5. At the Trailer Park

She wasn't really shocked when, on getting to the trailer home, a big haired, kohl-eyed girl informed her in a monotone that no fucking Ryan lived in her home. Rather, she was just sad. It wasn't like she had expected to find Ryan Vice so easily, but confirming her suspicions still didn't hurt less.

Chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, she glanced at the girl from the window of her beemer. The latter stood with her hips cocked on the extension porch and eyed her back. Kiersey swallowed the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed like she had caught her in her worst mood. 

She wondered if she get more 'friendly' information from the girl. She didn't look to be older than nineteen, or even eighteen and, from the torn pants and checkered top she had on, Kiersey didn't think she was well off. She wondered if she could dare offer her money for some more information. How would the girl see that?

But then, she reasoned, she mightn't be the owner of the trailer. It could belong to her parent, or boyfriend or something. Or it could have been abandoned and she had broken into it.

This area was a secluded part of the city. She had veered off an highway unto a long dirt path to reach here. After encountering nothing but woods on either side of the path and the occasional furry animal scurrying across the road, she had arrived at this place where a few many trailers littered around like a bunch of tossed dice.

There were about eight or nine mobile homes all together and Kiersey didn't even think most were inhabited. The whole place gave off a feeling of an abandoned circus, missing a big top. She wondered if the place was even legal, it was on the GPS after all.

Deciding to take her chance, she reopened the door of her car and stepped out for the second time. 

"Um, I was wondering if you might know about any of the former owners or tenants of your trailer. Was any of them Ryan? Please, I really need to find him."

The girl crossed her skinny arms and glared at Kiersey. "Well, excuse me, Miss high and mighty, seems like I didn't make myself clear enough before; I don't know any fucking Ryan!"

Kiersey's shoulders sagged in defeat. 

"What's wrong with you people anyways?" the girl queried, pulling out a pack of Virginia Slims from her pant pocket. "You come here and start acting like you're talking to the scum beneath your prim Gucci shoes."

Kiersey blinked in surprise and started to open her mouth. She had not acted that way towards the girl. Definitely not. Unless she was calling her being overly polite rude. It was either a longstanding anger towards former visitors or a prejudiced act towards visitors in general.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had acted that way. I didn't mean to," she said instead. She'd reasoned it would be useless to argue with the girl. She was silently glad she hadn't offered that money yet. Eesh, what would the girl have done? Pull a sword out of her blond ratnest and strike her?

The girl scoffed, sucking on a lit cigarette to fan the embers. Her bright red nail polish glittered in the afternoon sun. "Of course you are."

"Sorry. Please, do you know a Ryan? He used to live here two years ago," she retried, bringing up the paper to look at it again. 

Trailer 3, P.O Box 595. 

She looked back up at the house and the mailbox that glared back in bright red print figures. Yep, definitely it.

The girl pulled her cancer stick out of her mouth and released an exasperated sigh, like that of an adult tired of re-explaining something to a stupid kid. "I don't know who the fuck that is, I've only been here for seven months, how the fuck am I supposed to know?"

Kiersey was about to reply and retreat to her car in defeat when the door of the white trailer a little adjacent to the right crashed open. A tired-looking guy in some jean overalls stepped out into the open.

"Can you just keep it down for a moment in your life, Rica?" he said, lifting his palms in question.

"Shut your pie hole, pig face, I wasn't fucking talking to you."

The guy murmured an unprintable obscenity and started to storm back into his home when he seemed to notice the car and woman. He did a retake and both his eyebrows climbed up his pale face. 

"Hello," Kiersey offered when he still wouldn't get over his surprise. She hoped his dislike for Rica also worked for her attitude.

"Hello, there." He finally got his tongue untied. "What brings you down here on this bright afternoon?"

Kiersey took a deep breath and smiled before asking what she had asked his neighbour, moving towards him at the same time.

The guy stroked his barely-growing beard at the very centre of his chin in thought. "Yeah, I think I remember a Ryan. Cool dude," he said slowly.

Kiersey's heart leaped hopefully in her chest. "For real? I really need to find him." She sighed. "Do you have any idea where he is? Where I can find him?"

The guy shrugged, stroking his thin beard around his finger. "He left like nine months ago. He was a nurse of sorts, I think. Moved West, Cali, if my memory serves." He shot an apologetic smile at Kiersey. "Sorry. I was only here for about a month or so when he left, you see. So I didn't really get to know him."

Kiersey nodded dumbly, her heart now knocking faster at the news. California was far away and would cost her, but at least she now knew where he had gone. She just prayed she was able to get his address and that he was still there.

"Please, how can I get in touch with him?" she asked, her voice thick with trepidation.

The guy stroked his beard faster and shrugged again. "I'm not sure. He was friends with Coke a lot, so I think he might have his address or phone number."

"Where can I find C-Coke?" She really wished the guy would quit putting her in suspense with his casual and slow speech. If he didn't know where the Coke person was, she was fairly sure her heart would burst from disappointment.

He jerked his head to a glowering Rica. "Coke's that sicko's fuck buddy. He used to live in a trailer over there" — he flung an arm towards a bunch of trailers ahead — "and then moved into Ryan's bigger one when he left. Then was dumb enough to bring his girl over here."

The last part had been muttered but it was still loud enough for Kiersey to hear. 

"Where can I find Coke?" she reiterated, struggling very hard to rein in her growing chagrin. The guy seemed like the kind of person that was kind and willing to help, but too nosy parker for their own good and ended up deflecting from the help unconsciously. Because, in all of his speech, he still hadn't mentioned where she could find the guy that had the name of a carbonated drink.

"Oh, right," he said, as though suddenly realizing where he was. "Give me a sec." He started towards his trailer door.

Kiersey moved nearer to the house but didn't enter. She glanced at Rica as she waited for the guy to reappear. She had abandoned her former stance to squeeze into a dirty, torn sofa on the extension porch and her legs were hoisted high over one another, heel to toe, on a large piece of rock. 

Kiersey wondered thoughtfully, as Rica held a lighter to a new cigarette, why a girl so young chose to waste her life away here in the middle of nowhere of somewhere? Had she even finished high school?

Strangely, she found her heart aching for the girl. She couldn't pray for her own child to grow up and be like that. This thought made her hand find the slight mound on her belly in comfort. 

So God help me.

Even if she found the Ryan guy and he was able to find her sperm donor for her, even if the guy turned out to be a carrier of Triple A Syndrome, or even if he had another genetic disease that could affect her child, she'd never love it less to let it be reduced to a state like Rica's.

Sighing, she turned away from the sight to the door behind her. And not a moment too soon—the guy came through with a ring binder jotter in his hand.