Waiting for Normal

by Leslie Connor

  “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.

  chapter 37

  a visit from grandio

  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.”

  Of course Soula agreed. Mommers signed the check over to the minimart and we got our cash. But I wondered how long it’d be before there would be more problems. As it was, she only came home with half the stuff on my grocery list.

  Still, it was a good thing we had some food in the house because when the weekend came, Grandio stopped by. Mommers would have screamed him off the front step if she’d been home, but she wasn’t.

  “Dwight asked me to check in,” Grandio said in that gravelly voice of his. He pushed his way inside. “He’d be here himself if the truck was running. The babies have fevers and he didn’t wanna leave Hannah without a car. Everything okay?” He glanced around.

  “Brynna and Katie are sick?”

  “Just the flu. Phone working?” He lifted the receiver and put it to his ear.

  “Yep. Things are great.” I smiled but he didn’t look at me.

  “Well, what’s the deal with the answering machine? Dwight says he’s leaving messages but you and your mother don’t call back.” He looked at me sternly. I shrugged, held my breath. Grandio looked in the fridge, opened a cupboard and poked a few of the cans and boxes with his thick finger. “Well, you need anything, girl?”

  “No sir,” I said.

  “All right, then. I’ll call Dwight and let him know everything is all right.”

  “Thanks for stopping, Grandio.” I watched him get back into his car. He gunned it too hard and spun out on the icy snow patches. I put on my coat and went out to give him a push. (I’d pushed Mommers out that same morning.) Grandio waved me off.

  “I got it, I got it! Go back inside!”

  “If you say so,” I mumbled, and I did what he said. I listened at the door as he rocked the car and spun the wheels. I sighed. Dwight always said Grandio just liked doing things for himself. Mommers said he was a controlling old poop. I guess they were both right. I listened to his tires singing for another minute. Then he was gone. I heard myself breathe.

  “Gone for now,” I told Piccolo. “But you and me, pal, we’re on notice.” I knew Dwight would send Grandio by again if he didn’t just show up himself.

  chapter 38

  valentine hearts

  On Valentine’s Day, I walked out of school with Helena and found Dwight out front. He was leaning on the truck. He grinned when he saw me and stood up.

  “Shoot,” I muttered. “That’s my stepfather.” I had not told Helena much about my family situation—just that I had decided not to spend time up in Lake George anymore.

  “Oh, I guess he came to you this time,” Helena said.

  “Guess so,” I answered.

  “Do you want me to stay while you talk to him?” she offered. That creeped me out a little—like somehow I’d given her the idea that Dwight was some kind of dangerous weirdo that I shouldn’t be alone with.

  “No,” I said. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Helena walked away down Nott and I watched her go for a second before I went to Dwight.

  “Hey!” he called.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He pulled a pair of rumpled, construction paper valentines out from under the flap of his jacket. “A pair of cupids sent me,” he said. “These are from the Littles.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Oh, and I got you something.” He took an entire roll of lunch tickets from his pocket and handed them to me.

  “What did you do? Go inside the school to buy these?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And I talked to your principal for a minute.”

  “Why? Everything is fine.” I wrinkled my nose. It seemed funny to think of him being involved in my school stuff now, even though there was a time when he’d been a part of every parent-teacher conference.

  “I just wondered if they had any concerns.”

  “Did they? I mean I’m sure Mommers would know if they did.”

  “No. They’re crazy about you. Far as they can tell me anyway,” he said. He paused, drummed his fingers on the side of the truck. “Of course, they wouldn’t discuss much since …well, you know. Anyway, did you want to tell me about the flute?”

  I shifted my feet. “You couldn’t have done anything about it.” I shrugged. “I just wanted to take care of it. It’s over with. I’m glad.”

  He nodded; he didn’t seem surprised to hear me say that. “What if we take a walk? One block over to Union Street. Got time?”

  I sighed a big complaining sigh. “I guess so.”

  On the way Dwight held out a little plastic card. “This is a bank card. I want to show you how to use it in case you ever need money,” he said.

  “I won’t ever need it,” I said. But he pressed the card at me anyway.

  “Twelve, six, three,” he said. “It’s easy to remember: Your age, then Brynna’s, then Katie’s.” I almost laughed because it seemed as if he’d forgotten that we’d eventually get older. We walked up to the money machine at the Union Street Bank. Using the card was pretty easy; the machine told me what to do. “I keep a couple of hundred dollars in this account,” he explained. “But it’s probably safest if you just take twenty or forty at a time, okay? And never use the machine at night. Daylight only. It’s safer.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But I won’t need it.” He ignored me.

  “This is the hardest part,” he said. He drew his hand across his chin. “I need to do something wrong to do something right. Can you understand that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “I’m asking y
ou to keep the card a secret. Don’t tell Mommers and absolutely do not give her the code. This is for you, and it’s for emergencies.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Good.” Dwight smiled. “So how about an ice cream sundae while we get caught up a little?”

  I shook my head no. I set my jaw so it wouldn’t quiver.

  Go home, Dwight.

  “You’ve got a school vacation week coming up. Think the buses are running? Think Mommers will let you come up? I’ll even come get you.” I didn’t answer. I toed a chunk of ice that had frozen to the sidewalk.

  “Okay, Addie. What’s going on here? Why don’t you want to come up?” he said. I kicked harder and the ice broke loose and went sliding away like a hockey puck.

  “It isn’t not wanting to,” I said.

  “Well, then what? I don’t get it. Wasn’t Christmas good? Did I miss something?” Talk about missing something. I missed them so badly I could hardly stand it.

  “No. Nobody did anything wrong,” I said. I took a deep breath and the cool air burned inside my chest. “I just can’t keep going up there and do all this …this good-timey stuff. It’s not for real. You’re right. Christmas seemed good. It did.”

  He thought for a moment. I avoided eye contact.

  “But then it was over and coming home felt bad?” he asked.

  I couldn’t answer.

  “Brynna and Katie keep asking for you. They need to see you. And I think you need to see them, too.”

  “I can just talk to them on the phone,” I said.

  “No. Not enough,” he said flatly. “We’re your family.”

  “Depends on how you look at it,” I said, know ing I sounded snotty. Dwight grabbed my coat at the shoulders and tried to get his face right in my face.

  “Hey! What’s this all about?” he whispered. His eyes pinked up and I looked away.

  “Nothing,” I choked. “I just can’t …pretend stuff anymore.” I shook my head. “I’m too old to pretend stuff. I’m not …I’m not …resilient, Dwight. I’m really not.”

  “Oh, Addie.” Dwight let go of my coat and reached to hug me, but I backed up fast and shook my head harder.