She lives in a 1985 Coleman Fold-Down Camping Trailer permanently parked in the backyard of her grandparents home.  



"Hello," I say then ringing the doorbell mounted on the wall of the ranch style stucco home.  The inside main door is open and through the rusting outer screen door I can see an elderly man lying on the couch.
   
"Backyard," says the man then coughing.  "She's out back."

"Thank you," I say wanting to make a good impression then wondering why I need to make a good impression at all.  Just be yourself, Norm, I am thinking as I step off the stoop.  The distance between their home and their neighbors home is only a few feet and as I walk (to the backyard) a window opens and from that open window someone tosses out a good amount of used up cat liter.      

"My granddaughter is in the trailer," says an elderly woman then hitting the plastic liter box against the stucco wall.  She has a head like a basketball and when she talks her lips move but her jaw does not.  "Look out for the poop," she says then closing the window and dropping the blinds.     

"Anybody home?" I say then knocking on one of the aluminum poles holding up the canvas wall of the trailer.

"Norm?" says the woman.  It is a first date. I met her on the internet. 

"I'm Norm," I say then extending my hand.  She has a good to look at face and is wearing a tube top and stovepipe jeans. 

"How are you?" she says then shaking my hand.  She has good female hands. 

"You didn't tell me you lived in a trailer," I say then stepping up and into the unit.  I can smell perfume and hairspray 
and the odor you first 
notice when entering 
a canvas tent. 

"I live in a trailer," she 
says then reaching 
into a tiny Coleman 
refrigerator.   

"You sure do," I say.

"Beer?" she says.

"Is it okay with them?" I say pointing toward the back of the house.  Her grandfather is watching me using a window on the left side of the house and her grandmother is watching me using a window on the right side of the house.  

"Of course it's alright with them," she says stepping out of the trailer then waving at the grandparents.

"Just being proper," I say then unscrewing the cap on the bottled beer.

"They're just protective," she says then sitting alongside the multi-burner propane stove.  When she crosses her legs I notice a gold ankle bracelet.

"I understand," I say.

"They're wonderful people," she says then drinking from her bottle.  "I live here for free."

"That's great," I say.

"Guess I'm just lucky," she says then pulling a cigarette from a box then pushing it between her full lips.

"Where's the bathroom?" I say finishing off my beer then standing.

"In the house," she says.  

"In the house?" I say then looking toward the stucco home.  The grandparents have switched positions.  The grandfather is now standing in front of the right window, the grandmother with the head like a basketball has moved to the left window and the cat has joined in and is watching me from the small bathroom window between the two of them.

"It's a nice bathroom," she says then using a match to light her cigarette.  "They just had it tiled and the tub re-glazed."

"Let's go out," I say.    


Later that night we danced at the Island Way Tavern then ate lemon Sorbet packed inside fresh lemon shells.  At 2:20 in the morning I kissed her in the car while parked in the front of her grandparents stucco home not wanting to walk her back to her 1985 Coleman trailer because of the narrow passageway and cat poop.