Waiting for Normal

by Leslie Connor

  “Make sure you take a few pads to school,” Mommers called after me, “You’re gonna need ’em.” I heard her yawn and flop back onto her bed.

  “I know, I know,” I said.

  I knew because of Helena. She’d already had a couple of periods. One day, it surprised her—by coming in the middle of math class. Surprised—that’s what Nurse Sandi had said when we’d arrived at the health office. I always figured surprises were things like birthday gifts, and good grades on math tests. Anyway, Helena had to keep going to see Nurse Sandi that day so her surprise wouldn’t turn into an accident. I bundled half a dozen pads into my backpack. Mommers had fallen back to sleep by the time I left the trailer.

  School went okay that day. The only surprise I got was when Ms. Rivera rushed up to me in the hall first thing in the morning and said she was giving me a little solo part in the holiday concert.

  “Is it a stand up in front of everyone solo?” I asked.

  She laughed. “You can stay seated if that’s more comfortable for you. I want you to play a few measures in ‘I Wonder as I Wander.’ Since it’s a carol, I think the voice of your flute would be lovely for it.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’s just that I never practice standing up.” That was only half the truth, of course. I figured if I got nervous and flubbed up, at least I’d be sitting low and no one would really be sure who the lousy flute player was.

  “Can you imagine,” I said to Helena and Marissa later that day. “I’d be black on bottom, white on top and red in the face!” We started laughing.

  My day seemed to be evening out by the end of school—no accidents. I stopped at the minimart, where Soula was having a better day after two bad ones.

  “Seven down. One to go!” she sighed.

  “We’ve got good news all around,” Elliot said. He waved a copy of the Gazette. I squinted and saw that it was turned back to the entertainment section.

  “Rick stopped by. Good review for Numbskull Dorry’s,” he said, grinning. “Good reviews are everything in the restaurant business.”

  “Weee-hah!” I said. “And I have news too. I got a solo in the holiday concert.”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Soula cheered. “Good day on the corner. Calls for a pie celebration, don’t you think?” I took my cue and put three apple pie pockets into the microwave. Elliot read the review to us, slowing over words like unmatched and exquisite, and phrases like unadulterated goodness. Soula made a joke that he was memorizing the entire article. He held the paper to his chest and grinned.

  “Not bad for a pub, huh?” he said.

  “Elliot, how come you don’t work at the restaurant with Rick?” I asked.

  Soula laughed out loud, then tried to squelch it. Elliot rolled his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a long whistle. “Most couples learn that there are some things you can do together and some things you can’t.”

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “Tell her what you really mean,” Soula nudged.

  Elliot squinted at me. “Rick and I would fight if I had my fingers in his pub biz,” he said. “Plain and simple. We can’t even hang wallpaper together unless someone else comes over to make sure we remain civil.”

  “Oh,” I said. “And you just know that about each other?”

  Soula exhaled a chuckle. “Well, they found out,” she said softly. Elliot nodded in agreement.

  I sat there eating my apple pie, thinking about Dwight and Hannah. I thought they probably could hang wallpaper together. They were good together, I thought, in a way that Mommers and Dwight never had been.

  We were getting into short days. The sun was way low at four o’clock when I crossed the street and climbed the trailer steps. I stopped to shake the crumbs out of the toaster, which was still sitting there from that morning. I coiled the cord and went inside. Mommers wasn’t home but I could tell she’d been there for lunch: her soup bowl was in the sink. We were still eating the turkey soup from the carcasses Mommers had brought home from the soup kitchen. The freezer was packed with it—not a bad thing.

  I did the dishes and was just finishing when I heard Mommers pull up. She followed a big handled shopping bag into the trailer. She looked good shaking back her bangs. Her cheeks were pink and she smiled.

  “Got something here!” She raised the shopping bag.

  “Oh yeah?”

  Mommers giggled. She yanked a box out of the bag and threw it onto the table. She shook the lid off and spread back the tissue paper. She drew out a long dress. It was skinny and black with big white ruffles running all around the chest. The straps were just little strings—the kind Mommers liked to wear when she had somewhere fancy to go.

  “Whaddaya think?” she asked breathlessly. The dress looked like a piece of black licorice with whipped cream on top but I didn’t want to say so.

  “Uh, well, where are you going?”

  She cocked her head at me. “I’m not going anywhere. You are!”

  “Me? Where am I going?”

  “To the concert. Black on bottom, white on top!” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

  “Uh …Mommers,” I said slowly, “isn’t that a lady’s dress?”

  “Yeah. What are you?” She cocked her hip.

  “W-well, but I was thinking of a skirt with tights and a turtleneck—”

  “Addison! That’s boring! Go try this on! Use my room.”

  I hesitated.

  “Go!” She pushed the dress at me.

  I did it—I wriggled into the dress. But it felt all wrong. “These ruffles make me feel like I have to keep my arms up in the air,” I called. “And it’s itchy. And my bra is showing. And I have this sort of sausage roll at my belly.”

  “Let me see.”

  I stepped out.

  “Oh! It’s gorgeous! Suck your gut in.” She reached to give me a slap.

  I grunted and adjusted a strap. I tugged on my underwear. “This isn’t gonna work.” I shook my head.

  “Yeah it is. It’s perfect.” Mommers lit a cigarette and eyed me a moment.

  “Mommers, everyone is wearing simpler stuff than this. It’s too fancy and too clingy,” I added.

  “I think it looks great,” she said. I knew I was in major trouble. Mommers had that look on her face, that I’ve made up my mind look. I sagged against the doorjamb. How could this be happening? “Come here,” she said, taking a clip out of her hair. She pulled my hair up off my neck, twisted it and caught it up in the clip. “There,” she said. “Wow! You could be sixteen.”

  “Exactly!” I said, louder than I meant to. “Mommers, I’m sorry but I don’t like the dress. Not for this concert and not for me.”

  Mommers waited a few seconds, then said, “Too bad, Addison. Black on bottom, white on top. This is it.”

  A knock on the trailer door saved me from whatever I might have done next. I ran for cover in the Luxury Suite. Mommers answered the door and I heard Dwight’s voice.

  “Dwight!” I said. I came back out without thinking. There he was holding a big white poinsettia in his arms and an envelope between two fingers. He was looking right at me—chin on the floor.

  “Whoa!” he said. And then again: “Whoa!” His eyes went huge. He looked like he was going to tip over backward. “I …uh …I ended up in Schenectady to see a supplier today and …I thought I’d bring the money by in person. You playing dress up or something?”

  “Nope,” Mommers said sharply. She took the envelope from him and poked through the contents. “I bought it for her. She has a concert coming up.”

  “What? Denise! Hey, you might wanna think this one through a little,” he said. He looked me up and down. “I mean, Jaysus! Jaysus!” He shook his head.

  I shut my eyes. Please let me be dressed in a huge sweatshirt when I open my eyes. No such luck.

  “Well, she’s a woman now,” Mommers said.

  “Mommers! Don’t!” I begged.

  “A woman?” He looked back and forth between us.

  �
�Take a wild guess, Dwight,” Mommers said, grinning.

  “Mommers, you promised not to tell!”

  A second ticked by. “Oh,” said Dwight. “Really? I mean, Oh! Wow!”

  “That’s brilliant, Dwight. Can you say that again?” Mommers smirked.

  “Stop it, Denise.” Dwight fumbled. “Hey, Addie, way to go, kid.” He shrugged and covered his chin with his free hand. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was.

  “Dwight,” I pleaded. “What about the dress?” I shook my hands at my sides and thought, Help me!

  He set the poinsettia down on our table. “Uh …yeah. Yeah, Denise, I don’t think the dress is right and Addie’s uncomfortable.”

  “It fits her perfectly.”

  “Well, that may be true. But”—he shook his head—“Addie is a kid. She’s twelve, Denise. This is …this is …” He looked at me again, and blew a puff of breath into his bangs. “Jaysus, I don’t know what this is.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and tried to stare at my feet. The dress ruffles brushed my nose. Why did Dwight have to be such a doofus?

  “Addie, listen, I’m sorry,” he said. He reached to pick up my chin. I wriggled away. “I agree with you, honey. The dress is too old for you.”

  “Well, I think she looks gorgeous,” Mommers concluded. “Besides, you have no say in the matter.” She turned to Dwight and gave him a straight line smile. “Do ya, now?”

  That was it for me and I knew it. She was right. There was no other person in charge of me. No one to say, “Don’t make her wear that dress.”

  “Just quit looking at me.” I pushed past them both and dragged myself, in my licorice dress, up into my bunk. I pulled my curtain, but not all the way.

  Mommers said, “Well, look what ya did this time, Mr. Perfect Papa! Got her all upset!”

  “Hey!” Dwight pointed a finger at her. “Don’t be so quick handing off the Amateur Parenting Award….” He stopped. “Ya know what, Denise? Forget it. Just forget it. I’m not even gonna go there. Addie, I’ll call you later. Oh, and Hannah sent this CD for you. She said you’d know what it is.” I heard him set it down. He peeked into my curtain. I backed up where he couldn’t see me. “I’ll call,” he repeated. Then he left.

  Mommers and I didn’t talk about the dress anymore. In fact, we didn’t talk about anything at all. I changed and we ate turkey soup on toast and Mommers watched Jeanette for the Judgment. I had just finished my homework when Dwight called.

  “Addie, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “I can hardly hear you.”

  I sniffed, blinked my burning eyes and tried to be louder. “I said I know.”

  “I’m not used to little girls growing up. Don’t know anything about it. Mr. Duh, that’s me.”

  “Never mind.”

  “I’m gonna be at your concert, ya know? I’m bringing the Littles and Hannah too, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Uh-huh.” I thought about the dress again and I let a spill of tears loose. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. Mommers looked at me and rolled her eyes like I was being ridiculous. Then she went back to watching Jeanette.

  I didn’t say much more to Dwight. He tried to congratulate me on being a woman but it came out all messed up when he got flustered. “Forget it,” I told him. Then I said good-bye. When he hung up I was sorry I hadn’t been nicer to him. He’d tried to stick up for me. I hadn’t thanked him for that.

  I blew my nose and climbed into my bunk for the night. Mommers kept giggling at something on the TV. I peeked out of my curtain and saw her put a cigarette out in the dirt of the new poinsettia pot. I curled into a ball like Piccolo, hoping I’d fall asleep fast.

  chapter 27

  willing to bloom

  December twelfth is one of the shortest days of the year, but it was a long day at school. We were waiting for seventh period, when the Stage Orchestra was to perform the holiday concert for the staff and students. It was like a dress rehearsal, only without the dress—a good thing, if you asked me. Finally, our principal announced that the members of the Stage Orchestra should assemble in the auditorium. I followed Robert and Helena down the hall.

  I’m not sure but I think we played the best we ever had. Nobody sounded flat or squeaky. Nobody lagged; the tempo was right on each piece. For my solo part, I fixed my eyes on Ms. Rivera. (One advantage to not being able to read the music is that you can keep your eyes on the conductor.) I came in perfectly on her cue and didn’t miss a note.

  Ms. Rivera was happy; she turned to face all the musicians while the audience was still clapping (and clapping, and clapping). Her pretty red lips formed an exaggerated Thank you to all of us. A rush of blood warmed my chest.

  Afterward, the stage buzzed as everyone put their instruments away. They were all excited about the real concert, yet to come. I stayed in my chair for a while. I pulled the swab through the flute a few more times than I needed to. I could never stop reminding myself that the flute should have been returned to Borden School. I also flashed on my terrible dress over and over again.

  “Addie?” I blinked and looked up at Helena. “What’s the matter? It went well, don’t you think?” Her voice rose so cheerfully I had to smile.

  “Yes. But I was just thinking …well.” I waited. “Part of what I was thinking is that I wish we didn’t need to do the concert again. I wish we were done. I don’t want to come back tonight to play for the parents and grandparents.” Or stepparents. “Besides, what are the chances we’ll all be that good again?”

  “Addie?” Helena squinted at me.

  My eyes burned. “No, really. What are the chances Robert will leave enough bow to hold the long notes on ‘Song of Winter’ again? He’s been having trouble with that.” Helena nodded slightly. “And me. Will I really hit my solo twice in one day?” I shook my head. “It’s no big deal, I guess.” I fumbled with the sections of my flute as I tried to put it in the case. I’d broken it down a thousand times but I was getting it all wrong. I switched the sections around again. Helena sat down next to me.

  “My dress for tonight is awful,” I whispered.

  “Oh, you got a dress? I have a hand-me-down skirt. It’s too short to be long and too long to be short. I look dorky in it.” She snorted a laugh.

  “My mother bought me a dress,” I said. “It’s …it’s a grownup dress. It’s a gown, like a model would wear.”

  “Oh.” Helena poked her bottom lip out.

  “It’s tight. The straps are skinny. My bra shows. Oh, Helena, I don’t think I can bear to wear it.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Helena asked.

  I shrugged. “Nothing. My mother says I have to wear it.”

  “Can you wear a sweater over the top?”

  I thought about that. “I don’t think so. There’s this ruffle around the chest. It looks like a tutu.” I wondered if I could somehow stuff it all under a sweater. Then again, I knew Mommers wouldn’t go for that. “I think I’m stuck,” I said.

  “Well, never mind,” Helena said. “It doesn’t matter what you wear.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be awesome tonight. All of us will be.”

  Helena stuck with me on the way home. We walked past the gates of Onion College together. The trees were bare but the weather was mild that day. We’d had a few good snows and the streets were filled with puddles that’d freeze in the night. The shops and houses along Nott Street were decorated for the holiday. Helena and I pointed them out to each other as we walked. The window of the Tibetan shop was filled with satiny ropes of brass bells, paper lanterns and stacks of embroidered prayer rugs like always. The man in the store switched on a set of multicolored lights just as we strolled by and the whole window shone like one big ornament.

  The guys at Hose Company No. 6 were busy. One guy stood there with his yellow rubber coat on, arms spread wide, while another fireman sprayed the mud off him with a hose.

  “There. That’s what I need,
” I said, nudging Helena. “A big Hose Number Six raincoat.”

  Helena covered a laugh with her hand. “Hard to play the flute in,” she giggled. “Go ahead, Addie. Ask him if you can borrow it!”

  “Oh, Helena!” I laughed.

  Just then the guy in the coat looked up at us and flapped his arms. I gave Helena a shove to move her along the street. I knew we were going to start cracking up again if we stayed.

  At the Goose Hill Barber Shop, where we always split up, Helena said, “You will come tonight, right? You won’t skip out?”

  I stood looking at the beautiful tree inside the barber shop window. Several red blossoms, as big as paper plates, had opened up on it, and the barber had strung hundreds of tiny white lights through the branches. I had described the tree to Soula one day, and had asked her what kind it could be. She’d told me, “Sounds like a Chinese hibiscus, Cookie. Terrific indoor tree, and willing to bloom in conditions it was never meant to encounter.”

  Willing.

  “I’ll be there,” I told Helena. “I know people are counting on me.”

  chapter 28

  twists and turns

  The plan was for Mommers to take me to the school that night. Dwight and Hannah and the Littles were supposed to arrive on their own. Then we were all going to Numbskull Dorry’s for dessert. That was something to be nervous about right there; Mommers was about to meet Hannah. But I knew if we got through that, and if I got through my music okay, the night could be fun. Besides, I had decided that Helena was right: the concert was going to be great and I couldn’t let a bad dress ruin it for me. I made a choice to un-grump.

  Mommers wasn’t at the trailer when I got home from school. Two hours later, at six o’clock, she still wasn’t there. I needed to be at the school at seven, so I figured I should eat. I’d taken a con tainer of turkey soup from the freezer earlier and I dumped it, still partially frozen, into a pan on the stove.