manmade swing hanging from the tree toward the back of the trailer. My Margaret would sit in her bed and watch her stories or game shows from the television near the window, where she could keep an eye on me as well.
The second my eyes burned from the memory, I tossed the duffle over my shoulder and continued toward the back of the park. Three minutes, or so, later, I was nearing my mother’s trailer. The lights were off and I didn’t have a key. I tried calling her on the way down from the airport, too, but she didn’t answer. The dreary sight of the house made me question if I should have spent the holiday in North Jersey. Cut wasn’t an option and was likely with one of his girlfriends anyway. But Pastor McKinnon never minded me staying over or feeding me. Maybe I should have endured her preaching.
As I stared at the dark trailer, in the backdrop, Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” played from a neighbor’s cracked kitchen window. They weren’t home and when the house was empty, they’d turn-on the radio to ward off robbers. I took in a deep breath and let it go. When I exhaled, I closed my eyes, confirming to myself I was back home in nowhere Millville.
My phone rang in my pocket.
“Hello…”
“Where you at, Tori?”
I glanced around, hearing screeches from a vehicle.
“I’m on Danville,” I murmured, attention still on the sound.
“Oh! So you here?” she yelled into the phone. Then she announced to someone else, “She on Danville. Make a left right here.” I could hear a baby whining in the background.
Seconds later, a sedan came careening around the corner. I rolled my eyes and disconnected the call. My cousins had arrived. Renata was behind the wheel and had pulled up next to me. Treesha, her daughter, NeNe, and their friend, Toya, were in the car, too.
“Aunt Dot ain’t home,” Renata shared, arm resting in the window frame.
“You ain’t mention that when I called.”
“I ain’t think about it. I was running around the house after them kids.”
In the backseat, Treesha leaned toward the front. “Aye, we ain’t having dinner tomorrow.”
“Huhn?” My nose lifted in the air.
Toya chuckled and Renata rolled her eyes. “Them sisters at it again.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My momma said she cooked last year and bought all the food,” Renata began explaining. “She swear Aunt Dot said she was gonna do it this year.”
“Yeah, and when we asked Aunt Dot about it, she said she ain’t got no money,” Treesha added. “And she said she just got her new job at B-Way Burger in Bridgeton, and don’t get paid until next week. So…” She waved her palms around.
I took a deep breath, rolling my eyes. We should have been used to this by now. Those sisters; my mother and aunt, Sonya, never got along. They were so hot and cold with each other, rarely able to spend time in each other’s presence amicably unless they had alcohol in their systems, loosening them up. And seeing that neither were heavy drinkers, those times were few.
My aunt, Sonya, was my mother’s younger sister from their father. Aunt Sonya grew up in the town next door, Bridgeton, while my mother grew up here in Millville. When Aunt Sonya got pregnant with her second child at seventeen, her mother put her out. When my Margaret got word of it, she arranged for Aunt Sonya to get a trailer in the park. My Margaret helped get her settled with a job and childcare, too. Their father had died when Aunt Sonya and my mother were kids, and Aunt Sonya had no other family to turn to.
My cousins and I believed my mother didn’t like all the attention my Margaret showered Aunt Sonya and her kids with. We thought she was jealous and never fully embraced her younger sister. My mother had always done her own thing, and mostly spent time with Aunt Sonya on the holidays. My Margaret would cook all the meals and the sisters would come over. Now that my Margaret was gone, my cousins and I would be lucky if we got a holiday meal. And it was clear, this year we wouldn’t.
Now, I wondered if I should have stayed behind at Blakewood. I didn’t think this thing through. When bossy Ashton said he paid for my flight, I didn’t consider the trip.
“Well,” I poked my lips. “I see what kind of Thanksgiving this gone be.”
“Girl.” Renata, Aunt Sonya’s third child,