When Mrs. Thompson Grills, it's always a blast. Sure, the drinks are cheap and the meat isn't exactly what you'd find in fancy restaurants, but that's all part of the fun. The real fun starts when the country music blares from the speakers and the kids families and the RV gather park around.
Mrs. Thompson herself is really into it and usually gets drunk on. She becomes the center of attention at the party, dancing and laughing with everyone. Her husband left her years ago for another woman, so now all she cares about is enjoying life and having fun. Even though we don't have much, everyone looks forward to these barbecues. It's like one big, chaotic family reunion.
When I arrived at Mrs. Thompson's caravan, everything was already in order. The yard was full of people, and the familiar mix of barbecue smoke and cheap beer filled the air. Mrs. Thompson was sitting in her usual spot, grinning and swaying. She was surrounded by her friends, all single mothers likes herself—white, a little rough around the edges, but with the same carefree spirit. They were laughing and sipping drinks, living life to the fullest despite everything.
Timmy and Becca were running around with a few other kids, their feet still dirty from the morning, kicking up dust as they play. They were all stuffed with snacks and sodas and full of energy. Over by the grill, my buddy Andy sat alone. He was Eyeing the Meat on the Grill, his cute blond hair Beijing out from under a cap. Andy and I were the same age, but much taller. As always, he was wearing the same big white T-shirt, which was always a little dirty, cargo shorts, and Crocs with mismatched socks. His thin, white legs, which is stuck out, had a few bruises and cuts. He loved riding around on his old skateboard, but he was never really good at it.
I went over to Andy, while Emily and Tommy immediately started playing with the other children. For some reason, Andy really looked excited now that I was there. He asked me to sit next to him and whispered:
“Old! Do I have to show you something?”
I chuckled. Andy always had the craziest ideas.
“No, this time I’m serious. You won’t believe it!”
I was fascinated.
“What’s going on?”
He just shook his head.
“I’m not telling you yet. You have to wait. Until I'm done. But,
It’s in the tree house.”
“What do you mean ‘in the tree house?’”
Again, Andy just shook his head giggling.
“No. It's a surprise."
I remember what thinking what the hell might it be, and if Andy was so excited, it had to something very big. Maybe he had finally stolen Chloe's dirty underpants, and she's the hottest girl in the whole park.
He's always talking about how he would one day. Maybe he finally did. But even when I was very pushing him to confess it, he didn't want to. He just told me to get a glass of cheap wine and relax.
The funny thing about Mrs. Thompson's Breakfast is that we can all drink, even us Kids and Teenagers. But only on special occasions. My mother isn't exactly excited about it, but she's me allowing a few glasses, but only after I've eaten some of it.
Anyway, I grabbed a glass of wine that smelled more like artificial grape juice and tasted like cough super, and just hung out a little bit alone. I remember watching Emily and Tommy running around with the other kids and a few caravans further disappearing. I decided to go out and see what they all did.
Andy was still sitting there staring at the meat on the grill.
Two caravans away, I saw the kids fooling around wildly and fooling around in a giant puddle of cloudy water and mud. They jumped, splashed and pushed each other around and laughed themselves. It was a huge mess, but you could see that they had a lot of fun.
Then I noticed Tommy in the middle of it, barefoot except for his encrusted, disgusting socks. He clapped his feet in the dirt, making the socks even than worse before. His feet were encrusted with mud, but it didn't seem to bother him in the slightlyest. He just kept grinning and splashing around.
I only watch them for a while and giggled into me, especially when Becca made a jump and fell face ahead into the mud. She didn't cry or anything. She just pick up and laughed so much that she said she was about to make her pants. Their Stockings Looked Old and Smashed, With Places and Worships. You could see she had been wearing it for days. You
Ripped off the foot and still had the rest of the stockings stuck to her legs.
Her feet were so white and pink before she started crushing her in the mud and stamping her until they turned black.
I looked back and saw Chloe sitting on a garden chair with some of her best friends. You angry three-looking father sat right next to her and drank his Pabst Blue with a few friends (don't worry, I'll tell you in another story of Chloe). But she really looked so hot, with her thin black legs looking out of the smallest shorts you've ever seen.
Anyway, tonight I was more curious about this “thing” that Andy had told me about. So I went back to him and got a cup of bad wine on the way.
Andy snaked down a meat sandwich as if it were his last meal. His face was smeared with black gravy and barbecue sauce. He looked sweet and hilarious at the same time. He was so engrossed that he did not even notice the mess he was doing: pieces of meat and sauce drops that dripped over his Crocs.
“Old, you’re really bad!” I said giggling to him.
He didn't care, he just kept munching like a starved dog. After he finished, he wiped the dirty hands on his T-shirt and left greasy handprints everywhere. He still had some barbecue sauce on his chin and lips. He grinned at me and finally said what I was waiting for:
"Now we're going to the treehouse!"
I asked Mrs. Thompson, if she can take care of Emily and Tommy. She said, clearly, but I have to come back in two hours. Andy and I ran through caravans and tents until we were deep in the woods. The noise of the party was barely heard. Andy retrieved an old cell phone from his back pocket and turned on the flashlight.
Quietly he went ahead, and in a few minutes we were at this huge old tree. Wooden steps were nailed to the trunk. Andy was the first to climb up, the phone in his pocket. He came here so many times that he could easily climb up the damn thing in the dark. Once in the tree house, he lit up with the light of his phone so I could follow him. It wasn't too high, but still nice up there.
When We Were Both in, He Lit a few candles, and we were no longer in complete darkness.
“Okay, what is it?” I asked and looked around.
Andy smiled. He leaned into a corner and grabbed a box. He it open. There were hundreds of pictures in it. Like Polaroid images you see in old movies. He taken one and told me to look at it.
“Do you recognize anyone?”
Fuck. Fuck. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A picture of Mrs. Thompson and her son Timmy – naked.
