Five adults, one child, and one dog in that tiny house. Four of them sharing a bedroom. Surprisingly, Trudy thinks, it has gone pretty well. For the first few weeks, anyway. Darren, clearly, is going nowhere. He has already started doing odd jobs around town, employing Fenton when he can. Claire is in top dizzy form, fussing, cleaning, cooking, kissing, and cuddling every person that gets within range. Singing mushy songs all the while.
Speckles likes everybody. Except possibly Trudy. But the feeling is mutual.
Trudy is enjoying the freedom of having more pairs of hands, more volunteers for the school run. And more opportunities to slip out and visit Jules. Because, let’s face it, she is in love.
For Mercy, though, things have been mixed. She loves having people around and is especially fond of Darren and Fenton, but at night she has been having bad dreams.
And there is Tammy. There is always Tammy, thinks Trudy. No surprises there. Several times, she has seen Mercy come running down the stairs or down the hall, catch sight of Tammy, and stealthily retreat. Similarly, Tammy seems to leave every room Darren enters.
Less subtle is the Tammy and Fenton dynamic. Tammy is routinely cruel to Fenton, calling him names and mocking him, but last week Trudy saw a few things that she really wishes she hadn’t seen.
It was a sunny day, and Trudy was sitting on a lawn chair in the yard, watching Fenton play Frisbee with Mercy. Speckles was tracking the orange disc as it sailed through the air, shuffling halfheartedly after it, one way and then the other. Mercy’s throws were mostly wild and off-course, and Fenton gamely retrieved and returned each one.
“FENTON!” Tammy was suddenly on the front step, eyes shooting daggers at the happy scene before her. “Let’s go!”
Fenton, to Trudy’s astonishment, ignored Tammy and went jogging off to retrieve the Frisbee from the driveway. He sent it back toward Mercy, smiling at her. “We’re just going to finish our game, right Mercy?”
“Right,” said Mercy and sent another one sailing high over Fenton’s head. Fenton jogged away again and bent to pick up the Frisbee, but as he turned to throw it back, he was confronted with a furious Tammy standing right before him. She had actually jumped off the step and raced across the yard. She grabbed the Frisbee and threw it on the ground.
“STOP!” cried Mercy, as her mother shoved Fenton with both hands flat against his chest. He stumbled back a few steps. Tammy picked up the Frisbee and started hitting him over the head with it. Fenton raised his arms, crossing his wrists in front of his face in surrender. Trudy was out of her chair and heading across the yard.
“Are you somebody’s daddy now, Fenton? Is that what you think you are?” Tammy threw the Frisbee on the ground in disgust and stormed back to the house, almost knocking Trudy over as she passed. “And fuck you, too, Trudy.”
Fenton smiled weakly, patting the weeping Mercy on the head, and followed Tammy into the house to make amends.
And then, a couple days later, Trudy had witnessed something else.
She had been driving home from the grocery store when she had seen them. There, standing outside the pool hall was her sister, tits almost spilling out of her too-tight top, head thrown back in laughter, her lipsticked mouth open wide. And beside her, head down, sly smirk on his face, was that weasel, Sammy Harrison. As Trudy drove by, Sammy reached out and pulled Tammy close, cupping her ass in both hands.
That’s more like it, thought Trudy. They deserve each other, those two.
And, finally, a couple days after that, Trudy saw Fenton and Tammy sitting in the truck in the driveway, fighting, crying, and then falling into each other’s arms.
Dear God in heaven. It was sad but true: some people never, ever learn.