Page 59 of Trailer Trash

She laughed. “That’s what you always said. Beasley begged Branson to let him screw you. Did you know that?”

I didn’t respond, but I hoped to God it wasn’t true. Beasley hadn’t been like his brother, which had made it even harder for me to accept what he’d done.

“So why are you here?” Stella repeated. “I find it hard to believe you were just takin’ a stroll down memory lane.”

“I wanted to check on you is all.”

“More like gloat,” she sneered, then took another long drag. “You and your perfect life and perfect man. I bet you’re just livin’ the life high on the hog.”

“I have a job, Stella. I work at a landscaping office.”

She waggled her eyebrows. “Soundsfancy.”

Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.It had always been like that with Stella, so why was I still trying?

A baby began to cry in the back, and Stella released a groan. “That damned kid.”

I cast a glance at Jed, but his face was completely expressionless.

Stella leisurely sipped her drink as the baby began to wail louder.

“Don’t you need to get her?” I asked, starting to get anxious.

She waved her hand. “She’s fine. She can cry for another twenty minutes or so; then I’ll get her up.”

I felt like I was going to be sick. “Can I see her?” I asked. “Before I go?”

Stella rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna screw up her schedule, but what the hell. I’ve gotten good at tuning her out.”

How long did she let her baby girl cry? I stood and started toward the back, then stopped, sidelined by a sudden thought. “What’s her name?”

“Crystal.”

I wasn’t surprised. Stella had always been attached to Crystal. It had been her stage name.

The back of the apartment was equally as dark as the front, but I didn’t have any trouble figuring out which of the three doors led to the baby’s room. Her sad cries led me right to her.

The tiny bedroom had a dresser, a rocking chair, and an old crib. All three pieces looked like they’d been around for half a century. The crib didn’t have the bumper pads and bed skirt I’d already gotten while I was pregnant. It only had a crib sheet and a kicking, crying baby.

I moved to the side rail and peered down at her, my heart breaking into pieces. I was pretty sure Zelda had gotten her age wrong because she looked like she was eight or nine months old. She was naked except for her very full disposable diaper. Dried baby food covered parts of her face, and dirt was caked in her crevices. An empty bottle lay next to her, and I watched as she grabbed ahold of it and began to suck in vain, bursting into more cries when it proved empty.

I was devastated.

“Hey, Crystal,” I said in a soothing tone. “I’m Neely Kate, and I’m gonna take care of this diaper, okay?”

Her eyes widened with fear when she didn’t recognize me, and she continued to cry in earnest while I looked around the room, frantically searching for diapers and wipes. I found a nearly empty package of diapers on the floor at the foot of the crib, but there were no wipes, and the smell coming from her told me that the fact she needed a bath wasn’t the only reason she stank.

“Stella?” I called out. “Do you have any wipes?”

She released a bitter laugh. “Wipes? That’s a good one. Who has money for wipes?”

“Then how do you change a poopy diaper?”

“Just rub it off with the old diaper. If it’s a bad one, I’ll spray her off with the sprayer in the sink.”

I gasped in horror, but I said nothing. Talking back would be a quick way to get us thrown out, and something told me Stella wouldn’t be too quick about changing Crystal’s diaper or feeding her. I went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water while I opened drawer after drawer, looking for a cloth. Each one was filled with makeup, used tissues, and handfuls of unlabeled pills—aspirin, Tums, and others I didn’t recognize. Finally, I found a cloth, which I dampened in the now-warm water, and a nearly empty tube of diaper ointment.

When I got back to the baby’s room, Crystal was still crying and getting frustrated that nothing was coming out of the bottle. “I’ll get you a new bottle in a minute, sweet girl,” I cooed softly. “Let me change your diaper first.”

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