(My note: Through the years some of my readers would ask about Trent's backstory. Over the next few chapters he'll be telling Bert his side of the story.)
“I know I’ve told you about the way I was raised.” Trent told Bert. “I know I also told you about the circumstances that led me to run away from home. The only goal I had was to make my way to Studio Town and become an actor.”
I always felt sad thinking about twelve year old Trent living on his wits and sleeping in barns. He really never had much of a childhood. When he was old enough to work in a theater he saved what he could to pay for lessons to learn his chosen craft. Once he was getting small acting jobs he was still working multiple part time jobs to make ends meet.
“I think I mentioned how several families did take me in along the way and I earned my keep working for them. Except for old Widow Jones most of them gave me sleeping quarters in the barn or in the hayloft. At Widow Jones’ boarding house I had three hot meals a day and I slept in a bed with clean sheets. I also preferred washing dishes and making beds to tilling fields and shoveling sh-er-manure. When I was thirteen I took a job in a local theater. The owner, an old Vaudeville man, allowed me to sleep in the broom closet at night. He also allowed me one small popcorn and one free soda every day. I really felt like I was moving up in the world when I was taught to run the projector and given a nickel raise.”
“Wait!” Bert interrupted. “All you had to eat everyday was popcorn and a soda?”
“Shucks no!” Trent unconsciously reverted to his old accent. “I was still acquainted with the Widow Jones. In exchange for doing the washing up every night and cleaning the kitchen she still fed me dinner.”
“Couldn’t that old bat have just fed you for free?” Bert blurted out. “I mean you were still just a little boy! You needed food to grow up healthy and it wouldn’t have killed any of those so-called foster families to at least let you sleep on the couch or share a bed with one of their kids!”
“The small town I ended up in was very rural and very poor. We had to help each other to survive. Though I had to pay for my board and keep in some way or another, I noticed my meal portions were always a bit bigger than even the paying customers. Whenever any border left items behind in their rooms, Widow Jones would come fetch me to try on any clothes or shoes to see if they would fit. As for the farm families most of them didn’t have a couch and usually no more than two rooms in their entire house. Besides, most of the families that hired me only had daughters. It wouldn’t have been at all proper to allow me to sleep in the house. I didn’t mind sleeping in the barn. I was always given a warm blanket and sometimes a pillow. It was fine unless there were mice. I was never actually bitten by one, but they did keep me awake jumping over me or pulling my hair. I eventually even made friends with a few of them and friends with all my four legged roommates. There was an old sheepdog collie mix that always slept with me. The family that owned Dixie knew when she disappeared that she would be with me.”
“Pity you couldn’t have trained all your friendly critters to do your work for you like they do in Disney movies.” Uncle Remington quipped as he, Bert, and I all involuntarily shuddered at the thought of little Trent having to share a bed with vermin.
Trent grinned.
“Yeah, it never occurred to me if I had sung to them, they might have tilled the fields for me.”
Even Bert smiled a little.
“Seriously, Dad this is the first time you are going into detail about this point in your life. You told me about your young childhood and your drunken cu-er-jerk of a father, but you kind of glossed over this part. You told me you worked odd jobs and finally got work in a theater until you could pay for acting classes.”
“You've only known Remington a short time and he’s already rubbing off on you I see.” Trent teased Bert about her almost slip up.
Bert and Uncle Remington exchanged quick looks and shared a smile.
“I hate to break it to you Dad, but I’m already well corrupted in my own right.”
“Then you will fit right in with Remington, Trudi, and I.” Trent chuckled. “We still have to watch what we say around Lanie. She’s still too young to hear most of the risque things we come up with.”
Oh yeah? I knew quite a bit too…except for this C word everyone tried to call The Count. It was also why I started eavesdropping in the first place so I could learn things that were being kept from me.
Uncle Remington cast a knowing look in my direction.
“I’m sure the little minx knows more than she lets on.” he chuckled then. “When I was her age I was really into finding out and knowing anything that was considered naughty.”
“Same.” Bert admitted. “However, it just occurred to me Dad that you weren’t much older than Lanie when you were working hard as a farm hand or running the projector at a movie theater. Did you ever have a chance to just be a child?”
Trent’s look was rueful.
“I can’t say that I have. I was always in survival mode. The first part of my life my sisters, mother, and I were terrorized by my father and bullied by the folks in town. The McCullough name was hated in the parts I grew up in. After I ran away folks were a bit kinder, but I always felt like a stray. I think the only ones that showed me real love was old Dixie and the Widow Jones. She’s the only one that ever hugged me anyway.” he noticed his words put fresh tears in all our eyes and quickly tried to make a joke. “If I were ever to utter a naughty word or tell an off color joke within earshot of the Widow Jones I’d have gotten my britches blistered for sure. She was a good decent God fearing woman. She actually taught me a lot about proper manners. I’m grateful to her to this very day.”
“Daddy, I’m so glad you are finally going into detail with me on this part of your life. You’ve been through so much. No child should ever have to deal with the horrible things you did!” Bert declared. “It just makes me feel so frustrated and sad though!”
Trent once again gently brushed back her wild tangle of hair. His eyes regarding the daughter he raised were full of love.
“I guess it’s time you did know the real me. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the things I’d rather forget. I don’t want there to be any lies between us going forward. I guess I’m starting at this point in my life because you might better understand later why when I was handed this really angry, screaming, little red rubbery baby person in a crocheted pink hat and sweater I never wanted to let her go. Being your father was one of the very best things that’s ever happened to me and a dream I thought I’d never get to realize…”