Cristol Saplin Visits the MTV Studio: White Trash in the Snow Chapters 37 and 38

I admit it.  A real event inspired this chapter. It was Jennifer Lopez's appearance on a certain TV show during October 2007.  Here is a YouTube link for all you J Lo fans and interested others.  And by the way, I'm not responsible for the title of that clip. It was given by the person who posted it and  I'm not "doublegrandmapalin." If that person reads The Palin Place, thank you for this clip  and all the Palin-related videos you have put on YouTube.

While I was there, I watched the December 2008 news coverage of Bristol going to church after the fire.  Wonder why her legs are thinner in 2008 at nine months pregnant then two years later while Dancing With the Stars?  Isn't dancing good exercise? Isn't chasing a one year old good exercise, too?  No wonder people theorize  she was pregnant in 2010.  

Todd waves to the camera.  Such a Christian, right?  Wonder if he said a prayer for the single mom he was prostituting out at that time, or for her two disabled kids.

One last thing - Shailey Tripp's non-fiction book Boys Will Be Boys: Media Morality, and the Coverup of the Todd Palin Shailey Tripp Sex Scandal  is a work of courage, while my book, White Trash in the Snow, is an outlet for my humor and my imagination.  I'm pretty sure Sarah hates them both and the two of us. Such a Christian.

White Trash in the Snow

by Allison

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

J Lo was greeted with wild applause. Wearing a black and white striped retro-1960s tent style mini-dress with black over-the-knee boots, Ms. Lopez descended the stairs carefully, glowing and obviously very happy. Cristol was envious and embarrassed. She’s, like, twice my age and I’m the one dressed like an old lady in this stupid skirt and blouse. Cristol stopped applauding, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. And that dress could hide a full-term pregnancy, but it’s still cute. The jealousy was ratcheting up while the super star strutted around the small stage, acknowledging her fans. I’d probably trip if I even tried on boots like that. I’m so clumsy. And that hat! The black floppy hat, the perfect vintage accessory, was, Cristol was certain,  the cutest hat she had ever seen. She can dress like that because she lives in New York. Or does she live in  Hollywood? It doesn’t matter either way, she sure isn’t from Azzolla. Heck, she probably has homes in New York and Hollywood. She’s so lucky.

All the Saplin girls had inherited their Mom’s love for clothes, but living in Azzolla retarded their development of style. Rachael had recently retained a personal shopper at Nordstrom who was incrementally upgrading the governor’s consignment store wardrobe. Maple was hooked on designer labels and teen magazine trendiness, whether or not the clothes looked good on her, and Cristol had been hiding her body in baggy jeans and sweatshirts since late August.

When Jennifer Lopez stopped right in front of her, Cristol wanted to cry. Cameras were pointed right at her. It was terrifying. Was she being broadcast on national TV? Could people tell she was pregnant?  The rest of the young audience was still cheering and applauding, and, in at least one case, weeping.  “Applause” light was flashing, and  Cristol managed to clap again, albeit mechanically. She fought her fears and scolded herself.  Damn it! This is the only time I’m ever gonna get to see a TV show in person. I’ve got to be able to tell my friends what this was like. I’ve got to stay in the moment! Cristol turned her attention to the performer who was saying “…learned over the years is to try to be in the moment…”  

What? …Did J-Lo say…?

“So many amazing things have happened in my life, I just feel like I want to enjoy the moment…”  There it was again! Heart pounding, Cristol believed a miracle was happening to her, right there in MTV studios. God had a message for her.

Ms. Lopez was glowing. “This is a great time in my life. It’s just amazing. I just want to enjoy it.” She talked about being on tour with her husband, Mark Anthony, and performing with him at Madison Square Garden. Perhaps some in the audience believed Ms. Lopez’s euphoria came from those things, but anyone who read gossip on the internet knew that Mrs. Mark Anthony was suspected of being “with child.”  Cristol had read the rumor sites, not because she was a great fan of J Lo but because Google results for “pregnancy” had put the Jennifer Lopez stories in the top results.

 She is pregnant! Just like me! A surge of kinship washed over her. And she’s right, this is an amazing thing, a very special time. The host cued up a slice of the video “Love Don’t Cost a Thing,” and Cristol’s muse spoke to her again “At that time in my life, I was just becoming famous and I was just beginning to make a little money after growing up in the Bronx.  And I was like, all that doesn’t’ matter if you don’t have love.  It was kind of about getting rid of the mansion and the fancy car and all that kind of stuff.”  Another message for me! Mom is getting more famous, and her and Dad are making good money now, and when the promotional stuff really kicks in she says we’re going have lots of money… and yet I hate my life.

All I need, all I want, is love.

“YOU HAVE TO BE TRUE TO WHO YOU ARE.”

Cristol was mesmerized. The beautiful, radiant star, glowing with maternity and happiness, was  blowing kisses to her adoring fans as she headed for the exit.  After one last refrain of “You have to be real,” the star left the stage and the miracle was over.

The Governor’s daughter wanted to shout “Hallelujiah!” right there in the MTV studio. But, of course, she didn’t.  She kept her thoughts to herself. God brought me all the way across a continent to receive this message.  Thank you, God. Thank you for loving me so much, and for loving my baby, too. I will treasure these next months. I will be a good mom to this baby you’ve given me.

 Cristol felt wonderful. She felt alive, happy, and set free. It was a miracle.

Cristol felt so wonderfully relieved she half expected her mother would notice the change. But, Rachael was too excited by her city cut and pedicure to notice anything about her daughter. 

That evening at dinner, Governor Saplin was scrolling through her Blackberry and hoping to be recognized her from the article in Newsweek. She had been disappointed that the men and women working in the salon had not made a fuss over her for being an elected official. She talked as she scrolled, “For Pete’s sake, you’d a thought they had governors in there every stinkin’ day.  Honestly, Cristol, we get treated better at home. Wait till I tell the girls at “Big Tease.”

Twenty four hours before, Cristol would have picked up the theme and joined in with her mother in criticizing the hairdressers in New York. But th new Cristol Saplin spoke instead, .“Mom, that doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about hairdressers. I need –“

“You are so right! Why would I care about the attention of a bunch of hair school graduates?  Heck, did they even graduate? Did I see their diplomas?  Well, actually, there were these little framed-“

“Mom, stop talking about hairdressers; Wrangler and I are having a baby and -”

“And I’m being inconsiderate,” Rachael said, setting down the smart phone. She looked directly into her daughter’s face wearing an I-really-care-about-you look that she’d perfected while campaigning, and explained, “I wasn’t thinking. So much on my mind, yup, I should have realized how you feel about hairdressers, Wrangler’s mom being one of those people which it is that cut other people’s hair and of course that’s not anything like being a governor of a whole state and a potential running mate for a future President. So, let’s get it out in the open, otherwise it’ll rot inside you like dead fish left in the net. How do you feel about Wrangler’s mom?’

“Wha..wh…” Cristol was dumbstruck.

“Jerrie’s a retired hairdresser, right?  She must be pretty bored.  Has she been puttin’ pressure on you kids to give her some little rug rat grandbaby so she can have something to do all day?  You don’t have to do that, you know. It’s your choice to make.”

“Stop it!” Cristol spoke a bit too loudly. She reddened and her eyes darted around the room. Rachael noticed.

“Is  anybody is staring at us?”  she asked.  “You can’t be makin’ a scene here, ya know, ‘cause people are gonna recognize me. Take a  look and I’ll just be checking my email.” She picked up one of the Blackberries that lay strategically on the white table cloth  to imply that she was an important person. “So, here I am, like my sisters and brothers in service to their country, us who get elected to high public office are always workin’.”  It was her theatrical voice; it deeply offended Cristol at this moment.

“So,” Rachael hissed quietly through her teeth while still thumbing the Blackberry, “is anybody noticin’ how hard I’m workin’?””

Before Cristol answered, the waiter appeared to take their orders.  “Surf and Turf. Two of ‘em.”  A flick of her wrist indicated the second was for the blushing teenager across the table. “And bring extra butter with the bread.”

Between the ordering and the arrival of their entrees, not much was said. When the meals were set before them, Rachael asked about the studio taping, and listened while she savored each bite.

 Cristol tried to do justice to the miracle at MTV and her mother nodded occasionally and squiched her mouth together sometimes. The former might have been a reaction to the story or an expression of approval of the culinary talents at work in the kitchen.  The latter could have been interest in a particular thing being recounted, or it could have been Rachael trying to use her tongue to dislodge something stuck between her teeth.  In both cases, Cristol’s interpretations were generous.

“See, Mom? It was meant to be. God spoke to me.!”

“Well, maybe. But still, we’ve come all the way out here, and that was God’s doing, too. You are far, far from home. No one knows you here. They might know me, but not you. So why no have a little talk with the folks at the clinic? I’m pretty sure there’ll be a message for you there, too. Won’t know unless you walk through that door.”  She was smiling again – a big smile. “ Remember what I said about doors?”

“Yes, Mom, I do. And, no, I won’t go to any clinic.  I’m having this baby. Do you know he has a heartbeat? And fingernails? And he knows my voice?” All the things Cristol had learned in youth group had been reinforced through Google searches. The fetus was very real to her, and it was a baby, not a condition. “I’m going to live in the moment and my life will finally make sense.”

Rachael went back to scrolling her Blackberry and waited for the waiter to take their plates.

“No dessert, thanks. Some of us are carrying too much weight.”

Later that night, when reasoning failed, her mother tried pleading, threatening, whining, pouting, and insulting. Rachael had accumulated many weapons of coercion in her four-plus decades of living and never had they been less effective.

“Get over it, Mom. I’m having my baby.”Cristol conceded one thing, that she would “embrace the experience” quietly and privately, not telling anyone until Rachael and Tad came up with a game plan.

Over the remaining days, Cristol sent Wrangler little messages like “luv U” and “miss U” and “J Lo = AWESOME.” Telling him exactly what happened in the MTV studios was going to wait until she got back and they were alone, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Only then, when the time and setting were perfect, would she would tell him about the miracle. And afterward, she was going to insist that he live in the moment, too, and promise to never take love for granted.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

It was the day before Cristol’s seventeenth birthday. Grandma and Grandpa Heat were having the Saplins and the Strausses over for a small celebration.  Wrangler knew Buck and Betty, .and his mom and sister knew who they were, of course. The Heats had seen  Jerrie and Porsche around town, too. In an area as remote as Azzolla, the only people you didn’t recognize were the visitors.

. The Heat’s had both retired from the Azzolla school system as tenured teachers, and Jerrie feared they would look down on her. They probably preferred to be around  “educated types.”  Not only did Jerrie have no post-high school education, but Jerrie’s vocation  put her pretty much at the bottom rung of the social ladder.  For twenty years, she made ends meet through a steady knocking on the back door by women needing a shampoo and cut, or foils, dyes and perms. Hours were long, and she worked hard. Her clientele worked hard, too – women coming by after a long day in an office or standing behind a cash register. Sundays were busy. Some regulars didn’t have any other day off.

The Strauss kitchen served as beauty parlor, sanctuary, book club, group therapy meet-up, and women’s self-help club. There was always a pot of coffee brewing, and from very young ages, the smell of freshly brewed coffee could subconsciously makes Wrangler and Porsche feel safe, happy and loved.

The two of them kept out of sight while their mother’s guests  talked about their kids, their husbands and their bills, got a trim or a new “do” and left with some tidbit of gossip.  Jerrie and her customers were friends, but Jerrie never let work come before being a mom. As a hairdresser, she could work while still being home for her kids.  It was  all she ever wanted, and she felt blessed.

Blessed though she was, Jerrie was nervous. That’s why she was taking extra care to look nice tonight. Jerrie wanted her hair to be perfect, it was the one thing she could control. Deftly working the curling wand, she mentally ruminated on what she called the card game of life. She knew she’d been dealt a less promising hand than tonight’s hosts financially, physically and intellectually. But her philosophy was to play the cards you’re dealt without whining.

Two years ago she had been dealt a tough hand. A serious back injury forced her into bed rest and nearly full retirement. One of the working poor, she had no health insurance. Medical bills piled up and she could have lost the kids to foster care. But she sold everything she owned of value including her car, canceled cable television and figured out a budget that could be met by welfare and child support payments. Things were tight, but they were making it. The kids didn’t complain, they used lots of blankets at night and wore sweaters and layers during the day to keep the heat down. Wrangler had found a couple part time jobs and could keep his truck on the road through his own earnings. And by hunting and fishing he stocked a freezer.

No one outside the house, not one neighbor or previous customer ever  guessed how truly difficult it was for the Stausses.   Jerrie always had a smile and a “hey there” for everyone she met, never burdening anyone with a hint of  her own worries. Tonight would be no different. She was going to appreciate the cards she held, and keep them close to her vest. Sure would be interesting, though, to get a glimpse at the hand the Heats were holding.

Jerrie suspected that the Heats, thanks to their daughter’s political connections, had been slipped a few aces. So what? To let that bother her, she’d have to cash in some of her own chips –  some of her favorites, like peace of mind and optimism.. She wasn’t one to up the ante of  resentment. Hey, if she’d been dealt some high point cards from the bottom of the deck  she would have held on to them, too.

 “Yup, you betcha,” she imitated Rachael for her own amusement and winked at her image in the mirror. “Ouch,” she said as the hot metal touched her neck by mistake. A red welt began to rise on the spot.  “Oh man,” she groaned, “That’s gonna show. It’s gonna look like one of those hickeys like the kids give each other.” She frowned, then smiled and played the card she was dealt. “Jerrie,” she said to herself, “ it will make me look like one of the kids instead of a soon to be grandma.”

Jerrie kept working the wand and making curls and reminisced about raising Wrangler and Porsche. Where had the time gone?

Those two were Jerrie’s reasons to get out of bed in the morning and her reasons to stay sober during the day. In this world, she neither expected nor coveted fame, popularity or wealth. She had two healthy kids who gave her respect and showered her with love. Yup, she was blessed. Her kids were real good kids, too.  Some boys put their moms through hell. There wasn’t enough to keep kids busy in this little geographical no man’s land.  The state’s population was small and scattered. The Valley was bleak, cold and dark for  many months out of the year. It’s tough on parents and kids alike.

 Azzolla Valley parents lived in fear that  their sons and daughters would become involved in the community’s biggest cottage industry. Home cooked supplies of meth sold well in Azzolla; the illegal drug added to the town’s economy and subtracted from its quality of life. Police had raided and shut down nine meth labs in the previous twelve months.

It was rumored that Field Saplin had become a user. Jerrie felt bad about that. Poor kid, he was a wild one, but Jerrie liked him. Apparently, that stunt with the school buses was the last straw. Wrangler said “everybody in school” knew who did it, and yes, Field was guilty. “Were you there, too?” Jerrie had asked. But Wrangler said no, he was with some girls that night. She believed him.

Jerrie’d heard it was Rachael who had arranged to send her son away for that senior year he spent out of state. Wrangler confirmed that, too. Apparently, the rest of the family pleaded with her not to do it, but she told them all he was” messin’ up her image.” Next thing they knew, Field was in Minnesota.

Hopefully, Cristol isn’t  like her mother, thought Jerrie.  If she gets as mean and bossy as Rachel, Wrangler and the baby are in for a tough life. And with them all livin’ at the Saplins, that will make it even worse. Why, I should suggest she move in with us, and I’ll help them get ready for the baby. The governor’s busy, it will take some worry off her mind. Besides, Wrangler says the Gov and the First Dude do a lot of arguing. That’s bad for Cristol and the baby. I’ll talk to the kids about it after the party.

She smiled at the idea of having her son around more. He was busy now, busy with sports, a job, and a girlfriend. Was he keeping things in balance? She didn’t know for sure. He seemed to be keeping up in school, though only time would tell. Most of his classes were online, a change Jerrie had approved so that he could keep Cristol company while she stayed home and grew a baby in her belly. He was there to help her, too,  if she needed something.. So far, what the girl seemed to need the most was assurance that Wrangler wasn’t cheating on her. Keeping him away from Azzolla High School was one way to do that. Wrangler willingly gave up that freedom to keep Cristol happy and Jerrie kept her opinions to herself. She and her ex-husband were different that way.

All Kevin Strauss knew about Wrangler’s schooling was that, in spite of his disapproval, Jerrie had agreed to the homeschooled situation. It was a bad idea. Too many times, he’d seen the word “homeschooled” applied to kids who stopped attending classes but didn’t officially drop out. (Academic requirements in the valley school district were some of the most lax in the country.) As a father, he wanted better for Wrangler. He wanted his son in the classroom, under the teachers’ watch, socializing with other Azzels his age.

Partly because of their different ways of seeing things, and partly because she liked the power, Jerrie kept Kevin in the dark about almost everything important that happened with Wrangler and Porshe. As far as she was concerned, when he left her he lost parental rights. The courts would have disagreed, but Kevin didn’t have the money for lawyers, and Jerrie knew it. Kevin didn’t know Cristol was pregnant, and he didn’t know that Wrangler’s online school work was being done inside the Saplin compound, or that his son was almost living there now. He’d have been somewhat upset about the baby on the way, but he would have gone ballistic if he had a clue that it resulted in his son becoming a quasi-prisoner of the governor’s family. 

During the disagreement over homeschooling. Jerrie had defended the arrangement saying, “If the computer stuff is workin’ for him, then don’t rock the boat.” Kevin wasn’t surprised by that, his ex-wife’s approach to life could be summed up as  “Find an honest way to get by, then stick with it.” Like everything else about the woman, it wasn’t glamorous, but it was adequate.

Perhaps that was why Porsche craved glamour. Even as a little girl she liked to sparkle, to flirt, and to be told she was pretty. And she was pretty. Her brand of pretty was the wholesome, apple-cheek kind. Only yesterday, Jerrie told her she looked like Cheryl Teigs. It was meant as high praise, but Porsche had never heard of the twentieth century face of CoverGirl cosmetics.  “Really?  A super model named Cheryl? When was that Mom? Like, when photography was invented?”  Though Jerrie laughed, the joke made her feel old. Well, I am old, she told herself. Old enough to be a grandma, no denying that.  She took another look at the burn on her neck and reached for the bottle of liquid makeup.

Glamour came easily to Porshe who could make second hand clothes look like they’d cost a fortune. She had a great figure already, and a mane of head-turning hair. She’d been a platinum blonde when she was a young child, and now, Jerrie colored and streaked her daughter’s long tresses every few months, keeping it within two shades of the baby blonde curls she was born with. Sometimes the streaks were maroon, sometimes a more natural shade of red. On St. Pat’s day they were green, and for a while last winter, blue. Whatever she wanted, her mother provided with love.

The mother/daughter relationship was balanced. Porshe did a lot to help out around the house. Jerrie depended on her for help with the cleaning, meals and laundry. And with no parental prodding, she got herself off to school on time, finished her homework, earned passing grades, and, so far, unlike some of her closest friends, had not been brought home by the police for any misconduct.

On her MySpace page, Porshe listed two heros-- “my mother Jerrie” and “my big brother Wrangler” – and she had 172 “friends.” Vivacious and outgoing, she enjoyed the benefits and suffered the torments of popularity. There had been steady boyfriends, one after another, starting when she was eleven. Jerrie smiled when she remembered the shy first boyfriend who visited the house. Those two hadn’t even held hands, let alone kiss. But as Porsche matured physically, so had the boys who came calling.

 When her daughter turned thirteen, Jerrie’d handed her a box of condoms and made sure her daughter knew how they were used. No matter how tight money was, there was a box in the bathroom cabinet supplied by Jerrie with the unspoken understanding that it would be replaced when empty, and  neither Porcshe nor Wrangler would be questioned. This reduced Jerrie’s worries. While she had hoped Wrangler would act responsibly, she definitely didn’t want Porsche having a baby before she was ready, and though it was out of her control, as a mom she was at least doing something.

Porsche wasn’t perfect. She loved to drink, and she’d tried cigarettes and pot. Jerrie knew some of it because she and Porsha were honest with each other. Jerrie gave good advice, and she didn’t overreact. Rather than put a wedge between them by holding the reigns too tightly, she parented her kids with equally generous amounts of open communication and freedoms. As far as she could tell, it was working okay.  Hey, it wasn’t Porsche that was pregnant, now was it?

Nevertheless, I’m going to be a grandmother. Guess I should have given Wrangler more warnings and more condoms.  But that thought didn’t square with her. She wasn't going to take blame for Cristol Saplin’s mistakes. Everybody knows it’s the girl’s responsibility to prevent herself from getting knocked up. Do they call it that nowadays? Until science makes a way for boys to have babies, it’s all on the girl. Just like it’s her choice whether or not to have it.  So, if Cristol’s parents, or anyone else were to disagree, Jerrie was ready to set them straight – even if it was at the birthday party tonight.

There were many times Jerrie and Rachael were on opposite sides of an issue. Most involved Mayor Saplin’s efforts to make Azzolla perfect. Perfect, of course, is a matter of opinion. And the freedom to express opinions is one of the things that makes this country great.  Thinking about it that way, Jerrie didn’t hold it against Rachael for working so hard to change the town to fit her own visions, but the stuff she did sure raised eyebrows and blood pressures all over the valley.

As mayor of Azzolla, Rachael did whatever she could to stymie the work of Planned Parenthood.  Beyond cutting back on public dollars for sex education, she’d tried to keep the agency from being listed as a community chest organization. Which meant it would suffer a reduction in private donations from those who funnel their personal charitable giving through that network. But the worst thing, in Jerrie’s opinion, was the plan to charge a girl who was raped for the cost of collecting evidence. Pick a poor girl’s pocket after she was assaulted? Really? Jerrie wanted to ask Rachael “What would Jesus do?” 

Then, there was the library whallopalooza. A priest, well known  for his ministry to the gay community had written a book that sensitively told the story of a divorced father introducing his new partner, another man, to his son. In her first week as Mayor, Rachael Saplin tried to have the book removed from the library. When Jerrie read in the paper about the big argument at the council meeting over a children’s book, she decided she’d read it herself so she would have an informed opinion. She found it well written and touching, though she knew that when it came to divorce, and kids, she might have a bias.

Rachael, herself, had not read the book. A councilwoman suggested she should read it but  Mayor Saplin flatly refused. Eventually, the “compromise” worked out was that the book be sent to another library in the system, and it could be requested and issued “on loan” from there. The other library turned out to be the most remote library in the region, and there, it was kept under the front desk for circulation only by request to adult patrons.

Then, Mayor Saplin fired the local librarian. It was an unforgivable act as far as Jerrie Strauss was concerned. Jerrie made weekly trips to the library, access to free books and magazines was very important to Jerrie. The librarian, Elaine Johnston,   had helped widened Jerrie’s understanding of the world, helped her open up to new ideas. When Jerrie was at the library, she felt respected and intellectually curious. For this, she loved Elaine. Mayor Saplin quickly found out many people felt like Jerrie did.  The termination was retracted and a statement issued saying there had been a misunderstanding. Jerrie didn’t buy it.  Misunderstanding, my ass, thought Jerrie.

Clearly, this little baby would have two very different grandmothers.  Jerrie and Rachael were on different sides of many social issues even though both claimed to be Christians. Rachael wore her religion on her sleeve, so to speak, often telling others that she found their actions to be “against the word of God.” Jerrie, on the other hand,  kept a quiet faith in a loving God who watched over her and those she loved, and understood that everone makes mistakes sometimes.  In her heart, she believed God was sympathetic, and as long as she wasn’t intentionally hurting anyone, He would help her get back up again and keep on going.

Jerrie wondered if the baby was a message from God to Rachael Saplin. Maybe Rachael’s “Heavenly Father” that she spoke of often, was testing that flashy faith of hers. “We love all babies” was the pro-lifer’s chant outside that local clinic. Well, we’ll see.  Will Rachael love this grandchild?  Will she rearrange her priorities to find some time to spend with it? In my home, Wrangler's child will always be welcomed and loved.  The thought brought her full circle. Sure would be nice if they decided to live with me.

 The sound of a familiar horn interrupted the silence, and through the  kitchen window she saw Wrangler’s truck idling in the gravel driveway. This will be interesting, Jerrie thought, as she zipped her NorthFace jacket (a lucky find from the Goodwill Store). She didn’t bother to lock the back door after closing it behind her. She knew there was nothing inside worth stealing.