Trailer Park Heart

“I’m so glad you were able to get off work,” she said enthusiastically. “We need your design expertise bad!”

The other two moms shot me looks from across the room. I didn’t really know either of them, just that one had a son Max never played with and the other had twins, a girl and a boy. They looked like all the other women in town though—highlighted hair, studded blue jeans, plaid shirts. They were a walking, talking ad for Miss Sixty jeans.

“You’re the creative genius,” I told her. “I’m just following your lead.”

She waved me off. “Help me set up the games,” Jamie coaxed. “Do you know Brianna and Leslie?”

“Hi,” I said. “I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet yet. I’m Max’s mom.”

Their shared look was unmistakable. I watched it happen in slow motion, like a fender-bender I couldn’t stop.

This was a moment I was familiar with. When I was a child it said, “This is the daughter of that stripper,” or “That’s the girl from the trailer park.” As an adult it said those things too, but so much more—She doesn’t know who her child’s father is.

Poor.

Sad.

Pathetic.

Slut.

They didn’t need to call me the names out loud for me to feel the judgment hitting me like it was a physical thing. I had always been looked at with pity.

I had always been treated as less than.

But I refused to let their thoughts define me. They could mistreat me, but I would never be their victim. So, I let it happen. They didn’t know anything about me. And judging me said more about them than it ever would about me.

“Didn’t I see you at Levi’s homecoming party?” the one named Leslie asked.

I took a step back, surprised by her reference. Except for when I was at work or in a situation like this, I was invisible to these people. Other than Ajax and Levi, I didn’t expect anyone at Pug’s to have noticed me.

“I stopped by Pug’s for an hour or so,” I told her honestly. “But I was there with friends, not for Levi.”

“Not what I heard,” Brianna murmured out of the side of her mouth.

In any other circumstance, I would have confronted the situation head on and let her know I could hear her and that her comments were inappropriate and rude. At least, that was what I liked to tell myself in my head.

But for the sake of the party and the room full of first-graders that would be here any moment, I kept my mouth shut.

Besides, I didn’t want to perpetuate the drama.

Whatever they thought happened, did not happen.

If there was a fight, it had nothing to do with me.

Even though I danced with Ajax and made out with Levi. I was positive the events of Saturday evening had nothing to do with each other.

“Do you guys know Levi?” I asked instead.

They straightened simultaneously, stiffening their backs at being called out. “I knew Logan,” Brianna sniffed. “Kind of.”

“Levi and I go way back,” I told them. “But we’ve never really been friends. It was nice of y’all to throw him a party. I’m sure everyone had a great time.”

“We sure did,” Leslie snickered. Brianna dissolved into giggles.

Jamie clapped her hands together, pulling everyone’s attention to her. “Okaaaaaay.” She drew the word out slowly. “Let’s do less talking and more decorating. The kids will be here soon.”

By the time Max and the rest of his class flooded in the classroom, we’d done an excellent job of covering every surface with some kind of Halloween decoration. I couldn’t say it looked like a Pottery Barn ad or anything, but it was sufficiently festive.

And the first graders loved it.

It was easy to forget about Levi and the gossip floating around town when I had Max to focus on. He had so much fun at his party. Jamie did a great job of organizing age-appropriate activities and healthy snacks that looked cool enough the kids didn’t care they were eating fruit and pretzels.

Max ran over to me and smiled. The toothless spaces were replaced with candy corn. “Look, mommy,” sounded more like “Blookblommy.”

“When did you grow new teeth?” I asked him.

His smile widened, and a candy corn fell out. He clumsily caught it before it hit the ground.

“Those aren’t teeth,” a little girl corrected seriously. “That’s candy.”

“Oh, now I see.” I pulled Max against my body in a side hug while he tried to shove the sticky candy corn back in his mouth, his hands covered in spit.

“You’re so weird,” the little girl told Max.

“Hey, now,” I protested in my most maternal voice. “That’s not a kind thing to say. I know you would feel very sad if someone said that to you.”

Her eyes moved over me, and a snotty little smirk appeared on her face. “His shoe has a hole in it. So does his jacket. My mom says it’s because you’re poor. I think that’s why Max is weird. Because he’s poor. But Mommy says it’s because he’s your son.”

Outrage rolled through me. Not at the little girl. She was six. Her only perspective on the world and the people in it came from her parents. Which meant they were awful people. But I also had Max to protect.

“What’s your name?” I asked her sweetly.

“Sophia.”

I smiled at her. “Let’s go talk to Mrs. Hayes, Sophia.”

“Why?”

“Because nothing you said was okay and you’re about to get in big trouble.”

“Mommy!” she squealed, running over to Leslie.

Now that made sense didn’t it? I turned to Max before I dealt with the demon child and her evil mother.

Kneeling at his level, I swallowed through the lump in my throat and the sting in my nose. If this had happened to only me, there would not have been a chance in hell that I would have cried. But because it happened to Max, to my baby, and because I felt emotions for him one thousand percent more than mine, I couldn’t help the tears welling up and blurring my vision.

The thing about being a mom was, I could be completely run over, taken advantage of, spit on, cursed at, whatever, you name it. And I would have gotten up, brushed myself off and gotten over it. But when something happened to my kid? No. Nope. Everything no. Mama Bear came out and she was highly emotional—and everyone knew not to piss off an emotional grizzly bear.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Max asked, his little hand cupping my jaw and catching a lone tear.

I brushed beneath my eyes and wiped discreetly at my nose. I would not let these people see me cry. I would not. “I don’t like what that girl said. She was very mean.”

He rolled his eyes and popped one of his half-eaten candy corns back in his mouth. “That’s Sophia,” he repeated. “She’s always like that.”

“She always says that to you?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sophia relaying the story to her mom with animated hands. I could only imagine what she was saying.

“Not just me,” Max said. “She says mean things to everyone. She’s always in the safe seat.”

“I’m worried about what she’s saying to you though, Max. Do I need to talk to her mommy?”

He cocked his head and shrugged. “I don’t care what she says to me. I don’t play with her.”

The mom inside me that never knew if she was doing the right thing as a single parent cheered wildly. The mom inside me on a warpath was ready to rip Leslie’s hair out.