Trailer Trash Teen Hates Rules Ch. 06

"Fine, I don't want to go upsetting the re ..." she began, pausing for effect and noticing with satisfaction the horror on the faces of Samantha, John and Kate, before continuing. "...luctant young man," she finished, with a smug smirk before walking away.

Samantha fumed, as there was nothing she hated more than anybody referring to her younger brother as a 'retard'. "You wouldn't want to say what you were about to say Breanna," said Samantha, her face flushed red, her expression furious, the girl pacing back and forth, John and Kate trying to calm her down, the brother and sister glaring at their cousin.

Breanna was well pleased with the drama she had created, and decided to create another as the party were being escorted to their table, which was located towards the front of the restaurant near the windows. On the sidewalk outside were a number of statues; two of the town's founding fathers, another of a woman in colonial dress and a fourth of a horse. "So do we get a smoking table or what?" Breanna asked rudely.

Mr. Tyler happened to be passing by and addressed the girl, having already seen her and pegged her as a potential trouble-maker. "Miss, there is NO smoking at Restaurant Grande," he said.

"So what do I do when I want a cigarette?" snapped Breanna.

"If you feel you must smoke, then you will take yourself out of Restaurant Grande," said Mr. Tyler. "And you will not stand smoking outside the front doors cheapening this establishment, you will make your way down the street to have your cigarette."

"Fucking faggot," said Breanna as the man walked away, the comment gaining the girl much attention from her own party, restaurant staff and other diners who looked over at her.

"Breanna!" snapped Anna.

"He is a faggot," retorted Breanna.

"You know young lady, when I was a girl I would have been grateful if my aunt and uncle had taken me out for dinner at a fine restaurant like this," said Alice Doyle, the elderly woman with neatly-set snow-white hair and glasses casting a disapproving glare at Breanna.

"I thought you would be too worried about out-running sabre-tooth tigers and wooly mammoths to go out to dinner when you were a girl," said Breanna.

"When you disrespect my wife by making comments like that, you disrespect yourself more by proving that you cannot behave like an adult in public," said Tom Doyle, the gray-haired man also glaring at the mini-skirted blonde teenager.

"Breanna!" Bob said. "What did I say earlier?"

"You say a lot of things, and most of them are crap," said Breanna.

"I said that you will keep quiet tonight, and show some respect!" Bob boomed, his voice travelling through the restaurant and people looking over, staring at him.

Mr. Tyler also stopped and frowned, walking over to the fuming Bob. "Is there a problem here, Sir?" he asked.

"I'm just taking care of it," said Bob.

Mr. Tyler sighed in his effeminate manner. "Sir, our customers expect to enjoy their meals at Restaurant Grande without drama, and for that reason allow me to make it clear to you that there is no shouting at Restaurant Grande." With that, Mr. Tyler went on his way.

Bob glowered at Breanna, the girl smirking at the dressing down her uncle had received from the pretentious faggot. Bob looked like a bear that had awoken with a migraine, and the nervous, highly-strung Kirsty adjusted her glasses, reached into her purse and took out her asthma inhaler, taking in a few puffs.

Kirsty was not the only one who was apprehensive. Samantha looked in dismay at Breanna, who was clearly in one of her moods to cause trouble, but the pretty strawberry blonde's face fell even more as she glanced at the small table adjacent to their own.

John noticed Samantha's expression and took her hand in his. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Look who it is," said Samantha quietly.

Instantly, John recognized the slim, blonde, middle-aged woman whom along with her husband was being escorted to the table by a waiter. It was Mrs. Hayes, the neurotic hypochondriac whom had made an exhibition of herself at their school years earlier, horrified that Samantha was allowed to attend classes when well enough between cancer treatments. John sighed and fumed that not only did his fiancée had to put up with Breanna and her antics on such an important evening, Samantha had to sit near a woman whom had caused her family problems at a time that was difficult for them, and whom years later still treated Samantha as though the girl had typhoid or leprosy.

Seeing Samantha was so on edge, John guided her a short distance away to a near some indoor plants so they were out of earshot. "I don't believe it," he said.

"Me either," said Samantha. "You know she was in the bank just yesterday? Didn't want to be served by me, didn't want me to touch her things."

"Stupid woman," said John of Mrs. Hayes, shaking his head.

"I think she thinks that I'm radioactive or something," observed Samantha. "And with Breanna and everything else ..."

"I was thinking, if you don't want to make our big announcement tonight I would understand," said John. He did not want to delay announcing their engagement, but the night was hardly going well so far, and if Samantha did not feel up to it he understood.

Samantha's thoughts were the same as those of her fiancé. The evening was going badly so far, but there was no way she wanted to delay any further such wonderful news. "No, let's do it tonight like we planned," said Samantha. "I've been keeping it a secret since Sunday, I don't think I can wait any more."

"Neither could I," said John, giving Samantha a kiss and joining hands with her, the two young lovers walking back to the table hand in hand.

At the adjacent table, Mrs. Hayes seemed not to have noticed Samantha. This all changed when John and Samantha returned to their own table, and Samantha's slim figure appeared in the woman's line of sight. The woman stopped and froze with an expression of horror, then frantically turned to her husband, a slim and unassuming man with light brown hair and glasses.

"Ralph, get the manager and tell him we want to change tables," she said urgently.

"What is the problem, this is a perfectly good table?" said Mr. Hayes.

"Never mind, if you won't do it, I will," snapped Mrs. Hayes. She snapped her fingers and Mr. Tyler, who was passing by.

Not impressed by being summoned by such rudeness, Mr. Tyler made his way over to Mr. and Mrs. Hayes' table. "Can I help you madam?"

"Yes, my husband and I want a new table right now," said Mrs. Hayes.

"I'm sorry madam, but I'm afraid that isn't possible," said Mr. Tyler. "Restaurant Grande is fully booked this evening. Is there a problem with this table that I can assist you with?"

"This is the most appalling service I have ever encountered," said Mrs. Hayes, debating the table subject with Mr. Tyler for over two minutes before she gave up and was resigned to remaining at this table. The woman sulked, glowering nervously at Samantha as her husband did nothing.

Mr. Tyler soon had another customer service drama to deal with at another table. The young waiter whom Breanna had observed being reprimanded earlier was standing at a table, wearing his "I don't care about my job' expression as the party ordered their dessert. "How should I know if the fruit salad has fresh fruit in it?" was the young man's surly response to the question of a female customer.

"Are you able to enquire with the chef?" asked the woman, dismayed by such rudeness.

"You just have to have what's on the menu," was the waiter's response.

Mr. Tyler sighed and scurried over. "Ryan ..." he called out.

Sitting between Dylan and Kirsty, Breanna watched everyone look through the menus as bread was brought to their table. The urge for nicotine was far greater than Breanna's urge for food, and she grabbed her purse and stood up.

"Where are you going?" asked Anna.

"For a smoke," said Breanna.

"Oh no, you're not," said Anna. "Tonight, you sit and have dinner with us with no smoking."

"Okay then, I'll go to the bathroom instead," said Breanna.

"There's no smoking in the ladies' room," her aunt reminded her.

"I'm not going to smoke," snapped Breanna.

"We'll, you won't need your purse then, will you?" asked Anna. She held out her hand.

Breanna sighed, rolled her eyes and with reluctance, handed it to her aunt. Walking through the restaurant, her mini-skirt attracting attention, Breanna smiled to herself. She had anticipated that having a cigarette might be difficult, so had been prepared. In the waist of Breanna's pink panties was a small plastic bag, containing a number of cigarettes and a lighter. Fuck her family, fuck this restaurant and fuck the rules, Breanna was going to smoke.

At the table, Samantha's nerves grew at the latest Breanna drama and catching a particularly venomous glare from Mrs. Hayes put her even more on edge. Coupled with the apprehension about making such a big announcement, the nerves impacted Samantha where they usually did, in her digestive system. The butterflies in her stomach turned into a massive feeling of urgency in her rectum within seconds, and Samantha hurriedly got to her feet.

"I just need the ladies' room," said Samantha, the pretty young woman making haste for the female toilets, following Breanna inside.

The gleaming, immaculate female bathroom contained three toilet cubicles located next to other. Samantha was dismayed as Breanna chose the middle stall, feeling self-conscious about using the toilet in such close proximity to John's trashy cousin. The young woman would have much preferred it if Breanna would have chosen the left or right stall, then there would have been a spare stall between them in the middle to allow her some privacy. Still, for Samantha it was a 'when you've got to go, you've got to go,' situation so she could do little about it. Even if this was a unisex bathroom like they had in Europe and two guys occupied the left and right stalls, Samantha would have had no choice but to go into the center stall, pull down her panties and sit on the toilet for a poo.

Samantha walked into the stall on Breanna's right, closing and locking the door behind her. The young woman checked that she had adequate toilet paper, then lifted her dress to reveal her light blue, bikini-style panties. Samantha pulled her panties down to her ankles, her triangle of strawberry blonde pubic hair and her shapely bare bottom uncovered as her panties went down, before the girl sat on the toilet, positioning herself so she was comfortable, the sound of Samantha urinating echoing around the ladies' room as her pee stream went into the bowl.

As Samantha emptied her bowels, Breanna glanced under the stall partition, seeing Samantha's lowered blue panties and feet. Breanna herself sat on the toilet, but on the lid with her panties still up as she did not actually need to go. The girl had removed her cigarettes and lighter from inside her panties, and holding one to her lips, lit it and inhaled the smoke into her mouth and deep into her lungs.

In the next stall, Samantha was just reaching for the toilet paper when she heard the sound of the cigarette lighter. The young woman paused as pondered if this was just her imagination, but as Samantha advanced the toilet roll, got a length of toilet paper and used it to wipe herself, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke entered her nose.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Samantha thought to herself in despair. She hated the smell of cigarette smoke at the best of times, but given the strict no-smoking policy at this restaurant, Breanna's actions could only lead to trouble. The smell of cigarette smoke got stronger, but Samantha was nowhere near finished, so was stuck on the toilet.

Running out of patience, Samantha found her voice. "Breanna, are you smoking?" she called out.

In the next stall, Breanna feverishly sucked in the cigarette smoke and grinned at the discomfort she was obviously causing to Samantha. "Yeah, you want one Samantha?"

"No, I do not," came Samantha's indignant reply.

"Suit yourself," Breanna called back, finishing the first cigarette, stubbing out the butt and lighting a second smoke.

"You can't smoke in here," responded Samantha.

"Who's going to stop me? You or the faggot who runs this fucking place?" scoffed Breanna arrogantly.

Sighing, Samantha could only continue to use the toilet as Breanna finished her second cigarette. Samantha felt relief as she heard Breanna open the door to the center stall, but then jumped in shock as two objects fell down on her from above, one hitting her on her left arm, the other landing on the floor near her lowered panties. The girl's expression was one of anger and revulsion as she realized what they were – Breanna's cigarette butts, which the trashy teenager had thrown over the top of the stall just to annoy her even more. Breanna herself grinned at the way she had irritated Samantha, and exited the bathroom and back into the restaurant, planning how she could cause even more mayhem for the evening.

Samantha shook her head in despair, the ladies' room absolutely stinking of cigarette smoke, and she took deep breaths as she got some toilet paper and finished on the toilet. The pretty young woman stood up, put down the toilet lid and flushed the toilet, before pulling up her panties and smoothing down her dress. The lock on the door changed from 'Engaged' to 'Vacant' as Samantha opened the door and walked to the sink. Thoroughly washing her hands with soap and warm water, Samantha glanced back into the toilet stall she had vacated and noticed the cigarette butts that lay on the floor. She did not want to touch them, but if anybody else came in they might think it was her that was smoking. Samantha hastily went back into the stall, retrieved the butts and went to wrap them in a paper towel for disposal.

Unfortunately, at this very moment the external door opened, and a middle-aged woman with dark hair and glasses, wearing the restaurant uniform. Her eyes took in the sight of Samantha with the cigarette butts in her fingers, and her nose the smell of cigarette smoke.

The woman fixed Samantha with a stern glare, and pointed at a no smoking sign on the wall. "Miss, there is no smoking in the ladies' room. In fact, there is no smoking here, at all."

"I wasn't smoking," Samantha protested. "Somebody else was smoking and I was just picking up the butts ..."

Samantha could see by the woman's expression that she did not believe her for a second. She glared at Samantha, and said, "Your name is Samantha Williams, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right," affirmed Samantha.

"My kids went to the same school with you," said the woman. "I'm Judy Clark, my son Grant was in your year, my daughter in the year after."

"Oh yes, I remember them now," said Samantha.

"Well, young lady I don't make a habit of telling customers how to conduct their lives," said Mrs. Clark, continuing to fix Samantha with a glare of steel. "But you should be absolutely ashamed of yourself."

"I'm sorry?" asked Samantha.

"When you were sick as a child, our family were really worried for you," said Mrs. Clark. "My kids made you a get well soon card, and we prayed for you."

Samantha thought back, and remembered the hand-made card the Clark family had sent, one of many cards she had received when she had cancer. All these were stored in a box in the attic, Samantha not wanting to look at them and bring up painful memories, but unable to bring herself to throw them away given people had cared enough about her to write. "Mrs. Clark, I don't smoke. I never smoke."

Mrs. Clark again glowered at her. "You can lie to me all you wish, but you can't lie to yourself. Hundreds of kids die from cancer each year, you recovered and then you throw all the support and good wishes you received back in everyone's faces by smoking? Your parents must be so proud of you."

With that, the woman walked past Samantha to restock the paper towels, and the dismayed Samantha gave her hands a second wash before returning to her table, the young woman observing Mrs. Hayes flinch as Samantha got too close to her. John taking her hand in his as she sat down reassured Samantha somewhat. The group placed their orders, and bread was brought to the table along with drinks.

John looked imploringly at Samantha, his expression saying, 'Should we do it now?', and Samantha nodded in acknowledgement. Both filled with nervous excitement, the young couple got to their feet and John found his voice.

"Samantha and I have some news," he said. "Some really big news. On Sunday, I asked Samantha to marry me, and I'm very happy to say that she said yes."

Everyone at the table was quiet as the news sunk in. "It's true," affirmed Samantha. "We're now engaged."

John took the jewelry box containing the engagement ring, and slipped it onto Samantha's left ring finger, where it would now stay permanently, the young couple kissing discretely on the lips.

Bob was the first to react, getting to his feet and shaking his son's hand. "Congratulations," he said, embracing the young woman who would now be his daughter-in-law.

"Yes, congratulations," said Anna, embracing her son and then Samantha, filled with delight and pride at such great news. "What a wonderful surprise."

Samantha's parents were next to congratulate the newly-engaged couple, followed by Kate, Dylan, Kirsty and Anna's parents. Two members of the group, however, remained aloof. The first was Chris, the autistic young man remaining engrossed in sketching a rainbow in his note-book. His disability ensured that he had no concept of the situation, and how it was so important to his older sister and her boyfriend, and their parents and families.

The second was Breanna. The cynical, sarcastic teenager had no interest in the moment, Breanna lacking any sense of romance. To her, it was overly-sentimental and sappy and embarrassing. Breanna observed everyone sitting back down again, and her cynicism turned to disbelief as Pat Williams began to cry, her solemn-faced husband putting a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

Then Samantha moved across, putting an arm around her mother's shoulders. "Oh Mom," she said gently, handing her mother some tissues and trying to comfort her.

Pat accepted the tissues and tried to control her tears, but was unable to do so, crying more and more. Samantha felt herself becoming tearful, and used one of the tissues to wipe her own eyes. "You've set me off now, Mom."

"Please promise me that you'll wear my old wedding dress when you get married," sobbed Pat Williams.

"I promise, I wouldn't wear anything else," said Samantha through her own tears.

Most everyone at the table understood the gravity of the situation for Ted and Pat Williams. While a child getting engaged is a big event for any parents, there is more emotion when the child overcame a life-threatening illness or accident; or there is another child in the family who is disabled and can never reach such a milestone. In the Williams family, both were true.

Parenting had seemed so easy to Ted and Pat Williams in April 1974, when they brought home their beautiful, healthy baby daughter Samantha. A perfect baby who grew into a wonderful, well-behaved and generous child, Samantha was delighted at the age of two when her parents brought home her brother Chris from the hospital, their son completing their family.

However, as time went by it was clear that something was amiss with their son. At first it seemed that Chris might be a late bloomer, not reaching the same infancy and early childhood milestones as his older sister did so easily, but when there was still no improvement Mr. and Mrs. Williams sought medical advice. The diagnosis of autism was devastating, and Chris's problems tended to dominate the house. Samantha was amazing for a girl so young at the time, always putting her special-needs brother first and always helping her parents.