Pink Flamingos

Honeysuckle

The smell of incense was beginning to make my head spin. It was worse than cigarette smoke. I had read on the packet that it wasn’t meant to be used every day, due to risks of lung cancer. Obviously my parents hadn’t paid attention to the instructions. My two mothers had decided that the benefits outweighed the risks as, according to them, honeysuckle incense represented happiness, friendship and healing.

“Do you really think the trailer is ventilated enough for this?” I asked Mama Chelsea.

She coughed into her hand, her eyes watering. “Of course it is. We can always open the other window, can’t we?”

“It’s hot enough with the door open.”

Our trailer was a sauna. I couldn’t believe that Nevada could ever be so scorching in the summer – it made me miss home more than ever. The desert wasn’t kind to me; it seemed that my whole world had turned to dust, sand and distant neon lights. We weren’t too far away from Vegas really, but my mothers didn’t approve of cities like that – too dangerous, too many men, the list went on. I was desperately searching for excitement, but I still couldn’t help but agree. That being said, I would take danger over boredom any day.

As if reading my mind, Mama Chelsea said, “You need to give it a chance, Nancy. Your mom and I want a fresh start. It’ll be good for you too. We’ve been here for three days, and it’ll only get better and better. You can have adventures and meet people, and have a real good summer before you start going to school here.” She smiled at the thought. I always thought she was living vicariously through me.

The idea of youth really weighed heavily on my mind – was I not living enough? Growing older had never scared me, but growing older without good memories to reflect on certainly did. Even my two moms recounted stories of wild nights, good music, dancing and fun, and above all doing things that they said I wasn’t allowed to know about.

Thus far, my years as a teenager had been largely dissatisfying. Most of it was spent trying to grow up too fast, I guess. It was only on my sixteenth birthday that I really hit me that I was destroying something that I should have been cherishing.

I needed a real adventure. Mama Heather always told me that if I really wanted to be writer – and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything before – I needed to experience things. Characters are often based off real people, she always told me, and so I needed to find some real people.

Well, my mothers were real people. But, according to them, not real enough. They thought it was unhealthy for me to not hang around children my own age more often. They had to have been the only parents who encouraged their child to be more rebellious.

“Go get some milk from the store for your mom and me?” Mama Chelsea asked softly, pressing some dollar bills into my hand.

I nodded slowly and set off into the heat. “And get something for yourself too honey!” I heard her call after me.

For a small town that felt suffocating, it seemed to sprawl out endlessly in front of me. The trailers looked almost identical, different colors but all the same make and model. Past the gates of the park, the houses followed suit. A few people nodded and smiled as I passed. I wanted to speak to them and introduce myself but my nerves got the better of me, as usual. I kept walking on.

The rows of houses, with their pristine green lawns and their sprinklers running all day, every day, were separated by sporadic patches of red sand and weed. Two streets felt like two miles underneath the sweltering sun. I could see the suburbia air swirling in the permeating heat. The shops are so close, I thought to myself, the shops are so close.

The streets were peaceful, I suppose it was because more people were inside with the air conditioning on. As sweat gathered on my forehead, I imagined them standing lingeringly in front of fridge doors, electric fans at their backs. God, I wished that were me. But I’ve always had a habit of being overdramatic.

Walking into the small, sleepy grocery store felt like heaven in the form of an air con. It seemed like I was the only one in the shop. The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally. I gulped. Everything felt too eerie. Quickly, I grabbed the glass milk bottle.

The girl behind the counter looked bored, putting her magazine down briefly to help me as she smacked her bubblegum. I slapped half the crumpled bills on the counter and left. I only hoped she wouldn’t notice me rubbing the milk bottle on my face right outside in the sunshine, hoping to absorb its cold.

Mama Chelsea’s words echoed in my head – “Get something for yourself honey!”

The candy shop drew my attention immediately. Maybe I’m not that grown up after all, I thought to myself with a small smile. Just like the ever-mythical Vegas that stood proudly yet distantly on the horizon, the flashing lights caught my eye. Carousel music was playing as window displays full of candy wrappers glinted in the sunlight

The bell jingled as I walked in cautiously. Once again, it was only me and the check-out chick. She popped up from behind the counter with a wide, friendly smile. “Welcome to Christy’s Candy! How can I help you today?”

“Just…just looking, thanks,” I said softly. She nodded and observed me as I walked around the store. It seemed like kid heaven – chocolate bars, sherbet, candy and jersey caramels galore. After pacing through the aisles over and over, I finally shoved my hand into a jar and came out with a fistful of lollipops.

“Good choice, good choice,” she said with an approving smile as she wrote out a receipt. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Don’t sound so worried, it’s only because I haven’t seen you around before. I know everyone by face, if not by name. I’m Barbara, by the way.”

I smiled. “I’m Nancy.”

“Hey, just like Nancy Drew!” Barbara giggled.

I couldn’t help but wince. “Yeah…just… like that.”

“If you ever need someone to show you around, I wouldn’t mind one bit. And besides, I love to meet new people. There’s not that much to see but sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of a guide.”

While a little overenthusiastic, Barbara seemed genuinely kind. Her dark eyes sparkled when she talked, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since I had walked in. There was a shortage of people like that in the world – naturally radiant with no other intention.

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. I’ll…I’ll see you around.” I desperately hoped that I sounded as confident as she did. Even if I sounded nervous, she clearly didn’t notice. She only waved me off with friendly grin.

The sun had seemingly continued to rise and the day had gotten even hotter while I had been inside. I didn’t see how I was ever meant to make a home for myself in Essexville, Nevada. I hadn’t really ever felt at ease anywhere, but being expected to plant my roots in the dust left me feeling more lost than ever.

I heard the trailer park from streets away before I saw it. It was the sounds of boys laughing and yelling, swearing and hooting, a beat-up, tinny old radio doing its best to compete. The pack of five had been hanging around ever since we had moved in, probably before. Was that why the last tenants had moved out?

It was hard to tell which one of the boys the trailer across from ours actually belonged to. Did they all live together? If they did, it would be hell to be their neighbors. I hadn’t yet decided whether it would still be hell if they didn’t.

The music taste wasn’t half bad though. It was mostly The Beatles, and it always brought a smile to Mama Heather’s face. But, in my eyes, the noise simply wasn’t worth it.

When I walked past, they didn’t even look my way. I felt like yelling at them to be quiet. Hurrying past, I couldn’t help but sneak a few peaks at my new neighbor – neighbors?

They all wore tacky Hawaiian shirts. Clearly they hadn’t yet discovered that only Elvis could pull that off, so they ought to either start playing his tunes or take those ridiculous things off. There was something about them that made me want to avoid them at all costs. I suppose I could have pulled a Barbara-like smile, sauntered over and gotten to know a few new people, but my own cautious nature stopped me – the boys seemed loud and brutish. I couldn’t stand either thing.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Mama Chelsea baked a cake for them or something. She was always welcoming and friendly. It was something I had always admired about her, though it was a trait that often inconvenienced us. Not that I thought they would particularly appreciate home cooked goods.

Slipping past, I shut the door to our trailer softly and sighed in relief – the honeysuckle incense stick had been put out.