When I ran away to Johnson City, Tennessee (I make a habit of running away every so often-- it spices life up a bit for everyone involved) for the summer of 2009 Justin assured me that there were no tornadoes... there were also no tsunamis (that I kind of figured out on my own), no hurricanes, no scary bullshit-- just rain. And so, being raised in a coastal dessert which gets two inches per year in a good year and is consistently suffering from droughts, I was like "Oh! I love rain!" so I went there, sight unseen.... and when we pulled up to his house for the first time (our journey there was insane and is another story for another day) I realised that it was a trailer.
Let me preface this by saying that I have seen and been in some very nice trailer homes. My second cousin lives in a trailer here in California that rivals many very nice homes in the more prominent parts of town. I mean, her kitchen is so cute! And the whole thing is quite spacious. So I have no prejudice against trailers but it was... not what I was expecting. I mean, it was a nice trailer and it was big enough to live comfortably... I just wasn't, you know, expecting that by 'house' he meant 'trailer with steps'. Maybe, because it wasn't exactly in a trailer park and since there were some run down little town houses at the beginning of the lane, he thought that all of the houses were not-trailers. I dunno. But this was where I was going to be spending the next few months and I was pretty sure that this was just the beginning of a very interesting summer. But yeah... back to me and Justin:
"You, uh, live in a trailer?"
"It's not a trailer."
"Justin, it is clearly a trailer."
"If it's a trailer then where are its wheels?"
"No, not THAT kind of trailer. See that slab of cement?"
"Yup. Always been there."
"See, what they do is they prefabricate homes-- homes that are loaded up onto the back of a truck on a TRAILER-- and then they plop the home on top of this concrete slab. It is, clearly, a trailer home."
"No, they didn't do that. It isn't one of those. It has central air and heating and-- look, Amy, it's not a trailer."
"It's a fucking trailer! You brought me to live in a trailer!"
*Weeks pass and rain happens-- every damn day*
*I call Justin, who is working in the factory and can rarely answer his phone but this time he is on break and can*
"Hey Amy, is everything okay? You called me--", he looks at his phone, "Twenty-four times and I was--"
"NO! Oh my GAWD! I am SO not 'okay'!The trees are going to fly out of the ground and the rain is going SIDEWAYS and the radio--"
"I don't have a radio. Calm down, honey. It's fine."
"You DO have a radio. I found it in a pile of crap in your closet."
"Huh. Find anything else good?"
"There's a tornado in [somethingsomething] County! WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT?! HOW CLOSE IS THAT? You said no tornadoes!! What is this? OH GOD THERE'S LIGHTNING!!!"
*Justin is stifling his laughter*
"It's okay, Amy. Just sit in the house and it'll pass."
"You mean sit in the TRAILER and wait?!"
".... it's not a trailer."
"Concrete slab. Thin walls. What the hell is this siding made out of? Plastic? Yes. Yes it is. Trailer!"
"Not a trailer. Listen, just lay down and enjoy the sound. I love the sound of rain. It's really relaxing."
"It sounds like someone LET HELL OUT OF A CAN!!! AND I'M IN. A. MOTHER. FUCKING. PREFAB! A TRAILER!"
"Okay so, maybe you should take some of those pills the doctor gave you..?"
*sigh* "Fine... but I'm going to go hide in Kroeger... THEIR place is made of bricks and whatever."
"If that makes you feel better."
"It does not. Come home and banish the rain!"
"I like the rain."
"You are obviously NOWHERE near a window right now."
"Nope. Inside the plant."
"Seriously, it looks like Hurricane Jesuschristwearesofucked out front."
"Uh huh... Okay, so did you take the pills?"
"Yes."
"Wait ten minutes. You'll feel better. If not then call me back."
"Okaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Uuuuuuuuuuuugh."
"Good girl."
"It's still a trailer."
".... I'm not even going to touch that."
"You best not."
"Gotta go, Amy. Love you."
"Love you too. I'll attempt to stay alive while you're at work."
"Good. That's a great idea. See ya."
"Bye bye..."
I ended up grabbing a book and driving over to the factory where he worked and waited outside. I figured that, if someone decided to open the second layer of Hell then at least I could crash the car through the fence and spend my last few breaths with the man I loved. In my distorted mind, that was a terrific idea glad I thought of it!
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