Lorraine lit a cigarette half way up the sloping hill to the sewage dump. She had to take a break, a breath of smoke, the shit bucket was heavy that day. Jason craps more than an overfed hog when he visits. She thought, He seems to store it all up while he’s locked up. Doesn’t surprise me, I wouldn’t want to expose my ass in jail either.

She glanced down and noticed that she was wearing her house shoes. Fuck. She thought. They were meant to stay clean, she couldn’t stand being barefoot in her home, or anywhere for that matter. By the time she reached the dump, her cigarette had ashed its way to the butt. Lorraine threw the butt behind her after checking to see that no one was watching, then promptly lit another.

Jason, her twenty seven year old son, had been in and out of jail since he was seventeen. Beaumont, Texas wasn’t a great place to raise a kid, especially with the paycheck that she earned at 7-11. Bill had made good money working the offshore oil rigs, but went off the deep end when the market tanked and resigned himself to drown in cheap pints of whisky. He left when Jason was in his teens, ended up somewhere low rent around the Casinos at Lake Charles. She had hoped his father leaving would be as much of a relief for Jason as it had been for her, instead, he became hurriedly bitter.

Lorraine’s shifts at the gas station were from six P.M. until midnight, sometimes later if she could pick up the extra shift. She and Jason became strangers in the same house. At the age of sixteen Jason had managed to get a girl pregnant, but by the time the baby was born, he had gone to jail for the first time. He was pulled over for speeding, earning himself a DUI and possession charge for synthetic speed stashed in the console.

Being released from jail briefly tempered Jason’s indignation. Lorraine had hopes he would get his GED and a job, but Mindy, the girl that he had gotten pregnant, came by Lorraine’s house more and more often. Mindy demanded that Jason supply money for their two month old baby. Money that Jason didn’t have, money that Lorraine barely skimmed together, only for her grandson’s sake. The stress of the baby, his inability to find work with a criminal record and suspended driver’s license crippled what was left of Jason’s pride.

I hate doin’ this shit, Lorraine mumbled as her second cigarette came to an end while she hooked up the honey bucket hose to the sewage dump, lifting what felt like two hundred pounds of waste. It was a shame that she couldn’t get a trailer site with a direct sewage line but that was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Lorraine saw Jim walking his two small dogs around the park. She smiled and nodded, he did the same as he walked on. Funny, she thought, a burly man like that with two tiny little fuckers. Maybe he’s gay. The tank emptied right before her arms gave out and dropped it, not because it made her tired, but because she felt like being dramatic.

The weight of her rolling tank felt much lighter, practically falling down the hill toward her old fifth wheel trailer. Honey bucket is such a ridiculous word for a shit tank. Nevertheless, it made her laugh to call it that. Her sister Denise had given her the trailer and set her up with a job working for a house cleaning service in San Marcos. Leaving Beaumont was a dream Lorraine always thought wasn’t possible, but Denise had a kind heart and most importantly, a little bit of money.

The housecleaning gig didn’t pan out for long. The woman running the service got married and decided the only house she’d ever clean again was her own. As quick as their employer was wed, Lorraine and the other gals were out of work and quickly approaching debt. Luckily she found a job at an Exxon station, but this time, Lorraine managed to get a daytime shift. She couldn’t handle the late hours anymore, she was older now, on the back side of her sixties.

Setting the shit tank in it’s place under the trailer, Lorraine looked at the watch that Bill had given her when things were okay back in Beaumont. It was later than expected. It was her first day at the Exxon. She wished she had gotten a little more sleep the night before. Whenever Jason shows up he paces in and out of the trailer for another beer and another beer and so on, slamming the door, rocking the trailer with every heavy step. He was constantly outside either berating or being berated by some trashy girlfriend he managed to keep.

Lorraine dressed quickly in the cramped back bedroom while Jason sat watching the television at high decibel.  She almost forgot her signature blue eyeshadow; She thought that it complemented her eyes but somehow never picked up that eyeshadow had been out of fashion for nearly 30 years. Lorraine turned off the television and looked herself over one last time. “Fuckin’ Jason!“ She slammed her oversized purse into the ground as she stepped out to find that her Camry was missing.

Irate, she gathered her things, lit a cigarette and started walking. The Exxon wasn’t too far, but she had to walk quickly to make it on time. God, I hope that son of a bitch leaves for good this time. The irony of calling her son a son of a bitch hit her suddenly as she took a long drag from her Winston and waited to cross the road. She had spent her whole life waiting. Waiting for a change, waiting for a chance, and waiting for love; all she ever got was a divorce, dead end jobs, a jailbird son, a shitty trailer and now, a stolen car.