Normal

by Jason Conley

  Carissa was beginning to feel the lump in her throat. She wrapped her arms around the girl closing her grip tight enough to feel the girls pudge flatten. Carissa whispered, “No problem.”

  “Sit down,” the bus driver bellowed breaking the moment. Carissa kissed the girls cheek, wiped a few of her own tears and then walked on to the back of the bus joining Rob and Scott but not David. David was not here.

  The bus lurched forward just as Carissa sat down. “He hasn’t been to school this week,” Rob said loud enough to be heard over the chattering of and in the bus.

  “Are you sure he didn’t ride with his mom?” Carissa said.

  “That bitch hasn’t been to school, either,” Scott said as he rooted through all the shit piled into the bottom of his bag.

  “Really?” Carissa with a slight snap.

  “Really.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about them either,” Rob said. “Probably a stomach bug or something. That shit has been going around. Christ, who knows?”

  “Got it!” Scott said as he held a rolled up baggy high.

  “Put that shit away,” Rob Said.

  “It’s just fucking pencils!”

  The bus pulled into the lane next to the designated bus lanes which were, as normal, filled with the SUVs and Priuses of the people who could not read a sign or felt they were immune to its application. Carissa, Scott, and Rob were the last to step off the bus. “Nothing…ugh!” April almost knocked Carissa down with her running, lunging, and clearly ill-warned embraced hello.

  “Hey, man! Do you realize we are like fucking heroes? I have had three different people high five me. I’ve only been here two minutes. Kind of cool,” April said with a chopping, scattered laugh.

  “A girl hugged me on the bus!” Carissa forced her excitement. She was more concerned about seeing David. She scanned as many passing face as she could. When the four said their good-byes and parted for the morning, Carissa tracked down the hall around the corner and into the hall where David’s locker was hoping to see him there. She did not.

  Carissa turned back making her way through the crowd back to her locker’s hall. As she passed through the crowd, people were smiling, trying to pat her the back, and a few glares were mixed in. She did not notice. She could feel everything closing in on her. The hall closed into a blackened tunnel with only a small point of light at the end, then black.

  When Carissa opened her eyes, she was on the floor. People were all around her but she was propped up. When her eyes finally focused, she could see Mr. Gilbert was the prop keeping her up right. He had just so happened to be behind her when her legs gave out. He caught her just before she hit the floor. He was now waving something, a folder maybe a magazine, in Carissa’s face trying to cool her down. She really was not hot, he just thought that would be the right thing to do while someone went and got the school nurse.

  “Carissa,” Mr. Gilbert said. “Where the hell is the nurse?” He yelled. “Carissa! Answer me.” He sat on the floor, laying her head on his knee. “Carissa, answer me.” Carissa’s eyes where glassy and red. He could tell she was still having trouble focusing but she was swooning instead of passed out which meant something good, he hoped.

  The hall chatter settled as the sea of kids parted letting a middle aged woman in a tan cardigan pass. “Did she hit her head?”

  “Not when she fell. I caught her,” Mr. Gilbert said.

  “What happened?”

  “I was walking behind her and she fell. That’s it.”

  The nurse grabbed Carissa’s wrist and looked at her own watch. She then took a penlight out of her pocket and shined it in Carissa’s eyes. “Pulse is high but her pupils are equally reactive. That means no concussion,” she said matter-of-factly to Mr. Gilbert. The nurse rubbed Carissa’s lips with her thumb. “Young lady?”

  Carissa focused on the nurse, “Yes?” It was the first thing she had said since hitting the floor. “Hey, Mr. Gilbert.”

  “Good morning, Carissa.” He smiled.

  “Your lips are dry, your pulse is high, and I can hear your stomach from down the hall. Did you eat this morning?”

  “Umm…I don’t think so.” Carissa said, still visibly loopy.

  “You should have. Help me get her to the cafeteria,” the nurse said pointing at Mr. Gilbert.

  They lifted Carissa off the floor. “Here, eat this,” Mr. Gilbert pulled a tootsie roll out of his pocket. Carissa smiled as she chewed.

  After the nurse felt that Carissa had eaten enough breakfast and that her blood sugar had sufficiently risen, which she gauged in the color of Carissa’s lips, she took Carissa to the nurse’s office for a “more thorough check up.” The nurse poked, squeezed, prodded, pressed, and shined a light in every hole she was legally allowed to look in at school and by her state license. Carissa felt a little like a pet and a lot like a subject and now the humiliation was setting in. In the middle of all the bodily intrusions, “I’m Nurse Jan. Better known as The Nurse.”

  The Nurse took careful notes, looked back over them, then clenched her teeth on her pen. She then rolled her chair to her desk and started typing. Although the monitor was facing away from Carissa, she could see it in the mirror on the back of the office door. Google! Carissa’s chuckle was audible, however.

  “You can diagnose anything on Google, if you know what you’re looking for,” The Nurse said.

  “I’m sorry,” Carissa was still half-laughing.

  “Okay. You, young lady, either had low blood sugar cause you didn’t eat breakfast, an anxiety attack or both. You feel your lips or fingers tingling earlier?” The nurse rolled from her monitor back to Carissa. “Well?”

  “Yeah, my lips were tingling.”

  “Then it was probably both. So,” she was looking at her note pad again, “your blood pressure is a little high, your temp is up, not a fever though, and your stomach was growling like hell when you were on the floor. Make sure you eat in the morning. Okay?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Go to class.” She said looking down to her notes. Carissa slid of the exam table and started for the door. “Oh, Carissa.”

  “Uh huh.” She said turning back to The Nurse.

  “I’m not allowed to pry but if you’re sexually active, you need to take a pregnancy test.”

  27

  Carissa contemplated going home. She had just passed out on the floor and she had seen The Nurse, who did not technically tell her to go home but Carissa definitely construe the conversation as implying that she might need to, so she knew no one would ask. However, Carissa pushed through those thoughts and went to English class.

  Class already started when Carissa pushed the door open trying to sneak in. The substitute had already heard someone in her class had passed out in the hall so she assumed that Carissa was that girl. She was right.

  Carissa slid into the plastic seat. She placed her notebook on the desk, opened to a blank page, and started to scribble notes about The Yellow Wallpaper. By the way the teacher discussed the story, it had to have been last night’s homework.

  “The opening sentence really sets the mood for this story. It is powerful and gives you a sense that this is from the gothic era of short stories,” the substitute said. “The narrator describes the setting as a colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, and ancestral halls. You know, that tells me that it is in one hell of a scary place.” The class chuckled. “How else do we know this is not a typical, well-kept home?”

  “The greenhouses,” someone said.

  “What about them?”

  “They are fallen in.”

  “Right! So how does the wallpaper fall into this gothic style?”

  “It is bright but is peeling from the walls,” the same girl’s voice offered. “It is almost as like the wallpaper may represent some kind of hope that’s tearing away.”

  “Good answer! You got ahead of me but good answer. The narrator is using the things around the woman to describe her world she sees. It’s not th
e real world, though. And she knows that. She knows that a nanny is raising her child. She knows that she may be sent off in the fall if she doesn’t get any better. So, why doesn’t she try to see the world for what it is instead of what she is surrounded by?” The class remained silent. Most of the students thumbed through the printed pages of the story trying to find the answer in a single sentence.

  “She doesn’t see any reason too?” Carissa said.

  “Explain,” the teacher said pointing to Carissa.

  “The yellow wallpaper doesn’t represent hope. It represents all that never will be. She knows where she is at. She knows what she is doing. She knows that there is no hope. She is where she is and nothing will ever get her out. Nothing matters and nothing will change. She just is and she will always be trapped.”

  “Did you read the story?” the teacher said.

  “No,” Carissa said.

  “Well, you are on the right track,” the teacher smiled.

  By the end of the day, Carissa was exhausted. Apparently, everyone hated Destiny for something. A tall slender girl told Carissa that Destiny made fun of her little breasts. Destiny had gone so far as to gather up girls after basketball practice to go taunt the girl while taking a shower. Another girl said that Destiny made fun of her big breasts. Another, her nose. Another, her ears. By lunch, Carissa was ready to go home. By the final bell, she was ready to change schools too.

  With three days’ worth of home work to catch up on, there was only one book left in Carissa’s locker. Fucking health class. Three of the other seven were in her bag and the other four were tucked under her arm. The edge of one of the books was cutting into her wrist and her bag strap dug into her opposite shoulder. Since these people are so grateful, why don’t they offer to do my homework?

  “Hey, Hey, Hey,” Rob said as he took the books from under her arm.

  “Thanks,” Carissa said. “Scott’s in detention?”

  “He’s an idiot.”

  Carissa stopped for a moment just after they crossed the school threshold. Standing in the afternoon sun, she looked at all of the kids herding into their respective buses, all going home. Many were going to homes were they have both parents to sit down to a home cooked meal and talk about the day. Many were going home to just their mom or dad. Then the others, well, Carissa and David were part of the others. The ones no one wants to know about. The ones television stations talk about in public service announcements. The ones that need help but cannot ask, maybe because they are embarrassed or scared or do not know what will happen if they do. The ones who are both vilified and ostracized. The ones who have, at no fault of their own, been victims and will never be seen as anything more. They are the ones that will never be accepted and no one can forgive. The ones that get locked in the room with the yellow wallpaper. Carissa took a deep breath and stepped off the first step to head for her place in time, her room in her ancestral hall.

  The bus pulled to Carissa and Rob’s stop. Carissa had not said much on the ride. Rob knew she was somewhere else. The only sound was the squeal of the bus’s brakes as it slowed to round the next turn. The two stood quiet. Carissa looked at Rob. Rob looked at Carissa. She could not hide her subtrist expression. Rob hugged Carissa tight then whispered, “Just go find him.”

  28

  By the time Carissa had made it to David’s house, the sun had dropped behind the houses across the street. The warm day had given way to the chill of the not quite winter still slightly fall evening. The sky canopied with an orange and red glow. Clouds danced not quite ominous but not quite soothing as they drifted through the fired dusk.

  Carissa stood on the street corner looking to the empty drive. Though not yet dark, the porch light gave a soft yellow tinged glow that was somewhat brighter than the ambient light. The shades to the front room were open. The only noticeable interior light spilled from some room deep inside the house but Carissa could not tell which one.

  Carissa took a deep breath and made her way across the yard. She crept around the side of the house, stepped in between a bush and a tree, and peered through David’s window. The room was dark except for a small sliver of light that shone through the bottom of the closed door. She tapped on the glassed but saw no movement, heard nothing. At that point, she decided to she was going to knock on the door; Mrs. Shelton be damned.

  Carissa wandered back around the side of the house. She stopped at the stairs and took another deep breath, in through her nose and out her mouth. She bobbed her head, tapped her thigh, then said, “Fuck it,” and walked up the stairs. She stood at the door then reached to press the doorbell.

  “There is no one inside,” David said. He spoke soft, sweet, but somber.

  Carissa was startled, jubilant, and scared all together. “David,” She smiled. He could not help but to smile too. Their eyes met. He stood up. Even though there were only maybe three steps and a half stride between them, Carissa ran, as fast as one can get in such a short distance, and wrapped her arms around him. She did not notice him wince just before their lips met. He put his hands on her waste.

  They stood in the yellow light, reunited. David inhaled her scent. Intoxicated by it, he moved his hand to the small of her back so he could pull her in closer. The pain on his torso was all but an annoyance now. He wanted her as close to him as he could get her. Carissa gave in.

  “Hi,” Carissa said pulling back just enough to allow her lips to form the words.

  “H…” She did not need the reply.

  Carissa slowly loosened her embrace and eventually the two separated. They sat down on the swing David had been in when Carissa attempted to ring the bell. They left no space between them, their hands interlocked. Carissa laid her head on David’s shoulder.

  They sat quiet, swinging back and forth until Carissa heard a car coming down the street. She bolted up thinking it was David’s mother. “She hasn’t been home in a week,” David said.

  “Wait…What?”

  “Yeah. She hasn’t been home since last week.”

  “Did she tell you where she was going?”

  “No. She just left.” David put his other hand around Carissa’s already interlocked fingers.

  “And you haven’t been to school?” Carissa said.

  “No. I called them and told them she was sick and I was too. I guess they believed me. I have never given them any reason not to. They haven’t called since. If she is not home by Monday, I’ll go back.” David looked at Carissa.

  “But David,” Carissa said brushing her hair back. She wanted to say that he needed Mrs. Shelton but then Carissa thought he might be better off without her. He could be a regular kid, but Carissa did not consider bills or a job or any other caveat that adults live through to keep “regular kids” sustained. Even if Mrs. Shelton had money set aside, the likelihood David had any kind of access to it was slim. Besides, how could she leave her son, her job, her home, and everything behind? None of those things Carissa considered. She only thought about the rod and David and life as a teen.

  Carissa did not finish her thought out loud and David did not press her. They looked out into the twilight and enjoyed the night air. Only a few stars could be seen through the street light glare but the ones that appeared were beautiful. Carissa wished on one, David on another, both wanting to be together under the sky. David let go of Carissa’s hand. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he stood. He went inside while Carissa waited on the porch. After a minute, David emerged from the doorway with a blanket and two pillows under his arm. “Come on,” he said smiling.

  29

  The city lights cast a hazed glare across the top of the tree line but the stars still shone bright in the caliginous sky. Thin bursts of pillowed clouds moved across the moon blocking its full potential from time to time. Carissa and David watched the cumulous rolls so they could maybe see a falling star, a satellite, or even the pink cast of some celestial body but really, it did not matter. They were there together.

  Even though there we
re other broken down recliners, Carissa and David laid next to each other in the same slightly moist chair, her head resting on David’s chest. Carissa and David’s hands were once again locked together, resting on his stomach. The sound of their breath, the breeze in the trees, and the occasional horn was the only sound until Carissa raised her head. “David,” She said her face lit by the diffused moon light.

  “Carissa,” David said smiling. She smiled back. He caressed her cheek feeling the corner of her smiling. She stopped him from pulling his hand away. She kissed his palm and held it to her face, his warmth permeating into her. He took in the soft contour of her fading smile.

  “I love you,” Carissa whispered as she leaned in and kissed him.

  “I love you, too.” David’s voice faded out into the wind.

  Carissa took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She threw one leg over him, straddling his legs. She pulled the blanket over her head and leaned for another kiss, only this time there was no moon to cast a dim glow. There was no wind. There were no trees. There was only David and Carissa under a blanket, on a ratty chair, in a clearing.

  Carissa put her hand under David’s shirt. He pulled back. She stopped. She looked at him. Something in her eyes told David it was okay. He relaxed again. She put her hand in his shirt. The texture of the swollen peaks and the warm valleys of his last punishment ran rough on her fingers. She lifted the shirt tail exposing his cuts to their world. She leaned and kissed his chest, the stitching poking her face, then pulled his shirt off tossing it to the side.

  David put his hands on Carissa’s waste. She let out a quite moan. She began to move her hips front to back. She felt David grow beneath her. She took his hand putting it under her shirt. Her flesh was soft. He ran his hands along the contours of her stomach feeling every bend and crease. He pushed his hand higher until he it met the bottom of her breast. Carissa lifted, pulled her shirt over her head, and smiled. David met her, kissing her neck. They kissed and touched and made noises and felt the heat from each for a long while. Then Carissa stopped.