Waiting for Normal (16 page)
Each day we did fun things: We went sledding on the hill in front of the inn. We built snowmen and gave them radish mouths and carrot noses. We listened to music and danced in the big, unfinished great room of the inn, where the new stone fireplace roared with its first blaze. I hung on to Dwight’s strong hand as he swung me around and around to the music, then sent me sliding across the new floor on my socks. I read a hundred books a day to Katie while Brynna mouthed all the words, which she had memorized. I sat in an old soft chair at night and braided Hannah’s hair while she sat on the floor between my feet. But I always felt weird—sad—at the end of every day. And all too quickly, we were out of days.
The last night, we set the table together. I watched Katie folding napkins and Brynna marching in with the silverware. Hannah swished by in her oven mitts with the casserole dish and Dwight struck a match to light the candles. I froze the picture. This was the end. It’d all been mine but only for a while. I had borrowed it—like the flute—and tomorrow I’d have to return it. I knew then and there that I couldn’t keep on doing it forever. Something had to change.
I
n January we had storms that spat down snow two and three feet at a time. At school we joked that we’d been closed every other day. But the Empty Acre never looked as good as it did wearing a fresh blanket of white. Good until the city started dumping truckload after truckload of secondhand snow there. They said the streets had become dangerously narrow. The banks were too high to see around. So for several days all of us on the corner of Freeman’s Bridge and Nott listened to the trucks come and go as they made use of the Empty Acre.
I don’t think any of us would have minded the big change of scenery except that one day they poured a truckload of the dirty stuff practically on top of Soula’s home. I was coming back from the Heads and Roses with our busted laundry basket stabbing my hip when I heard Elliot hollering. He was outside in his shirtsleeves.
“Can’t you fill up the west corner first?” he wanted to know. “Come on, pal, you dumped that load practically
on
my friend’s home!” He threw his arms wide. “She’s got enough trouble! Can’t you leave her a little sunlight?” The trucker just waved a hand at Elliot and shrugged. He started to pull away but Elliot stopped him. “Come on,” he said over the noise of the truck’s engine. “At least cut her a hole.” But the driver indicated that he didn’t have a plow on the front.
“Sorry, I just do what I’m told and collect my paycheck,” he called over the rattle of the engine. He pulled out onto Nott Street and headed away—probably to get more snow.
I heard Elliot curse. He picked up snow in his bare hands, packed it and flung it at the mound the truck had left. That’s when I set my basket down on the step of the trailer and went across the street.
“Hey, Elliot!”
“Oh, hi, Addie.”
“What’s up?” I said.
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I’m cooling down, you could say.” He let out a little laugh.
“How bad is it from the inside? The snow pile, I mean.”
“Big dirty hill. Right in front of her windows,” he said grimly.
We went inside together and made our way through to the Greenhouse. Looking out the window, I could see he was right. Soula was sitting in the papasan chair with a mug of chocolate. She smiled at me and winked.
“Did you have to pry him off the front of the truck?” she asked. She gestured toward Elliot with her chin. “He’s very
pit bull
, don’t you think?”
“Oh, cute.” Elliot nodded at her. “I was trying to look out for you,” he said.
“My hero,” said Soula. “But you can’t fight the city, Elliot. Lookie here, I got me something I’ve never had before.” She swept a hand toward the window and the mound of snow beyond. “Welcome to
my
avalanche!”
I laughed.
Elliot said, “Oh, play it, Pollyanna! Like everybody wishes they had one of those in the yard!”
“What do you know?” Soula teased. “You jealous? It’s mine but you want it, don’t you, Elliot?” He rolled his eyes, let his mouth drop open.
“Maybe you could sell it,” I joked.
“Don’t you start too.” Elliot wagged a finger at me. “Just wait until it melts! See who wants your avalanche then!”
“Well, we could play a joke,” I said. “Let’s offer it. Let’s at least put a sign on it. It’ll be funny.”
So Elliot cut a panel out of a cardboard box and nailed it to a yardstick. Soula gave me one of her bright pink lipsticks and I wrote AVALANCHE FOR SALE in big letters. Then I went outside, climbed the mound and planted our sign in the snow.
You’d think upstate New York would be better prepared for winter weather, but I’d been there all my life and it seemed like snow always brought things to a standstill, at least for a while. There wasn’t much to do on a day off from school except walk back and forth from the trailer to the mini-mart, which I did plenty. Every fresh snowfall, I walked out and made a set of footprints. Then I always stepped in them again on my way back.
The plow came to our lot irregularly—sometimes Mr. Rose showed up with a snowblower and he cleared the parking spots in front of the Laundromat. But the patch out in front of the trailer was never completely free of snow. I told Soula and Elliot that that was why Mommers didn’t park her car there much anymore—it was too likely to get stuck. I worried sometimes that I was bothering them by coming over so much, so I asked them one day if it was all right.
“Why do you think we gave you the boots?” Soula chuckled. I figured I had better go along with that, especially if I wanted somewhere to hang out.
I discovered a new sport that same day—
cardboarding
. This was sliding down Soula’s avalanche while standing on a sheet of cardboard from a box at the minimart. Elliot swore it was going to become the next new event for the Winter Olympics and he considered himself my sled maker—said he was skilled with a utility knife. Soula sat inside the Greenhouse watching every run I took, while Elliot ran back and forth from the window to the store.
“The inconvenience of customers!” he yelled through the glass. “I’m missing the grace and loveliness of the Addison Schmeeter on Ice and Snow Show!”
“Grace! Yeah, right!” I laughed. “It’s the outfit, isn’t it?” I said, looking down at my too short snow pants. I took a few Frankenstein steps toward them, rolled my eyes and pressed my nose on the glass.
“They wear knickers in the Alps!” Soula called back to me. “You’re lookin’ fine, Cookie!” She pointed upward to send me on another climb.
They made up cards with numbers on them and gave me scores. Elliot scored me highest for wicked falls—tens, if I went heels over head.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I asked at the glass.
Soula liked graceful finishes, so even when I had to pull my face out of the snow, I put my arms up over my head in a V for victory.
“That’s right, Little Cookie! Stick those landings!” she called. We laughed so hard I was afraid I’d pee in my snow pants. But it would have been worth it just to see Soula doubling over with giggles the way she did.
Finally, the sun dipped behind the old Big N building and I started to get cold. I went in and drank a hot chocolate while my mittens dried on the radiator inside the Greenhouse.
“How about you go tell Elliot to bring a chicken pot pie back here,” Soula said. “Let’s eat together tonight, huh, Cookie? Think it’s all right with your momma?”
“I’m sure it is,” I said.
I found out that night that not too many things smell as good as a chicken pot pie when it’s cooking. I also found out it needs a long, long time in the oven. I guess Soula didn’t know that either; she fell asleep before it was done.
Sometimes I sat alone in the trailer. I did homework. (School didn’t stay closed forever.) Then I watched TV, and I let Piccolo take fun runs up in my bunk. I listened to Hannah’s CD of Irish songs or just let the radio play. I had a project too: keeping track of what was in the kitchen cupboards.
I had two boxes of mac and cheese, almost half a box of Cheerios, a sleeve of saltine crackers, a bag of egg noodles and a box of brownie mix. In the can department, I had two tomato soups, one fruit cocktail, and one cheapy tuna—the squishy, cat food kind. There were two eggs in the fridge, along with four carrots, half a quart of milk and almost half a jar of peanut butter. There were three hamburger buns in the freezer. It didn’t look like much but I had things figured out. Each box of mac and cheese would make two meals. Each can of tomato soup was ten and three quarters ounces of pure possibility. I could mix it with the cooked egg noodles and cat tuna. I could pour it over a toasted hamburger bun. Or, I could just make soup like the label on the can said. But whatever I did, I had to be careful about the groceries. Mommers had been gone for six nights in a row.
She had called the first night and said it was all because of the snow that she couldn’t get home. Getting through the city was hard just after a big snowfall. But she could have come home between some of those storms if she’d wanted to, and I guess I knew that.
Still, snow wasn’t a
bad
excuse and that’s exactly the one I used when Dwight called to find out when I’d like to come visit again.
“Oh, gosh,” I said. “With all this snow, you know, I don’t think the buses are even picking up at Nott Street right now. It’s a mess. You should see the banks—higher than my hat. You got a lot of snow too, don’t you?”
“Uh …yeah, it’s been a challenge. The truck isn’t running right or I’d have been down to check on the trailer by now.” I waited. “Addie, you said no buses. How can that be?” Dwight asked. I could almost see him scratching his head.
“Oh, the banks get tall,” I said.
“No, I mean how can the buses just stop completely? Addie, I’m sure you’re wrong about that. Have you checked since the last storm? Want me to call the bus company?”
“No,” I said. I fought to keep my voice easy. “I’ll look into it.”
“Do it soon, hon. We want to see you.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Can I talk to Denise? She home?”
I thought for a second. “Hey, Dwight? Dwight?” I spoke loudly. “I think maybe we’re losing our connection.”
“I’m here. Can you hear me?” he asked.
“Dwight? Did you say something? Well, I guess I’m gonna hang up now. Bye, Dwight. If you can hear me, bye!” I set the receiver back in the cradle and stood staring at it. My eyes burned with tears and the phone went blurry. “Don’t ring, don’t ring,” I whispered.
It rang. I let it ring and ring and ring.
I
poured water into the poinsettia plant Dwight had given us. I watched Mommers’ cigarette butts float up and sink down again in the pot. The plant was still gorgeous. I knew I should clean the butts out, but I didn’t want to touch them.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of blue at the picture window. I went closer and watched Mommers stepping over the snow and into the footprints I had made in previous days. She burst in through the door.
“Those people are getting weirder and weirder.” She pointed toward the minimart with her thumb. “Now they’re trying to sell snow in winter!”
“Oh, the avalanche? It’s a joke. I did that,” I told her. “And it’s been there for days.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?”
“You’ve been
gone
for days,” I said.
“Oh, don’t give me that!” Mommers glanced around the inside of the trailer. She turned her palms up. “Anything fall off this tin can while I was gone? Did the pipes burst? Did you run out of food?”
“No,” I said.
“Well okay then!” She pushed at her hair and started going through the mail. “Did Dwight’s check come?”
“Yeah, it’s there. It’s early.”
“Where?” She seemed annoyed. I reached and slid the envelope out of the pile of junk mail. I pushed it toward her. “Oh, good!” she sighed. She tore it open.
“We need to go grocery shopping,” I said. “We’re out of
everything
. And Piccolo needs food. I’ve been giving her cereal and carrots. Her poop is getting messy.”
“Make a list,” she answered, flapping a hand at me. “But only what you
really
need.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well . . .” she said, her voice high and too cute for comfort. “We’re in a little pinch. It’s just temporary. We’ll catch up.”
“Mommers . . .”
“Pete just got a little mad about the last credit card bill. I worked it out with him but we’re a little short on cash.”
“How short?”
“Mind your business, Addison.” She looked closely at Dwight’s check for the first time. There was a second of silence, then she started to swear. She banged the table with her fist.
“What!” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“He postdated it! I can’t cash it until the first!”
“But that’s when he usually sends it,” I said.
“Yeah, but if he’s going to send it, why not just date it early? I can’t cash it until …when?” She looked at the calendar. “Thursday!” She slammed the table again. “Dwight loves this! He loves it when things don’t go right for me! It’s not enough he took my babies, he’s gotta mess up my entire life! What am I gonna tell Pete?” She covered her face with her hands.
While Mommers was away, it was easy to be mad at her. But now that she was home and upset and crying, I felt bad for her again. Her hair was in tangles and she was smearing her mascara.
Then I reminded myself,
She always does this.
“Addie, Addie.” She sniffed and started to smile again. “You could ask your big friend at the mini-mart to cash this check. She could just hold on to it until Thursday.” Mommers wore a sell-it-to-me grin.
“Uh …I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t want Soula to know that Mommers had money problems.
“Addie.” Mommers leaned toward me. “Don’t you want to eat? What about the little fur ball over there?” She pointed to Pic’s cage. “And what about me? Come on. What’s important?”
“Fine. I’ll ask her.”
“Okay. Go now! Go, go, go! Here. Take the check and show it to her. Tell her Dwight is good for it. His checks never bounce. If she says yes, come back and I’ll sign it over to her.”
