Waiting for Normal (14 page)
“Pic, I’m going across the street,” I said. “Be back in a little while.”
“Ya know, Little Cookie, I could easily see you having that cup o’ soup on the house,” Soula said. She was sitting in her lawn chair wearing a long sweater—biggest sweater I’d ever seen. She had given up her plastic sandals, in honor of winter, she’d told me, and now she wore a pair of frog slippers.
“Thanks, but I’m a normal paying customer today.” I grinned and handed the twenty dollar bill to Elliot, who was fiddling with a new telephone behind the register.
“Hang on,” he said. “I’m just setting this up and …there! That should do it. Emergency numbers are entered,” he said.
“Newfangled baloney,” Soula mumbled. “I’m no techie, Elliot. I’m not going to be able to work that thing. I told you that.”
“All you have to do is lift the receiver,” he demonstrated, “and press one button to get help. Number two for fire, number three for police. It’s all automatic,” he said.
Soula flapped a hand at him. “Junk, junk, junk! We don’t need it.”
“Excuse me! You sell gasoline. As in ‘a highly flammable substance’!” Elliot waved his arms in the air.
“Worrywart!” Soula said. “How many years have we been doing this? And how many fires have we had?”
“You never know,” he insisted. “Now pardon me while I wait on my customer.” He grinned at me most pleasantly and rang up my soup.
I leaned forward and whispered, “I’m glad you have the new phone.” He winked back.
“Did we see you heading out on foot this morning?” he asked as he handed me my change. “You looked like a woman with a mission.”
“Yeah,” I said. I took a spoonful of soup. “I kinda had to go somewhere.” Before they could ask about the flute I said, “And, man, was it cold out there! My grandfather came along and picked me up on my way back home. Boy, was I glad to see him! I think I’m still part Popsicle, though.”
“’Tis the season,” Elliot said.
“’Tis,” Soula agreed with a sigh. “By the way, who has what for holiday plans?” she asked.
“Umm, umm, umm!” I rushed a swallow of my soup. “I
might
have plans! I might be going back up to Lake George to see my little sisters. I’m hoping Mommers will say I can go.”
“Again?”
“Hope so,” I said. I held up crossed fingers.
“Yeah, yeah,” Elliot sighed, “and one of these days you’ll go up there and you won’t come back.” He pouted.
I thought about that. “No. I don’t think that’ll happen,” I said.
“Well, everybody leaves the corner eventually,” Elliot said, ducking to peek out the front window.
Soula huffed at him, annoyed. “Stop whining!” she said. “We’re still here, aren’t we?”
O
n Monday morning Ms. Rivera met me at the school’s main entrance. “Addie, come down to the music room with me, will you?”
“Sorry, Ms. Rivera, but I’ll get marked tardy.” I tried to dodge.
“You have a few minutes. Besides, I’ve cleared it with your teacher,” Ms. Rivera said firmly. I followed her down the hall. She had one of those little hot pots full of water going on the little table next to her desk. She offered me a hot chocolate. I wanted it, of course, but I said no thank you.
“Can you tell me what happened at the holiday concert?”
“Yes, I can,” I said. “First, I was just plain running late and I’m real sorry about that. And next, I saw somebody there. She’s the music teacher from my old school.”
“Mrs. Sylvester?”
“Yes.” I was a little surprised. Ms. Rivera seemed to know her.
“And why was that a problem?”
“She …” I cleared my throat. “She knew something about me. About the flute I’ve been playing this year. I didn’t want her to see me.”
“I don’t understand.”
I explained that the flute was signed out to me from Borden School. “I should have returned it when we moved,” I croaked. “It was kind of stolen,” I said. “I’m really sorry I let you down for the holiday concert. I just knew I couldn’t play knowing that Mrs. Sylvester was watching me. I don’t think my lips would have worked.”
“I see.” Ms. Rivera smiled slightly and sat back in her chair. She held a cup of coffee in both her hands. “I wish you had told me about the problem before. Mrs. Sylvester is a friend of mine. I think something can be worked out.”
The first bell rang and I stood up. “That won’t be necessary.” I tried to sound very grownup. “I took the flute back to Borden School this weekend.”
“Well, we can get it back, then. Or we can get you a different one,” Ms. Rivera said.
Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan.
I thumped the toe of my sneaker on the floor. “You know what, Ms. Rivera? I appreciate that. I really do. And I’d like to play the flute again someday. But to tell you the truth, it’s been like a huge weight off my back ever since I returned that instrument.” I waited a moment. “I …I can’t be responsible. I don’t want another school flute. Really, I don’t.”
That Friday we went on Christmas break. I walked out with Helena and she asked for the hundredth time that week if there was anything wrong with me.
“No,” I said. “I told you about the flute. I told
everyone
about the flute. Even stupid Robert knows about the flute! I just want to go away from this school for the next two weeks and have everybody forget that I was ever in the Stage Orchestra at all.” I set a marching pace down the hill and Helena kept up.
I stopped short out in front of Hose Company No. 6. “Look, I’m sorry,” I told her. “I promise not to be such a grouch when we get back.” I smiled and Helena smiled too. “It’ll be a whole New Year. Everything will be different, right?”
“Right,” she said.
“Merry Christmas, girls!” One of the firemen was dressed up in a red suit and white beard. He came out to the sidewalk waving and handed us each a little square box of seashell chocolates. I hesitated. It’s a
gift
, I told myself.
I smiled. “Thank you!” I said. “My first gift this year!”
“Addie! Got a minute?” Elliot called from the doorway of the minimart.
“Sure,” I said. I probably had all night if I wanted it. Mommers’ car wasn’t in front of the trailer and it was Friday—not a night she was likely to show up.
I went inside, where the smell of warm coffee greeted me. I took a deep breath through my nose. “Ahh …makes me wish I liked the stuff,” I said. Soula laughed out loud. “Hey, look at what the fire guys up at Hose Six gave me.” I held up the box of seashell chocolates. “Six pieces. Want one?”
“You keep those for later, Cookie. Make a cocoa for yourself,” she said. “And then see if you can manage opening up that box.” She stuck her chin toward Elliot and he brought a wrapped box out from behind the counter and set it down. Soula batted her lined eyes at me.
“Oh, you’re kidding. For me?”
Elliot nodded.
“Geez, I don’t have anything for you yet.”
“Open it!” Elliot said impatiently.
I read the card. “Merry Christmas, from a big bunch of numbskulls. Soula, Elliot and Rick.” I laughed. Then I started picking at the tape.
“Oh no! You’re one of
those
?” Elliot huffed. “You have to rip into it, girl!” He came toward me.
“Back!” Soula warned, and she pointed a finger at him. “She knows how to open a Christmas package, thank you very much.”
Elliot hissed at Soula and pretended to spaz over the agony of watching me. I went even slower just to tease him. Finally, I pulled out my second gift that holiday: a pair of seriously warm and waterproof boots—the comfortable sneaker type. The boots were filled with more presents. I got new socks, a bottle of kitten pink nail polish, hot cocoa mix and some microwave popping corn.
I tried on the boots. Elliot poked his thumb up and down on my toe. “Perfect fit, don’t you think?”
“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
We visited for an hour or so. I did a little sweeping up and then danced with the broom to the Christmas tunes that came over the radio. Elliot cranked up the volume for me. Later, I saw Mommers’ car come past and stop at the trailer.
“I better go,” I said. But before I left, Soula sneaked me another wrapped package.
“You can open this one back at your place,” she whispered. “It’s nothing exciting but it is a bit personal.”
I thanked them again and headed home, my arms wrapped around the full boot box.
Mommers was already watching
Jeanette for the
Judgment
when I got in. “You’re home late,” she said. Then, seeing my box, she added, “Oh God, what’s that?”
“New boots and some other fun stuff,” I said. I shot a glance in the direction of the minimart. “They’re so nice. It’s a good gift, don’t you think?” I spread my presents out on the table.
“A little odd,” she mumbled. “Ooh, chocolates!” She noted the little square box.
“I have something else here too,” I said. I opened the package from Soula and found six pairs of bikini underpants inside—all pastel colors. “Oh!” I laughed. “Good for Soula! Look, Mommers, she knew I wouldn’t want to open these in front of Elliot.”
“I think he
knows
you wear underpants,” Mommers said. She smirked at me. I raised an eyebrow back.
“I’m gonna bake cookies for them tonight.”
“Homework,” Mommers said.
“School break!” I fired back.
“Oh yeah. I forgot. Ha! Look at this, Addie. Jeanette is on a roll. Pet ownership dispute. She colored her hair too, I think. Or maybe a henna.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Hey, Mommers, why are you here tonight?”
She looked at me strangely. “I live here!” she said.
“Yeah, but it’s Friday night.”
“Pete had something else to do.”
“Well, can I make the cookies?” I asked again. I opened the cupboard and checked on our baking supplies. No chocolate chips, but there was sugar, and flour, and baking soda and salt. We had four eggs left in the fridge and two sticks of butter.
“What kind?” Mommers asked.
“Sugar cookies,” I said.
“What about dinner? Is there anything good?”
“Want an egg?”
“An egg?” She stopped to laugh at something Jeanette said. “Yeah, I’ll have an egg. With toast?”
“Sure,” I said.
So I scrambled up two of the eggs for our dinner. I used the tiniest bit of butter on our toast so there’d be enough for the cookies.
After
Jeanette
, Mommers signed on for a chat and I did my baking. I played the CD Hannah had lent me. I liked the stories the songs told. Mostly, they were about Irish people coming to America when times were hard. They hoped for such simple things, like meals and beds. I felt glad I had those things. They wanted a kitchen to cook in. Like this one, I thought as the timer rang to remind me to pull the cookies from the oven.
Over at the computer Mommers swore under her breath. “That is the dreariest music I think I’ve ever heard.”
“No it’s not. They’re just …hoping,” I said.
“They’re whining.” She sneered. I had to laugh at that just a little.
“Is that a flute?” she asked. “I do like that part.”
I stopped to listen. “I think it’s a fife or a recorder,” I told her.
“Can you play that though? Can you play it on the flute?”
I turned my back on her. “No. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?”
“I took myself out of music.”
“What?”
“I quit.” I turned around. “I …I took the flute back to Borden School.”
Mommers just sat there with her mouth open for a few seconds. “Addie?”
“I had to,” I said. “I should have returned that flute when we moved. I’m glad it’s gone.”
Mommers had snagged one of my seashell chocolates. I watched her holding it between her thumb and finger. “Hmm.” She took a bite. “Can’t they get you one at this school?”
“Yes, probably. But I don’t want to play the flute anymore,” I said.
Mommers put the chocolate into her mouth and rolled it to one cheek. “I’m gonna do something about this, Addison,” she said with her mouth full. “My kid needs a flute.” She glanced at her computer screen and returned to her chat. She leaned forward to type something in. I didn’t worry about Mommers borrowing another flute for me. I didn’t have to.
I found a stump of white crayon and decorated three lunch bags with snowflakes. I was no artist but the white crayon looked good on the brown bags. I packaged the cookies for Soula, Elliot and Rick. I cut up the ribbon they had used on my gift and tied the tops shut. Just as I pulled the loops tight on the last bow, Mommers shut down the computer. She looked up and out of the clear blue said, “Give me the phone, will you? I’m gonna let Dwight take you between Christmas and New Year’s.”
Yes! Another Christmas gift!
I
felt bad that I was counting the days until Christmas. This year, I wanted Christmas Day to come …
and go
. On December 26 I’d be on the bus heading up to Lake George. I could not help thinking that I’d have my
real
Christmas there with Dwight and Hannah and the Littles—
all to home
. Mommers didn’t seem to be into celebrating this year. On the twenty third, we still didn’t have a tree.
I trotted back from the Heads and Roses Laundry Stop with our plastic basket under one arm. The torn webbing poked into my side as I fiddled with the doorknob to the trailer. Mommers yanked it open for me. She was in her robe. She twirled a shower cap on one finger.
“Jeez, Addie! How many loads does that make?”
“Three,” I said, setting the basket down hard on the table. I sighed.
“You can’t wait to get out of here, can you?” She cocked her hip.
I didn’t answer. I started to clear a space on the table so I could fold the clothes. We still had boxes of office supplies sitting around—more than before, in fact—and most of them unused. I made a stack, moved it to the living room and came back for more. I came across the little square box my seashell chocolates had come in. I had forgotten about them. My mouth watered. I tipped the box and the inner sleeve slid out. All but one of the shell shaped hollows was empty. I dumped the last chocolate into my hand and turned it over once.
