Twelve Steps to Normal

by Farrah Penn

  “Wallis!” Nonnie says, poking her head outside. Her rainbow shawl billows around her neck. “Get back here, you naughty thing.”

  “Sorry,” Saylor says to Jay as he attempts to usher the dog back inside. “He’s still learning how to control his excitement toward other humans.”

  “That’s okay,” Jay replies. “I was about to take off, anyway.”

  “Saylor, Nonnie.” I gesture beside me. “This is my friend, Jay.”

  “Great to meet you,” Nonnie says, extending a hand. “There’s a ton of food here if you want to join.”

  “Actually, I should get home. But thank you.”

  Saylor nods. “Of course. Nice to meet you.”

  When the door closes, he turns back to me. “Your dad is doing okay, then?”

  “He is.” It feels good to admit it. “More than okay, actually.”

  “It’s nice to see him having friends over. Being social and all.”

  “They’re friends from the Sober Living place. His fellow recoverees.” Explaining this to Jay doesn’t feel like a huge deal after telling my friends.

  “And you’re fine with them being here?”

  “Yeah.” It wouldn’t have been my answer a month ago, but it’s true. “They’re good people.”

  Jay’s expression softens, and I’m relieved to see he doesn’t seem apprehensive. “Seems like it.”

  For the first time in a long time, I feel positive about things. I’m not tempted to escape the confines of the house, and somehow—even with everyone here—it’s begun to feel more like home.

  I don’t mind that I have every lyric on Queen’s Greatest Hits memorized. I don’t mind the small gasps Peach makes during the most predictable moments of Crime Boss when she sits down to watch with my dad and me, and I don’t mind when I find Saylor quietly meditating in the middle of our dismantled living room, making odd humming noises. Because Saylor helps me with my English essays even though he doesn’t have to and Peach does my laundry because she knows my schedule is crazy during football season and Nonnie shows me wild pictures from her old life in New York.

  It’s nice to have people showing they care about you.

  Maybe they’re not perfect, but they’re not encouraging bad behavior. And even though I don’t quite understand it, they’re recovering together. I can see the light in my dad’s eyes every time they admit their Small Successes at dinnertime and how he’s trying, really trying, to make this easy on me.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad that I’m part of it.

  Jay’s giving me a sideways glance.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know. You just look happy, I guess.”

  I turn to the closed door. When I go back inside, I know I’ll be greeted with a slightly charred hamburger bun and Nonnie’s awful dance moves and the gleam in my father’s eye when he tells everyone I helped him make his World-Famous Potato Salad. I find myself wanting to go. To be part of it.

  “Yeah.” I feel my lips pull into a smile. “I think I am.”

  THIRTY EIGHT

  WHETHER IT’S OUT OF FEAR or discomfort, Jay eats lunch with the rest of the basketball team on Monday. Breck joins him, which makes Colton the only guy at our table. He hardly seems to notice, paying more attention to the music in his headphones than our conversation.

  “He’s the one making it weird,” Whitney interjects, her gaze over at the basketball table. “I told him nobody here would care.”

  I don’t offer up the fact that he came over yesterday. It doesn’t change anything—it’s not as if we’re getting back together.

  Raegan waves a hand in the air. “It’ll blow over. You guys were basically in the same place, anyway.”

  Whitney glances over at me, then looks away. So she’s talked to Raegan about it. That doesn’t surprise me. It’s not like we talk about things like that anymore.

  Lin looks up from her history notes. “But you’re okay?”

  Whitney shrugs. “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” Raegan turns to me. “You said one of your dad’s friends has a dog?”

  “Yeah.” I’m surprised she remembered. “Wallis.”

  “Do you think I can borrow him?”

  “Uh, why?”

  She stares at me like it’s obvious. “Because I’m going to be a sister.”

  Lin and I exchange confused glances.

  “We just established that Wallis is a dog, right? You were mentally present for that?”

  Raegan waves away my sarcasm. “Of course. That’s why I need all the practice I can get. I figure if I’m good at taking care of a dog, then taking care of a baby should be no big deal. They’re both big responsibilities. And my mom is supposedly due this weekend.”

  I make a note to never tell Raegan’s future sister that she was once compared to a dog. I know there’s no talking Raegan out of an idea she feels strongly about, so I say, “I’ll ask Nonnie tonight. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Your mom must be so excited,” Whitney adds.

  “She is. She’s not worried at all.” Raegan sits up a little straighter. “I think everything will go well.”

  “It will,” I assure her.

  She smiles back at me.

  I think back to what my dad had said about getting stuck on certain steps in the twelve-step program. He’d mentioned number 9 stated to make amends with people you’ve harmed. Even though the theory behind my own list wasn’t perfect, I was glad I’d made the effort to be a better friend to Raegan and Lin and Whitney. Things may not be like they were, but at least I hadn’t let those friendships go. The list was good in that sense.

  After lunch, Lin and I walk to my locker. I linger there longer than usual, hoping Alex will come around. But of course, he doesn’t.

  “Don’t worry,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “It’ll work out.”

  I want to believe her, but it’s seeming more unlikely every day. Especially after our last conversation. I can’t blame him for being hurt at the way I acted in the cafeteria, but I’m hurt that he could even think I was ashamed of him. Between exchanging notes written on Starburst wrappers in Mrs. Donaldson’s class and having a very public dinner at Rosita’s, plus all the times we’d walk together in the halls or meet up after school, I don’t understand how he could possibly think that.

  Lin agrees with me, but she seems to think time is the answer.

  I wish I were a more patient person.

  When I get home later that evening, Nonnie is watching TV on the couch while simultaneously trying to instruct Wallis how to shake hands. She has her giant rollers in her hair and is wrapped in her usual zebra-print robe. I flop on the armchair beside her, sore from practice and tired of stressing about Alex.

  “Saylor might be right,” Nonnie sighs. “I don’t know if you can teach this old dog new tricks.” She looks at me. “How are you, darlin’? You’re home pretty late.”

  “Practice ran long.” I glance around. “Where is everyone?”

  “Working or working late.” She strokes Wallis’s fur. “Peach left us a casserole for dinner.”

  Wallis flops out his big tongue, his drool dribbling onto the carpet. “Why Wallis?” I hear myself ask. “I mean, out of all the dogs in the shelter, why him? I would want to try and save them all if I could.”

  At the mention of his name, Wallis rolls onto his back. Nonnie rubs the coarse fur on his belly. “I know they all need love, but he just seemed like he needed it more. Can’t quite explain it. Those other families gave up on him, you know? I guess I felt like the poor thing needed someone who wouldn’t.”

  Wallis thumps his tail on the floor, like he can tell he’s the topic of conversation. I wonder if Nonnie felt that way about her parents before they passed away, like they gave up on her. She mentioned her brother hadn’t, but he’d also passed. I hadn’t thought about it this way until now, but maybe we’re the family she’d been looking for—the one who wouldn’t give up on her even after knowing how much she’d
struggled.

  I hold out my hand, not even flinching when Wallis gives it a giant lick. “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “Nah,” Nonnie says, peering at me from behind her turquoise frames. “He’s lucky to have us.”

  THIRTY NINE

  MRS. DONALDSON HAS US COMPETING in Radical Races on Tuesday in preparation for our final, which is a nice distraction from Alex. At least it forces me to pay attention. Thanks to Ana, I’m a little more confident each time I’m called up there—even if I only have two Jolly Ranchers on my desk while most of the class has five or six.

  I’m staring at the back of Alex’s beautiful curls, trying not to be too wistful as he races against Audrena Jones, when there’s a knock at the door. A moment later, Principal Lawrence sticks her head in.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she tells Mrs. Donaldson. Her eyes find mine. “Kira? Can I speak to you for a moment?” She gestures for me to gather my belongings.

  I feel the stares of everyone in the class as I grab my things. Every horrible thought crosses through my mind: My dad has relapsed. He’s been taken down to the station again. Cedarville Elementary has fired him for showing up drunk.

  Panic rises in my chest. I don’t want to have to call Aunt June about this.

  Once we’re out in the hallway, Principal Lawrence shoots me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news, but your grandmother is in the hospital.”

  I’m hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu. No, that can’t be right. Grams was in the hospital more than two years ago. She must have me confused with another student.

  Principal Lawrence must sense my bewilderment. “Your… Nonnie? I assumed it was your grandmother, but—”

  My blood freezes. I forget how to breathe.

  “What hospital?”

  “Merciful Heart,” she says. “We can write you a pass.”

  I can’t find the words to form a coherent reply. Instead I turn and head down the hallway, breaking into a run as soon as my feet hit the pavement of the school parking lot.

  There’s no way. No way. Nonnie can’t be in the hospital. I mean, I know she’s older—she can’t run around the yard with Wallis like Saylor can—but she’s fine. We talked last night. She was fine.

  I miraculously make every green light on the way to the hospital. When I walk through the sliding doors of the emergency room, I’m relieved to see that Peach and Saylor are already here. He looks devastated.

  “Your father is on his way,” Peach says, her voice small.

  I blink back tears. “What happened?”

  “Stroke. One of the volunteers at the shelter called her an ambulance and rode with her here.”

  Saylor sits back down. He covers his face with his hands.

  I turn back to Peach. Her lips are uncharacteristically nude, removed of her typical magenta lipstick. “What’s going to happen? Is she okay?”

  “We’re not sure. She’s… not conscious right now.”

  I feel myself nodding. Peach guides me to a chair. She repeats things the doctor has told her. Nonnie experienced an ischemic stroke. One of her blood vessels blocked the flow of blood to her brain. They don’t know the extent of the damage just yet, but her doctor will come by and see us when they have any further updates.

  I sit in the chair beside Peach and wait, but it doesn’t feel like I’m here to see Nonnie. I saw her this morning. She was sitting on the kitchen stool while Saylor toasted her Pop-Tart and Peach ranted on about how she couldn’t believe they were eating Pop-Tarts when she brought back fresh bakery items from her shifts.

  My dad shows up a half hour later. I wrap my arms around him as Peach tells him everything we know. Then we go back to waiting in silent agony.

  An hour goes by. Then two.

  When Nonnie’s doctor finds us an hour later, he tells us she’s conscious. My hope deflates as he continues to say that she’s not in the best condition. We can expect to see physical impairments in her face. She’s having trouble speaking and seems to be very confused. He believes seeing familiar faces might help, but he says we shouldn’t overwhelm her. He tells us it’s best to visit two at a time.

  Peach and Saylor go in first and when they come back forty minutes later, Peach’s eyes are red. Saylor looks like he’s having a hard time holding it together.

  “Just be prepared,” Peach tells us softly. She has her arm around Saylor. “I’m going to drive him home to get a change of clothes. He wants to stay here tonight.”

  My dad nods. “We’ll see you soon.”

  I follow my dad down the long hallway until we reach her room in the ICU. My heart clenches as we step inside. This isn’t Nonnie. She’s dressed in a drab gray gown. No glasses. No chunky turquoise jewelry. Her hair is flat, so unlike her typical robust curls. Worse, the left side of her face isn’t even. Her mouth is pulled down in a terribly unnatural way, almost like a Picasso painting.

  My throat tightens into a knot. I swallow, but it refuses to dissolve.

  My dad speaks first. “Nonnie,” he says gently. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

  Nonnie blinks, like she’s struggling to put the pieces of my father’s words together. She looks tired. Exhausted. Finally, she simply nods.

  “Saylor and Peach will be back,” he continues, walking over to her and taking her hand. “Saylor’s bringing your Queen CD and a few changes of clothes for you. But you have to rest up so we can bring you back home, okay?”

  Nonnie blinks. Several minutes pass before she says, “Freddie.”

  My tears are falling freely now. “We’ll blast Freddie so hard we’ll annoy everyone in here.”

  Nonnie’s eyes fall on me, as if she’s just now recognizing that I’m here.

  “Ma,” she says.

  I look to my dad, but he only squeezes my hand.

  She continues to stare at me, as if wanting reassurance that I’m her. “Mama?”

  My emotional barrier collapses. The doctor warned us she would be confused, but I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

  Nonnie’s crying now. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying. She struggles to enunciate. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I break into a thousand shattered pieces. Nonnie never cries. Not strong, beautiful, confident Nonnie. An uncontrolled sob bursts from my lips. She’s not there. This isn’t her.

  My dad puts an arm around me. I can tell I’m upsetting her. More tears fall down her face.

  “I forgive you,” I say, trying to make my words even. I don’t know why she thinks I’m her mother, but I hope giving her closure will help. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

  Her mouth tries to smile. She reaches for me, but it’s a struggle for her. I step closer and clasp her hand. It’s so cold.

  My dad and I leave when Saylor and Peach come back. Saylor’s brought Nonnie’s favorite neon cheetah scarf and her worn kitten slippers, but I can’t tell if Nonnie recognizes them. I hope Freddie Mercury will be a comfort for her tonight.

  I don’t feel like driving back home alone, so my dad tells me we can swing by and get my car in the morning.

  My dad takes a deep breath. “Nonnie’s parents died several years ago. She was still drinking at the time. One of her biggest regrets was not asking them for forgiveness.”

  I think of what she told me a while back. You always have to forgive your own mistakes. Otherwise they’ll eat you alive. I didn’t think of it then, but I know now. She was speaking from experience. Nonnie never forgave herself for not making peace with her parents. It breaks my heart knowing it broke her.

  “She talked about them a lot in Sober Living,” my dad continues. “Her counselors told her over and over that her parents would be proud of who she’s become.”

  I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “There’s no one else like her.”

  My dad gives me a sad smile. “No one.”

  We’re quiet the rest of the way home. I wish I’d taken the time to get to know her better. When she gets out of
the hospital, I promise myself I will. I’ve been so self-centered with my own problems, but she was always there to comfort me. Even after I said all those horrible things, she still forgave me. I didn’t think it meant much before, but I was wrong.

  It means everything.

  FORTY

  TWO DAYS LATER, NONNIE PASSES away in her sleep. The doctor warned there was a chance this could occur, but I thought Nonnie was stronger than the odds.

  Saylor and Peach were with her. Peach explained she’d been wearing her favorite headscarf, listening to her favorite music with some of her favorite people—that she really believed she was finally content. I believed that, too, but it isn’t enough to repair the slow ache of her loss.

  I don’t go to school on Friday. Saylor holes himself up in the guest room with Wallis, and nobody disturbs him. I sleep on and off, hoping to wake up into a different world where I’ll see Nonnie and her sky-high hair rollers and with her red Freddie Mercury cape wrapped around her. I have to believe she’s somewhere good now. I hope she’s met the real Freddie Mercury. I hope he’s everything she imagined.

  My dad and Peach make funeral arrangements over the weekend. I can’t seem to be in the same room with them without crying. Saylor quits his job and continues to isolate himself, not wanting to contribute to the funeral. He’s still in denial. We all are, I think.

  Wallis keeps Saylor company, but he knows something’s wrong. I find him whining in front of the guest bedroom door, Nonnie’s room. When I open the door, I wish I hadn’t. I wasn’t ready for her familiar scent of rose and patchouli. It’s another aching reminder that she was here, and now she’s not.

  Later, when I pass by the guest room, I notice Wallis has curled himself onto her hand-knitted blanket. His ears perk up when he hears me pass, but he lies his head back down when he realizes I’m not her.

  My heart breaks for him.

  The night before the funeral, I can’t sleep. When I close my eyes, I see Nonnie’s blue ones beneath her turquoise frames. I hate that I didn’t get to know her better, especially when she was so kind to me. She admitted her faults and hardships without hesitation, and all I tried to do was send her away.