WHERE IS WONDERLAND ANYWAY
Karen Mueller Bryson
WHERE IS WONDERLAND ANYWAY
Revised Edition
© Karen Mueller Bryson 2011
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0631-2
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be produced in any form, by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the copyright owner, except for the minimum words needed for review.
This is a work of FICTION. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's offbeat imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Short on Time Book
Fast-paced and Fun Novels for Readers in the Go
Chapter One
The story of how I got from the FloridaLand Trailer Park just outside of Brooksville, Florida to become a real live Hollywood celebrity began near the end of July, in early 2002. The summer heat was getting to all of us, but it was getting to the ones without air conditioning worst of all. We were without air that whole summer. Billy kept forgetting to call the guy to come and fix it. Or maybe he just never did have the cash. Probably spent it on booze or weed. That afternoon the temperature reached well over ninety-five degree in the shade. It wasn’t just hot; it was fricken hot.
Round about four in the afternoon, I was sitting out back of our trailer, hoping to catch a breeze and waiting for Billy to get home. I hardly ever tried to fix supper before he came home because I never knew what kind of a mood the man would be in. It was best to just wait until he got there to fix him a plate. Of course, he never came home the same time on any one night. Most nights he’d stop at the Foxy Lady Lounge with some of his buddies from the slaughterhouse and have a few. Generally it was more than a few.
My mama warned me against taking up with Billy. She said, “That man looks good now, when you’re sixteen, but just you wait missy, and see how good he looks ten years from now.” Now that I’m twenty-six, I know she was right. At thirty-five, Billy looked like an old drunk. Smelled like one, too. There was many a night that I'd thank the Lord for whiskey dick.
I was babysitting for my neighbor, Sheila. Her kids were playing in a hose out in the backyard. The rear of Sheila’s trailer backed up to the rear of the trailer that me and Billy rented. Sheila was a couple of years older than me, and she already had three kids, one from each of her three marriages. She worked as a waitress up at one of the strip clubs out on Highway 41. She didn’t strip herself and never would. She said it would be a bad way to influence her kids and I would have to agree.
Sheila and I hit it off right away. I met her the first day Billy and I moved into FloridaLand. Sheila asked if she could help us into our trailer. I always had an admiration for Sheila. She worked hard to support her kids. And even though it wasn’t much, she owned her own home. That’s more than I could say for me and Billy.
Sheila had asked if I could keep an eye on her kids when they got home from school. She had to work the lunch shift and wasn’t sure if she’d make it home before the kids. Kelly was almost old enough to watch the boys herself, she had just turned ten, but those boys were a handful. They loved the water, though. Since we didn’t live anywhere near the ocean, and FloridaLand didn’t have a pool, the kids had to settle for running through a hose in the backyard.
Sheila made it home a little after five. By that time, the boys were soaking wet and full of mud.
“All right, you boys, time to get cleaned up.” Sheila came around the back of her trailer.
“But, Ma,” the boys said.
“No buts. We’ve got to get supper ready. Kelly, why don’t you hose those boys down over there on the cement?”
“All right, Ma,” Kelly herded the boys over to the cement slab.
“Sure was a hot one today,” Sheila said as she walked over to me.
“Yeah, and I don’t think it’s gonna cool down too much tonight.”
“Kelly’s daddy was supposed to bring us an air conditioner three weeks ago.”
“I wouldn’t go counting on that one.”
“You got that right. Billy’s not home yet?”
“Nope. Probably stopped up to the Foxy Lady.”
“He may as well set up a bed for himself up there.”
“I’m not complaining. The more time he spends at the bar, the less time I have to look at his nasty face.”
“Men, can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em. Hey, thanks for watching the kids.”
“They sure do love that water.”
“Someday, I’ll get me a big house with one of them white picket fences and a pool so my kids can swim for real.”
“Someday…”
“Well, I best get supper ready,” Sheila walked back to her trailer. “Thanks, again, Ally.”
When the sun started going down, I figured it was time to start fixing supper, so I went back into the trailer to see what we had to make. Like most days, the refrigerator was mostly empty, except for some eggs, a jug of milk, and Billy’s beer. Beer was about the only thing Billy would never let run out. I opened the cupboard and saw a can of tomato soup and some crackers. Big choice—eggs or soup. I didn't have a car. The nearest store, the 7-11, was about three quarters of a mile down the way from FloridaLand. That’s a mighty long walk on an empty stomach. And it’s even longer when it’s still ninety degrees with the sun gone down. Besides, I only had seventy-three cents in my pocket.
Billy didn’t ever want me to work. He didn't give me any money either. A few times a month, if he was sober and I begged, he’d take me up to Food Lion to get some groceries. That July hadn’t been a very sober month.
So I fixed the can of tomato soup and crackers and watched the one channel we could get on the small black and white television my mama gave me before she died. Most nights, they’d play an old movie. Elvis Presley in Blue Hawaii or John Wayne in Stagecoach. That night, they were showing my favorite, The African Queen with Katherine Hepburn. It was about 10:30 when Billy woke me up.
“Whatcha' watching?” he asked, stumbling in the front door.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You must be watching something if the TV is on.”
“I must have fallen asleep.”
“How many times have I told you not to go to sleep with the t.v. on?” Before I could stop him, he slapped me in the face so hard he knocked me to the floor.
“Do you think I’m made of money?" he said.
I was so stunned I didn’t answer. It’s not that Billy hadn’t hit me before. That happened plenty. It’s just that he usually gave me lots of advance notice before he was going to do it.
“Get up and turn that thing off before you come to bed.” Billy turned and walked into the bedroom.
“On second thought,” he said, turning