybody I’d ever seen. A kid went running down the dirt road crying. Some big ol gal, obviously her daughter, chased after the kid and whooped her.
“Somebody’s coming in from out-of-town to help us.” She said. “They’ll be here later.” she said.
“What about right now? What about the rest of your shitty life?” ran through my mind, but not my lips.
I went on down the road.
About a month later, I heard she was getting a brand new trailer courtesy of the church or one of the preachers. She’s registered at Wal-Mart.
Hmm… I didn’t get an invitation to the household shower but I wouldn’t have went.
Another a month later, the preacher is kicked out of the church. It was something about sexual misconduct. The fat obnoxious woman is sitting on a new front porch in her sun visor. She didn’t say anything at all and her husband never missed a day of work.