The third wood step up from the ground creaked when Weedeater put his weight into it. He continued testing it like the outcome might change. He sat on the small deck that led to the trailer’s front door. Fifth step up. He kept bouncing his thirteen-year-old left foot into that third plank. He liked how the wood gave way as the heel of his Payless sneaker pushed down on the center of the two-decade old lumber. It had enough give to feel bouncy. Never remembered a time the wood was firm. Sometimes he thought about his fat Grammy stepping on that board and it giving way. Her crashing through the wood. Hollering for help. That thought wasn’t near his mind tonight. He was too anxious.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
The sun made its descent, falling behind the off-white trailers across the street. Tiffany and her dad lived in the one directly across the road. Same off-white as the ones on either side. Same weathering. Same lack of care. Their trailer had a bigger front deck and nearly all the skirting was still intact unlike the two on either side. Her dad’s old red Lincoln sat in the drive. Tiffany always got in trouble if she wasn’t home by dark. Weedeater was sure most the neighbors could hear her dad yelling at her. Sometimes you could hear her screaming her rebuttal.
Weedeater kept testing that board. Every time he heard a car coming he’d look to his right toward the trailer park’s entrance. He knew none would be his mom. She worked nights at the Ice House. Sometimes she didn’t come home till the sun was rising.
Occasionally a car would pass and Weedeater would wave, but never got one in return. Told himself they never saw him. Even he didn’t know why he constantly looked that way only to be let down. The truck he was waiting for had a distinct sound. The rattle in the rusted muffler gave it away before it entered the park.
Half an hour passed before the dark blue ’88 Chevy Silverado pulled up one trailer short of her’s. Windows down. Nickelback’s “Rockstar” filling the air. Between the rattling of the muffler and the loud music there really was no reason for them to be parked a trailer away from her home. Weedeater watched them while doing his best acting job to pretend like he wasn’t. It was just dark enough he could be discreet. He made sure his front porch light was off, so it would be harder to been seen keeping guard.
The thing was Tiffany always showed up after dark, always got yelled at and then her dad grounded her for a couple of days. Weedeater always did nothing to prevent her from getting in trouble. He thought about this often. Just didn’t know what to do to other than think about the silly things he’d never do.
He couldn’t tell her he loved her. She was a year older. Fourteen. Plus she was with that nineteen-year-old, Jimmy. He had a decent truck. A job. Always had beer on him. What did Weedeater have? His mom’s old Super Nintendo with two games and one working controller plugged into an old twenty inch TV. Sometimes he had to bang the side of the old television to get the picture back on the screen. There was some Kool-Aid in the fridge. At least twenty packets of the flavored powder in the cabinet. A box of fish sticks in the freezer. He had a missing front tooth. The other one crooked. His blond hair was home cut, meaning chunks missing where the over-used clippers locked up. His clothes never new. It was always second hand, maybe third or fourth from family, church friends or garage sales. He also had a horrible nickname.
Weedeater always admired that guy’s looks. The flat top and long curly strands in the back. The button down plaid shirts. The five o’clock shadow. Even Weedeater would tell you Jimmy had it going on.
He’d also seen the guy get rough with Tiffany. A couple of times Weedeater got up and went down the steps like he was going to intervene if it got worse. He acted like he was ready to rush across the single car drive and bolt across the street to stop the guy bigger and badder than him. Both times he stopped when the lights on the neighboring trailers lit up and men in sweats and ladies in robes were out trying to defuse the situation. Trailer park rules. Not officially, but it’s how it was. Take care of your neighbors and keep the police away. It was better for everybody that way.
This time everything seemed to be good between them. Weedeater’s left knee continued to bounce up and down as his head darted left to right. Once his eyes caught them kissing he locked in and watched. His knee moving twice as fast. After a few minutes of them making out, Tiffany got out of the truck and stood at the curb as her man drove away. Weedeater knew the routine and didn’t move. The sound of the accelerating engine and the rattle started to fade and then get louder after he turned around at the end of the dead end road. Soon headlights lit up the area as the Silverado accelerated back toward them. Tiffany stood on the curb and waved as the truck passed her. She watched as Jimmy reached the trailer park entrance, turned left and disappeared before she stepped off the curb and waved.
“Hey Weedeater.” Tiffany pulled at her cutoffs to make them touch her thighs. Her shirt was still half unbuttoned. Her sweaty shoulder length brown hair clung to her head.
“Hey Tiffany.” He started his descent of the stairs.
“How ya doin Weed?”
“Good. You?”
“Good.” They reached the driveway entrance and hugged. Weedeater briefly closed his eyes. He wanted to absorb the sweat. He inhaled as strong as he could to take in the faint smell of the last remnants of her flowery shampoo. When he opened his eyes he was looking directly at her dad watching them through the window.
“He already knows yer back.”
“How so?”
“Look behind ya.” Weedeater pulled away and pointed at the window facing the street. The blinds were separated and a shadow darkened the rest of the area.
“Oh, well he can wait longer, I guess, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Ya gonna button up yer shirt?” Weedeater was struggling not to focus on her pink bra. A losing battle.
“Oh sorry.” She buttoned it as he looked the other way. “Don’t have to turn round ya know. Ya done seen nearly everything already.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t care though. It’s the right thing to do.”
“You can turn back round now.” Tiffany put her hands on his shoulder and started to turn him. “Why ya so sweet, Weed?”
“I’m jus nice. That’s all.” Weedeater tried not to blush, but could feel the warmth tingling his cheeks.
“Yeah, but ain’t nobody nice to ya.”
“Yer nice to me.”
“Most the time.”
“Well I guess everybody is mean to everybody sometimes, right?”
“Weed, people are always mean to you.”
“Yeah.” He looked away. Watched one of the wild cats run across a yard and disappear under a trailer.
“And ya just take it.”
“Yeah.”
“Yer a good guy, Weed. Lot nicer than Jimmy.”
Weedeater’s nose crinkled when she said her boyfriend’s name. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. It happened every time. Sometimes he got the shivers down his spine like that time he snuck a taste of whiskey from the cabinet. Never touched it since.
They sat on the driveway and looked up to the night sky. Weedeater slowly looked to his left and watched Tiffany’s lips move as she counted stars. The nearly full moon put a soft white glow on her face. He didn’t see the blemishes. The crooked teeth. The knot in her nose from it being broken in a childhood accident. Had Weedeater been asked to provide a description of her for a police sketch, Tiffany would be flawless. Probably look something more like Jennifer Lawrence than a trashy trailer park girl with greasy hair from the outskirts of town.
“Ya know ya can call me by my real name.”
“Shh, I know.” She continued counting.
“Well then why don’t ya?”
“Because only yer momma calls ya Wayne. How is it that all the teachers and the principals don’t even call ya by yer name?”
“No idea.”
“That doesn’t bother ya?”
“Kinda.”
“And ya ain’t said a thing about it to nobody.”
“Nope.”
“I don’t get ya, Weed. Ya need to toughen up. Stand up fer yerself.” There was a sternness in her voice.
“It’s not worth it.”
“Don’t know if ya don’t try.”
“Hush.” He bumped his left shoulder into her right side knocking her off balance. “There that’s me standing up for myself.”
“Look at you tough guy.” She extended her arm and ran her finger along the lengthy scar that extended from his mouth diagonally across his left cheek. It stopped just short of his ear. “Do you know who started the story about you tryin to make out with a weed eater?”
“Uh huh. Bobby Dalton. It started on the bus then just took off like a wild fire. Nothin I could do to stop it.”
“Nobody believes that story. They jus think it’s funny.”
“You walk around with this thing on yer face and see if ya laugh.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He resumed looking up at the moon. “Ya better go inside. It’s gettin late.”
“What ya gonna do?”
“I don’t know. Probably set out here fer a little bit longer.”
“Want me to stay with ya? Probably be better that way. Let my dad go to sleep. He knows I’m home.”
“Can if ya want.”
“Are ya mad at me? I’m sorry, Weed. I mean Wayne.”
“I ain’t mad. I promise.”
“Okay.” Tiffany rested her head on his shoulder.
Weedeater didn’t break his focus. He wanted to hold her hand or put his arm around her shoulder. He kept his hands locked around his knees. “Ya think we’ll ever go back to the moon?”
“Don’t know. Whadda ya think?”
“I dunno. Just seems like it’d be really cool to do it. I ain’t ever been able to look up at the moon when there’s been somebody on it looking back at us.”
“Never thought bout that. That would be neat.”
Man on the moon. Tiffany as a girlfriend. Weedeater wondered what was more likely to happen in his life. Neither was what he told himself. But if he had to pick one it’d be the moon. Tiffany was never going to be his girlfriend. He’d never asked to find out either.
Tiffany knew Weedeater liked her. She questioned whether she would go out with him if he asked the next time she was single. She hoped it never came up. She didn’t want to lose her best friend when they broke up. She had no doubt they would. Everything went bad in her life. Her mom ran off with another man. Her dad spent his free time drinking away the severance package he received during the layoffs at the pipeline manufacturer. Tiffany had been with a few boys. None lasted long. Jimmy and her were a couple for a few months. She put up with his growing meth habit and his anger because he gave her a lot of attention and more importantly an escape in his truck from the trailer park. She told herself she’d never date someone too young to drive again. Here she was thinking about if Weedeater asked her out and he was a few years from driving. She told herself there’s no way she’d say yes if he ever asked.
“So how many ya get to?”
“Huh?”
“Stars. Saw ya countin em.”
“Forty three. I tried to keep going, but I thought I counted one twice.”
“Doesn’t that always happen?”
“Well I ain’t counted em all yet, have I?”
“No because it’s impossible.”
“It ain’t impossible. I could count all I see.”
“That ain’t all of em. The Earth is constantly movin and besides space is infinite.”
“Shut up, smart ass. I know the answer is infinite. I just like countin as many as I can. Takes my mind off stuff.”
“Tiffany, ya think we’ll be friends next year when yer at the high school and I’m still in junior high?”
“It’s not like I’m movin away. Plus we’ll still be on the same bus.”
“Yeah, yer right. Ya think we’ll be friends forever?”
“Don’t see why we wouldn’t be. Whadda ya think?”
“I hope so. Ya think Jimmy and you will be together forever?” He squinted like he was bracing for the impact of an answer he didn’t want to hear.
“No. I can’t ever keep a guy around. You know that.” She picked up a pebble and tossed it into the street.
“Well there’s gotta be somebody out there for ya. Mom always says it’s God’s plan that everybody will find their soulmate.”
“Think that’s true?”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“Ah Weed, there’s definitely a girl out there for ya. What about Stacy? She’s always flirtin with ya on the bus.”
“She’s not flirtin. She’s my cousin.”
“Seriously? Ya never told me that.”
“Well ya never asked.”
“Well it doesn’t mean she ain’t flirtin with ya.”
“Ew gross.” He frowned and thought about kissing his cousin then shook his head.
“Just joshin ya.” Tiffany threw her arm around his neck and tried to put him in a headlock.
Weedeater attempted to break free, but ended up turning into her body causing them to fall backward onto the drive, him on top of her. They stared at each other. He could feel his heart rate increasing. Weedeater glanced down at her chapped lips then back at her eyes, which were closed. He could feel his legs touching her’s. He felt his pants get tighter in the crotch. She suddenly pushed her pelvis into his and smiled. He rolled off and lay beside her taking deep breaths.
“What ya don’t like me?” Tiffany turned on her side and ran her hand down his red shirt.
“You got a boyfriend.” He pushed her hand away.
“So?”
“So I ain’t doin nothin with ya.”
“Dammit Weed. Yer too nice.”
“If you was broke up I mighta done it.”
“You ever kissed a girl?”
“Maybe.”
“Aw, Weed, I mean Wayne. Sorry. I coulda been yer first kiss.”
“Shut up, Tiffany.”
“Hey. What if that was yer only chance?”
“Then guess I missed out.”
“What if I promise to break up with Jimmy?” Tiffany climbed on top of Weedeater, straddling his waist.
“Dang it Tiffany get off me. What if yer dad sees us?”
“I’ll tell him we was playin.” She slid back and forth feeling him between her legs.
“So ya jus want to do stuff right here?”
“Nobody’s around.” She grabbed his right hand and put it on her left breast.
Weedeater pulled it away and forced her off him then stood. “I done told ya I ain’t doin nothin with ya right now.”
“Dammit Weed, I was just tryin to have some fun with ya. Make ya happy.”
“I was happy jus hangin out with ya.”
“We’re still hangin out.”
“Yeah.”
“Ya sure ya don’t want to kiss me?”
“I’m sure.”
“Darn.”
“Why ya wanna kiss me so bad?”
“Just thought it’d be fun is all.”
“You go around kissin everybody?”
“No. I ain’t no hooker. I just thought it’d be good to be yer first.”
“Ya want to be my first kiss yer gonna need to not have a boyfriend.”
“What if I promise to break up with em tomorrow?” She extended her pinky.
Weedeater wished he could pause time. Think about it more. He didn’t agree with it, but he wanted both things to happen. Weedeater reminded himself that he’d seen her bra and touched one of her breasts. She’d even been sitting on him and felt his hard-on. What would happen if her dad saw them kiss? Weedeater knew he couldn’t put up a fight. What if her boyfriend suddenly turned the corner in his truck? Weedeater knew that wouldn’t happen, but the question hung in the air. He was scared. All these thoughts in a matter of seconds.
He was deep in those thoughts when he felt her squeeze his pinky and force her tongue into his mouth. He stood frozen, eyes closed as she rolled it around the inside of his mouth and slid it between the vacant spot in his upper row of teeth. He tried to mimic the action but instead clanked their teeth together. The impact caused them to break free.
“Good thing ya don’t have two full front teeth or that mighta hurt more.” Tiffany laughed.
“Why’d you do that?” Weedeater was in shock.
“I could tell you was thinkin real hard, so I decided to go for it. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“It’s weird.” He started to relax.
“Well I think it’s one of the best feelins in the world and I’m glad I got to be yer first.”
“It’s nothin like I expected.”
“Start practicin with a mirror or yer hand. That’s what I done. You’ll learn quick to be careful with those teeth.”
“Sorry bout that.”
“It’s okay. You want to try again?”
“Nah I’m good.”
“Okay then.” Tiffany yawned, stretching her arms over her head. He watched her shirt rise enough to show off her belly button. She went up on her toes and then softly came back down. “I should probably go inside. Dad’s probably passed out by now.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“Goodnight, Wayne.” They hugged. “Remember go easy with those teeth.”
“I ain’t gonna practice with no mirror.” Weedeater laughed. Redness appearing on his cheeks.
“Well next time we kiss ya better be better.” Tiffany turned her back and walked toward her trailer.
She took the first step of her porch and felt a hand grab her and spin her around. Weedeater shoved his tongue in her mouth and slid it around. He tried to remind himself not to smack teeth together, but there was no thinking straight when she responded. Tiffany came down off the first step as they continued kissing. Then the porch light came on and the front door opened. They exploded away from each other, but Weedeater grabbed her hand as if it would keep him from floating to the moon.
“Tiffany, ya better get yer ass in here right now.”
“Yes sir.”
“Go home Weedeater.”
“Yes sir.”
“Goodnight, Wayne.” Tiffany let go of his hand.
“Goodnight.” He watched her go up the steps and into the trailer. The yelling started and Weedeater turned and walked back to his home. Before going inside he stopped and looked up at the moon and smiled.
The next afternoon Weedeater sat in his customary spot on the porch reading Ender’s Game. He heard the door shut across the way and lowered his book to see Tiffany’s dad get in his Lincoln and drive off. Weedeater knew it was either a trip to the bar or to the store for more beer. Less than ten minutes later there was the sound of the Silverado. It pulled up to Tiffany’s trailer. The horn honked. Tiffany rushed out the front door and down the steps. Her faded pink dress bouncing off her upper thighs with each step. Her freshly fixed hair bouncing off her shoulders. She didn’t acknowledge Weedeater. Never did during this part. She jumped into the truck and they accelerated down, back and gone.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.