Summer in North Yankton: the only season with temperatures routinely higher than the mid-fifties and foliage on the trees other than evergreens. The trailer park bustled with activity; children ran through the dusty, cracked pavement streets, screaming and laughing. Four year old Tracey echoed their sentiments by sprinting from one end of the trailer home she shared with her parents and little brother to the other, singing nonsensically at the top of her lungs. She circled back through the kitchen, knocking over one of the dining chairs, smacking the cabinets and giggling. She dragged her worn out pink rabbit alongside her in a tutu matching the frilly pink one encircling her waist. She ran back through the living room, jumping on the couch, and bounding back to the floor. She stomped down the hallway, pushing open the door to the bathroom, spinning in a pirouette and pushing open the door to the nursery next.
"Tracey, stop that!" her mother berated from inside the nursery, standing over the dresser turned changing table, powdering Tracey's toddler brother. Tracey just giggled, prancing away into her parent's bedroom. She slapped open the door, but it rebounded, and oddly enough, it seemed to say "Ow!"
She was so startled by it that she could only stare as it quickly swung back towards her, having prematurely changed direction. It would have hit her, had a hand not reached out and grabbed the edge, stopping it short. Michael peered around the door at her, arching an eyebrow.
"Trace, what are you doing?" he asked calmly. She hid her bunny behind her back.
"The door said ow!" she exclaimed, pointing at the offending door as Michael came out from behind it and knelt in front of her.
"That was me, sweetheart," he said. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "I was behind the door and it hit me," he said very slowly.
"Did it hurt?" she asked very quietly.
"A little bit," he said. "What do you say?" he asked and she squirmed under his gaze. He tilted his head to get a better look at the four year old. "Tracey, what do you say?" he asked again.
"I'm sorry!" she half said, half shouted and Michael rocked back on his heels with a surprised smirk.
"Lucky I've got a pretty hard head," he continued, knocking on his own forehead, "as your mother likes to remind me," he finished in a conspiratorial whisper. "Apology accepted." Tracey darted forward , grabbing his face with her hands, and planted a kiss on his forehead before dashing off.
"All better!" she yelled as she resumed her thunderous laps through the home. Michael stood, shaking his head. He shrugged into a Hawaiian shirt and exited the bedroom just as Amanda left the nursery, holding a sideways Jimmy.
"Would you take him for a minute?" Amanda asked, turning her hip towards Michael. He grabbed the squirming toddler securely at the waist and lifted him off his mother, immediately spinning around. Jimmy went stiff as a board, putting his chubby arms out in front of him and squalling happily as Michael swung him about like a plane. Amanda bolted for the bathroom and immediately shut the door. Michael couldn't help but chuckle as he passed the bathroom and entered the living area. Tracey bounced from the couch to the armchair and back.
"Hey, hey," Michael chided, "no shoes on the furniture," he said and Tracey wailed before catapulting herself off the furniture and running down the hall again. Michael blinked after her for a moment, before realizing jimmy was wriggling in his arms. Michael went to put him down, but the toddler immediately started bawling. With a horrified face, Michael picked him back up and Jimmy immediately quieted. "Okay then," Michael muttered. Tracey flitted around his legs, her bunny almost tripping him as he tried to make it to the kitchen.
"I wanna go outside!" she proclaimed, weaving around the table. Michael tried to shift Jimmy to his left arm, but he wasn't cooperating. So instead he hiked the tyke up over his shoulder, and opened the fridge with his left hand. Jimmy giggled and kicked the air as Michael retrieved a can of beer. He set it down briefly on the counter to pop it open.
"As soon as your mom's out of the potty we can go outside," Michael reported. He brought the can up and took a gulp. As Tracey began screaming, he concluded she wasn't satisfied with his answer. "Trace," he scolded, turning to look at her. She shrunk and immediately sat down at the tone of his voice. "Good girl," he said with a nod and a smile, before feeling a tugging at the beer in his hand. "Hey, hands off," he cried, returning his attention to Jimmy, who had managed to writhe his way back down onto Michael's arm, and attempted to grab Michael's beer. Michael held it just out of his son's reach. "This is not for you. This is mine."
"Mine!" Jimmy repeated and Michael scolded himself internally.
"No, no, this is daddy's," he clarified, trying to point to himself, but finding it difficult to point to his own chest and keep the beer out of Jimmy's grabbing hands. Just then Amanda appeared from the bathroom, still putting up her hair in a lop-sided pony tail.
"Really?" she asked, looking at his beer as he handed her Jimmy as soon as she was in arm's reach.
"It's Saturday," he reasoned.
"It's Tuesday," she responded.
"Wow, I was off," he remarked. "It's summer?"
"There you go," she agreed, as he gave her a sip. She didn't get much more as Tracey began circling them, chanting "Outside! Outside! Outside!"
"Oh sweet Je-" Michael started but caught Amanda's glare. "Je… Gerbils…?" he stuttered and she snorted an inelegant chortle and headed for the door. Tracey turned back to look at him, tilting her head as her mother unlocked the door.
"What's a jer-bulls?" she asked, hugging her bunny.
"It's a rodent - like a hamster," he said, but Tracey continued to stare, uncomprehending. "Like a mouse?" he tried and a look of comprehension donned upon Tracey's face shortly before being replaced by that of complete and utter repulsion.
"Gross!" she howled, but before Michael could respond, Amanda opened the door, and Tracey was outside in the blink of an eye.
"Fu-fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed, as he hurried passed Amanda and Jimmy to keep an eye on the speedy four year old. He caught up to her as she made it across the crumbling asphalt road. Luckily traffic was tame this time of day, as everyone soaked up the sun in varying ways. Michael grabbed Tracey by the hand just before she dove into the neighbor's inflatable pool. "Tracey!" he scolded, pulling her back. "You know you're not supposed to run out like that."
"Aw, here I thought you were going to both end up in the pool," a familiar voice called from the small porch in front of him. Michael looked up to see his neighbor Ted in just his jeans and a towel around his neck, observing him. Michael laughed, spinning as Tracey attempted to run in circles around him.
"I dunno about her, but at this rate, I just might," he replied. He heard the door to his own trailer home close, and managed to stop spinning long enough to see Amanda balancing Jimmy on one arm and a folding chair on the other. "Uh oh," he breathed, and made his way back across the street, much to Tracey's dismay. Ted disappeared back inside. Michael released Tracey once they reached their small patch of lawn, or rather, dirt, in front of their home and he took the chair from Amanda. He set it up in the drive way while Tracey immediately began climbing up her small, pink picnic table set.
Amanda pulled a large, rubber ball out of a small storage trunk hidden under the stairs and set it down with Jimmy, who exclaimed "Ball!" and fell upon it in an over enthusiastic embrace. It rolled away and he collapsed face forward on the ground. Amanda reached forward but he picked himself up and raced the couple steps to the ball, before repeating his previous mistake. Amanda put a hand to her forehead and just sat down on the lawn chair.
"Daddy, daddy!" Tracey called.
"I think you're being summoned," Amanda remarked, as Michael took a long series of gulps out of his beer. He shook the can and handed it to Amanda before crossing to where Tracey sat at the miniature picnic table. Amanda brought the can to her lips but stopped, moving it farther away to analyze it. She swirled it to discover that there was in fact some beer left in there for her, despite how light the can was. She pursed her lips and glared at the back of Michael's head as she finished off the can.
Michael contorted himself as best he could and sat on the tiny bench. The bunny sat, or rather slumped really, next to Tracey, who was gesticulating very precise movements in the air with her little hands. Pinky out, she dipped her right hand near the surface of the table and then pushed empty air delicately in Michael's direction.
"That one's yours, " she explained, "Miss Bunny made it 'specially for you so you better drink it all," Tracey warned with a raising of her eyebrows that Michael thought was a little too reminiscent of her mother as he took the invisible cup.
"Why thank you Miss Bunny," he said and pretended to drink.
"Miss Bunny wants to go in the pool," Tracey stated.
"Trace, you know Miss Bunny can't go in the pool," Michael responded, dropping his hands back to the table top.
"But she wants to!"
"She can't swim," he replied by rote.
"I'll teach her," Tracey protested. He guessed he should have expected that one, since she'd just recently learned how to swim at the community pool herself.
"Bunnies don't like the water, Trace," he tried, but Tracey just pouted.
"Miss Bunny does; she told me so."
"She can't go in the pool," Michael repeated and the firmness in his voice made Tracey settle back on her bench. Amanda got up and corralled Jimmy back towards their trailer from where he'd wandered off with the ball. Having situated him in the drive way, Amanda made her way back inside for a moment.
"Get me another beer?" Michael asked. Amanda didn't respond. Tracey doted on her rabbit some more, petting her fur and whispering under a floppy ear, blatantly ignoring the over-sized occupant of the table across from her. Amanda reappeared with a beer an an unassuming glass of orange juice. Michael smiled as he took the beer and clinked it against her glass with a wink. She waved him off, smirking coyly as she sat back down. Tracey played with the ruffles on her rabbit's tutu before freezing mid-motion. The sudden movement was not lost on her father.
"Trace? You okay, baby doll?" he asked, moving to get up from the bench, but due to the contorted position of his legs, it took some maneuvering. Meanwhile, Tracey simply hopped up, bringing her stuffed rabbit with her. She circled around and covered one of this eyes with a hand and wrapped something around his face, before bolting off, giggling triumphantly. Despite her little hands no longer grabbing at his face, there was still something over his eyes. He reached up to grab the offender. The tutu. He swiped the tutu off his head and spun around. Amanda was laughing but immediately stopped.
"Oh no, Tracey! No…" she cried, before collapsing back into the chair with a sigh as a defiant splash marked Tracey's victory. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Michael sprinted across the street in an attempt to catch the rabbit before Tracey dunked it in the kiddie pool, but to no avail. Michael eased his pace in failure, but suddenly stumbled on something. He tried to catch himself, but with one hand holding the beer and trying distinctly not to steam roll his daughter while at the same time not face planting into the asphalt… he couldn't succeed. And he landed on his ass, still holding his beer, next to his daughter in the inflatable pool. She tittered exuberantly and Jimmy chased after that damn ball as it rolled away from the scene of the crime.
Tracey put the sopping wet bunny on her father's lap, making him flinch in surprise. "See, I told you she could swim," she said poignantly. "You might wanna take some pointers from her, daddy," Tracey added. "She thinks you could use her help," she whispered in his ear. She took her the rabbit back and kept playing in the water, her own clothes soaked as well. Michael sat stock still as his daughter splashed him more and more.
"Jer-bulls," he muttered and drank his beer.