In the Neighborhood of Normal

by Cindy Maddox

  Mish thought Nicole was underestimating the town. More likely the word would be out before the end of the day, but she decided to keep her mouth shut for once.

  “The manager did see that I have direct deposit from my employer, and she advised me to change that immediately and have it put into a separate account. I’ll do that tomorrow, but I don’t want to use the same bank. Do you have a bank you trust, Mish?”

  “I use the credit union. Good people there, and they don’t seem the gossipy type.”

  “Sounds good. Can you take me there so I can open an account? No, wait. How much do you think I need for an opening balance? I don’t carry much cash.”

  “I have forty bucks, Mom,” Juliann said from the back seat. “And we didn’t check my savings account. He might have left that one alone. I’m not sure if his name is on it.”

  Nicole put her head in her hands. “This is so embarrassing. Needing a loan from my teenage daughter.”

  “You don’t need a loan from her. You can get one from me,” Mish said. “I just need to stop by the police station first to get my money.”

  Nicole looked up. “I don’t know which to do first. Decline your generous offer, or ask why you keep your money at the police station.”

  Mish laughed. “My friends got worried about me yesterday, and long story short, they ended up calling the police to check on me. The police took some money I had left out for—for an emergency, and I have to go pick it up. I’m told I’m supposed to see a Lieutenant Samson. Would y’all mind going in with me? I’ve never been in a police station before and it makes me a little nervous.”

  That wasn’t true, strictly speaking. It was true she hadn’t been in a police station before, at least not in years, but she wasn’t nervous. She just thought that this lieutenant person might be able to give Nicole some advice.

  She had been right. Mish left them in the lobby while she went with the officer. Once she got her money back, along with a lecture about keeping too much cash lying around, she told him about Nicole and Juliann’s situation. He not only had good advice, but he also offered to send a police officer with them to get their clothes and stuff. He offered a female officer, but they all agreed that in case they ran into Daniel, a male would be better.

  Ninety minutes later, they were leaving their house with suitcases, computers, and even a couple bags of groceries Nicole insisted on giving to Mish. She’d also found some cash she’d set aside for a trip, so she at least had a few hundred dollars to last until payday. Mish was pretty sure this was the smallest budget Nicole had lived on for years, but it was better than nothing.

  “I’d like to take you girls to lunch,” Mish said as they pulled out of the drive. “My treat and no arguments. Where do you like to eat?”

  Nicole hesitated. “Thanks, Mish, but you’ve done enough. We can just go home and make a sandwich.”

  “Who in their right mind would choose a cold sandwich over a hot meal? So come on, tell me—what do you like to eat?” When Nicole didn’t answer, Mish looked in the rearview mirror and caught Juliann’s eye.

  “She doesn’t want to go to any of her usual places,” Juliann explained, “because she doesn’t want to risk running into any of her friends.”

  “I see,” Mish said. “Then how ’bout I pick the restaurant? I’m in the mood for comfort food, and no offense, but those kind of places don’t really seem your usual style.”

  After lunch at the Bluebird Diner, Mish dropped the girls back at her house, then drove to the church. There was no point putting off this conversation with Pastor Jeff any longer. Waiting wasn’t going to make it easier. She entertained the hope that he wouldn’t be there, but she knew he would be. Monday was his day off and Tuesday was his catching up day and Friday was the day he wrote his sermons. She didn’t know what he did on Wednesday and Thursday, but since this was Tuesday, he’d be there.

  She turned in the parking lot and immediately saw his little car. It was one of those hybrids, and he said he drove it because it got such good gas mileage. She knew that was smart, but around here there were so many pickup trucks and SUVs that his little car always looked like it had shrunk in the wash. She parked next to him and was barely at the sidewalk when the door burst open and Pastor Jeff came striding out. Assuming she had caught him as he was fixing to leave, she tried to step out of his way. But he stopped a few feet in front of her, his arms stretched out. She understood the invitation and walked into the hug.

  She held on for a minute and he let her. It had been a long time since she’d been in a man’s arms, and even longer since a man’s arms had felt completely safe. She felt tears but willed herself not to cry. He already thought she was a little bit crazy. She didn’t want to go convincing him he was right by crying on his tie.

  Mish pulled away, suddenly feeling awkward, but Pastor Jeff didn’t seem to notice.

  “I am so glad to see you!” he said. “I wanted to call today but figured I’d intruded enough. Please, come inside so we can sit and talk.” He motioned for her to go in front of him, so she did. They didn’t speak again until they got settled in his office. “I know you’ve talked to Opal,” he began, “but I don’t know if you got the whole story of what happened here yesterday. Do you need me to fill in any gaps?”

  Mish hesitated. She did wonder about quite a few things, but she wasn’t sure what to ask. Finally, she settled on the question that had bothered her the most. “Opal said at first they thought I forgot the meeting, and then they got worried that I had fallen or taken ill. But there was more to it than that, and she didn’t say why. They seemed to think I was depressed or something, or even that I was thinking of hurting myself. Why would they think that?”

  Pastor Jeff seemed to chew on his words before he spoke them. “It was the way you acted on Sunday. Apparently, you went around giving compliments, telling people things you admired about them. Remember? You told me what a good job you thought I was doing.”

  “Well, it’s the truth,” she argued. “I always try to leave people feeling better than when I found them. Why would that worry anybody?”

  “Those compliments and everything—that’s the kind of thing people do when they aren’t sure they’re going to see someone again.” She just stared at him so he continued. “Sometimes when a person has decided to—to end their life—well, they want to say goodbye. But they don’t want their friends and family to know they’re saying goodbye. When you didn’t show up for the meeting, people started talking and it seemed like that’s what you were doing. You were saying goodbye.”

  “Well, I guess I kinda was, but not the way you thought. I knew I was leaving town that afternoon, and nobody else knew where I was going. I’m usually not one to keep secrets so I guess it made me a little nervous.” She shrugged. “I’ve been wondering, though—when you came to my house, did you think you were going to find me with a broken hip or…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

  Pastor Jeff shook his head. “I didn’t know. I just knew I had to find you. And then when I read your note, well, it sounded like you were saying goodbye there too. Then I saw all that money, and so it seemed like calling the police was the best thing I could do, the only thing I could do, to make sure you were safe.”

  Mish tried to take it all in. The whole situation felt weird—that all these people had been talking about her, searching her house, all that stuff. But the weirdest part was realizing that some of them thought she had actually taken her own life. “I guess I still don’t understand. I’ve known people to jump to conclusions, but this seemed like an Olympic-sized jump. Had I seemed depressed? Sad, even? Or confused?”

  “Well, no, not depressed.” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “But sometimes people get confused about…about life.”

  She studied him for a minute, then suddenly realized what he was suggesting. “You’re saying ‘confused,’ but I don’
t think you mean confused. I think you mean crazy.”

  “No!” he rushed to say. “Not crazy. Nobody thinks you’re crazy. You’ve just been, well, different lately. Since you met the lady at the diner. First you started meeting people you didn’t even know, and now you’re leaving town without telling anybody, and you’re ready to give somebody you don’t even know your life savings.”

  “My life savings?” she said with a laugh. “I think your Stephen must be wearing off on you because that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Pastor Jeff looked overly serious. “Mish, you left twenty-five thousand dollars for someone whose name you don’t even know. Of course I don’t know your finances, but…”

  “Oh, Pastor Jeff, are the deacons still not letting the pastor see the giving records at church?”

  “Well, no, but what does that—”

  “Do you know the Mountain View Estates on the edge of town?”

  Jeff was looking at her strangely again. “Of course, but—”

  “Do you know what the old-timers used to call that property, before it was split up into lots?” When Jeff shook his head, Mish said, “Atkinson Mountain.” She paused to let that sink in. “We owned a few other sections, where the highway went through and the gas lines went through. When we were young, I convinced Floyd to buy every piece of land we could get our hands on. I figured land was the best investment because they ain’t making no more of it.” She shrugged again. “Of course, I had to make him believe it was his idea, but in the end, I was right.”

  Pastor Jeff was sitting there with his mouth hanging open. “So you’re—”

  “I’m in a position where I can help somebody who needs it,” she said firmly. “And if something happened to me on that trip, I wanted a particular young woman to get some help. There’s no crime in that,” she reminded him.

  “Of course not, Mish, but don’t you see? That makes you even more of a target. Whoever lured you to the diner and told you they were Jesus is probably after your money.”

  Mish grabbed the arms of her chair and sat up straighter. “Nobody lured me to the diner, and nobody is after my money,” she said sternly. “Nobody has even asked me for a dime.”

  Pastor Jeff shook his head again. “But that’s how they work, Mish. They don’t come right out and ask—they let you think it was your idea so you won’t get suspicious. How many different people have been calling you? How are they getting your number? If you let me look at your phone, I could check out the people who’ve called you and—”

  Mish stood up. “I think you’ve done quite enough nosing into my private life, Pastor Jeff. I appreciate your concern, but this ain’t none of your business.”

  He jumped to his feet, too. “Mish, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I just—I’m just worried about you. I want to help you.”

  “You want to help me?” Mish asked. “Then back off. You have your calling, and I have mine, and—”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “I believe in your calling, but you don’t believe in mine. Why is that?”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in your calling. It’s just that—”

  “Is it because I’m not as smart as you?” Mish interrupted, her voice rising with her temper.

  “No, of course not, it’s just that—”

  “It is because I’m just an uneducated farmer’s wife?”

  “No! If you’d let me finish—”

  “Is it because I’m a woman?”

  “No! I just don’t believe in—”

  “What’s your problem, Pastor Jeff? Spit it out!”

  “I don’t believe in God!” he shouted. Suddenly his eyes widened. “That God,” he whispered. “I meant to say I don’t believe that God…that God works that way.”

  She didn’t know whether to be angry or feel sorry for the man. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Maybe your tongue tells more truth than you realize,” she said at last. “And maybe I shouldn’t feel bad that you don’t believe in my calling—because you don’t seem to believe in yours, neither.”

  ***

  Juliann thought Mish had been unusually quiet during dinner, and she had gone to her room while Juliann and her mom cleaned up the kitchen. But when she came out an hour later, she seemed better.

  “Girls, I need your help,” Mish announced as she walked into the family room.

  Juliann and her mom both looked up from their phones. “Of course. What can we do?” Nicole asked.

  “Help me drag that god-awful chair out of here.”

  Juliann looked at her mom and saw her glance around as if trying to determine which of the awful chairs was the god-awful one.

  As if she understood, Mish pointed. “That one. The green plaid monster recliner.”

  “You know, I’m an interior decorator,” Nicole began, and Juliann stifled a groan. “If you’re thinking about redoing the room, I would be glad to give you my expert opinion—free of charge, of course!”

  Juliann was so embarrassed. Honestly, her mother was such a snob sometimes. Why couldn’t she just accept people as they were, instead of always trying to improve them?

  Mish nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that is a mighty fine offer, Nicole, and I will keep that in mind. But for now I just want to get rid of the one chair. Will you help me?”

  Juliann stood up. “Of course. Where do you want it?”

  “Outside,” Mish answered without explanation.

  Juliann shrugged. “Lead the way, and Mom and I will carry it.” A couple minutes later they had the ugly green chair outside.

  “Bring it over here,” Mish said, pointing at her feet. She was standing on the far side of the house, in the middle of the dirt lane that led through the gate to the pasture and out to the barn.

  Juliann stared at her. “Are you sure? We can carry it down to the road and put a Free sign on it. Or carry it out to the barn. Or—”

  “Nah, we don’t need to take it that far. Just bring it right here.”

  Juliann looked at her mom and they both shrugged, then did as they were told. When they had it where Mish wanted it, they stepped back as if to examine the effect. Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Juliann thought they’d look odd if somebody drove by and saw the three of them standing around staring at an empty chair.

  Mish finally broke the silence. “This was my husband Floyd’s chair. He watched “Jeopardy” and “Wheel of Fortune” from this chair. He watched the news from this chair. He yelled at the football games from this chair. Most of the last ten years of his life were spent in this chair.”

  “Then why—” Nicole began, but Juliann hushed her.

  “Floyd also threw things from this chair. He barked orders from this chair. He told me I was stupid from this chair. Now he haunts me from this chair. And I’m done with it. I’m done with taking orders. I’m done with being made to feel stupid. I’m done with living in fear. So I am done with this chair.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a box of matches. “So we’re gonna have us a little bonfire.”

  “Mish, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nicole said softly.

  Mish put her hands on her hips. “Why the blazes not?”

  “Because that fabric is fire resistant.” She began to smile. “You’re going to need an accelerant.”

  Mish grinned. “Juliann, run back to the garage and get me a can of gas.”

  Juliann found the little red can without a problem and hurried back. She handed it to Mish, who took it, pulled off the stopper, and tilted it over the chair. Gasoline began splashing out. Without looking at her, she handed the can to Nicole. “Want a turn?”

  Nicole’s smile was almost wicked. “Oh, I definitely need to add some fuel to this fire.”

  Juliann noticed how her mother’s expensive manicure looked strange against th
e gas can. But she thought she understood why her mom needed to participate. Maybe when your life is falling apart, watching something else go up in flames is therapeutic. When her mother handed the can to her, Juliann took it and added another splash, then moved the can twenty yards away for safety.

  They all stood staring at the chair again. “I don’t want the gas to burn off too fast,” Mish whispered. “We need to let it sink in for a minute.”

  As they waited, Juliann let the weight of what they were doing sink in. She stared at the chair and thought of all it stood for. She thought about how Mish’s husband had treated her, how Juliann’s father treated her mother, how her father treated Juliann herself. She thought about other people in her life who belittled her, male teachers who said girls weren’t smart enough to major in science, the guys who catcalled her and her friends on the street and made them feel dirty and afraid. She thought of the silence she’d had to keep because of fear. She thought of the decision she’d made about the abortion, how fear of her father’s reaction stole her choice. And she placed it all in that chair. The ugly green plaid chair was full of all the ugliness of her life. And it all needed to burn.

  When Mish tossed the match onto the chair, the response was instantaneous. Flames leapt to the sky like dancers on the edge of ecstasy. And then she heard it. It started like a rumble, like a car engine trying to start, but as it grew Juliann recognized the sound. The laughter was starting from a place so deep inside Mish that she vibrated with it. Mish threw back her head and opened her mouth, and the sound came out like a prisoner set free. It was rage and relief, protest and praise, the sound of liberty long denied and finally claimed.

  The vibration multiplied as first Juliann and then Nicole joined in. The laughter was their story, and it was theirs to tell. Together.

  15.

  The next day the girls decided to return to school and work, and Mish was glad. She had something she wanted to do, and she’d been waiting a long time.